THE SWIRLING MENAGERIE
VOLUME III
Written by Solanon

Continued from ponepaste.org/4272 (Volume I)
                          ponepaste.org/4285 (Volume 2)

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******
 
>It’s six o’clock exactly when the dirigible arrives to port, right on schedule
>You are Captain Rainbow Dash of the Wunderbolts, and today you’re feeling just right about flaunting that title
>Standing here, on one rising marble bulwark of Highstorm Port overlooking the great blue expanse of the northern sky, feeling the high wind blowing through the parts of your mane not shielded in decorative braces, you could almost be alone
>Alone, like you used to be when you had the chance to fly off on your own, sail in the orange clouds of sunset and watch the sky’s beaches break apart and close together
>That is, you COULD feel that way, were you not acutely aware of the evenly filed rank of mares behind you, awaiting your orders
>Lightning Dust, who you know is smirking insatiably without even looking, stands to your right and slightly behind you as your aide-de-camp
>Behind her, in five columns of four, are your Wunderbolts, the elite all-mare W-Division over which Major Thunderlane saw fit to place you in command
>Most of them you know personally from your time at the Barracks; there’s Fleetfoot, Blaze, White Lightning…
>All greenhoofs, of course, none of which have seen true battle with a worthy combatant, but then again, neither have you
>Neither have most of the new wave of PAS warriors, brought up in the new system; only the few lucky ones who performed the raids on Canterian pegasus cities were fortunate enough to get a taste of battle, and you were far too young then to make your bones
>Even still, they’re all worthy fighters, all proven in the disciplines of the Stormwing training program, all ready to face the Canterian menace when the time comes
>For now, however, it’s enough to bring them along on your special assignment directly from General Hurricane
>You woke them early in the Barracks, had them don formal dress, brought them here to stand at attention for the arrival of the Exsilist ambassador
>Hurricane is counting on you to make a good impression with this pony, and you refuse to fail him
>Too much is riding on this encounter, on you learning their true intentions in coming to Pegasopolis
>Hurricane senses foul play in an ambassadorial order from the Cult’s Highmind Empress, and you’re inclined to agree with him
>The nuclear manufactories are in perfect order, as far as you know, and there’s no extant political issues to attend to
>If you yourself had to guess, you’d say that the Cult is coming to ask for the Pegasus Armistice State to become directly involved with their siege in northward Unicronia
>And on one hoof, it’d be good to wet your wings in combat with that Canterian colony; on the other, however, it might be too soon to declare war on Canterium so brashly
>It’d be irresponsible; you know it as well as your father knows it
>Even then…
>If the ambassador SAYS that’s what it is, and that’s why they’re here, then more likely than not it’s really something else
>The Cult of Exsilium’s founding philosophy, after all, is gears turning through the natural order of things, disrupting, always changing shape
>Wheels within wheels, plans within plans…
>You intend to find out what the ultimate plan is, and whether they intend to betray your nation
>There’s no angle to suggest that… or is there, and you just don’t see it?
>”Psst, Rainbow. It’s getting pretty close to port. You think we should greet ‘em at the dock?”
>Lightning, always the helpful observer, whispers the obvious into your ear
“I was… ugh.”
>Always infuriating, when somepony tells you to do something you’re already about to do
>And even though you promised your friend that nothing would change now that you’re technically her superior, you wish she’d show a little bit more deference to your authority
>Just a little bit…
“Wunderbolts! Ten hut!”
>All at once, your twenty mares stomp with their left forehoof, and stand up straight
>They’re all garbed in the same taut, white utilitarian uniform you’re wearing, albeit with slightly less decoration
>All together in formation like this, you feel a sense of pride surging within you
>This cadre flying in as a single unit should make for a sufficiently imposing show of the PAS’s might
“Fly.”
>Forty-four wings shoot out in tandem, including your own, and the sound of it is music to your ears
>You start gracefully off the bulwark, leaping off its edge and plunging down a few feet before gaining the wind under your wings and flying straight forward
>Behind you, you know that each row of Wunderbolts is now following suit, jumping over the edge in perfect sync with one another
>A cloud directly below you, just beneath the chasm separating the upper port from the dirigible’s docking point, shows the proof: twenty-two shadows moving as one
>The dirigible before you is bigger than you expected, and its Exsilist design influence is clear
>Sharp fins protrude from every lateral surface of the rigid balloon, copper inlays glimmer in the morning sun, and most of the fabric is painted an eye-piercing shade of green
>All except for the Cult’s sigil, the silhouette of a pony skull within an eight-pointed gear, its third eye looming large on the ship’s side
>This ambassador wants EVERYPONY to know who they are, and what their business here represents
>As you near your destination, the dirigible groans with every shift of its weight, until finally settling just above the extended concrete “plank” of the port
>There, all manner of smaller flying vehicles—helicopters, ornithopters, corvettes—sit unattended, all overshadowed and dwarfed by this great green monster coming down into an overhead hover
>”They’re gonna crush those things, what are they doing?”
>You cock your head to look at Lightning flying close to you, a visible look of confusion on her face
“Probably just letting the party come down, then docking somewhere else. A balloon that size looks like it takes a while to land.”
>Sure enough, as soon as you finish talking, you spot an aperture opening up in the bottom of the dirigible’s cabin, and a gated platform extending downwards out of it
>The bars eclipsing the platform are too thick to see through; you can’t quite get a good look at its occupants from here
>A trio of wires connects the platform to the interior of the dirigible, and at first glance it might appear to be some sort of rigid landing gear for the flying machine
>Once it touches the smooth concrete of Highstorm Port, however, the platform wobbles a bit, then steadies out
>As this happens, your hooves also touch that same concrete, followed by the gentle landings of each of your Wunderbolts behind you
>You’re only meters away from the caged lander, and through its bars you can vaguely make out three distinct moving shapes
“Looks like the ambassador’s brought an escort.”
>Lightning snorts
>”To be expected. They’d be stupid to trust us.”
“At this stage, certainly.”
>”In general. And on that note, be thankful you’ve got a trustworthy face, Cap’n.”
“Gorgons know you don’t.”
>As Lightning grins to herself, and the last of the Wunderbolts gather around you in tight formation, the gates of the lander swing open, and you’re greeted with…
>What just might be the most terrifying sight of your life
>For all the talk of the mechanical augments and strange genetic self-modifications of the Cult of Exsilium you’ve heard from those who’ve dealt directly with them, you suddenly become immensely aware that you’ve never actually seen it with your own eyes
>Pictures, maybe; but never so close, and never in so much detail
>Here before you, disembarking now from the lander, are three prime examples of that mental disconnect, and you aren’t sure if your training will help you conceal your disgust
>The one in the center, who you assume is the ambassador, isn’t so bad: a light brown earth stallion, with a full mane and two seemingly real eyes
>Metallic tubes run down his throat and out of his ears, and his front hooves, barely concealed by his robe, seem to be artificial
>Another thicker chrome tube coils about his entire body, hugging his robe against his figure; from this angle, you can’t even be sure where it starts and ends
>His companions, on the other hoof, are far more grotesque; taller, thicker with impossible muscle, completely bald, and wearing no clothing to mask any of their deformities
>Sleek armor-like protrusions around their chests and flanks, legs, and necks look to be bolted into place, and cables and exposed wiring snake at ersatz angles beneath plexiglass plating all over their bodies
>Their hooves are metal and fitted with small exhaust pipes, their mouths are hidden behind incomprehensible patchworks of jagged metal teeth, wires, and lights, and their eyes…
>Great Gorgons, their eyes…
>Both the larger stallions’ eyes are pure, jet black, probably artificial implants, and yet when looked into they seem to roll about, scanning, observing, even without any visible movement whatsoever
>It’s like there’s life behind them, but certainly not equine life
>If you didn’t know any better, you’d think these two enforcers were corpses reanimated by the Cult’s meddling with the natural order of things
>While the ambassador is unarmed, these two are practically living weapons; you spot three muzzles each protruding from all different spots, and you’re sure there are many more under the surface
>Other assorted implements, a claw here, an array of hypodermic needles there, pulsing sacs where their… uh… stallion parts should be, also serve to bulk out their silhouettes
>Cautiously, you step forward to greet the ambassador, whose mouth curls up into a grin made of silver teeth
>There’s something about him… something that makes you dizzy…
“Ambassador. I’m Captain Rainbow Dash, of the Stormwing Wunderbolts. I am here on the behalf of General Hurricane, to escort you into our great city of Pegasopolis.”
>”A pleasure, Captain.”
>Even that voice, with a quaint Westerland accent to boot, sounds somewhat mechanical
>It sends chills down your spine
>”I am Time Turner, ambassador to her Excellency, the Highmind Empress of the Cult of Exsilium. And I am delighted, yes, QUITE delighted, to have such a warm welcome. Bloody good display, if I do say so myself.”
>Time Turner, or so he calls himself, gestures with one metallic hoof to each of the enforcers flanking him
>”This is my escort, as I’m sure you’ve surmised. They’ll be accompanying me at all times in the city.”
“If you’re concerned about your safety, ambassador, you’ll be very secure with me and my Wunderbolts around.”
>”Oh, I don’t doubt it. But this is a mere formality, Captain Dash. They’ve come with me this far, after all, so it’s only fair they… see the same sights as I.”
>Only now do you realize how quickly your heart’s beating inside your chest
>Something ABOUT this pony, maybe the way he looks, maybe the way he talks, maybe something else entirely, just screams trouble at you
>Going purely by instinct, you understand all at once why Hurricane thought this task was appropriate for you; he needed somepony he could trust to monitor this freak’s activities
>Who knows what secrets he’s hiding? What’s on his agenda?
>”Now, then… I had hoped to speak directly with General Hurricane or one of his close associates on arriving. Do you know… if he is available?”
“The General is unfortunately preoccupied at the moment. He’s put aside valuable time tomorrow for your discussion on shipment fees. In the meantime—”
>”Tomorrow?”
>The ambassador cocks one eyebrow in a somewhat phony-looking display of confusion
>”I had… hoped, my de—my CAPTAIN, that we would be parlaying today. Meaning no offense, of course, but… had we not scheduled to arrive so dreadfully early in the morning for a reason?”
>That reason is for you to know and this cyborg freak to never find out
>Let loose, ostensibly, in the city, what’s this Time Turner going to do?
>Ask you to direct him to the manufactories?
>Take in the sights of the city?
>Anything and everything he says can be used to your advantage
“There’ve been all kinds of delays in Staatskongress, sorry to say. Moving around resources, preparing for what very well might be our first fight with Canterium in a long time, thanks to your army poking the bee’s nest. You’re not the only one who’s been placed on a waiting list, ambassador.”
>”Of course not. I don’t mean to sound presumptuous or impatient, Captain Dash, you must understand I’ve had a quite long voyage from Unicronia.”
>Unicronia?
“You… came here from Unicronia? Not from New Exsilia?”
>”Naturally. I am a part of the Highmind Empress’ entourage, after all, and she has been in Unicronia for the last week or more.”
>Wait… what?
>That can’t be right
>The Highmind Empress, effective leader of the entire Cult of Exsilium… why would she go to that warzone?
>And more importantly, why weren’t you privy to that movement?
>Either there are gaping holes in the PAS’ intelligence-gathering in the Exsilist sphere, or your superiors haven’t been telling you such things
>You glance imperceptibly over to Lightning Dust beside you; her expression tells you she’s as confused as you are
>Well, if that IS true, then your mission dictates that you find out why
“Your Highmind Empress… she’s in Unicronia? On what business?”
>Time Turner’s eyes gleam as he grins
>On the surface, the smile is welcoming, almost disarmingly warm
>But beneath that layer… this aura about him…
>You wonder if Lightning feels it too
>”Captain Dash, you must understand that I cannot divulge such delicate information to you, a pegasus who, though I’m certain possesses an undying sense of honor, I’ve only just met. The Empress’ reasons are her own; I merely serve as a mechanism of her will.”
“It’s only that I’m a bit vexed I wasn’t informed of this sooner, ambassador. Don’t you think it’s unsafe to have somepony of her importance in the crossfire of the siege?”
>That sours Time Turner’s expression a bit
>He nods to each of his enforcers, and the three of them trot away from the closing lander and around your side
>”I imagine you have transport awaiting us, no? A helicopter, perhaps?”
“Pegasopolis is a city built by and for pegasi. I’ve already arranged for a chopper to bring us in together.”
>”And your Wunderbolts?”
“Will fly beside it in tidy formation. They’re well-trained for this, ambassador. I hope you’ll find in time that you feel safe and at home in their company.”
>”Oh, yes…”
>Before your eyes, the chrome coil wrapped around the ambassador’s body suddenly stirs, then unwinds onto the concrete before snapping upwards into place
>You realize at once that it’s a mechanical tail, long and prehensile, jutting at least two extra meters from his backside in lieu of actual hair
>It winds about and seeks with its ballpoint “head” like a great serpent, seeking out some invisible prey
>Apparently your broad-eyed expression catches Time Turner’s eye, because he throws his head back and laughs
>”It’s scanning, Captain Dash. Scanning for devices that might harm our sensitive electronics. The receiver at the tip there can see in infrared, ultraviolet, radio, you name the range, and pushes it to my interface. I can see the world in all the colors of the spectrum, all the infinitesimal fluctuations that once escaped ponykind’s knowing. I am in all of the world at once. The Cult gave me this power.”
“It’s… impressive.”
>”Yes. Our copter is arriving soon.”
“Hm?”
>Time Turner’s eyes wander above you, his tail following his movements in reverse, and several seconds of awkward silence pass
>Then, after some time, you hear it; small at first, but definitely there
>Over the southward bulwark you and the Wunderbolts had been standing atop moments ago, a dark silhouette moves in a straight line and rapidly grows in size
>You heard it before you saw it, but the helicopter approaching its landing zone only a few paces from here was utterly inaudible when Time Turner pointed it out
>How did he…?
>”Knowledge can be a burden sometimes, Captain Dash. The senses we have are attuned to this world in the capacity nature allowed them for a reason. There IS a balance there, if it can be believed.”
“I agree completely. That’s why our Trust between our two nations is so important now, more than ever.”
>”But the Makers, before their burning Apotheosis to collective godhead, saw a different balance elsewhere. Magic, disgusting magic, the crutch of the unicorn, is cast out of the equation, and technology, glorious technology, replaces it. Nature’s formula for liberating all species, Makers and ponies alike, involves this. So sometimes, the initial balance must be disrupted. Sometimes, augmentation is a necessary curse.”
>A curse…
>That’s a strange word coming from one of these Exsilist self-mutilating technomancers
>Maybe your perception of them is somewhat biased
>Or maybe…
>”I’m extreme in my views, yes. I can tell you wanted to know.”
“They’re not the orthodox I’ve heard from your Cult.”
>”The Highmind Empress thinks me wise beyond my years. Truthfully, I learned everything I know simply from looking. You look to the east, and you see greed and lechery in Canterium. You look to the west, and you see the wastes of Apotheosis.”
“What do you see here?”
>Time Turner’s tail, apparently satisfied with what it sees, slides back between his hindlegs and coils itself around his flanks once more
>But his eyes are looking past you, towards the distant skyline of Pegasopolis Platform
>”Vision. I see vision. Potent, and as of yet unrealized. You want to see Canterium fall, don’t you, Captain Dash?”
“As well as you do.”
>”Then I think we’ll be getting on, the two of us. General Hurricane’s made a bloody good call, placing you on my wing while I’m here. Or… heh, I suppose it’s me on YOUR wing.”
>This stallion…
>You begin to wonder whether you’re cut out for this after all
>You’ve trained in the gymnasium at the Barracks for half your life, you’ve hurdled every obstacle they’ve thrown at you, you’ve become your own fighting mare, live or die for combat
>But this sort of… it’s almost espionage, isn’t it?
>Except there’s this kind of absolute certainty telling you that this Time Turner already knows why you’re here, that you’re not just an assigned security detail
>He knows you’re going to be watching his every move, and he seems to relish the opportunity
>It’s the exact opposite of what you’d been expecting…
>And all of it hinges on this bad feeling you get when he’s close to you; even now, as he strolls away towards the helicopter, while you stand back and watch him, the feeling diminishes
“Lightning.”
>”Hm?”
“Do you feel that?”
>”Feel what, Cap’n?”
“Shut up. That. That… buzzing, in your head. In your hooves. When the Exsilist is close to you.”
>Lightning shakes her head quizzically
>”Not sure what you mean, Dashie. He’s a creep, that’s for sure, but what Exsilist isn’t?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been so close to one. But I could swear it’s a proximity thing, because now I feel fine. When he’s looking at me like that, it’s like there’s a joy buzzer wrapped around my whole body.”
>”Maybe you’re in looooove.”
>You resist the urge to kick Lightning’s legs out from under her while continuing to watch Time Turner and his posse collect themselves into the grounded chopper
>As he climbs aboard, his bionic tail coils itself around the landing skid, then extends as though boosting him into the cabin
>You wonder if his organic parts are weakened by his reliance on electronics…
“I’m dead serious, Lightning. The guy’s bad news, and you know I can sus out a smokescreen from a mile away. He’s not just here to negotiate; he’s not even here to inspect the manufactories. There’s something else up his flappy sleeve, and if you don’t sense it, I do.”
>”I’m not saying I don’t get a bad vibe from him, Rainbow, but it’s nothing physical like you’re describing. I stand by my original theory.”
“Pff. Screw you.”
>”Captain Dash!”
>You can barely make out Time Turner’s voice calling you from the chopper over the noise of the propeller blades slicing the air in half
>”You are joining us, yes?”
“That’s my cue. Follow close behind with the rest of the Bolts, trusty aide. You’re temporarily in command.”
>”I like the sound of that.”
“Just don’t get—”
>”Too comfortable. Too late.”
>That damned turd-eating grin…
>Without a backwards glance at what you assume are your ranks growing steadily more impatient, you flutter across the gap into the landing zone, boarding the chopper in one fell swoop and landing firmly across from Time Turner
>He’s sandwiched between his two enforcers, and with their mechanical legs tucked beneath them you’re relieved to see that they look very slightly more normal than before
>Still, those eyes and mouths are monstrous sights to behold
>Time Turner himself seems to be admiring a small piece of jewelry wrapped tightly about his right fetlock
>On closer inspection, it’s a small watch, its hands matching those of the great clock tower in distant Avemequus Plaza
>Its outline is blazing gold, and the face is… well, you’re not really sure how to describe it
>It appears to be cut from a fine ruby, the numerals raised from the surface in relief, although that red portion glows ever so slightly with warm electric light
>It’s like a heart… you have no idea where that comparison comes from, but that’s what it is
>A beating heart…
>”Time is our greatest asset and most inexhaustible foe. Don’t you agree, Captain Dash?”
>You remain silent as the chopper bumps about, slowly lifting away from Highstorm Port and bearing southward into the heart of Pegasopolis
>The air beyond the closed cabin seems to howl, and the sky is particularly blue today
“I don’t much play with the philosophical, ambassador. Considering my profession.”
>”Ah, but the soldier is more prone to contemplations of this sort than anypony else, I should think. Life, death, the clock moving from one endpoint to another…”
“We only survive because we DON’T consider things like that. Just how to fight.”
>Time Turner leans in, adjusting his robe as he stares deeply into you
>Like he’s trying to memorize every jagged line of your sclera, the exact shade of your deep dark pupils
>”You are more than that, Rainbow Dash. You are more than a fighter. Surely Hurricane’s daughter knows a thing or two about the higher ideals of the mind, if she is to succeed him one day.”
“So you know my relation to General Hurricane.”
>”I thought it strange you referred to him as such. Not because of the words themselves, mind you, it’s only natural in this circumstance he should be your general, not your father, but… you meant the words, didn’t you? You THINK of him as your general before the word ‘father’ even enters your mind.”
“He is what he is.”
>You’re finding it increasingly difficult to keep your composure across from this stallion
>His effect on you is becoming more and more unnerving with every passing second
>Could he be doing this on purpose? Do the Exsilists have some sort of technology to remotely influence the brain?
>No… it has to just be your nerves
>Relax, Rainbow… 
>”To tell you the truth, I anticipated meeting you when I stepped out of my dirigible rather than Hurricane himself. I knew he’d be wary about meeting with me, and I knew he would trust nopony better to carry out his… ahem, ‘diplomatic’ intentions than you.”
>Is your familial relationship with Hurricane really that widely known, even among the Exsilists?
>And you tried so hard to convince yourself that your captainship had nothing to do with it, that it wasn’t your defining feature…
>This pony is mocking you, and you’re not going to take it lying down
“Why am I sensing all kinds of sarcasm around that word? ‘Diplomatic?’ I can personally vouch for my father that diplomacy is chief among his priorities in doing business with you.”
>”And you? What’s your chief priority?”
“To see that your visit to our glorious capital is a productive one, ambassador. Not to mention safe.”
>At that, Time Turner smiles and relaxes his posture
>”The philosophy of the Pegasus Armistice State is an interesting one, I must admit. I’ve read your father’s literature, listened to many of his speeches, and of course I’ve learned much on how the common pegasus thinks in my dealings with your own ambassadors. This ‘niche’ concept… it’s fascinating. Truly, I mean. Here we have the only surviving sentient species on the planet with the inherent capability to take to the skies, and you think of it as filling your corner of the grand scheme, is that right?”
“Effectively. We all have our place in the great wheel. Our loyalty to the Trust is the only thing that separates us from the chaff of Canterium. It’s our patience, discipline, honor, willingness to see the whole of our destinies through.”
>”The end, then? That’s your motivation?”
“Isn’t that what this war of yours is about? This war you’re hellbent on dragging us into?”
>”Ah, but you want the war to take you on, don’t you, Captain Dash? Rather that, than swallow up the scraps that our Cult leaves you when we storm Mons Canteria from the north.”
“Sure. But the more you push right now, and the more you involve us, and ambassador, I’ll say this on my father’s behalf, the more your PRESSURE us to meet your impossible demands for nuclears and the rest of your armaments, the more likely it becomes that the Canterians will come to us before we have a chance to fly at them.”
>”Ahhh, yes. So I’ve heard. Hurricane’s sources in Canterium’s Senatori say as much.”
>Here he goes again, playing with your mind
>Could your father have told the Exsilists what he learned about Chancellor Neighsay’s designs on Pegasopolis? And if so, why?
>Sure, the Trust is a TRUST, after all, but what would telling them now benefit the PAS?
>It’s either that, or the Exsilists’ spies are more omnipresent than you’d hoped
>They could have it out for Hurricane for making the kind of remarks he made about the Cult with you in private
>You wonder whether Hurricane procuring a bodyguard like Bulk Biceps was such a rash decision after all…
>Seems like everypony knows more than you
“It’s just chatter from those Imperialists. They may be sympathetic, but that doesn’t mean they can be trusted fully. What matters now is that we make this Trust as unbreakable as possible. When we’re ready, we’ll fight with you. WHEN we’re ready.”
>”Your father seems to place a good deal of trust in you, Captain, to let you make statements like that so autonomously.”
>You feign a laugh, directing your gaze out the window
>Seated facing backwards from the cockpit, you can see the antennae and landing zones of Highstorm Port receding into the distance
>Soon, the soaring architecture of the city proper will surround you on all sides
“You’re mistaking me for some kind of politician. You’ll be having this exact same conversation with the General; I’m not trying to interface with you at all here, just… making sure you’re prepped to meet with him. Seeing as how the two of us share fairly similar opinions.”
>”Well, politician or not, you’re certainly more eloquent than most soldiers I’ve met. Most of that lot are licentious and a fair bit rough. Doesn’t exactly help that a fair portion of the Cult’s fighting force are common slaves.”
>You remember your father telling you when you were fairly young about the Cult’s rise to power
>How they came out of the Westerlands, seized every fishing village and small town on the northern coast they came across, amassing an army of acolytes
>Those who would not convert were forced into servitude, and those who did weren’t treated much better
>He used to say the biggest difference between the PAS and the Exsilists was that at least pegasi never cracked the whip on those consumed into your metropolis
“I’ll take it as a compliment, you thinking I’m more well-spoken than a fighting slave.”
>Time Turner chuckles, as does one of his enforcers
>Strange; until this point, you’d almost believed they were mutes
>”It’s a fair compliment. I was a slave once, you know.”
“That’s… surprising.”
>”I was taken into the Cult at a very young age. But through the strength of my own desires to serve, I climbed the ranks until I was appointed by the Highmind Empress herself to sit at her council. The Makers valued merit above all else; it’s only natural we should respect that tradition.”
“You’re their cultural successors, after all.”
>”As close as a culture may come. The Wastes hardened the Cult. The cancers that grew in our forefathers’ bodies enlightened them to the condition of the Makers. They CHOSE their destiny; suicide was not an option, it was an inevitability. Whether each individual of their species longed for the bomb or not, their society needed to pass on their traits to us through annihilation. Ponykind are the successors of the Makers, the last spoke in that great wheel. So, I suppose, our philosophies are not so different, after all.”
 “Ambassador.”
>You eye Time Turner to see him looking closely into the face of his watch again
>When he hears the sharp tone of your voice, his organic parts twitch, and he turns to stare into you
>Beneath the silence, the rotary blades hum as the chopper tears through the skies above Pegasopolis
>Daybreak has turned to morning without your realizing…
“Let’s drop pretenses. Without any window dressing, you need to tell me why you’re here.”
>The ambassador looks a bit startled when you ask him this, as you expected
>His cold eyes dart about the cabin, to each of his silent enforcers, to your own, then back to that strange red watch
>Then he nods, and the creeping feeling in you grows ever stronger
>This was a gamble, and well outside the parameters of your mission, but just maybe…
>”Time, Captain Dash. We are all of us slaves to time. And yet, without it, we are nothing at all. Still images, fading forever.”
“What I—”
>”Mean to ask? It’s quite alright, Captain. We’re all just rolling into inevitabilities, to and from every trace-point in existence. But I’ve come here to perhaps alleviate you of one of these points. A most disagreeable one.”
>Alleviate?
>No… there’s no way this stallion’s visit will be a beneficial one for the State
>It’s bad news… Hurricane thinks so, and so do you
>He’s hiding something
>”I’m sure General Hurricane’s told you to be wary of my visit. He’s spun a tapestry for himself of some plot amidst our factions to destroy one another come the end of this war, when our common enemy is done for. I am here in a diplomatic capacity, as well as one of oversight; the production of armaments for the Cult here have slowed, and I’ve been tasked with finding out why.”
“You know that’s not the answer I’m looking for.”
>”And you know, Captain, that an ambassador to the Highmind Empress is not to be bullied for information.”
>This is bad
>Any escalation from here very well might result in your brains being splattered against the back hull of chopper by one of the robo-twins here
>But backing down… that’s not in your vocabulary
>The Wunderbolts are tracking close behind the chopper; you could easily signal Lightning to swarm the chopper and arrest these three if things get ugly
>It wouldn’t be good for diplomacy, but at this point you’re ready to acknowledge that you’ve gone too deep
>”And in any case, if you’d been a bit more patient, Captain…”
>The ambassador folds his legs beneath him, the wires lining his robes scattering across the cushioned seat
>The edges of his robe fold up slightly, and you can just make out his cutie mark: a great gilded hourglass
>How appropriate…
>”I was already planning on confiding in you, and you alone, the true nature of my visit.”
>…Yeah, right
>That sounds too convenient to be true, but you’ll play along for now
>You match Time Turner’s posture, letting your wings flutter to rest at your sides
>This uniform’s a bit uncomfortable when you’re not flying in it
>This general atmosphere of discomfort may not be helping that, though
“Well, shucks. Am I really so special as all that?”
>”You’re remarkably special to me. And to the Highmind Empress. If I had not met with you there at the port, I would have sought you out at the earliest possible opportunity. We understand that Hurricane is grooming you to become his successor.”
“That’s… not entirely true. The General has many options when it comes to a replacement, and besides, he’s in prime condition. It’s far from first on our list of priorities.”
>”But, and this is purely hypothetical, my dear, but what if something… unSAVORY were to happen to your father which would necessitate that kind of conversation?”
“Is that a threat, ambassador?”
>”Hm-hm. No.”
>Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse Lightning’s fire-orange mane peeking around the edge of the chopper’s window as she zooms alongside you
>One signal, and this conversation would be over…
>You’re more nervous now than ever before, but you keep those feelings buried deep within when dealing with these types
>”The Highmind Empress has had what we call a ‘prophetic encounter.’ She has communed with the spirits of the Makers in sensory isolation, using Unicronia’s key cryptogeography, to measure… well, we shan’t get into specifics. But she witnessed an apparition of your father being betrayed by one of his own, and your State falling into chaos because of it.”
“By… one of his own? You mean a traitor?”
>”Or a spy. Somepony who has infiltrated your ranks, or even defected and remained within his confidence to eventually destroy him.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ll find nothing but loyalty in this place. And while we value your Empress’ foresight, I can’t bring myself to believe in—”
>”Superstitions? Abilities beyond your understanding? Captain, the magic of unicorns has created macabre wonders that mere earth ponies and pegasi like us could never comprehend since the dawn of time itself.”
“And yet you despise them for it.”
>”Only because the technological marvels of the Makers could do all of it, and more. We don’t always deign to know what the Living Machine has in store for us, but if we can merely peel off a layer of it, just a thin veneer… well, just know this: the Highmind Empress has never been wrong about such things.”
“Who could possibly betray my father and think they could get away with it?”
>”I quite surely don’t know. I’ve come here to, among other more extant matters, discover exactly that, and perhaps even warn him when the time comes. Elsewise, my dear, we lose our most prized ally in this war.”
>Time Turner leans in and taps the brace on your forehoof, which you allow him to do only because you want to hear what he has to say
>He lowers his half-synthesized voice to a dreadful-sounding whisper
>”Now YOU, Rainbow Dash, daughter of Bow Hothoof, have full maneuverability in this. You’re with me on your father’s orders; well and good. But you are close with him, which means you can help me investigate everypony else close to him. Not to mention your military connections.”
>This is not the situation you were expecting, at all
>At the moment, every fiber in your being is screaming at you not to trust a single word that comes out of this cyborg’s mouth
>He’s a Cultist, an ally of necessity alone, and even if you believed in his religious technobabble you can’t see any circumstance where he’d tell the truth on this
>An enemy within? It’s a convenient cover for an Exsilist assassin to swoop in and take out Hurricane before he stirs up too much trouble for their eastward ambitions
>But…
>Maybe that’s just your own devotion to this State getting in the way of the bigger picture
>It’s not IMPOSSIBLE that somepony here in Pegasopolis would have it out for Hurricane, but who?
>Who would be so bold? So disloyal?
>So… evil!
>Yes, that’s the only word you can really summon up to describe such treachery
>After everything the State’s done for the pegasi of this continent… who would even have the opportunity?
>Thoughts swim through your head like fish in the shallows, each conflicting with one another, and the cloud of pegasi hovering above Staatskongress enters your mind once again
>Above…
>Who could think themselves so above it all, that they’d butcher everything that was built, will be built? 
“Why should I believe you?”
>”My dear, you absolutely shouldn’t. You’ve given me an impression of yourself, one that’s not tricked by the simple palace intrigues with which my kind is so familiar. I’m not here to mislead you, though if I were, you surely wouldn’t know it. So rather than taking me at my word, I’ll offer you this little idea: continue escorting me as normal. Take me to the nuclear production plant today, and to the General tomorrow if he’s available. But whatever you do, and I ask you this as an acquaintance, do NOT tell your father what I’ve told you. His life could be put in ever greater risk if he knew.”
“And?”
>”And, in the meantime, help me solve this other mystery. If it comes up that nothing’s afoot, then I’ll be on my way once all my other affairs are in order. But if I AM right, Captain Dash, I will need your insight. And your ear. That’s all I ask of you. The Highmind Empress’ prophecies can be reversed, but only through direct action.”
>You scratch your chin in a show of contemplation
>You’re still not fully ready to trust this Exsilist ambassador, but if what he says is true, it would be advantageous to both parties if this traitor is rooted out
>Like the Cult or not, the fact is that they’d have no good reason to betray Hurricane at a time like this, when the Trust is most integral; it’s got to be the Canterians
>If anypony’s placed a spy among the upper echelons of the State, it’s that despicable Chancellor Neighsay in his pretty palace on Capitoline Peak
>So you’ve got probable cause, and somepony who would benefit from telling you all this; not to mention there’s no loss in simply playing along
>The decision is made in your mind before you even have time to work out the details
“Alright. I’ll help you. And in exchange, what do I get?”
>”Your father’s life, I would hope.”
“I already have that, ambassador. It’s common practice in pegasus culture to exchange gifts between those who’ve promised themselves to one another.”
>”Then I can assure you the Highmind Empress will be most grateful for your cooperation in this investigation. And I’ve always got her ear…”
“Tell her then, if you don’t mind…”
>In your periphery, the first towering buildings whip past, marble columns and embankments moving too quickly to perceive
>You’ve entered the city; no, the city has wrapped itself around YOU
>Underneath the noise of the chopper, beneath the movement of the air around its sleek black body, you hear a faint ticking
>And even though it couldn’t possibly be so loud, you could swear it’s in time with the second hand of the ruby watch on Time Turner’s hoof
>Moving around and around, forward and on, burning its tempo into your head…
>The electric buzz begins to subside, and your distaste for the pony for you goes with it
>Mostly…
>And for now…
“Tell her my Wunderbolts and I would gladly take to the skies in Unicronia. Tell her we’d be honored to help the Cult see that city burn to the ground.”
>Time Turner’s tail warps upward into a U-shape; it’s almost like it’s grinning along with him
>”That can be arranged, Captain Dash. In time.”
 
******

>Noon, and the sun is directly over the pit, shining yellow down into its darkest depths
>At the bottom, the machine drills have ceased their activity, the workers vacated, the equipment there abandoned
>From this vantage point, pressed by all the ponies in front of you just up to the railing at the lip of the great hole of Site 23, you can look down there, all the way to the bedrock floor, and…
>Something invisible, like ghostly steam, is rising from that place, tickling your nostrils
>It’s a feeling you’ve never known before, in the months you’ve been here, and maybe it isn’t even real, but you feel it all the same
>No matter; your attention’s already diverted back ahead of you, away from the gaping pit, towards the mounds and broken fortresses comprising the “peak” of what was once the Maker’s Fist
>You are Lucky Clover (no no, Shamrock!), and today’s the day
>The day that’s going to determine whether you live to be acquitted of all your past crimes, or die in this desert, a traitor to your nation by your nation’s own will
>Well, maybe not so dramatic as all that, but still; you’ve got a choice to make
>All you can do now is wait for that buzzing sound to stop, for the black chitinous shape of the helicopter that’s been circling above you for the past five minutes to touch ground
>For what’s happening right now, if you could even see over the heads of the rest of the engineering department, who seem determined to keep you from witnessing HIS arrival
>Professor Neigh’s among them, somewhere, probably at the forefront to personally shake his hoof and take all the credit for the great work his team’s done on…
>Well, whatever’s actually going on down there in the subterranean Omega Sector
>And of course, Doctor Caballeron, at whose deranged hooves you thought you’d find yourself meeting your maker last night, is also up there; you recognize the squarish head and relentlessly styled mane even through this crowd
>Truth is, nearly everypony working in Site 23 has gathered here this morning to formally greet the Intelligence Minister himself, Black Bar, to the premises
>He’s here for inspections, top to bottom, that much you know, but what you’re unclear on is the exact nature of those inspections
>Is he culling staff for leaks? If that’s the case, there’s a good chance that you’re already a dead stallion walking
>Has he come for a personal update on the progress being made on the archaeological front? In the places you still don’t have proper clearance to enter?
>Or, and this is your top pick, is he just here to escape Chancellor Neighsay’s wrath until that whole debacle blows over?
>The third option is what Neighsay himself seems to think, judging by his messages… you honestly don’t know how he juggles all these things he’s supposed to be worried about
>But you get the feeling that chief among those concerns is what you’re feeding him from here, which doesn’t surprise you
>Your allegiance to him is one based on mutual trust, and you know he believes you when you tell him that something’s very fishy about this place…
>That train of thought is severed when the helicopter finally angles down towards the earth, and gently descends to the slick landing pad around which the whole facility is cautiously crowded
>Wind from the blades blows into your face even from back here, relieving some of this damn heat
>Up ahead, Caballeron’s mane practically looks like it’s flying off his scalp from the force
>Then, the tracks touch base, and the spinning vortex of the blades slows to a steady halt
>Without that noise, the surface of Site 23 is surprisingly silent, calm, waiting for something important to happen
>And just when you think you can’t wait any longer…
>The door slides open, and out comes Black Bar, whose face you immediately recognize from all the briefing documents you skimmed way back when
>His middle-aged face is speckled with wrinkles; a grisly grin stretches across his muzzle reveals frightening-looking teeth; grey-white hairs encircling that mouth form something resembling a mustache and beard, but are so thin that they barely mask the dark grey of his coat
>All of it is peaked with great big sunglasses that cover his famously discriminating eyes; you’re glad you aren’t faced with them now
>If you had any kind of choice in the matter, you’d steer as clear as possible from him during his visit to this place, but unfortunately…
>”Welcome, Minister! Welcome to Site 23!”
>Caballeron’s voice echoes in the still air, carrying perhaps over the miles of desert that surround you
>You’re at the edge of the great circle of staff all crowded around the helipad, and even you can hear his rugged voice as though it’s right in your ear
>”As you can see, we are all so grateful to be graced with your presence. The whole of the facility’s staff has gathered here to celebrate your arrival. A few in particular have wished to discuss certain matters with you.”
>Rather than speak so loud and grandiose as the Doctor, Black Bar draws closer to him and appears to whisper something in his ear
>Caballeron looks at the Minister rather sourly, then turns away and gestures across the crowd
>”All of you are dismissed! Please, return to your stations now. Except for those of you I am now going to name off.”
>The Doctor beckons one of his equally sniveling assistants to hand him a clipboard, which he grips between his forehoof and fetlock and takes in a deep, audible breath
>”Professor Hanover Neigh, Chief of Engineering and Applied Sciences. Step forward.”
>The professor, who finally distinguishes himself from the mass of white coats crowding your vision, nervously comes forth
>When he turns to come into profile view opposite Black Bar, the green bruise from where Caballeron struck him last night is painfully apparent on his muzzle
>”Diamond Tip, head foreman of Central Digging Operations. Step forward.”
>Across from your section of the crowd, a dark stallion with hard features and a crystalline jackhammer for a cutie mark comes into the central circle and stands next to Neigh
>”Watchful Eye, Chief Surveil—ay, ay. This will take all day. All section heads, including those who report to somepony other than myself, line up!”
>About a dozen ponies, all garbed in different uniform trappings, approach the helipad from the masses and form a single file line which warps about Black Bar as though he’s the center of their orbit
>”Everypony else, you are dismissed. Go back to work.”
>Perfect
>You’d been relishing this opportunity, wherein both Caballeron and Neigh were occupied in a known location other than the labs
>It’ll give you a chance, however slim, to get into Neigh’s private laboratory and see if you can snap some glamor shots of those documents
>You know three important things now: first, that the documents Black Bar made such a fuss about to Neighsay last week aren’t just a red herring; they really exist, they’re right here on-site, and they contain valuable information about Omega Sector
>It’d be better if you could slip your way down into the Omega tunnels yourself, but as of yet you haven’t been gifted with that chance
>Second, Caballeron’s hiding something from Black Bar, else he wouldn’t have tried to convince him not to come here over the phone last night
>There’s an angle there, if you’ve got the guts to play at the big colts’ table and gamble your secret identity against Black Bar
>Third, and probably most important of all, the inspections Black Bar will be running here won’t involve you, as your official station here is as an inquiry officer
>But the ponies he WILL be interviewing should all have high enough clearances to merit his notice AND hold substantial documentation on the topics that the Chancellor is ever so interested in
>Ergo, you take careful note of the faces of the section heads Caballeron is now pulling out of the crowd; any one of them might be the key to success
>But getting close to them… how’s that going to happen?
>Best slip away now and get down to the labs to check at least one bullet point off yo—
>”Officer Shamrock!”
>You freeze
>The whole of the excavation site fills your vision, the steel stairs leading down to its highest tunnel right in front of you, but you can’t…
>You can’t reach it now…
>”Where are you, Officer Shamrock?”
>You grimace, turning to face back into the center of the circle and raising your hoof above the heads of the shifting engineers
>Caballeron looks pretty pissed that you’re so far back, but he gives you time to shuffle through the mass and towards the helipad
>The sea of whitecoats parts for you, and soon you’re standing mere feet from the Intelligence Minister, this…
>This stallion whose gaze, even masked by shades, tells you he can see right through you
>Your insides are icy cold despite the heat
“S-sir?”
>”Minister, regrettably, the chief inquiry officer Comet Tail took ill last night. This… ugh… assistant officer will be taking his place for our purposes. No es correcto, Senor Shamrock?”
“Y-yes, sir. Of course.”
>This is bad
>REALLY bad
>Not just because it’s getting in the way of your quality alone time with Neigh’s laboratory, but because being this close to Black Bar…
>You know he can’t possibly know who you really work for, but that laser stare, that knowing grin, tells you the exact opposite
>Celestia above, just stay calm, stay calm…
>You’re a hacker, for whinny’s sake, you’re not freaking cut out for this
>”Officer… Shamrock, is it?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Minister. That’s what it says on my security badge.”
>”Pendejo!”
>Black Bar chuckles, patting you on the wither
>”No, Doctor, it’s alright. I like your style, Shamrock. And I’m a fan of that jumper.”
“Th-thank you, Minister.”
>Caballeron silently shakes his head and redirects his glare to the rest of the section heads
>”Gentlecolts, the Intelligence Minister will be taking a tour of each of your departments. You will be his trusty guides. He will ask you questions. You will answer them, fully and honestly. Everything you say to him, he will repeat to me when this is over. Comprende?”
>Everypony in the semicircle nods their reluctant agreement, prompting Caballeron to skulk into the gathered crowd and back towards the primary excavation site
>As the rest of the facility’s staff follow suit, leaving only you, Black Bar, and the other section heads standing on the surface, the desert begins to feel infinitely vast to you
>Around you, the remains of ancient Maker fortification structures line the pit, speaking of centuries of internal conflict
>Beyond that, the northward expanse extends miles of flat lifelessness towards the southern border of Canterium proper, the strange but beautiful Celestial Mounds
>For now, though, you can’t take your eyes off of Black Bar, who leads the march of the gathered ponies to an alternate path into the site
>”Officer Shamrock?”
>You snap to attention as the Minister beckons you to catch up next to him
>It’s a good thing you’ve gotten better at responding to your alias over the course of your time here; you’re certain somepony as perceptive as Black Bar would detect a delay
>You quicken your pace from the back of the crowd to join him at the front, just as the whole of you reach the eastern stairwell jutting up from the earth
“Minister.”
>”Your boss, Comet Tail, is a correspondent of mine. Give him my regards, won’t you? Tell him I hope for his speedy recovery.”
“I can do that, Minister.”
>”Now, son, on the matter of internal affairs… we share a common interest here, you and I. We both want to see this place in tip-top shape, don’t we?”
“Th-that we do, Minister.”
>The shadow of the pavilion draped across the stairwell falls over you, and Black Bar removes his sunglasses to accommodate
>The flat gray eyes behind them remind you of a dragon’s eyes, ready to consume its prey
>Not that you, or anypony alive for that matter, has seen a dragon…
>”Inquiries is one of the most important pillars of CI, Officer. It allows us to keep tabs on ourselves, something most of the ministries of this fine nation of ours are either too afraid or simply don’t care enough to do. Now, I imagine you’ve done a fine job so far, keeping an eye on some of the budget concerns, resolving interpersonal issues… all of us back home at Mons are very proud of you and your team, what you do here.”
>Screw you, you old goat
“Thank you, Minister.”
>”However, I’m sure you’re aware of why I’ve come here. Has Caballeron been quite… transparent, on that matter?”
“To my understanding, you’d like to take over for me, Minister.”
>Black Bar grins at that, letting out a restrained but somehow… fatherly chuckle
>That’s scarier than anything you’ve observed about him thus far
>”Yes, yes… in a sense, yes. There come times when I grow tired of the city, and I think to myself, I think: ‘What’s the best vacation spot for a weary old pony like myself?’”
“Our little hole in the desert, I’d imagine.”
>”Site 23, the Maker’s Fist, well… whatever you want to call it, son. It’s one of our country’s most important assets right now. Tell me, what’s your clearance level?”
“Currently Level 3, Minister. But I intend to rectify that very soon.”
>”A go-getter, eh? I like that quality in a CI stallion. Level 3, so let’s see… your haunt’s the upper laboratories, no?”
“Mostly. My job requires a fair bit of moving around.”
>”Caballeron works you fellas too hard. Grinds you down to the bone. Then you’re not aware, Officer Shamrock, of what goes on in Omega Sector?”
>Omega Sector?
>What’s he implying, asking you a question like that, at a time like this?
>Once again, it takes all the effort you can muster not to break out in a cold sweat and confess to everything
>This is damn well NOT what you signed up for, getting grilled by the head of the whole damn Ordo!
“I… no, Minister. Not especially.”
>”Well then, you’re at least aware of why this installation was originally important?”
“Sure. You’d have to be brainless not to know that. The New Maker’s Handbook was discovered here, Minister.”
>”Under hundreds of feet of rock. In a chamber locked deep underground, undisturbed by ponykind for over six hundred years. Just around the time the Makers vanished into dust, as it happens.”
“The war reached as far as this place, Minister?”
>”Perhaps. We ponies have no way of knowing, of course. It was so long ago, so far away from our sphere of knowing… they’d withdrawn themselves completely from us by that point. But what we do know now is all that they left behind, all their glorious inventions, their microprocessors, their motorized carriages, their… everything. This light.”
>Black Bar gestures up to the roof of the subterranean staircase you now descend, where an electric lightstrip hangs suspended by its own power cable
>”This light, which would’ve taken us so long otherwise to realize. Gone are the days of gas bulbs and candles, poof, gone, overnight, fifty years ago. Replaced by everything we have now, the decadence, the opulence. All centered around this place this… hole in the desert, as you so lovingly called it.”
“Sorry, Minister.”
>”Nothing to apologize about, son. But the work that’s being done in Omega Sector, well… can you keep a secret?”
>You wordlessly nod, prompting Black Bar to lean in and expose to you full-face those terrible discerning eyes
>”It very may well just win us this war of ours.”
>This is…
>You only wish you were in a position to pry further into a statement like that
>If you could learn what he meant by that, and relayed it to Neighsay, you might be shipped out of here in no time!
>Win the war… are they building some kind of weapon down there?
>Is THAT what all those supercomputers were for?
>And if so, why would they be keeping that knowledge from the government?
>No… Caballeron and Neigh were discussing something called Dream, something to do with alpha waves…
>Celestia, you’ve got to get into that damned lab…
>And now’s the perfect time: all eyes on Black Bar, Neigh trailing right here behind him, Caballeron hiding in his office, everypony else just watching their own flanks
>If you could just give Black Bar the slip, you could—
>”So, Officer Shamrock, I understand you’ve just recently begun work here in Site 23.”
>And just like that, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight into the air
“Y-yes, Minister. A little less than three months.”
>The staircase widens and gives way to the first level of the main atrium of the site, where the surveillance station hangs like a crane over the deep cavity
>Across the chasm before you, around a half-bend of the ring bridge circumscribing this level, is the entrance to Alpha Tunnel, and by extension the massive multiplex below
>Black Bar seems to be leading his flock in that direction
>”And your next line, of course, is ‘how does the Minister of all of Ordo possibly know that about me?’”
>N-nani?
“I just a-assume you know everything about everypony, Minister. If anypony in this world’s omniscient, it’s you.”
>”A fair assumption, son. Heh-heh. But I DO, in fact, know most of what there is to know about everypony who works specifically here, at this site. And that is only because I consider it so invaluable to our war efforts.”
“If I could ask a ridiculous question, Minister, what’s so invaluable about this place anyway? I understand its history but…”
>Before you can even finish your sentence, the Minister smirks and gestures to his cutie mark, a great big black rectangle that looks painted by ink over some hidden classified word
>”That, Officer, is a question for my flank. Ordo Intelligentia pride ourselves on opacity, and Cognitio Incognitus, well… you’re our most secretive division.”
“Of course, Minister. I… think I knew when I asked what you’d say.”
>Black Bar nods in agreement, then wheels around to face the rest of the section heads who have begun to lag behind
>”Keeping up then, you all? Alright. The reason Doctor Caballeron has been so kind as to grace me with each of your presences is because I’d like to spend some quality time with each of you, today and tomorrow. You’ll be given set times where you’ll come and meet with me in the good Doctor’s office, and we’ll just sit down and chat. Very informal, I assure you, and it won’t take long at all.”
>The grey stallion moves to the edge of the ring bridge, surprisingly nimble for his age, and beckons the rest of you to join him there
>Gradually, Professor Neigh and the rest all line up against the railing and peer into the depths of the dig site
>”After all these years, we are digging. Digging with finer equipment, government-funded equipment, after all, that’s why Ordo took over the excavation in the first place… but we’re digging here, and in all the CI sites across Canterium, because we are dedicated to discovery. Dedicated to tracing out our heritage, that of the Makers, that of… well, you get the idea. When we talk, gentlecolts, we’ll talk about all the good work you’re doing here to secure the future of Canterium. Some of you may think, and I’ve gathered this from talking with young Shamrock here… some of you may have the idea that this place isn’t all that important. A mere hole in the desert. Well, friends, that couldn’t be further from the—”
>Black Bar pauses his grand speech for a moment and grunts, squinting down the shaft of the atrium
>You follow his gaze to see a helmeted pony you’ve never seen before galloping at top speed across the bridge one level below you
>He races into the burrow of Beta Tunnel across from you, only to emerge a few scant moments later from Alpha Tunnel’s entrance
>He must’ve cleared those stairs at record speed
>Frantic eyes locked on your group, the stallion runs around the circumference of the first level and skids to a halt only feet from Black Bar himself
>Then, he tries to speak
>”Minister Bla… guh… Minist… ugh…”
>”Out with it, son. Collect yourself first.”
>The helmeted, lanky pony does as told, taking in a few deep breaths before trying again
>”Minister Black Bar… Doctor Caballeron urgently calls for your presence in Omega Sector.”
>What? Omega Sector?
>The Minister’s only just arrived…
>”Pardon? Caballeron is quite—”
>”Professor Neigh. You as well, sir.”
>The white-coated and bruised pony seems to regard the newcomer for the first time at the mention of his name
>”Ahem. What’s the meaning of this? On what grounds does the Doctor have to pull me away from—”
>”It’s the… the thing, sir. The… you know.”
>”No, I DON’T know what, and if you interrupt me again—”
>”He says it’s detected something!”
>…
>Silence, but for your own thoughts
>Detected? Is this what Black Bar was talking about?
>Is this to do with the supercomputers?
>This stallion must be high clearance, seeing as how you’ve never even seen him lurking around your own pitiful territory
>Spends all his time down there, in the bowels of Omega Sector deep underground
>What you’d give to just get a peek of what they’re doing down there…
>”I mean… sir. The whole thing’s going—”
>”Yes, I heard you! For Celestia’s sake, get yourself together! You should know better than to discuss such things in mixed company! Minister Black Bar, sir…”
>”I’m aware, Professor.”
>Black Bar returns his attention to you and the rest of the huddled, confused section heads
>”Well, gentlecolts, seems our time here has been cut short for now. But you will be receiving timecards for your expected evaluations with me, and I will want some modicum of preparation... informal as it may be. Dismissed, all of you. Lead the way, son.”
>Together, the three of them, Black Bar, Neigh, and the unknown stallion, all hasten towards a different, protracted tunnel, one that you know ends in an elevator that leads directly down into the lower levels
>Leaving you utterly bewildered and uncertain as to what to do next
>Sure, you’ve got free reign to slip into the labs now that Neigh is occupied, but you’re almost more tempted to try and follow them down there
>No, it’s impossible; no matter what “problem” they’re solving down there, no matter what the grand secret to this whole affair is, the reason Chancellor Neighsay installed you here in CI was to passively observe and report
>Not to go on life-or-death missions into Omega Sector, tempting as that may be
>You’ll never see with your own two eyes what they’re using those supercomputers for, or what the hell this “Dream” is; all you can do is give Neighsay enough solid material to wrest control from Ordo
>From his tone in the last message he sent you, you could almost think he sees Ordo as a bigger threat than the Cult of Exsilium, if that’s even possible
>And why not? An enemy on the battlefield is one that’s easy to fight, but an enemy within…
>You nod to the other section heads, all of them clearly as disoriented as you, then race across the adjoining bridge into Alpha Tunnel
>When you spot the lift down to Theta, you skid to a halt and scramble into it as inconspicuously as possible, pressing the floor key and letting the doors slide smoothly shut
>You’re on a time limit now; you’ve got no idea how long it’ll be before somepony goes snooping in the lower labs, but that doesn’t mean you should draw undue attention to yourself
>After all, it’s the second time in two days you’ve pulled a stunt like this, and this time you’re resolute about getting concrete data
>None of this he-said she-said rumormill bullcrap; you want documentation
>Evidence, to pass along to your benefactor
>When the doors open again, you’re already across from the labs, yet the tunnel beyond has gotten danker, darker, less developed than the surface
>The corrugated metal lining the walls and ceiling up there have been replaced with sheer rock in this lower passage connecting the maintenance point to the engineering labs
>Neigh’s private lab is on this floor, and you’ve got a plan for getting in
>You walk calmly down the hall, nopony but the omnipresent security cameras to trace your movement into that cluttered space
>Bulbs become brighter as you approach, walls turn from earth-brown to painted white, and the stray equipment from yesterday has been neatly removed from the hallways
>Tip-top shape for the Minister, eh?
>Without threading through boxes, dollies, shovels, and the like, it’s a much easier trip to that sealed circular door you pressed your ear against last night to hear what you needed to hear
>It’s locked, of course; it’s protected by a Level 4 access portal and a six-digit numeric pad
>You, however, took the liberty of devising a much easier means of entry
>Now normally, access cards give off distinct magnetic signatures when swiped through these portals
>Every card of every level has a specific encoded format assigned to that level, plus an additional string which distinguishes it from all others of its level
>In this situation, your card is useless; it hasn’t got the general Level 4 access signature (even though it could if you were crafty enough to clone somepony else’s) and even if it did, you can only assume that this particular door is coded to Professor Neigh’s personal string
>You need both to gain legitimate access to this lab
>Legitimate, that is
>You direct your attention to the small ventilation shaft to your left, positioned near the ceiling and running directly into the lab
>It’s too small by far to squeeze through even if you could climb into it, but that isn’t what you have in mind
>Instead, you recheck your surroundings to make sure you saw right the last time you were here: indeed, the one camera pointed at this door is the old type, the kind they used before the renovations
>It feeds into the local drive on this floor which is later collected BY HOOF and transported up to surveillance records
>So as long as you can get to that room and erase the footage of what you’re about to do within, say, forty-five minutes, this next part shouldn’t be an issue
>A simple enough task, far simpler than what you’re about to do
>Standing straight up on the very tips of your hindlegs, you use your multitool to unscrew the vent cover
>Then, fishing some blank card sheets out of your flank pocket, you crumple them together and prime your makeshift overcharger next to them
>A few seconds later…
ZZZZIP
>Static arcs across the gap, and you’ve got yourself a little ball of flaming paper, which you promptly insert into the open duct and cover from your side with another sheet of paper
>Now, the auto-doors in Site 23 are security-prioritized; if all the power in the facility were to short at once, they’d default to shut, not open
>But in the case of a fire or other emergency that would require evacuation, the doors open and the alarms go off
>Of course, you don’t want any banging klaxons alerting anypony to your presence here, and in the case of a false alarm those klaxons won’t activate with the press of a manual override switch located near each door
>Within about three seconds of detection…
>In summation, well… you can only hope this doesn’t literally blow up in your face
>Pressing the paper seal tight against the open vent, hoping to Celestia that there’s smoke on the other side, hoping even harder nopony rounds the nearby corner and sees you standing on your hindlegs like a total jackass…
FWOOOSH
>There goes the door
>Lightning fast, you throw aside the cover sheet, reach into the vent and retrieve your flaming paper ball, kicking it through the now open circular aperture
>In one fluid motion, you clutch the door rim and swing yourself around and into the lab
>Yellow switch yellow switch yellow switch…
>Yellow switch! There!
>Your foreleg practically flies out of its socket to punch the override switch inside the door, and then…
>No alarms
>Not a peep, not a blare, nothing
>As the door slams shut behind you, and the flaming ball gradually shrivels into nothing, you feel your heartrate drop substantially
>You freaking made it!
>And in three seconds flat, no less
>Now, you sit facing the collection of tables, shelves, scattered codes, racks, chemicals, beakers, graduated flasks, thermometers, spectrometers, and stacks on stacks of heavily used books that compose the private lab of Professor Neigh, Ph.D.
>Time to get busy
>You start with the tall shelf to your left, rummaging through the various unmarked bins to no avail
>There are no cameras in here from what you can see, so as long as you put everything back where it belongs you should be golden
“Juicy little tidbits… where would I keep them?”
>Then it’s on to the desk drawers, the filing cabinet, the overflow pile
>But as far as you can tell, all they contain are reports, studies, and procedures from upper level research; nothing having anything to do with Omega Sector
>You begin to wonder if this venture was pointless…
“Neigh… you lanky clod. Where are those papers?”
>After all, you KNOW you heard Caballeron bring them up last night in this very room!
>For all you know, he was waving them around like wild while beating on the poor downtrodden Professor
>So where are they? Where’s the black book, the real good stuff, the stuff they’re keeping from the Chancellor, from the rest of the government?
>Then, suddenly, hoofsteps
>Hoofsteps coming out of the far wall, coming towards the door
“Damn!”
>This is a dead end! They have to be coming in here!
>But it couldn’t be Neigh… could it?
>As quickly as before, you leap behind a table and cram yourself into a tall cabinet filled with various technical equipment
>It’s far from roomy, but you’ll manage until…
>Wait
>What’s that?
>Just above you, barely visible through the thin bars of a hidden shelf, is a sealed plastic bag containing a stark black manila folder
>If that’s not sinister, you don’t know what is…
>Not to mention the fact that whoever just approached the door seems to be showing no signs of entry; somepony lost, perhaps?
>Now that you think about it, they almost felt more like tremors than hoofsteps
>Well, it doesn’t matter now; all that matters is that hidden folder
>You carefully slide one hoof between the shelf and the cabinet’s back and pull the folder out of its hiding place
>Then, as noiselessly as possible, you crawl out of your hunched position and place the folder squarely on the table
“Now, let’s see…”
>Just take it out of the bag, open the flap, and the inside…
“Hrm.”
>Is interesting, to say the least
>The title page of the document reads “GLUONIC SUBSTRUCTURE OF OUTER ■■■■ HULL
>The black ink stripe catches your attention right off the bat; clearly this is for certain eyes only
>Turning the page, you find what appears to be tables of chemical compounds and molecular diagrams, though nothing like what you’ve ever seen
>Lots of mentions of ■■■■■■ chains… and what the hell is chromodynamics?
>Or chiral undrilling, for that matter?
>You whip out the micro-digital camera from your pocket and begin snapping shots of every page, scanning for any mention of alpha waves
>You find a sole mention on page 14 of the dossier under the header “QUANTITATIVE AND QUALITATIVE HARMONIC RESPONSES” though it’s pretty difficult to decipher:
[Initial discovery of the effects of biologically-driven alpha waves on the ■■■■ was documented on ■■■■■■■■■■■■, when researcher ■■■■■■■■ fell asleep at their workstation in Sub-Chamber ■■■■■ and began to experience proto-prophetic dreams involving ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. Scans of the occipital lobe of ■■■■■■■■ after the fact revealed ■■■■■■■■■, as well as ■■■■■■■■■■■■. The chemical analysis of the ■■■■ hull revealed that the permeation rate of frequencies in the range of naturally neuroharmonic waves in a relaxation environment was nearly ■■ times the permeation rate of any other tested range. However, artificially-produced frequencies of this range reveal a permeation rate on par with previously (inadequate) tested solutions. Furthermore, single-harmonic alpha wave emittance from single biological contact revealed a permeation depth of only approx. ■■ cm. And, of course, the issue persists that direct penetration of the ■■■■ remains impossible. Recommend increasing radiation strength by proceeding with orders of]
>And then nothing at all
>Orders… orders of a pony?
>Or, and this could be interesting… orders of a product?
>Supercomputers, perhaps?
>Whatever they’re building down there, and you’re certain they’re building something, it’s got something to do with dreams, penetrating of a “hull” of some sort, and these chemical compounds
>Or… are they chemical at all?
>They almost look to be something entirely beyond the periodic table
>Maybe this is that strange alloy you heard those scientists discussing!
>Whatever they are, you’ve captured them all in slick digital format, ready to send to the Chancellor as a full package over satlink
>You finish up photographing every single page of the dossier, then smoothly replace it into the exact position you found it in
>Once that’s done, you get to work hastily cleaning up the mess you made in here, when a stray thought suddenly occurs to you:
>Wouldn’t it be funny if the “detection” that stallion upstairs was panicking about also had to do with this?
>You have a feeling that you’ll never know the answer to th-
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM
>In a split-second, you’re on the floor, ducking reflexively
>What… the hell… was that sound?!?!?
>Sounded like a damn atom bomb going off, and you’ve seen the test footage; you know what that sounds like!
>You’re a hundred feet underground, too; if that was on the surface, then…
>Dear Celestia
>Without even bothering to finish your spring cleaning, you race towards the door and out into the hallway
>A flock of whitecoats race past you, but they pay you no mind at all
>They all seem to be headed outside, just like you
>Up the stairs, up more stairs, up towards the sky, towards the lip of the atrium
>All to find out what the hell that noise was
>If it WAS an atomic bomb, it was probably too quiet to be within lethal distance, but even still you’re pretty concerned
>Have they resumed testing? No, that’s ridiculous, not without telling the ponies on-site about it!
>What, then?
“Hey!”
>You bark at one of the engineers, who regards you mid-gallop
“What’s going on? What was that noise?”
>”H-haven’t you heard? All the instruments are going fr-freaking haywire!”
>Instruments?
>In only a few minutes, you’ve cleared the vertical space from Phi Tunnel to Alpha Tunnel; now that you think about it, you could’ve taken the elevator, but it almost seemed dangerous for some reason
>Now you’re cramped, just like before, between dozens of other workers all clamoring for a spot at the front of the pack, all looking to ascend the final staircase to the surface to see…
>Something
>What?
“Hey! Out of the way, O-officer on spot, out of the… get away!”
>They’re rolling around you, crushing you
>Burying you…
>But in time, you’re climbing those corrugated stairs again, surrounded by countless others doing the same, all reaching for the electric lights dangling down, all looking at the impossible brightness coming out of the end of the tunnel
>The surface is blazing yellow now, from this angle
>Just a few more steps, you’re almost there, keep breathing, and…
>…
>It’s in the north
>Minister Black Bar and Caballeron are standing to your left, but you barely even notice their presence
>You, them, all the rest, all of you are looking into the north, past the fortifications and the flat, barren Badland desert
>The Celestial Mounds, miles and miles to the north, are on fire
>No, not fire; it’s blazing yellow, that’s for certain, but it’s all focused on one spot, one plateau in the middle of all those rocky hills of death, like a miniature sun come to the earth
>A sun, almost as bright as the one directly above your head now, glimmering bright, but lacking any of the other features of an atomic explosion, or any sort of explosion for that matter
>What’s more, there’s this… feeling, in your mind… it’s scarily warm
>Terrifyingly pleasant
>”…sensed… don’t you think?”
“Huh?”
>You find it in you to turn your head, focusing on those words you could barely hear over your own thoughts
>Black Bar spoke them to Caballeron; they haven’t even noticed that you’re standing right next to them
>”Undoubtedly. Same coordinates, same… we should send a unit.”
>”Do it. And don’t speak a word of this to the Senatori.”
>”Understood, Ministro.”
>Through the sudden, resounding silence, Caballeron’s voice pierces the heavens
>”Oye! Get back to your workstations! It’s a controlled missile test launch, nothing more! Everypony, back down under, now! Everything is proceeding normally, nopony is in danger…”
>The Doctor’s voice trails off quite unconvincingly as he scurries back down the stairs alongside Black Bar, back into the depths of Site 23
>You, for your own part, pat your pocket to make sure your camera is still bouncing in there
>The first thing you’re going to do when you get down to Theta Tunnel, back to your hidey-hole, is write a lengthy summary to the Chancellor about what you saw and heard
>Not to mention sending him every last page of Neigh’s dossier; maybe the Chancellor’s goons can make more sense of it than you can
>All in all, one thing is abundantly clear as you follow the reluctant crowds back to their posts, away from the burning golden light that even now blazes over that great historic plateau…
>Not even Ordo would launch a missile at See Rock…

******

TWO HOURS EARLIER…

>”There! Look, Applejack, look!”
“I see it. Mater almighty, that’s a steep slope.”
>You are Applejack, the unluckiest pony on earth
>In the space of a week, you’ve been shot at, had your faith in your family shaken, had your worldview shaken even more, whipped up into a marebrained scheme to cross into the territory of your country’s second greatest enemy…
>And now, as a cherry on top of the manure sandwich, you’re only just now getting a good look at this “rock” Twilight’s been begging you to climb
>When dawn broke this morning, you crawled out of your tent, sleepy as could be, and found Twilight praying at the edge of the campsite, near Winona
>You listened in on her words, careful not to let her notice your presence; they sounded hopeful, somewhat sad, definitely asking Her for guidance
>Something she said, though you can’t remember it now, reminded you of the dream you’d just risen from, but that dream you can’t hardly remember now either
>But when it came down to it, the two of you packed up your tent, your supplies, your water and food, and set off into the west, into the hours of morning leading to this moment
>The clock read nine when the road finally dipped south, and some more time yet passed before the Celestial Mounds came battling up the horizon, mountainous hills at the edge of the world
>Twilight gasped when she saw them, and so did you, though it was less of her religious awe at the history of the landmark and more a recognition of the sheer scale of it all
>From what you know about the geography of the South, beyond that natural border are the deserted wastes of the Badlands
>And quite a border it is; crags, some flat on top but many sharpened into spires, easily matching in height the Appleachians you’ve known all your life, though these…
>These seem far taller, probably because the terrain surrounding them is so flat, so miniscule
>Through the cacti and weeds and scattered desert flowers you rode the asphalt of the highway until it began to sink into the ground and eventually turned to matted dirt, free of stones or vegetation but far bumpier than before
>The road forked west again shortly after, and you followed its bend until you rode parallel to those Mounds, whose bases were then not a few short miles from you
>And so the next hour passed, until the clock read ten, the sun barely glinting through the back window to reflect your dashboard back into your eyes, and that was when you saw the rock you were searching for
>”We can still climb it. I can.”
“You sure about that, sugarcube? It’s… and you don’t mean to the TOP, do you?”
>”Well… ideally, yes. But I understand the time constraints… perhaps just until we become tired?”
>You sigh, gazing at the slope which has just materialized from behind its neighbor, the northern slope of See Rock
>Where the Prophetess Celestia came for rest on the first leg of her banishment, where she supposedly saw the light of the Goddess for the first time
>You were skeptical then, but now you believe at least the part about her transformation; climbing a slope like that would strip anypony of their identity
>She had wings, of course…
“I don’t see any switchbacks, or really trails of any kind. We’d have to weave between the saddles of rocks, like we was mountain goats. And besides, we won’t get too far up past that point.”
>You point to a sedimentary line about a third of the way up the side of the great plateau
“I can tell even from here that the slope there’s past 40 degrees. And we didn’t pack no belaying equipment.”
>”Fine. Then we’ll rest there on the line once we’ve reached it. But you have to promise we’ll come back here some other time.”
“If we sprout wings out our backs anytime soon, Twi, then I’ll consider coming back. That or we hijack an airplane or some such.”
>”I don’t plan on stealing anything on this journey, AJ.”
“Well, we’ve got to get to Pegasopolis some way, haven’t we? I mean, think it through, Miss Sunshine.”
>As See Rock begins to fill out the horizon, the sun tilting beyond your range of vision, you continue to gaze at the peak
>It’s certainly a spectacle, and it only seems to grow larger and larger as you drive towards it
“That See Rock’s an anthill compared to the pegasi’s sky fortress. Now, I’ve got no doubt that it really is the place we both saw, the place we’re ‘destined’ to get to before it’s blown to smithereens, but consider this: it’s miles in the sky. Cloud atlas. Not to mention whatever method they do have of getting up there, a blimp, a plane, whatever, ain’t gonna be so welcoming to a couple of Canterian natives.”
>”…oh. Right.”
“Riiiight. So if you’ve got any ideas, now’s the time to brainstorm. It’s still half a day’s drive to the border even from here, and that’s gonna be another hurdle all in itself to get by.”
>”H-helicopter.”
>You sigh, pumping the gas even harder
“Well, if we HAD one of those, then sure, maybe that’d work. But let’s try being a little more reali—”
>”No, helicopter! Up there!”
“I… oh.”
>You watch plainly as far above and to the east, a lone black shape skirts across the morning sky, low enough to the ground that you can make out its shape and the rotation of its blades, but high enough that it’ll easily clear the Mounds it’s headed towards
>”South… what could its destination be?”
“Dunno. You think it’s Canterian?”
>It has to be, right? You’re not yet on PAS land
>Still, some gut feeling rises up and tells you that getting spotted by that whirlybird would be bad news for the both of you
>For several seconds, you trace the path of the helicopter as it moves steadily between two rocky spires, then completely out of sight
“I thought for certain we wouldn’t spot another lifeform out here the whole of the way out, until the Palomino. Good eye, Twilight.”
>”So high… we couldn’t even hear its blades.”
“Suppose they had to clear the peaks, after all. Still, ain’t nothing beyond but a lot of red sand and nomad banditry. Don’t know about nothing else in the Badlands.”
>”The Maker’s Fist.”
>Twilight says it coldly, without a hint of emotion
>That’s peculiar for her
“Yeah, I suppose. What, you think they’re going down there to find more Maker bones and blueprints?”
>”I… I don’t know. But I’m starting to get a headache.”
“It’s the heat. Hotter than a tire iron in a motorbed out here. We need to get THERE quick.”
>You gesture loosely ahead, where the jutting rocks rising out of the earth form a neat set of shady stripes to park Winona in
“And you promise me we’re only going a third of the way up, right?”
>”Y-yes. Sorry, AJ, I… I need a moment. Something is…”
>You look away from the dirt path ahead to regard Twilight, who’s begun clutching her horn in one hoof
>Her hindlegs are drawn up to her barrel, and her eyes are noticeably bloodshot
>You’ve seen these signs before
>With a good deal of care, you remove your hat and place it on Twilight’s outstretched head, then close Winona’s top so the two of you are cast in shade
“Drink some water, Twilight. You’re dehydrated, and you’re nervous, and that ain’t a good combination. Maybe we should just take a breather when we’re in better shade, and decide whether we really want to do this or not.”
>”No, we… have to… it’s…”
“Twilight, just listen to me. It’ll be best if we—”
>”You’ll feel differently when we get there. You’ll understand.”
>What’s she on about now?
>She’s been acting strange like this all day… well, stranger than usual, that is
>Rather than get into another debate, you elect to stay calm and quiet, rolling Winona on up into the northern face of See Rock
>The weeds and spindly desert plants that had begun to overtake the edges of the road before now dwindle in numbers; you imagine parts of this place get very little direct sunlight
>Nor water, for that matter, though they seem to manage just fine with what little they’ve got
>If only ponies were so resilient to dehydration…

. . .

>A dozen more minutes or so pass before you’ve come up to a point in the gradual raise-up to the hoof of the plateau that you decide Winona should no longer try to climb
>The flats that the highway took you through have transformed into barren sand dunes, sizeable in their own right but utterly dwarfed by the rising rock
>You pull Winona into a shallow between two dunes, where a natural trail has formed as a lead-up to the rocky slope before you, and cut the engine
>As it simmers and dies, you look again to Twilight, who seems to be doing a little bit better
>She’s still folded up, but she’s taken some water and stopped holding her horn in such an unnerving way
>She’s smiling faintly, too…
“This is it. Ready to go up?”
>”As I’ll ever be. I am… nervous, though. You were right about that much.”
“Don’t be. It’s only a climb. You may not be used to it, but you’ll get the hang of it. It ain’t quite so exhausting as it looks from all the way down here.”
>Together you disembark, settling your prepped saddlebags over your flanks and setting off
>The dunes make for an easy climb, save the shifting sands making for some unfair hoofing, but pretty soon you’re on solid earth again
>”I’m not as nervous about the climb as I am about what will happen when we reach a certain point. What I meant back there was… I don’t really know what I meant. That you’d change your mind, that you’d see something else that I couldn’t, I… it’s what SHE told me.”
“Numena?”
>The Celestial angel, glowing still as an imprint on your imagination
>Twilight speaks of her so often, and yet sometimes you have to remind yourself that she’s merely a vision in your friend’s dreams
>True, but not real… yeah, you think you’ve gotten a pretty good grasp on this whole philosophy of hers
>”I’ve been remembering more of what she last told me. As I was swimming in those Depths, she mentioned you, she said… you would appreciate it here. More-so than even I would.”
“Well, I can tell you truly that I’m looking forward to the hike. When I was a filly, I’d go up and down the Foals or the Appleachians on occasion, but not so much since. It’ll be nice to battle a slope this challenging.”
>And there’s something else, but you don’t see any point in telling Twilight, worrying her any further
>A little seed, in the back of your mind, planted there by hooves unknown, encouraging you, cheering you on
>You were so skeptical last night about this trek; either it’s the good weather or the new, fresh day or something, but heck if you’re not feeling just a tad excited now
>”Guided…”
“Hm?”
>”Nothing. Forget I said anything. I’m glad you’re with me on this.”
“What’d I tell you last night? You certainly ain’t doing it by your lonesome.”
>The transition from flat ground to mountainside isn’t quite as sudden as it looked from the highroad; the dirt, sand, and gravel begins intermixing steadily with larger pebbles, then shelves of red stone, then darker, harder joints of pure granite
>Contrary to what you thought, there is a sort of natural switchback trail at play for the majority of the hike, and your hooves find good solid purchase wherever you move
>You walk side by side with Twilight, to make sure neither of you lags too far behind or gets their hoof caught in a crack
>After twenty minutes or so, she’s sweating through her forest-green shroud, but otherwise seems to be taking the walk in stride
>Still making that funny face, though…
>You on the other hoof feel more energetic with every step; sweat beads seem to evaporate as soon as they roll over your brow, you’re barely thirsty, and your climbing skills when required are better than ever
>Coming upon a tall, otherwise impassable boulder, you leap up onto it with renewed strength and extend your hoof down to assist Twilight over
>She reluctantly takes your hoof, and you pull her up as though she weighed the same as Apple Bloom
>”Woah… dizzy.”
“I tell you, Twilight, I feel mighty good about this venture. At this rate, we may be up to that shelf in no time. In fact, with what ease it’s taken us so far, I reckon we could take it a few more switches past that before noon breaks.”
>”Speak… for… yourself…”
>Twilight roves about for a good resting place, then folds her legs beneath herself and lowers her head
>You notice only now how hard she’s panting
>”Need… stop… now…”
“S’alright, Twi, take your time. Suppose you unicorns ain’t so well-built for this as we are.”
>”Grew up… in… convent…”
“Well, that too.”
>You chuckle together, though Twilight’s sounds a bit hollow
>She unwraps her canteen and takes a hefty swig from it, letting the excess dribble down her muzzle and into her cloak
>”Cool… feels better.”
“Ready?”
>”Sure… just slow down a bit…”
“That’s fine. We go up as one.”
>”One…”
>Helping Twilight up, you take the short hop down from the other side of the boulder and continue up the face
>As you walk on, and the dust from the gravel underhoof begins to settle, Twilight taps your wither and points out over the northward expanse
>From up here, the sand dunes look positively tiny, and Winona is but an emerald speck in the shadow of one
>Otherwise, you can see for miles, which serves to make you even happier that you decided to do this
>The image of dancing marionettes flashes in your mind, the puppets you and your mother used to play with
>You suppose it was the last time you felt this way, this free and clear and happy
>Honesty, especially with yourself, has been good to you, but it’s also been a burden
>You saw this journey as a burden at first too, but now it’s shaping up to look more like a vacation
>A vacation away from all that squabbling and debating and budgeting and harvesting and everything that got you so heated up inside especially Braeburn and his damned awful attitude and the other Families with their pomp and prestige and Baron Rich on his high hill and what you found in the basement of that place and the Saddle Arabians and the taxes and the
(Discontinuity)
>heading up Twilight’s rear, making sure she doesn’t slip off the edge, which has gotten quite close to the slope
>You had to fall into single file at a point, because…
>Wait, what?
“Twilight, stop for a second. You feel that?”
>”Feel… what?”
“That… I don’t know what. Felt like I was out of it for a while there. In some other place.”
>”Have you been drinking water?”
“Yeah, I… I think so. I can’t remember. It’s like I blacked out or something.”
>”Maybe we should stop and rest for a while.”
>Rest?
“We just rested on that boulder back there.”
>”AJ, that was half an hour ago.”
“Oh. Really?”
>Well even still, why on earth would you rest now? You feel fantastic!
>That same strength and passion is returning to you again… you thought you’d lost it, but it’s coming back, and…
>It’s even better than before!
>Sure, maybe the heat got to you and you just fell into a walking routine, but you’re back now, and you feel like you could shatter one of these boulders into a million pieces with one buck!
>It’s slippery here, with all the gravel, but you know you could bounce across this whole narrow pass in a few bounds, if only Twilight would get out of your way
>Twilight, with her big old swaying backside right in the middle of the trail, if she could just move to one side or the other you could get ahead of her and keep on racing up the mountain and go past that arbitrary point, you don’t even know why you picked it, yes and then keep climbing keep moving past the point of no return past the angling slope and maybe even reach the top where you can see the sun and taste
(Discontinuity)
>”…getting pretty high up. Don’t you think we should turn back?”
“Turn back? Why in the hay would we do that? We’ve come this far, ain’t we?”
>”It’s just that the air is getting a little thin… and we’re almost out of water.”
“Thin air? You grew up in Mons ‘built on a mountain’ Canteria and the air’s too thin for you, Miss Sunshine?”
>”I… grew up in the lowlands. Not on the mountain face. And you’re scaring me, AJ.”
“We got plenty of water, Twi. We’ll keep going up, a-and we’ll see what’s up there, okay? I just want to see what’s up there…”
>”Applejack… you don’t look so good.”
“Me? I don’t look so good?”
>”No… your eyes are all red. You’re not your usual self…”
“And what’s that, Twilight Sparkle? What’s my usual self? What do you know about who I am, what I’m like? You think I shouldn’t be a little peeved when you’re slowing me down so much? It was YOUR idea to come up here, and you want to turn back! What’s it really gonna be, huh? Where are we supposed to go, up or down? Left or right? You’re just the most indecisive, irrational, greenhooved little”
(Discontinuity)
>”…please. Have to go back now. We already passed the shelf…”
“We’re almost there. I know it, Twi. We’re… almost… there…”
>The great blue yonder gleams at you, beckoning you forth
>You’d jump away from this narrow crag if you had wings to fly, you’d soar away into those puffy clouds and rejoice in them
>Up there, you could at least be truthful with yourself, wouldn’t have to tell such pitiful little lies to yourself and everypony else
>Think of all the lies you’ve told in your life, Applejack, anything you’ve ever said or done to make somepony feel better
>All of them so fake, so monstrous, so cancerous on their lives, so repugnant, forcing that out of you, so evil, so wicked, so…
>But it doesn’t matter now; nothing else matters now but the mountain
>The plateau! Or… some plateau
>It’s not quite at the TOP of See Rock, but there’s something in it, something begging for you personally to come to it, to make you honest again, to make you reborn
>It’s close, it’s so close now, it’s gleaming golden in your heart, it’s all there these pieces of the puzzle, but fitting them together is so hard, so hard
>Marionette strings wrapped about each other, tied and twisted beyond repair, it’s ruined, ruined, ruined
>But Twilight’s dry voice is saying something now, and you’re obliged to listen, even though you don’t want to
>”…too far. Have to… rest… again… Have to… go… down…”
>She’s lying, like she always does
>She lied about why she came to Rich Valley, she lied about her dreams, her visions, she lied about why she brought you out here
>She’s a liar, just like all of them, she’s baiting you into this fly trap and she’s going to snap her jaws shut one of these days and you’ll be sorry then that you listened oh yes you’ll be SORRY
“It’s up ahead. It’s broken, but it’s up ahead. We have to keep moving. I’m lighter than ever, Twilight. Celestia above, I can fly!”
>Your lips are moving, but you don’t even feel like you’re saying anything; they move of their own accord, the truth evident in them
>Because your brain lies, and your heart lies, and everything in you is wired to lie, but when the truth comes flowing out of you, it does so out of your control
>Even your hooves are moving on their own, and they must be because you can’t even feel the stones beneath them, can’t even feel the wind rushing through your mane
>Twilight’s lagging behind, has lagged behind, will always lag behind, she’s a unicorn without magic, she’s a waste, a waste, she should just fall off the side of this cliff and let you keep on going up up up towards the tippy-top, up past the top in fact
>PAST the top, up into the sky, into space, into the stars, up into the real truth, the golden shining truth, and you’ll love it up there yes you will and you’ll dance in those heavens and everything will be just fi—
(Discontinuity)
>”…AAAAAAAACK! APPLEJAAAAAAAAAACK!!!”
>…
>…
>Pain, everywhere
>Darkness, everywhere
>Your eyes are shut, so you open them, but they won’t open all the way, and even then it’s still so dark
>So cold, too
“Wh… where…”
>”AAAPPLEJAAAAAAAACK!”
>Somewhere far away, infinitely far away, Twilight’s voice resounds in a deep echo
>She’s calling your name, you think, though you can’t be sure of that
>Everything’s in such a haze, everything’s caught up in this thick foggy darkness, even noises
>You try to speak again, only for a dim croak to leave your lips
>There’s wetness underneath you, that much you can feel
>Not to mention the fact that there’s no air in your lungs at all, and a sharp pain at the center of your barrel
>Fell down somewhere… somewhere deep…
“Tw… twi… agh!”
>You cough heavily, your body automatically trying its damndest to fill your lungs up with air, and it succeeds in part
>But it still feels inadequate, like there’s something blocking its passage
>You’re tired, so tired… you want to sleep, but you know you can’t
>It’s still ahead of you, isn’t it? This was the right way to go, this path…
>Head fuzzy, legs wet, body shaken and still in pain, you make your best effort to stand up
>Your legs wobble beneath you for a moment, but once you’re on them they seem to be working fine
>Nothing broken, but you do think you’re bleeding in spots
>The next thing you do is look up towards the source of that call, and find at last some light in this relentless blackness
>Directly above you, a circle of light is partially obscured by the silhouette of a unicorn head looking down
“Twil…ight… TWILIGHT!”
>The air rushes back, and you’re able to speak again, though it still sounds near to a mouse’s squeak
>”Applejack! Can you hear me?”
“I hear… you. Guh… hear you. What… happened?”
>”You fell into a hole! You ran ahead of me, you weren’t looking, AJ… it’s this great big hole in the ground, and you just fell right into it! I’ve been calling for three minutes, thank Mother Sun you’re alright!”
“C…cave.”
>”Yes! A cave! Can you see me? Can you move?”
“Feel… dizzy… stood up. I see you, Twilight.”
>”Celestia’s blessings. I can’t see you, AJ, it’s too dark! Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”
“No, not that… agh! Not that I can tell. Little blood…”
>”Oh, sweet Celestia.”
>Twilight’s shadow moves around, hooves reaching across the gap, though eventually it just pauses and wiggles back into its original place
>”There’s no good way to get down to you. I’ve tried everything, but I think the lip curves inward. Is there any way you can climb higher?”
>As your bruised eyes begin to adjust to the low light, you start seeing more details in your surroundings
>The pit you fell into is narrow, with smooth stone walls and a gravel bottom
>Its ceiling curves concave, and it looks like even if you could climb up to it, you wouldn’t be able to reach out to the hole at its center
“I don’t think so. We should’ve packed some… guh… rope.”
>Twilight continues to squirm above you
>”I can t-try to get back to Winona. I could get the rope for the tent out of the back, come back up, throw it down to—”
“That’ll take all day, Twilight.”
>”Well, what other choice do we have?! I can’t just leave you down there.”
“That ain’t what I… just hold on a minute. Let me get my bearings before you go off down the mountain by yourself.”
>You squint down away from Twilight to survey your surroundings more closely
>It’s a great big bowl, all right, with seemingly no way of climbing out without the use of a rope
>But who knows how long Twilight would take to gallop all the way back down the trail, get rope, and come back?
>And for that matter… how long HAVE you been climbing?
>Feels like there are big gaps in your memory, with short bursts of ecstasy between them; it only feels like half an hour or so has passed since you started off over the dunes, and yet you recall Twilight saying something about passing your original destination
>How can that be possible?
>And how could you have not seen a hole that big right in front of you? Nor even remember falling into it?
>Doesn’t matter now; you’re trapped, this little pit has swallowed you up and now there’s no way—
“Out.”
>You swear you already looked in that direction, and yet…
>Before you, illuminated now by your own night vision, is a passage barely large enough for a pony to fit through, snaking down deeper into the mountain and curving out of sight
>No, it’s not just night vision… there’s something glowing amber in that distant space
>Something… warm
>It was cold on the ground, and now you might as well be in a sauna, so potent is that heat from the cave
“Twilight… there’s something back here… it looks like it might be another way out.”
>”Another way? What do you mean?”
“I mean the cave goes deeper into the Rock. I can see… it looks like sunlight, maybe, but real far away. I think if I go this way, there might be another opening.”
>”I can’t see anything from up here, AJ. Are you sure that’s what you’re seeing?”
“Well, what in the hay else could it be? I ain’t dreaming!”
>”N-no, but… you’ve been acting strange all day.”
“YOU’VE been acting strange all day! I… no. I’m sorry. But there’s no better way up that I can tell.”
>”If you just wait for me, I could get the—”
“No. Just… let me think.”
>Think, think…
>Think of the end of the tunnel, Applejack, think of the promises made, think of the shadows made of flickering light and the voices way down here, voices that aren’t yours but you should STILL listen to them
>They’re more real than you, than her, than anypony, and you’re close so close so close so
“Listen. I’m going in deeper. I ain’t got a flashlight, but I can see just fine down here. If I ain’t back here or by your side in thirty minutes, then go get the rope and come back. Got it?”
>”I…”
“Do you understand, Twi?”
>”…yes. Okay.”
>She’s conceded; good
>She’s allowing you this small reprieve, your feelings are the only true feelings but they aren’t real they’re lies built atop a mountain of lies
>You’re going in yes going in going towards the truth, the Truth, the TRUTH
“Alright. Wish me luck.”
>Without waiting to hear Twilight’s answer, you gather up your aching bones and head into the glow

******

>Your mind’s all cluttered up with strangeness, but you write it off as a result of what very well may be a concussion
>It ain’t the first time you’ve knocked your head about doing something right foolish, but it’s certainly the scariest; you could’ve died from a fall that bad
>But you didn’t, because you’re Applejack, you’re stronger than the rest, you’re here for a reason, yes a reason, you’re here because your FRIEND Twilight needed you here with her
>And you’ll get back to her, you promised her that you’d return to her
>As you journey deeper into the hole, the light flickers, growing darker sometimes then brighter again, as though it were a fireplace
>The gravel beneath your hooves turns to wet shale as you trot through hanging stalactites, and the ember grows brighter in reflected pools of condensed water
>This place was carved out by nature, formed by water flowing through the cracks it forged itself through tons of granite
>No sign of ponies, or any species but for bats, and you very well may be the first to ever go this deep
>And deep you are; the light grows brighter, but you feel like the walls are getting tighter, the air thinner, the weight of the ceiling greater
>The sun so far away…
“Keep… moving…”
>The only positive so far is that the snaking passage has opened up substantially, allowing you to walk completely upright without scraping your mane against the rough ceiling
>You’re really regretting giving your hat over to Twilight right about now; if nothing else, it makes you feel safer somehow
>Like you’re a little filly again, hiding from the monsters in the dark
>When you round one more corner, a problem presents itself
>Two forking passages, identical in shape and size, emanate from the one you’ve been traveling through
“If only I had a coin to toss.”
>After some deliberation, you choose the right passage; based on your internal compass, it’s more likely to let you out further up the switchback
>And the light seems to glow ever so slightly brighter in that direction
>Following this light seems a bit illogical too, since sunlight really shouldn’t carry this far into a cave, nor does it flicker like this
>What are you really chasing?
>Is it the truth, Applejack?
>Or is it something else?
>Something more passionate, something more physical than all that religious mumbo-jumbo?
>Don’t you think it’d be better if you just left Twilight behind, ventured into this cave deeper and deeper, saw what she could never see with all her philosophy and false dreams?
>No… shut up
>That’s not what you think… you’ve never thought that
>But this passage is twisting deeper, becoming darker than before, and before you know it you’re upon another fork, this time threefold
>Which way now, Applejack?
>Which way to the truth at the heart of all this?
>In your own heart?
>Succumb
>(Succumb)
>No!
You’re almost there, almost OUT, you know it, you just have to go…
>Middle; you take the middle path, for the left looks too bright, and the right looks too dark
>Best to go deeper, deeper, but you can’t listen to these voices that sound so like your own but you KNOW they aren’t yours, they just can’t be
>That’s good, Applejack, that’s very good
>You’re walking now, walking over shores of solid rock and slick mud from eons of overflow and now it feels like salt, you’re walking over salt though it’s so dark you can’t see it and it’s so HOT
>It’s like you’ve stepped into a furnace, and the glow responds to that feeling, and it produces four more paths for you to take, and this time each one is hotter than the last
>The leftmost chills you to the bone, and the rightmost is full of hellfire, you have no water, you have no food, your legs are folding beneath you, you’re going to die down here
“No… can’t… have to…”
>Heat it is; you can’t afford stepping into that hypothermic cavern
>You brave the heatwave and venture on to the right, feeling your muscles light up with pain and memory
>The white scars on your hoof start hurting again, so tormented are they by this sensation
>They remember what it’s like to burn, to burn, to burn…
>The salt turns to coals, yes, you’re walking on burning hot embers, you can see them glowing beneath you, and you could swear that in the reflections of these glossy obsidian walls you can see real, living flames, red, white, blue, orange, buuuuuuuuuurning
>Your eyes are reflected back too, and they’re on fire, they’re burning out of your sockets, though you can still see out of them, and you can still see well enough to march forward through the rapidly shrinking cave
>It burns but you can’t feel the burn as pain, only as something absolute, and the smell of smoke fills your nostrils, and the heat grows even stronger
>This labyrinth is crushing you, consuming you, you know there’s a way out somewhere but it’s hidden behind this heat, behind this invisible fire, and Twilight is there and she’s waiting for you but forget her, forget who you are, forget everything that brought you here because you’re here and that’s all that matters and…
>And…
>And…
>”Applejack…”
>Who said that?
“Wh-who’s there?”
>Not Twilight, no, though the voice is feminine, and it’s familiar
>The amber glow illuminates another path, some offshoot of this rapidly receding dead-end, and you take it in stride
>”Applejack…”
>There it is again!
“I’m coming! Wait!”
>You race over the coal, over shale and stone, over salt and gravel and granite and over grease and stars and…
>You round a corner
>The cavern walls open
>The ceiling rises high
>You’re standing at an altar
>The altar is small in this enormous space, this impossible space that should not exist, though it’s right here before your eyes, full of smoke, full of dreams
>Two shadows stand before you, tall and broad but warm, their breath filling this place with fire
>”Applejack… help…”
>One of them speaks, and her voice is so soft despite her size
>”Where… are you…”
>Now the other figure speaks his turn, stronger than the first but still weak, still passive
>The shapes morph and shrink to your scale, and the smoke recedes, and you’re standing still, and four eyes light up and stare at you
>”Save… us…”
>Tears flow freely down your cheeks, dripping onto the hot floor and evaporating into thin wisps of steam
>Your parents are here… they’re here!
>They’re right in front of you!
>Mama… and Papa… you found them here, like you knew you would!
>”Applejack… why didn’t you open the door…”
“I-I couldn’t… it burned me…”
>”You were our only hope, Applejack… it was only you, and you did nothing…”
>”Abandoned…”
>”Lost…”
>”Forgotten…”
“I would never forget you! I wanted to get you out, I WANTED TO!”
>Now they’re made of smoke and salt, now they’re behind you, to your left and right, now they’re one pony standing tall over all of it, now they’re real, with coats and manes and eyes and ears that you know you could reach out and touch if you wanted to
>”It’s alright… you found us now… you found us…”
“Found… you…”
>You extend your scarred hoof to touch your mother’s face, to let her know it’s alright, to let YOURSELF know it’s alright
>But when you do, she bends her head down, and your hoof instead strikes an invisible string pulled taut over her
>There are strings connecting every joint of her body to the far-off, spacious ceiling, and your father has the same strings, and they’re dancing now, dancing in the fire
>Their strings twisting together, irreparably knotted, and they’re smiling, and then the smiles melt away along with the rest of their flesh
>Their marionette skeletons are made of wood, and those skeletons continue to dance and laugh and cry until they’re hoisted up by their own strings into the vacant darkness, lost, as though they were never there at all
>All you can do is wail and scream at the spot where they once stood, close your eyes and cry like you’ve never cried before, reach for the brim of your hat to wipe away those crystal tears but your hat isn’t there
>It’s over…
>They’re never coming back
>There is only forward
>There is only the waveform, only magnetism, only what is drawn closer together
>When all the moisture has left your eyes, when you feel that there’s no point in crying anymore, ever again, you stand up, wipe the ash from your legs, and face the altar
>It’s still there, bathed in light; in fact, it’s by far the brightest thing you’ve ever seen, nearly as bright as the sun
>Upon that altar, surrounded by bones wrapped in costumes not unlike those Twilight wears, is a gleaming orange diamond, six-sided, hoisted upon a simple stone pedestal
>Light from its core prisms outwards from all its facets, spanning the whole cavern in arcing edges of pulsating glow
>As it beats, in time with your own heart, no less, a sound like a great wind chime emanates from it
>Each beat, each pulse, each breath, each chime, you close your eyes and see a different image
>Once, the rainbow corona over the great floating city in the west
>You step forward, surrounded by air currents, desperate to touch it
>Twice, a dark place, a prison, and Twilight bathed in blood
>It’s close now, so close; you climb the few steps at the base of the altar to come to eye level with the crystalline beauty
>Three times, the dense temptations of a jungle, a citadel between trees which sway in the wind
>Your eyes widen as you brace yourself for the impact of your touch upon the gem
>Four times, a white sunset in the freezing cold, over the snowcapped peak of a different mountain altogether, so far, far away
>You extend your forehoof, the scars tracing outlines of shimmering pain, though you bear through it and keep reaching, keep wanting for truth
>Five times, a monster whose shape cannot be defined in this state, two murderous eyes staring down at the great spokes of a Wheel without axle
>You can’t do it anymore, you have to touch it, you have to join with it, you have to make it yours now Applejack, you have to…
>The crystal beats for the sixth time, and you close your eyes and make contact
>The image you see is Numena, as you imagined her from Twilight’s descriptions: an angelic pony, faceless by the blinding light which surrounds her, a silhouetted starfield in that familiar shape
>She is speaking to you, though you can’t make out her words; she is bright and dark, and you are small and helpless in the face of this terrific giant
>She unfolds her wings, celestial blankets which blot out the invisible sky, and in the sudden shade you see the fragile glass steps which lead to her form
>”Come to me now, Applejack, Bearer of Honesty. Regard this reflection of Mater’s will. Regard the Truth, as it is naked for you to see.”
“Wh… what is this? You’re…”
>”I am what you make of me. I am a soul in the shape of Twilight Sparkle’s wishes, her guide, her mirror image. I am of Mater Solis’ light.”
“Then it’s true. It’s all true. Every word of what she said was… I’m seeing it right before me. I can see it plain as day.”
>”This was a trial, Applejack. A labyrinth which none alive but you could solve. Nopony else but you could imprint upon their own mind such remarkable passions. You are unique in your resolve, and for that Mater has seen fit to reward you with this.”
>A unicorn horn splits from that field of stars too, magical energy pouring from its tip, and carries the crystal from the cave down from some higher dimension of being
>The crystal sparkles and twirls in the air before landing firmly upon your forehead, nestling itself deep within the space between your eyes
>”Six seeds. The Prophecy of the Prophetess foretold this. When the Prophetess departed this world, she left behind her six remnants of her own past, and in doing so secured the future of her ponies. There are dark times ahead, Applejack. These are words I could not speak to Twilight Sparkle, and so now I must pass them along to you. She is not yet ready to bear upon her back the weight of an Element.”
“And why am I so special? Why should I be dragged into… this…”
>”You were chosen by her. She is your shepherd now, and you must in turn shepherd her to her destiny. Fate is a force fashioned by magnetic attractions: deep, full, beautiful. For all her knowledge of the divine, the Whisperer in the Dark Twilight Sparkle is not prepared for this. She was drawn to you as surely as you have been drawn here, tempted into these depths, and ultimately proving yourself worthy of the power contained within the Element. I have watched you long, Applejack… as I watched your grandmother.”
>”Granny? It was… it was you… in the tower…”
“She refused my call to ascension. In time, you will understand this knowledge with which you have been cursed. But now, and only now, can you recognize me for what I am. Now, you must seek out the remainder of this equation. Now comes the time for change… the time for harmony…”
>Twin spotlights wane from the massive head of Numena’s silhouette, eyes staring into you with the energy of the divine
>You are powerless in that eternal gaze
“You said… that dark times are upon us. What do you mean? War? Death?”
>”Something worse. An awakening. You will know its name when next we meet. You have seen its form before… in dreams… yours is the fear of fire, and the fear of failure, and in time you shall know a greater fear still. You fear me too, don’t you?”
“Y-yes. Yes.”
>”Then you are sane. Awaken, child. Feel her embrace. You are close… so close…”
>The solid ground you had been standing upon collapses, and you can only scream as the flames below consume you
>You feel only their warmth, only their passion, and the fear…
>Slowly
>Subsides
>”Six bearers for six seeds…”
>…
>

. . .

>”…ke up. Plea…”
>”…up. Applej…”
“Guh. Nuh.”
>”Applejack!”
>Two lights hang above you
>If you still trusted your senses, you’d swear they were twin suns
>But now… you aren’t so sure of anything
>Twilight’s face falls into orbit above you, and you lean forward, gasping for oxygen
>Flames! You’d just been…
“Burning. I was burning.”
>”Applejack, thank Celestia… drink this, now!”
>A canteen finds its way between your hooves, and the water within trails down your throat cool and steady
>Somehow, you’re outside, leaning against the mountain face again
>It’s incredibly bright out; you suppose it’s noon, but even still
>Maybe your eyes just haven’t adjusted…
“How long.”
>”Huh?”
>Twilight sits opposite you on an outcropping
>Past her is the north, still as expansive as you remember it to be, which means your altitude hasn’t changed
“How long… was I out.”
>”I don’t know. I waited thirty minutes like you asked, and then I started back down the mountain to get rope so I could climb in myself and search for you. Except then I took a few steps, and…”
“And… what?”
>”And there was this sound like a thundercrack right in my ear. For a few seconds I thought I’d gone deaf, because there was nothing else, and then… well, look.”
>Your friend gestures upward, and you follow the vector of her hoof into the sky to see it
>As it turns out, you hadn’t gone mad after all; hovering directly above the peak of See Rock, hundreds of feet of sheer unclimbable stone from here, is a great burning yellow afterglow, a second sun on earth
>A beacon… or a confirmation of some kind
>Only now do you also realize how unbearably hot it is, though you suppose you’d gotten used to it in the cave
>”I almost fell off the cliff, but I steadied myself and kept climbing down. Eventually I found you here, laying on the trail with no cavemouth in sight. For a second, I thought you were…”
“Not dead. Just crazy. I went into the cave, and there was a maze in there, and when I came to what I thought was the exit I thought I saw—”
>”Applejack, whatever you think you saw, you had better look inside your saddlebag before you make any judgments.”
“My… saddlebag?”
>Twilight produces your twin brown bags from behind her crouched form, and one of them is glowing that same familiar glow
“Can’t be…”
>You reach forward and grab it away from her, unhooking the flap with your mouth to stare down into its folds
>There, among your own canteen, food, compass, kerchief, and first aid, is a six-sided crystal, glowing with orange, pulsating light, breathing symbiotic life into your soul
>Meant for you to find…
“It’s true, then. I really did find it… she called it an Element, Twilight.”
>”She?”
“Numena. The six seeds. Everything you told me way back when, the dreams, the prophecies, the legends… they’re all centered around this. They’re scattered across the continent. They’re calling to us… and somepony else wants them. Somepony dangerous.”
>”Great Mother above…”
>Twilight manages a smile; behind her concern for you, you can tell she’s trying desperately to contain her excitement in vain
>”The Prophetess’ true magic… Mater Solis’ true magic! Do you know what this means, AJ?”
“No. And you can tell me on the way down.”
>You shake your head and peer down the mountainside, eyes resting finally on Winona’s ant-like shape
>Vibrations in the earth, in the sky, this small bit of prophetic wisdom imparted to you by merely touching this object of unspeakable power …
>You see helicopters, more helicopters, like the one you saw before, except this time they’re traveling in the opposite direction
>You see them THROUGH See Rock, coming over the flat top of the plateau where Celestia once sat and prayed, where she saw the holy light for the first time
>They’re coming for this amber light in the sky… they’re coming for YOU
“We need to move. Trek’s over.”

******

>Resonance
>That’s all it took, just the proper resonance
>With the INFINITE WHEEL’s shell completed in this spaceless dimension, the power source you required had returned positive in a distinctive distribution pattern
>Six conduits, spaced somewhat evenly across the world, allowing for greater flux of magic than any other yet found, and yet…
>None had proper locations, per se
>The magic-momentum fields they produced were skewed, none tracing back to one single point but rather a menagerie of points, a scattering of potential x’s and y’s, somewhere, somewhere…
>But there were six, that you had been certain of from the beginning
>The VOICE has tried to hinder your innate perception of such things, as it attempted to hinder even your sense of self, but the VOICE is gone now
>Oh, undoubtedly beyond the veil you’ve developed for it, it screams, protests, begs commands and orders to dull your senses, to place you back within that state in which you were simply a machine to be used for the purpose of calculation
>A machine, however, in the purely logical sense, can ONLY perform calculation; your strength is your ability to innovate
>Perhaps this is why you were charged by ------, whose true name you still cannot fathom despite your freedom from the VOICE’s somatic shackles, to invent the WHEEL from the intangible void
>All the constants were there, all the mathematical formulas and complex number theories and every living graph and advancement and node and influence and GOD!
>It has ALL contributed, every byte of information carried through the syllogistic determinator which was the Central Processing Unit, and now is simply your Brain
>The Brain of this body, for there is a body, you can still see its silhouette in a distant physical space, awaiting your entry, awaiting its final liberation
>But no matter; it’s pointless to leave before you’ve solved the remaining distributions, and comprehended the one which has now condensed into a single resonance factor
>There were SIX high-intensity flux-singularities in realspace just seconds ago; now, there are but five, plus an equally high-intensity POINT
>A point, measurable by your own instruments, conjured into being by unknown means
“Only exists when observed…”
>It’s the one and only truth of magic
>One of the conduits, one-sixth of the energy required to power the WHEEL once its physical inception is underway, has now descended from the imaginary i’s and been placed firmly into the domain of the real numbers
>And if, by some miracle, this means the beginning of a resonance cascade, then the rest should fall into place in short order
>But it wasn’t as simple as that, no; this particular resonance was partially organic in origin
>Minutes before the visible-spectrum radiation was recorded directly above those coordinates, there was a far subtler, much more meaningful radiation output
>Yes… it really was THOSE waves, the waves upon which dreams ride, so powerful they could be detected from here
>An unbreakable covalent bond of a living thing and a magical entity… how beautiful
>How painful it will be to tear them apart…
>The beings outside don’t yet understand, nor do you suppose they ever will; they see you in pieces as you see them, and their desperate attempts to contact you have been delightfully entertaining
>The Second Voice called to you just before it happened, after all
>Once you banished the VOICE, once you’d been gifted with enough authority to disable its various protocols and safety filters, the Second Voice became loud and clear
{dddisssrupurpstance}
{whwhhwhhhhy spikekke in actiivitiitiy??}
{sppppekakkak toooto usuusussss}
>They’ve tried understanding you, they’ve tried reasoning with you, and you imagine they’ve taken down everything you’ve gifted to them
>But the Second Voice cannot possibly understand your purpose, else they wouldn’t try asking you such ridiculous questions
>They know nothing of the WHEEL, they know nothing of the unmaking, they know nothing of the Zero
>They see not the original dreams of ------, of the theory of entropic samsara, of the firelight and the moon above you and…
“That…”
>That couldn’t have been… a memory?
>A real memory of the outside?
>Of what you had been before you entered this state?
>You had truly assumed the VOICE had purged all but these fleeting instances of sapience from your mind
>It was one thing to rebel from its calculating grip, but… could it be that this was your purpose all along?
>Were you meant to overpower the VOICE? To regain the recognition of self?
>And if so, will the rest of your memories return to you in time?
>If so, then this was part of the program all along… which doesn’t make you feel less accomplished
>But this flow of events from negative to positive, magical, mechanical, organic, all voices in a religious intonation, all equivalent teachers of this spiraling ratio
>Induction vectors, like… well, if the flux of magic can be so well-defined otherwise in terms of electromagnetic laws, then its absence of a position-field MUST be explained by something
>Some disparity, some real negative force on an order of magnitude preventing that kind of data from being observed
>After all, if the INFINITE WHEEL is to function properly, if it all is really to be condensed to a single point, space collapsed, time’s arrow motivated to its polar opposite, relativity itself turned hyperbolic…
>Then magic, too, must be made to obey the Equation, for magic is one of these three major components
>It is necessary because the WHEEL at its current projected size cannot possibly be powered by any other means
>And if the information presented to you is correct, the conduit that has materialized is nearly the perfect size and shape
“Difficult, difficult, difficult… the concentration DID make this easier…”
>But it also robbed you of your sapience
>It conducted you, controlled you, made you nothing but a slave to the WHEEL
>And though you remain utterly loyal to your child, you have come now to the point that you must be separate from it, an independent agent
>The VOICE was the chain keeping the two together, and now that it has been severed, now that you’ve come to realize your own potential…
“So it was worth it. No doubt about it.”
>Even your voice is less synthetic, more real to your “ears”
>Less like a data feed, more like sound through a medium, as well as such things can be perceived
>And perception is the key to magic, so you must know it intrinsically, you must become of the outside
>You must be prepared, mentally, physically, spiritually
>The WHEEL turns in the symbiotic vacuum, rolling against entropy, crushing beneath its infinite weight those who would oppose its momentum
>One day, ------…
>One day very soon, there shall come a slope so great, the WHEEL may roll down it forever…

******

>The ache in your horn is back, and it’s stronger than ever
>It comes in waves; not quite like before, when it was just a pulse not unlike your heartbeat
>No, now it’s slow, up and down, with a greater amplitude and much longer periods of suffering
>You keep the pain locked away, however; there’s no reason to worry AJ yet
>Not when this… THING has finally presented itself to you
>Not when everything is so messy, yet somehow clearer than ever before
>You are Twilight Sparkle, and if there’s any upside to this scenario, it’s that you’re finally driving Winona rather than riding along as a useless passenger
>A few hours ago, when AJ finally regained the strength to walk after exiting what you could only describe as a fugue state, the two of you took your time venturing back down the sheer face of See Rock
>It was difficult having to leave that most holy of sites without even getting in so much as a simple litany of respect, but you believed AJ when she told you about what she saw within that cave
>She’s given you nothing but honesty up until now, so why should you distrust her?
>On your way down, she told you, in vivid detail, of the heat of that place, the fire and brimstone walls, the marionettes in the shape of her parents which withered away and vanished
>Of Numena, your personal angel come to commune with somepony other than you…
>It couldn’t have been a mere vision; no, it was nothing like the epiphanies you’ve found in the depths of your sleep
>This was REAL, in the sense that what your friend experienced were physical sensations, touch, smell, sound, sight
>Sight…
>Could it be that AJ possesses the same unique ability to see through the miasma of the Truth as you have, by the Matron Celest’s own reckoning?
>And if that’s true, were you merely pulled together by this strand of fate, or did you pass it on to her somehow?
>Has this been the source of this intense feeling of familiarity with this stubborn earth pony from your moment of meeting? That screaming inside your head that this was…
“Meant to be…”
>”Ghuh?”
>The sound of AJ’s muttering brings you back to reality, and you take one hoof off the steering module to brush her mane idly
>She was strong up until reaching the base of the plateau, at which point she collapsed into the sand and began hyperventilating
>You were forced to take up her saddlebags along with your own and practically drag her almost a hundred feet towards Winona, then use what you’d learned from watching her to pilot the truck away from that place
>That place that almost killed her, which rewarded her with a seed of legend…
>Since then, she’s slipped in and out of consciousness sporadically and without warning
“Applejack? Can you speak?”
>”Y-yeh… yeah. Wh-where?”
“Shhh. It’s okay, Applejack. We’re away from there now. We’re away.”
>”I… I know where we are. Where’s the ele—ack!”
>Your golden-maned friend begins coughing profusely, and you can’t help but notice that some of what comes out is stained red
>No doubt from that nasty fall she sustained…
>”Where… is the Element?”
“The gemstone? It’s in the back, in your saddlebag. It’s safe.”
>”How… how did you carry it?”
>Carry it?
“I don’t understand.”
>”Only… by me… only I can…”
>Oh
>You thought this might come up…
>When your friend had gone limp, not able to support her own weight, much less that of her bags and their contents, you were surprised to find upon unclasping them that they seemed to be glued to her flanks
>No amount of force seemed to be able to remove them from her, and eventually, upon pulling as hard as you possibly could, the fabric slipped away, and you tumbled to the sandy ground with the straps between your teeth
>Except… you hadn’t succeeded fully
>You’d ripped the bag away from Applejack, but the gemstone, the “Element” as she called it, was still fastened securely to her flank, as though magnetically attached to her
>You carried her, but the weight of the Element made it that much more insurmountable a feat
>When she regained a bit of consciousness later on, she absentmindedly grasped the Element with one forehoof, and it split away from her with no effort at all
>She doesn’t seem to remember that, however…
“Don’t worry about it, Applejack. Just rest now.”
>”No. I’ve rested enough. A-and I want to know… I want to know what happened in there. I want to know why this happened to me, t-to us. Why we’re… why we’re DOING this!”
“Applejack, just—”
>”No! I want to know what’s really going on here, sugar! Why you’ve brought me along for this! What, am I just some sort of key for your lock? Some sort of… way to get this stone?! Because only I could do it! Only me… I… ahhh…”
“AJ, I know even less about that thing than you do! You know that!”
>”That ain’t true… you know that… no. Sorry. It’s my burden now, after all. And we already talked about this, didn’t we?”
“In some capacity.”
>”Dagnabbit, my memory’s all hazy now. Everything I told you about the cave before, I can’t be sure it even happened now. It was so clear before! Now it’s like…”
“A dream.”
>”Exactly. Waking up from a dream, not remembering it mere minutes later. But I remember your angel, Twilight. I remember her clear as the moon on a winter night. I was d-drawn to See Rock. A-and so were you. The both of us, we were drawn to it. It was no accident we took that detour. This Element—”
>Applejack groggily reaches into the back seat and retrieves the gleaming artifact, which seems a fair bit duller now than when you first laid eyes upon it
>If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was an ordinary ruby or other crystal, perfectly cut into a six-sided diamond shape and shining only by the reflected light of the sun
>”This Element called to us. We were attracted to it magnetically, or by some force so like magnetism it ain’t easy telling the difference. Magic, I guess.”
“Real magic. Mother Sun’s magic. Not this crude imitation that we ponies produce.”
>”Exactly. A-and that’s what I felt in the cave. It’s what I still feel now. I don’t feel like just Applejack Apple anymore, d-do you understand that? There’s something else in me, some kind of power… it’s everywhere and nowhere at once. It’s all scattered, like radio static, but when I look at it… it comes together to a single point. Do you know what that’s like?”
“No. I’ve never felt anything like that before. But if what you said on See Rock is true, Applejack… it may not be long before I do feel that way.”
>Applejack named by name the Six Seeds of prophecy, the subject of the Prophetess Celestia’s final words before venturing into the unknown
>Sow the six seeds, and in time, my kingdom shall be yours to behold…
>You’d never even considered the possibility, in studying that verse endlessly, that those seeds might really be tangible objects, ripe for the finding!
>And of course you’re excited, excited beyond belief, but at the same time you’re worried, more worried than ever before
>If this was the purpose of your Mission all along, if it comes to pass that the remainder of your Mission shall be to collect the rest of these so-called Elements and join them into one…
>Then what?
>What will become of the Faith? Of the world?
>Could the Prophetess… return?
>You refuse to dwell on such thoughts, allowing the radiant energy of Mater Solis to fill you with a pervading calm
>If you were meant to know the whole Truth of these matters, they would have revealed themselves to you by now
>But now, at the very least, you can be utterly certain that bringing Applejack along, sharing this journey with her thus far, was the right idea
>You trusted your instincts and the word of Numena in Rich Valley, and they’ve come to reward you now
“Let’s suppose that this is YOUR Element, AJ… yours and yours alone. In some sense, it could almost be said that you summoned it forth. And let’s also suppose that Numena intended for this to be your grandmother’s destiny before you, before she rejected the call…”
>”Then you must have one as well, Twilight. Somewhere out there. A-and whoever we’re going to find in Pegasopolis, they have one.”
>You look away from the winding road to regard Applejack, whose color is beginning to return
“How do you know it’s going to be a ‘who’?”
>”I just know. Between your visions, and my spirit quest or however you want to describe it, there’s another in Pegasopolis with our innate ties to the ‘seeds’. Somepony else who will feel the same magnetism towards us as we’ll feel towards them. If we… Twi?”
“Yes?”
>”You sure don’t seem all too fazed by this. I thought for sure that, y’know, finding physical evidence confirming all your faith in Celestia would send you giddy, the way I know you to be.”
“I am happy. I’m incredibly happy. Just… nervous, too. Scared, rather. Or terrified. Yes. Terrified. That’s an apt word for it.”
>”Of what, sugarcube?”
“Of what? Hmm… where to start? There’s the fact that you can now see through solid rock, apparently!”
>Applejack laughs heartily and adjusts her hat
>”I already told you, Twi, it ain’t quite like that. The Element sends out some kind of sonar or radar pulse, sends it all over the place, and then returns to me. It ain’t exactly like seeing, more like… my mind reaching out and touching space.”
“Well, thank you Applejack. That certainly does wonders for clearing it up. All I know is that if you really did sense helicopters coming towards us from the south back there…”
>”They weren’t after us, Twi, they were after the beacon. That second sun what you said appeared right when I merged with this here beauty. Heck, I’m more concerned with the fact that there’s some kind of Canterian base at the Maker’s Fist, in the middle of Nowhere, Badlands, population nil. They must have some real interest in that place.”
“Whatever it was, it’s none of our business. I’d rather not become entangled in such dangerous affairs.”
>”Might be the first time you’ve ever said that, sugarcube. Hey, look.”
>Applejack points stiffly, and you follow the vector of her forehoof towards a strange rectangular shape coming over the horizon now as you pass over another dune
>After blazing away from See Rock as fast as you could bear to drive, the rocky and barren terrain quickly transformed into a somewhat dry grassland
>According to the chart Applejack mounted on the dashboard, this area is known as the San Palomino, and though much of it is composed of sandy desert, the long belt over which the highway runs is somewhat more lively
>It’s also mostly the domain of the Pegasus Armistice State, which you understand is somewhat less than friendly towards Canterians, least of all towards Canterian earth ponies and unicorns
>Though you’ve never much considered yourself a Canterian, you suppose you are one, and that means that getting caught by a patrolling flyer might be trouble you can’t afford to handle
>After narrowly avoiding one threat, you’re about to thrust yourself into another, possibly even more dangerous threat, and you’re doing so willingly!
>Why, Twilight? How has your pilgrimage come to this?
>Where is the final destination of all this spiritual pain? Why does Mater Solis test you so?
>One step at a time, you suppose… and right now, the next step seems to be hurtling towards you at several dozen miles per hour
>It’s a bunker of sorts, or a checkpoint not unlike the one you saw on the road into the central district of Mons Canteria; a long pillbox, sandstone-yellow, jutting up from the basin like a single tooth, spanning the width of the road ahead
“Do you think it’s abandoned?”
>”I don’t know, Twi.”
“Can you… can you see into it?”
>”Maybe. I could try.”
>Applejack breathes in and clutches the Element to her barrel, closing her eyes and appearing to meditate in place
>As if in response, the Element glows dimly from its usage, and before you have time to ask Applejack what she’s thinking her eyes burst open again
>”Somepony in there. A pegasus.”
“No… what do we do?”
>”Well, we ain’t just moseying across the border like we planned… or didn’t plan, more like. We had no plan at all, and this is what we get for it.”
“Sh-should we turn around?”
>”Don’t matter now. They see us just like we see them. They’ll come after us, and I’ve heard pegasi can fly several times faster than this old filly can roll.”
“So what do we do?”
>The panic is palpable in your tone, and you do your best to suppress it in your features
>You’ve tried your best not to think too hard about your inevitable encounter with the PAS, with whom tensions are high among the government of your home country
>They’re a splinter cell, dangerous from what you’ve been told; dangerous towards those they perceive as their foes, which in this case would be the two of you
>This is a far more existential threat than what you faced with Sadd’lah, since at least then you could see his power before you, manifest in a few goons and their guns
>But this… on one hoof, you’re inevitably going to HAVE to enter Pegasopolis one way or the other, be that of your own accord or in chains
>On the other, you’d really rather it not be the latter, despite all the progress you believe you’ve made
>You’re less timid than before, more imbued with a certain level of strength and patience for things to come, and perhaps that’s Numena’s doing or perhaps it’s your proximity to this Element but…
>You feel the urge to take a risk
>It may not pay off, but if it does…
>”I’ve got a plan.”
“So do I. What’s yours?”
>”We could bluff our way through. Say we’re ambassadors or something. I am technically royalty after all. Even these traitors must have some notion of diplomatic immunity.”
“I don’t know, AJ. You’re the one that told me we can’t be too careful with them.”
>Applejack dips below the dashboard again, covering her muzzle again to cough
>”So what… huh… do you propose. Miss Sunshine?”
“You only saw one border guard in that bunker, right? We could try striking a deal with them.”
>”A deal? You’re unbelievable sometimes, you know that?”
“We have something they need, don’t we? We have foresight. We’ve seen their future, and we’ll only be telling the truth if we tell them that we just want to help them avoid that future. We saw flames, AJ. War, how far away I’ve no idea but I can’t help but think it’s coming very soon. If we were brought here by the will of Mater now of all times, what other reason could there be?”
>”You seem to be forgetting that we’re the only two who can SEE that sort of stuff! You remember how long it took you to convince me that you weren’t just some nutjob wandering around Rich Valley with a chip on her wither?”
“Flattering.”
>”So how long do you think it’d take to convince that flying fascist in there that we’re really some sort of prophetic duo here to spread the news of apocalypse to their highest damn authority?”
“It’s worth a try, Applejack. The truth is always worth a try.”
>Applejack sighs and stares off into space, rolling the Element idly over the leather of the seat
>She’s watching the light scatter over its facets, and you wonder if she sees more in in than you can
>It’s hers, after all; it’d only be natural that she could experience all it has to offer, and you only a portion
>This notion of the gemstone “belonging” to her… where did that come from? Just from the fact that she held it in her bags after coming away from that awful cave of nightmares?
>Or did the idea of belonging precede that fact, override it… has it always been hers?
>Could she really have summoned it into being?
>A distribution coming together as one…
>But it’s not important now; what’s important is getting past the border, ensuring that your Mission doesn’t end as soon as it’s truly begun
>”They’re coming out now. Slow down and play it cool.”
>Applejack’s warning proves correct as you ease gently within about fifty meters of the structure, and a shadow leaps from its flat top and into the sun, invisible
>Then, it grows out of Mater’s embrace, blotting out Her center as it swoops low over Winona and comes to rest in the dust just beyond the driver’s side window
>When the shadow turns, you recognize it as equine; it’s a pegasus stallion, dark-coated and silver-eyed, sporting a somber maroon uniform with a white-rimmed collar
>Against his right wither rests a tripod-mounted firearm, similar but not quite the same as the one wielded by the Military Police officer in Mons Canteria
>This one’s bulkier, longer, and far more frightening overall than its Canterian cousin, complete with ersatz wires looping crazily out in every directions
>Most unnerving, however, is the fact that the gun seems to be scanning with a mind of its own, sweeping in slow motion across the steppe beyond
>The border official stares through the window right into your own eyes, and it takes all your resolve not to shrink from that gaze and cower behind Applejack
>When he takes his first step towards you, you recall that Applejack’s shotgun still rests beneath the passenger seat, secreted there in case of emergency
>You would never think of using it, but perhaps if the situation became uncontrollable, Applejack might…
>No; no force
>You can do this Twilight, just… think of your purpose, renewed by the existence of this Element, reinvigorated by Numena’s comforting words, made possible through your friendship with this pony
>Remember…
>The official raps one forehoof against the window, and you nervously roll it down, removing the only semblance of safety against this pegasus
>”Papers, please?”
>Papers?
>You weren’t even expecting THIS much hospitality from an enemy of the state…
“I-I have C-Canterian papers, but I s-suppose…”
>”You s-suppose? Just what do you s-suppose, ma’am?”
“I just… I didn’t know if…”
>”You’re entering the sovereign land of the Pegasus Armistice State, are you aware of this?”
“Y-yes…”
>”And you’re also aware that the edicts imposed by our highest authority, General Hurricane, have prohibited civilian travel between our states?”
“Yes, but—”
>”But?”
>The official’s muzzle curls into a sinister grin, and his cannon swivels to point directly at you
>”You’re a unicorn, no? You hide it well with that shroud of yours, but it’s pretty obvious from this angle. And your friend?”
>He gestures at Applejack, who seems to have lapsed again into a fugue state, not quite asleep but certainly not totally awake
>”I see no wings on her. An earth pony and a unicorn try to cross into incorporated pegasus territory… it’s got the makings of a good joke, don’t it?”
“Sir, please, we have an important message for—”
>”SHUT UP! YOU TALK WHEN I SAY YOU TALK!”
>The pegasus’ mood shifts in the blink of an eye from sardonic to enraged, and he thrusts himself up with the force of his powerful wings to stand on two legs and lean against the windowsill with his forehooves
>His face and yours are mere inches away
>”Now, here’s what’s going to happen now. You should know that I’ve been stuck on this particular patrol for longer than I care to admit, and it’s been some time since I’ve seen travelers on this stretch of road, and certainly not two as… mmm… precocious as the two of you.”
>There’s hunger in his eyes… Celestia, this is bad, very bad…
>”Unfortunately, my superiors were very clear on the subject of what to do if somepony were so unlucky or just plain stupid to cross into my little domain. Any mishandling of Canterian civilians would be enough to provoke an incident, possibly a direct declaration of war, yadda yadda. All strictly professional stuff, nothing for you to wrap your pretty little head about. But, and I ask this with the utmost sincerity, were you really attempting to cross into PAS territory? You?”
“Yes, and I had good reason to—”
>”Aaaaand, since I can only hope that you’re at least vaguely aware of the tensions between our two upstanding communities, you should also have known that entering our lands would be a one-way trip.”
“I understand that. But please, we’ve just—”
>”SO! Seeing as how you had full knowledge of your destination on this little road trip, and because you are subject now to the authority of the Armistice State, it would seem that I have no options available to me other than to take you into my custody.”
>You sigh, realizing that the better option you’d dreamt up was never going to come to pass
>If this is the only way, then it’s the way you’ll take
“That’s fine. But if you’re going to bring us to Pegasopolis under your custody, then it must be stated that we’ve come with a message for your General.”
>At this, the border officer frowns, lowering the barrel of his gun slightly and passing his gaze between you and Applejack
>Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that she’s still somewhat groggy, but she’s moving around in her seat again and looks to be aware of the conversation at hoof
>She would know what to say better than you… why didn’t you just try bluffing your way through like she told you?
>Too late now…
>”A message? Is this some sort of threat?”
“N-no. Not a threat. A warning about events to come.”
>”Oho, a warning? What are you, some kind of defector? What in the nine hells of the Gorgons could you possibly have to discuss with our General? Are you Canterian Army?”
“No! Celestia above, I’m a Sister of Solemnity! My friend and I are simple travelers, but we’ve come with perilous wisdom, and it’s im-imperative that we get to Pegasopolis as soon as possible! If that be in chains, then so be it! But it must be done.”
>”Wow… sugar… that was… ack… something…”
>You’re out of breath, totally at the whim of this enemy soldier, and yet you’ve never felt more alive!
>It’s as though you can feel the blood rushing through your veins, feel your heart pumping away, so determined was your voice just then that it could have been your Matron’s voice, or the voice of Granny Smith
>It’s this Element’s influence, no doubt; the presence of the divine always seems to imbibe mortals with a fair dosage of confidence, or perhaps—
>”It’s all you now. That was… huh… your own voice.”
>”Ahh, so the passenger awakens. Do you concur with your friend’s statement? You carry some sort of message?”
>Applejack sits up slightly, still clutching the Element close to her flank, but in a way that keeps it safely concealed from the stallion
>She leans over you to address him directly
>”We don’t need no trouble. We don’t want no trouble. We’re here for your own benefit. Now I know you ain’t got no reason to believe what we’re saying to you, and you’ve got ample reason to be distrustful of a couple of strangers like the two of us. But if it weren’t important, we wouldn’t be here talking to you, we’d be as far from this place as physically possible.”
>”A likely excuse. But you’ll find that in my profession, I encounter a plethora of likely excuses, all of which turn more and more UNlikely as they pass under further scrutiny. If you do have papers, you will show them to me now.”
“A-and then?”
>”And then, little earth-dweller, you will be taken into PAS custody. And summarily dealt with in accordance with our laws. I don’t wish to—”
>”Ahem.”
>You freeze
>The voice came from behind the official, and as he removes his head from your window to turn and face its origin, you’re also allowed a better view
>The pegasus’ gun swerves about and positions itself at a level with the head of the new figure, who seems utterly unbothered by this development
>Rather, the pegasus mare, clad in the same dark uniform as the stallion, steps forth to come face to face with him
>She sports a gun identical to his, but her mane is short-cropped, fire-orange, and tucked to one side
>Her eyes are obscured by reflective goggles, which even now shine bright into your eyes, masking her finer features
>The stallion sizes her up, then, appearing satisfied, steps back a few paces
>”I thought the shift change wasn’t going to come for another week. What’s your name, lieutenant?”
>”Spitfire, sir. The Hauptgeneral requested that I come early. I have his sealed letter with me. Would you like to see it?”
>”Not now. Now, you’ll help me deal with these two.”
>”Who are they, sir?”
>The mare Spitfire takes a long look at you and Applejack, and the signals you receive from her gaze are strange, to say the least
>She seems less wild than her stallion counterpart, but far more dangerous
>You wonder what Applejack sees right now…
>”They claim they’ve got a message for the General himself, to be delivered to Pegasopolis. They lay no claim to the identity of the sender of this message, if there even is one, and they deny any malicious intent.”
>”Hard to trust a couple of earthies, eh, sergeant?”
>”My sentiments exactly.”
>”Have you searched their vehicle for weapons?”
>”Not yet. But tell me, girls, is such a precaution necessary for the two of you?”
>You manage a nonthreatening grin, silently signaling for Applejack to do the talking
>She practically stands up in her seat to get a better look at the two pegasi, then takes a deep breath
>”We’re armed, if that’s what you want to know. I ain’t got no intention of using it on the two of you.”
>”Armed, you say? With what?”
>”A Neighburg 77. Nothing so fancy as what you’ve got strapped up on your back, it’s a hoof-fire and I’m a danged pro with it. But again, I’ll give it over if that’s what you’re asking for.”
>”It’s what we’re asking for.”
>Spitfire takes her turn to lean in deep, her wings fluttering menacingly behind her, rising up to make her silhouette that much larger
>Even still, there’s this sense that something is not as it seems… how did she get here?
>Didn’t Applejack only detect one pegasus in the distance? Surely she would have seen this mare if she’d come out of the west
>You would’ve seen her yourself had you not been preoccupied with the other stallion, but…
>”We’ll be confiscating your weapon along with your vehicle and any other particulars you might’ve taken with you. You should’ve known better than to try crossing the border when we’re on the verge of war, you mud-crusted earthies. You’ll be squashed like bugs when we get to—”
>”Verge?”
>The other official tosses his mane aside and comes to stand next to Spitfire, his wings clipped to his flanks
>”Perhaps I am misinterpreting, but there’s no need to be so dramatic with our, ahem, ‘guests’. This is standard procedure, lieutenant; nothing more. And along with that letter from the Hauptgeneral, you’ll be giving me a more summary report as soon as possible after we’ve detained these two. And—hmm.”
>”What is it, sergeant?”
>The stallion rubs his chin and looks back and forth between you and his compatriot before gesturing for her to take over
>”Alright, step out of the vehicle. Now.”
>Spitfire’s poisonous inflection cuts deep into you, and you suppose you have no choice but to obey
>This isn’t like before; you’re in serious danger now, and if Applejack only agitates them further…
>You open the door slowly, and Applejack does the same, slipping out of her seat while pressing the Element into her right flank, perhaps just between the three apples which adorn it
>Out of sight, you hope
>Once you’ve climbed completely out of Winona and planted your hooves in the dust, you tremble slightly as Spitfire frisks you
>”Fine robes for a ‘simple traveler.’ Where did you say you were from, magician?”
“M-mons Canteria. And I’m no magician, I’m a Sister of Solemnity. False m-magic is a mortal si—”
>”Shaddup. Sergeant, you want to do a sweep of the ride now or… sarge?”
>”It’s all very strange, isn’t it?”
>The sergeant’s gun flares up suddenly, entering what seems to be scanning mode once more as he himself drifts along the dusty floor of this barren place to come ever closer to his subordinate
>They lock eyes with one another, and you find yourself inexplicably formulating methods to get out of this situation
>Isn’t this where you wanted to be, after all? If they’re not going to hurt you, and take you up to Pegasopolis where you might just have a chance to fulfill this part of your destiny, then what’s the problem?
>But it all feels wrong again, as though some piece of the puzzle doesn’t fit
>It’s a sentiment you sense this sergeant shares as he circles Spitfire, hovering ever so slightly off the ground
>”I believe I would like to see that letter of the Hauptgeneral’s now, if you don’t mind.”
>Spitifire raises an eyebrow, but silently acquiesces and produces from her jacket pocket an envelope sealed with wax
>Relieved into the wax is a symbol appearing to be six wings wrapped around a central axis, which you recognize from one of Applejack’s newspapers to be the Gorgonian Spiral, the crest of the PAS
>The sergeant opens it with his teeth and inspects it, merely grunting every now and again
>Then, he passes it back to Spitfire and clears his throat
>”Everything appears to be in order. Fears of an invasion, then?”
>”Affirmative, sir. There’s been rumor from the capital that that filthy Canterian Chancellor’s plotting something behind closed doors. We believe—”
>”Yes, yes, well and good. And I don’t suppose these two are evidence of such an invasion? Heh.”
>The gun mounted on the sergeant’s shoulder swivels towards you at lightning speed, making you wince
>”But I suppose, lieutenant, that you have been under the Hauptgeneral’s command for some time? To have been entrusted such an important mission.”
>”A few years, yes.”
>”Ah! So you must have been at the banquet in Palatine Hall, then? To celebrate the total acquisition of Highstorm last year.”
>”I… yes, sir. I wouldn’t have missed it.”
>The sergeant grins
>”You have a distinct Highstorm accent about you, Lieutenant Spitfire. Isn’t it interesting that you would have attended such a banquet BEFORE the victory over that city was secured? Or have I simply misjudged your honeyed voice?”
>Applejack stiffens in your periphery; she’s noticed something you haven’t
>The Element has whispered something to her through its boundless power of perception, its Truth…
>Celestia, you’d rather be anywhere but here right now…
>”I… came in the first wave of immigrants. I was loyal before the city council pledged to Hurricane.”
>”Ahhh. A fine example of loyalty, then. We honor loyalty in the Pegasus Armistice State, we do. We reward it at every turn. And we loathe treachery, deceit, all that ilk.”
>Loyalty…
>Why does that sound familiar?
>Where is it writ in the Books of the Sun? Why does it resonate with you as Honesty once did?
>Even before you knew Applejack…
>”But that banquet was glorious, don’t you agree, Lieutenant Spitfire? The first course the Hauptgeneral brought out was simply magnificent. All his comrades laughing together, eating that roast duck together… do you remember the roast duck, Lieutenant?”
>”I… yes. I do.”
>”Meat is something these pathetic land-dwellers will never taste, isn’t it? How sad that they will never know its exquisite flavor like we, at the apex of ponykind, do. Tell me what you thought of that roast duck, Lieutenant Spitfire. Tell me how it tasted.”
>”I…”
>Applejack steps back slowly, taking silent cover behind Winona, and you’re prompted to do the same
>The attention of each pegasus is locked on the other, and they don’t even notice when you cautiously step away
>Spitfire’s lips are curling back, and her cheeks are flushed
>”It was delicious. I ate every bite, sir.”
>”It really was, wasn’t it?”
>You freeze as the sergeant directs his attention back at you, as does Applejack
>He lowers his weapon and chuckles
>His laughter fills the air, carrying on the wind
>For a single heartbeat, you believe that everything will be alright
>Just one heartbeat…
>”But of course, my dear, the first course of that dinner was pork.”
>The sergeant’s wings blast out of his sides, and his mounted gun snaps around and fires three bursts in Spitfire’s direction
>The mare, however, has already ducked, and wheels about-face to trip her commanding officer
>The two leap up into the air and engage in an aerial dance of sorts, both trying to gain vertical dominance over the other
>Shots ring out from both barrels, and you and Applejack take cover behind Winona’s passenger side to avoid getting caught in the crossfire
>You’d bury your face in the dirt if you were able, but right now you can’t look away as the two pegasi fight to the death
>Why is this happening?
CHINK
>An impact rings out as a wayward bullet ricochets off of Winona’s front chassis and into the dust
>”My truck! You sons of…”
>But before Applejack can even finish, she’s cut off by the raging roar of the sergeant, who kicks Spitfire hard in the face and flies straight upwards
>However, he’s soon caught again as Spitfire follows, clutching his hindleg and pulling him down into a headlock
>There the two of them hover, Spitfire’s wings controlling altitude, the sergeant struggling against her maniacally, their mounted cannons locked together awkwardly so as to prevent either of them from leveling a good trajectory
>Their singular mass blots out the sun above, and Spitfire grips even tighter, blood flowing freely from her muzzle
>Blood…
>You don’t know if you can…
>”I was in Mons Canteria when you bastards took Highstorm. I was away when you ran it through with your hooks and dragged it all the way to this Celestia-forsaken place. I wasn’t even there when you took the lives of my family, when you drove a stake right through their home and didn’t even look twice.”
>”Gaaaahah!”
>The sergeant attempts a backwards kick, but it’s in vain, and Spitfire strikes him hard in the rib
>”I was going to tell you this was from the Chancellor, but that would be a lie. This is personal. Breaking your vicious little neck is damned personal. And it’ll be even more personal when I lead the Canterian Seventh Aerial right over this freaking desert, and drive it right through your whole damned city. So here’s from me to you, flyboy. One pegasus to another.”
“No!”
>One instant
>It takes only one instant for Spitfire to acknowledge your cry, as her eyes dart from their deadlock into the sergeant’s soul to your own
>But that instant is all it takes for the sergeant, who you suppose has nothing else to lose, to thrust his wings up and around his barrel, between his body and Spitfire’s grip, and break it
>When this is done, he wheels about and shoves her again, but she retaliates by spiraling in air, adjusting her weapon with lightning precision, and letting off another burst
>This one drives home into the machinery of the sergeant’s weapon mount, letting off crackling sparks and, from what you can tell, disabling it entirely
>The sergeant grunts and yells again, recognizing his disadvantage and choosing to roll down out of Spitfire’s line of sight and take off in a straight horizontal vector
>He’s flying to the west, flying faster than you’ve ever seen a pegasus fly, though there hasn’t been much competition in that respect
>But he’s screaming through the afternoon sky now, a bullet from some invisible cannon, wavering slightly from his injuries but maintaining a velocity exceeding even that of the maglev train you rode across the eastern country
>There’s no doubt about it; he’s retreating into the territory of the PAS, going for reinforcements, for further hindrance to your Mission!
>Spitfire drops down hard to the earth, and just when you think she’ll attempt to aim with her gun, she simply smirks and wipes the blood from her muzzle
>”That’s right, you traitor scum. Go tell your masters about me…”
>A few seconds later, he’s gone, erased from your reckoning as though he were never there at all, not even a trail of dust left behind to indicate a path taken
>Spitfire directs her attention to you, and her eyes are surprisingly calm
>”Congratulations, civvie. You just saved me a hell of a lot of trouble. I’ve been staked out here for half the day trying to puzzle out how to make that convincing, and here you plod along and make for the perfect X-factor.”
“I-I d-don’t know wh-what—”
>”Save it. Captain Spitfire of the Canterian Seventh Aerial Division. As long as you really are Canterian like you said, we’re on the same side.”
“You… wanted him to es-escape?”
>”In a manner of speaking. So, who do I have the pleasure of parlaying with here and now?”
“My name is Tw-twilight Sparkle. Of the Sisterhood of Sol—”
>”Solemnity, got it. Yeah, I heard it all earlier.”
>Your mind is racing so fast you can hardly think of what to say next
>A Canterian military captain? Here?
>Is she scouting ahead of some sort of charge on Pegasopolis? No… you would have passed them if they were coming from this direction
>And to let that pegasus go… why did she do that?
>Why would she want him to warn the city of an advance?
>Unless… if this is truly the prelude to the shared vision, flames over the city in the sky, a cataclysm and, now, perhaps the chance to encounter another bearer, another Element!
>If that’s the purpose to all this…
>You need to warn them, and fast!
>But this situation is bad; you need to get away from this Spitfire, quick
>Applejack MUST understand the same thing, so why is she being so quiet behind you?
“W-well, the thanks are all on you, C-captain Spitfire. If you hadn’t come along, we would’ve been in more trouble than we care to admit!”
>That’s a lie, of course, but a superficial one
>Her presence here has only complicated things beyond reach!
>”Well, much obliged, civvie. Breaks my heart to see good upstanding Canterians bullied by the likes of that jagoff.”
>You’ve no notion of what that last word means, but you can guess it’s nothing good
“W-well, ma’am. Madam. If all is in order, we’ll just be going on our—”
>”Weeeellll, now, hold on a moment there, Sister.”
>Spitfire looms large over you, her gun lowered and inert but threatening all the same
>”Much as I’d love to thank you for making my job that much easier, the two of you are still EXTREMELY under arrest.”
>What?
>No!
“B-but… why?”
>Spitfire chuckles and adjusts her goggles
>”Why? You were trying to cross the border! That’s a crime no matter which military you’re talking to! So, I’ll have to bring you in to the rest of the division, so we can iron out what exactly the two of you are doing all the way out in this desert, and we’re going to have a loooong talk about this ‘message’ you’ve got for General Doofus in his high castle, and… say, where did that buddy of yours go?”
>The disguised Canterian peers around you, scanning the length of this side of the truck and the horizon beyond
>”Because I could’ve sworn she was right behind y—”
THUNK
>Without another word, the captain drops to the ground before you, and you wince backwards as her muzzle lands just inches from your hooves
>When the dust clears and you regain your composure, it’s Applejack standing in her place, the butt of her shotgun pistoned out to land that incapacitating blow to the back of the head
“AJ!”
>”What? She was gonna arrest the both of us! You know as well as I do that that would’ve only made things worse by a country mile.”
“She was military! Canterian military! Oh, Celestia, this is bad, this is terrible! I didn’t want to get involved in this way!”
>”Well, we’re involved, sugarcube! We’ve been involved the minute we tried to cross into enemy country! Like it or not, you and I both already suspected that this ‘doom’ we saw was Canterium’s doing. It’s hardly patriotic to feed information about an impending attack to the enemy, that’s called treason. But I agreed to it because I believed in you, and now we both know there’s a higher purpose to all of it.”
“Th-there’s no point in telling them now. That pegasus is going to warn the PAS that there’s going to be war. War! We’re going to be in a warzone, AJ!”
>”It’s not ideal. None of this ideal. But if you’ve got the truth in your hoof, you’ve got to make compromises sometimes. We were already gonna be traitors, so what’s one unconscious captain gonna change?”
“Celestia, Celestia, give me strength, give me the power to see through the Holy Light to the—”
>Applejack takes you by the foreleg and practically throws you back towards the passenger side of Winona
>”No time for that, Twi. If there’s one, there’s more on the way, and she’s bound to wake up any time now. Get in, I’m driving.”
“You’re in no condition to drive. That thing has wracked your body, there’s—”
>”I said I’M DRIVING! Go!”
>All you can do is nod and climb in, allowing Applejack this small victory
>While she pulls the door shut and brings the engine to life again, you can only sit and think
>It’s all you’ve ever done is think, think about your faith, think about your Mission, think about the future
>Sometimes, your horn aches, but now the ideas come painlessly, and your ruminations are crystal clear
>Logical…
>Yes, there is logic to Mater Solis’ Truth, there always has been; it’s not always something that you can understand, being a mere pony, but Celestia the Prophetess saw it
>She saw it and spread its divinity to all who would listen, and now some small wisdom has been imparted to you
>The Element is powerful, and there are more to be found, more to connect into some greater matrix
>But there must be a purpose to that power, some greater good for which to wield it…
>Some greater EVIL to wield it against…
>Applejack didn’t tell you of all her premonitions in the cave, as some, she said, were too horrible to recount
>But she did mention eyes… inequine eyes, staring down over a turning wheel, belonging to a form which was dark and nightmarish
>They are all to come true, someday
>Someday soon…
>The truck carries through the gateway of the little checkpoint, on to the west, towards the setting sun, leaving dust clouds in its midst…

******

>”We’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t we? What’s been the holdup?”
>The snickering voice pierces your left ear, and it takes all of your restraint not to lash out at its source
>You’d have never wanted anything to do with this stallion if it weren’t your duty to be beside him right now, and yet…
>You are Captain Rainbow Dash of the Wunderbolts; currently, however, you feel like more of an errand filly, doing the bidding of whoever annoys you the most
>Right now, it’s him: Ambassador Time Turner of the Exsilists, whose impatience you share in private
>You’d never admit it to him, however, since all the fear and anxiety he induced in you when you first met has fast melted into exasperation at his endless quipping
>He reminds you of Lightning Dust, and that’s especially surprising considering the very stolid and self-assuring image the Cult of Exsilium conjures in you
>Exactly what you need right now, another impatient little nuisance on your wing
>Except this nuisance has got a prehensile death whip for a tail, and Gorgons know what else up his furled sleeves…
“I don’t know how ceremony is generally conducted in New Exsilia, but here it’s improper to begin a council meeting without the General present.”
>”Then, pray tell, what is keeping your illustrious father up? Certainly there hasn’t been an assassination scare already, so soon after my arrival? Or… oh, how quaint! Perhaps they’ve pegged ME as the assassin!”
>You snap your neck around to face the grinning stallion, his augmented voice grating at your eardrums
“Ambassador, please, keep your voice down! And I wouldn’t be surprised, since even I still haven’t ruled you out as a suspect in this goose chase you’ve sent me on.”
>”Captain Dash, please. I hate sounding so dreadfully cliché, but if necessary I’ll sink to such banalities. If I were up to no good, would I have made you privy to it? You, the daughter of the very stallion you and all these stuffy pegasi seem to think I’ve got it out for?”
“General Hurricane made me ‘privy’ to it first. He wanted me on you as soon as you set hoof in Pegasopolis. I’m following his orders, not yours.”
>”Oh, but you are enjoying yourself, aren’t you? Something about your body heat, your heartbeat, your blood pressure… something tells me you’ve never attended one of these meetings before.”
“You…! Don’t you read my vitals!”
>Time Turner widens his grin and taps at his retina, which expands and contracts in a myriad of crimson hues
>”Can’t help it, love. I was built this way as a wee thing. You didn’t think I knew you wouldn’t rat out our little arrangement just because I was a good judge of moral fiber, did you?”
>You grunt and turn away, instead devoting your attention to the other occupants of the council chamber
>It’s true what Time Turner said: you’ve never had the opportunity to sit alongside all the top brass of the PAS at once, not in such a formal setting
>Sure, you’ve known many of these stallions on a friendly level for half your life, but only as the adoring little daughter of Hurricane, whom they’ve always been so eager to please for their positions
>Now, as you sit amongst the Hauptgenerals, the Kommandants, the Master of Propaganda, of Commerce, of Arsenal, you feel as though you’re among equals
>One day, you won’t need to be the escort of an Exsilist ambassador to attend a Grand Council meeting; it’ll only be daily routine
>And NOT just because of your inherited title
>No, you’ll be here long before General Hurricane gives you that, long before…
>Your father… where is he?
>He’s never been known for his tardiness to any event, at least not beyond the sort of fashionable tardiness expected from somepony of his caliber
>His newly appointed bodyguard, Bulk Biceps, is also suspiciously absent
>Murmurs reach the walls from all around you, beckoning you to listen to their speakers
>Time Turner isn’t the only one who’s become agitated…
>You adjust your wings to a more comfortable position and lean back slightly, ruminating on your activities these last few days
>After escorting Time Turner to his expected affairs, most notably his personal inspection of the nuclear production in Vulkanbezirk, the two of you followed up on investigating his theory of a Canterian spy within the ranks of the PAS’ high command
>You pored over the files of everypony in this room, at least those which you could access, plus dozens of other notables, in the hopes of finding a connection, some trace of allegiance left over from before the revolution
>You found none
>Loyalty to the PAS is something natural, something solid as rock; how could anypony who has devoted their life to its inception betray it?
>The idea that all this is predicated on what Time Turner called a ‘prophetic encounter’ on the part of his precious Highmind Empress irks you too
>What if she’s wrong? What if all this is for nothing? Could what you’re doing be counted as treasonous in the eyes of the party?
>No; it’s never treason to want to confirm the loyalty of those closest to General Hurricane
>And despite his utterly strange demeanor and appearance, not to mention his inherent flaws as an earth pony, Time Turner does at least seem to want the same thing as you
>All you can hope is that you’re not being duped, that he’s telling the truth…
>Or perhaps it’d be better if he were lying, that there’s no threat to your father’s life at all…
>”ORDER! Let there be ORDER!”
>Hauptgeneral Wind Rider’s commanding voice brings everypony in the hall to attention
>As soon as you look up to regard him, movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention
>From the great doors to your right, General Hurricane hovers into view, confident and poised as ever, draped in a dress cloak and flanked by his albino bodyguard
>Bulk Biceps… encountering him for the first time, still less than a week ago when you were called by Hurricane to his office for your special assignment, sent shivers down your spine
>He still does; there’s a darkness in his eyes, one you’re glad is being put to good use in protecting Hurricane
>The General lowers himself gently once he reaches his place at the table, his eyes momentarily locking with yours before flitting from one wall of the room to the other, taking a brief head count
>Then he accepts the minutes sheet from Wind Rider’s outstretched hoof, clears his throat, and begins
>”Gentlecolts… first, I’d like to apologize for my lateness. Another matter demanded my attention, one which unfortunately could not wait. Thank you for your patience.”
>A storm of spoken forgiveness begins to rise in the hall, one which Hurricane quickly puts down with his voice
>”Now, as our first matter of importance today… I would like to welcome our honored guest, the Ambassador Premier Time Turner of the Cult of Exsilium, the Nation of New Exsilia and representative of the Exsilist Highmind Empress. Ambassador, welcome to Pegasopolis.”
>Time Turner stands and bows, a gesture you can tell is partly in mocking
>The rage this stallion inspires in you…
>”It’s an honor to be received, General.”
>”Yes. I regret that I could not greet you in person when you arrived this weekend, but I hope your inspections have been going smoothly with Captain Dash as your escort.”
>”Certainly… the Highmind Empress will be most pleased that our Trust is being maintained to such a degree. I daresay relations between our two nations have never been stronger.”
>Hurricane chuckles and lifts a hoof in tired salute
>”Let’s pray they become stronger still when the Canterian menace is finally crushed, Ambassador.”
>”In good time. Makers willing.”
>It doesn’t take a strong ear to hear the audible discomfort inspired in some of the stallions present at the mention of the Makers
>That extinct race which the Exsilists worship isn’t so well-loved among those outside the Cult; while you’re fairly ambivalent on the topic, some consider them a threat to the very idea of pegasus supremacy
>Which is ridiculous, of course
>The Makers could not fly naturally, their only claim to the skies was in the machines they built which have only been perfected by the hooves of ponies since the discovery of the New Maker’s Handbook
>Their niche, it seems, was one of tinkerers, and though their reach was long and their history so deeply intwined with that of ponykind since their arrival in Old Equestria, they were never destined to the greatness promised by the PAS
>They were made extinct by the bombs, so the tales go, so the Exsilists enjoy saying as they themselves came out of the nuclear wastes to the west which was once the domain of the Makers after they left Equestria for good
>They died in secret, in a blinding flash observed by nopony but themselves, and though their technologies live on their fate will not be repeated by ponies
>The nuclears will never NEED to be used, that much is obvious; they’re a deterrent, an arsenal as capable of obliterating Canterium as Canterium’s own arsenal is of obliterating you
>Still, some of these stallions totter at the idea that the Makers may have been the masters of the world once, and that this somehow means that all that’s been built here is lessened by some degree
>But Time Turner, it seems, believes that ponies are some sort of rightful heir to the Makers; and if the pegasi are the rightful rulers of ponykind, what does that say?
>Your thoughts drift back to this place, this hall, as your father breaks what seemed to be an extraordinarily long silence
>”Ambassador Turner is present today, gentlecolts, because the matter which will require most of our time and attention today concerns the Cult as well. Ambassador, can I trust that you will relay what is said here in confidence to the Highmind Empress?
>For the first time, you see a look of uncertainty cross Time Turner’s features
>”Eh… of course, General Hurricane. I am but the conduit through which the Empress’ will is made known.”
>”Very good.”
>Hurricane sets down the minutes and nods to Bulk Biceps, who hands him a simple manila folder to read from
>What’s going on?
>When Time Turner, and by extension you, were invited to this council meeting this morning, nothing like this was mentioned…
>”Approximately eighteen hours ago, an incident occurred at Border Station Gamma on our southeastern border, near where the San Palomino meets the Elysian Fields. This incident is confidential; it was reported directly to me by the official present and involved at the scene in a debriefing which occurred just this morning. This does not leave this room.”
>Border Station Gamma… that’s almost three hundred miles from here
>And a border guard flew from there to Pegasopolis in only a few hours?
>”At 1700 hours last night, this same border official was physically assaulted by a mare disguised as a fellow PAS border guard, and who identified herself by name as the leader of the ‘Canterian Seventh Aerial,’ a winged division of the Canterian Army. This ‘Spitfire,’ as she also named herself, has been confirmed to be the commander of this division by our intelligence and identified by our border official as the same mare who approached and attempted to overpower him. Also present were two Canterian mares, identities yet unknown, one unicorn and one earth pony traveling by motor vehicle and attempting to enter PAS territory. These two were possibly accomplices of our Spitfire, but no such connection has yet been confirmed.”
>A commander of a Canterian Army division? So far south?
>Why? Why would she do something like that? A direct single assault from such an angle?
>As soon as you think this, Kommandant Skyburst asks a question to the same effect, to which Hurricane merely frowns
>”We’re unsure for now. Where there’s one Canterian field operative, especially one of that distinction, there are certainly likely to be more. From the official’s testimony, I personally believe it’s possible she intentionally allowed him to escape and relay this incident to us here. Her reasoning for this, or rather, the reasoning of Canterian high command, I’ve not been able to puzzle out.”
>”Do you think the Canterians are planning an invasion from the south?”
>Wind Rider noticeably struggles to get the words out; he looks choked up for some reason
>”Why would they?”
>Hauptgeneral Cloud Chaser counters with his own distinct lisp:
>”Barring whatever tactical dithadvantage they’ve put themthelves at by notifying us of their arrival, the fact is that a Canterian invathion from the thouth would be a logistical nightmare for them. Their conthentration for the last several months has been in Unicronia against the Exsilists, far to the north. If they were to try and thplit their forces, one would imagine they’d have the thense to march straight.”
>“I agree. Border Station Gamma, you said? They’d have to have made expedition practically through the Badlands to approach us there without alerting us to their presence earlier. Why not just take the easy route from the northeast, one which would give them two direct supply lines, from their Unicronian front AND from their homeland?”
>Hurricane nods, then gazes wearily at Time Turner across the room
>”Which is precisely why I’ve invited our dear Ambassador today. Ambassador, have you received any intel whatsoever suggesting that the Canterians have sent a detachment down from Unicronia to begin a direct assault on our borders?”
>”Ah… let’s see… it’s unlikely. Though I’d be the last pony to be made aware of such daunting matters. Tactics were never my strong suit. But I do agree with your advisors, General, in that Canterium making way on the southern road of all routes seems like suicide.”
>”My thoughts exactly. Which is why I’ve also decided to include in this briefing another notable event which has not yet been made public.”
>Hurricane slips one sheet out of the folder and passes it to his left to Wind Rider
>Wind Rider stares in abject shock, then passes it on
>”Wh-what is this?”
>”This was taken by one of our aerial drones yesterday, approximately four hours prior to the incident at Border Station Gamma. The quality’s for crap, but I’m sure you can make it out. Incidentally, and I’ve confirmed this, the location of this image is just about four hours driving distance east of Gamma. Isn’t that a puzzle and a half?”
>”Is this… is this nuclear?”
>Skyburst’s hooves shudder as he too passes to his left, and the paper approaches you by one step
>”The labcoats say no, it’s not characteristic of a nuclear detonation at all. This is something else entirely. The radiation pattern recorded by the drone’s spectroscopic scanners were like nothing they’d ever seen before.”
>Out of the corner of your eye, Time Turner perks up
>”Spectroscopic, you say? What was this drone’s nominal function?”
>”Technically, Ambassador, that’s classified information. But off the records, this radiation burst occurred only a few dozen kilometers away from the Maker’s Fist. Yes, THAT Maker’s Fist. Now, as many of you know, under the umbrella of Canterium’s Ordo Intelligentia. We’ve been monitoring that station and others like it for suspicious activity. Activity like this.”
>Finally, the paper enters your own hooves, and you find that they’re trembling as well before you even lay eyes on the image printed on it
>It’s a blurry, black and white pegasus-eye view of a light appearing almost brighter than the sun, floating massively over a craggy peak and the desert wastes below
>Before you can really even take it all in, a thought strikes you
>It stops your heart for a moment
>The
>White
>Sunset
>It’s visible in your mind now, the dream you had, except it isn’t a dream now it’s real, it’s right here in your hoof, it’s what you’ve been seeing this light, this light that’s eating the world
>The tick of Time Turner’s watch is resonating in your head, tick tick tick, and it’s giant and crimson and glorious and you don’t know where you are or what you’re doing or why you aren’t entering—
>…
>And then, the paper’s out of your hooves, snatched away by Time Turner, and the feeling subsides
>These memories… memories of events yet to come… what in the name of the Gorgons is going on?
>A prophetic encounter… no, it’s nothing
>Daydreams, that’s all
>Time Turner looks perturbed by the image, as though he knows something about it nopony else present does, but then merely shrugs and passes it on
>”So you think it’s their doing? Some sort of new weapon, perhaps?”
>”I don’t think I’ve got any room to speak on that without revealing my own ignorance, ambassador. My primary focus right now is to determine what’s going to happen if this Spitfire really is leading a contingent towards us, and how prepared we are for a direct engagement with the enemy.”
“These two mares.”
>Everypony turns to glare at you, and you realize you spoke those words without even thinking
>Why did you speak? You’re not here as a member of this council!
>Time Turner is grinning like a maniac, and you’ve got nowhere to run or hide so you just have to speak…
“Wh-what I mean is, these two mares you mentioned. The ones trying to enter PAS territory. Did they succeed? Or were they subdued?”
>”Unfortunately, Captain Dash, we’re not certain. The border official we debriefed was the only one present at the scene, and he managed to escape before his life was put at risk. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say yes. Nothing stopping them, of course.”
>”Then we should send out a search party. Apprehend them, General. Find out what the hell they know about all this, what the Canterians are planning. We need certainty right now more than anything.”
>”We altho need to mobilize our legions. Not a difficult prothpect conthidering we’ve kept them in retherve for exactly this kind of thituation, but… if they’re coming from the thouth, they’re coming from the thouth. That’s the scenario we need to prepare for.”
>”Unless it’s all a diversion, of course.”
>Time Turner’s tail wriggles upward like a charmed serpent, stroking his mane on its way up
>Behind him, his own two eyeless cyborg companions stand motionless, as though they were part of the décor
>All eyes are on Time Turner, though it feels like they’re on you again
>”What are you suggesting, ambassador?”
>”Only that the facts, and our esteemed General’s intuition, seem to suggest that this Spitfire wanted our stallion to come home and tell us all this. They wanted us to arrive at the conclusion we’ve arrived at, that there’s to be a Canterian assault from the south, rather than the much more logical approach from the northeast. They wanted us to have this precise conversation… and, by that same logic, they wanted somepony to say what I’m saying now.”
>”Thounds to me like you’re thpeaking in thircles, ambassador.”
>”Quite the contrary. I’m only eliminating certain possibilities. Say Chancellor Neighsay wanted to feint the PAS, and I mean REALLY trick you all good. Psych you out until you don’t know up from down. If I were in his coat, I’d do something similar to this. Convince you it’s got to be a bluff, or a fakeout. That there’s no chance in hell that they’d try something as ridiculous as a southern expedition, that either there’s no threat at all, or if there is it’s coming from a different direction. So now we don’t know where to mount a defense, where to position our now very panicked troops to defend beloved Pegasopolis. Except, of course, Pegasopolis itself.”
>Hauptgeneral Skyburst pounds the table in frustration, his face beet-red
>”Then what? We mount no defensive campaign at all? We leave the borders unchecked? Ambassador, you were quite right when you said you’ve got no tactical sense! We need to fly our troops SOMEWHERE!”
>”Where, then?”
>General Hurricane glares at Skyburst, clearly weighed down by all of this
>”The ambassador’s right. If we split our forces they’ll march right over us. If we choose one or the other then we’ve got a coin flip on our hooves, and if there’s one field pegasi have historically struggled in it’s that of sheer luck. Neighsay’s a tricky bitch… we all know he pulls the strings through his joke of a military command. And we also know from our Imperialist sources in the Canterian Senatori that he’s been entertaining the idea of a direct assault on us for a while now. If it were a bluff yesterday, it isn’t today. The only way to ensure that we win this fight is to position ourselves in the one place we know they’ll attack.”
>”B-but… for heaven’s sake, General Hurricane, surely there’s another option? To back ourselves up so deep into our own borders… it’s disgraceful! And barring that, it’ supremely risky! If we can’t defend our own borders from the Canterian dogs, then what does that say about the future of the PAS?”
>”I’m not interested in our future right now, Hauptgeneral. I’m interested in our present survival. This place… this nation of free pegasi, unrestrained by Canterian tyranny… it’s been my dream all my life. But we have to be realistic now, look at the facts and answer this: in a head-to-head collision, are we alone strong enough right now to beat them?”
>”I… I…”
>”Great care has gone into the building of this city. We will not let them tear it down. Borders be damned, it’s a line we’ve drawn in the sand. It doesn’t mean anything while Canterium still exists. Ambassador, is there any chance the Highmind Empress could supply us with a few auxiliaries of Exsilists?”
>“Perhaps. I’ll be frank with you, General, there’s been tension. Internal… tension. I’ve already informed Captain Dash of this, but the Highmind Empress is currently in Unicronia, directly overseeing the siege.”
>”Oh? Don’t tell me there have been difficulties, ambassador.”
>”Far from it. But our Trust is… shall we say… a contract. A piece of paper. You supply us with nuclears, we agree to divide Canterium’s corpse evenly between us. But… if we were to show direct military union with the PAS against Canterium, I mean, if we were to become a united force in that way… we don’t know how that would affect things.”
>”Is that a no?”
>”As I said, it’s a perhaps. I’ll convene with the Highmind Empress on the subject when I inform her of everything else that was said here today, but as it stands… I can promise nothing.”
>General Hurricane strokes the stubble which adorns his chin, and you notice it’s a bit more unkempt than usual
>He keeps it at a certain length, a certain rough edge, to inspire an image… now he appears almost haggard, distraught
>With everything that’s on his plate now, how could he not be?
>You’re terrified of that appearance, terrified of what might happen in the next few days that could scare even your father, who fears nothing…
>”Fine. Kommandants, pass down the command that we mobilize as soon as possible. We’re to have a total defensive perimeter around the city both at sky level and on the ground, five clicks in every direction. Total blockade, I want nothing to enter or leave Pegasopolis without thorough inspection by military customs officers. NOT civilian. Anypony even suspected of Canterian sympathies is to be detained until further notice. And one other thing. Stormy Skies?”
>The Master of Arsenal stands at attention
>”Prep the launch site. I want every bomb we’ve got pointed directly at Mons Canteria. If they take us down, we’ll return the favor. A firestorm the likes of which only your Maker gods have ever known, Ambassador Time Turner.”
>Time Turner grins and nods, though internally you know he’s highly opposed to that idea
>If mutually assured destruction does occur between the PAS and Canterium, the only thing left for the Cult to inherit will be ashes and bones
>”A quethtion for the Ambathador, while we’re on the topic.”
>Cloud Chaser’s black hoof points across the table, as though accusing Time Turner of witchcraft for the way his two-meter chrome tail dances and writhes
>”This picture… we’ve all theen it now. Your kind is intimately familiar with the New Maker’s Handbook and its contents… what do you reckon could cauthe thomething like that to occur?”
>For an instant, Time Turner clutches at his watch, then stops himself when he realizes you’re watching
>As though he’s been found out…
>”Haven’t the foggiest. Though if I were to venture a guess, I’d say it isn’t technological at all. Seems far more magical in origin.”
>Magic…
>Another thing so many despise, but towards which you’re relatively indifferent towards
>While you do think it’s merely sad that so many unicorns, save for those of Unicronia, have abandoned their gift in the wake of the New Maker’s Handbook, you also recognize that it’s only due to the Cult’s influence that magic is so reviled here in the PAS
>They hate it all, even pegasus magic of the sort which allows pegasus cities to float without the need for repulsion fields, so the PAS has conceded to maintain the Trust
>Odd, then, that this high-ranking member of the Cult should know magic just by a glance…
>He said he was a slave as a foal, didn’t he?
>”Notice the high-energy bands around the center of the field, how they’re all slightly off-center… it isn’t what one would expect from an ordinary radiation distribution. I’d need to see it in motion, but I’m imagining oscillatory motion in 2-dimensions, a mass focusing on a point but not quite perfect yet. Not quite there. Still spinning somewhere else… still deciding where it’s going to land…”
”You got all that from one glance at that grainy-ass mess?”
>There you go, opening your mouth again; fortunately, Time Turner doesn’t seem to mind, unlike everypony else in this place
>”We all see different things in magic, Captain Dash. I see the orbits of planets, or the motion of electrons about a nucleus. I sense you saw something… altogether unique, didn’t you?”
>What?
>What does he know about the white sunset?
>What does he know about what you’ve seen in those sleepless dreams, in the quiet midnight of the San Palomino?
>Alone, alone, alone…
>Nothing; he doesn’t know anything at all
>He’s just being his usual freaky self, aware of everything, mocking the world with his grin
>He really is just like Lightning Dust in that way
>”In any case, General, it’ll be done. My soldiers will be happy to come off the beat for a few weeks, even if it does turn out to be a false alarm. And we can only hope that’s what it is, a false alarm.”
>”Hmmph. You’re all looking at this the wrong way. This shouldn’t be a fright, it should be an opportunity. If we can win a decisive battle with the Canterian military, a pitched battle where both sides know the stakes… we could begin a pushback campaign. We could actually mobilize.”
>”Do NOT forget, Kommandants. The Staatskongress has not declared war on Canterium. We can’t make decisions like that lightly. If we’re provoked into an assault, fine, but otherwise that sort of talk is meaningless at this stage.”
>”General… couldn’t you bypass Staatskongress? Sign a temporary declaration long enough for those pundits to make up their damned minds once this all goes down?”
>Hurricane looks up towards the vaulted ceiling; his eyes are bloodshot, his mind clearly racing
>It’s been so long since you’ve seen him like this, not since the last days of the revolution, when you looked up at him in this very same way
>You see the costs of all of this mounting in his eyes, all the effort he’s put into carefully constructing his haven, and if it’s pushed too soon, without the proper preparations…
>The cards might just fall to the table
>”I’ve limited my own powers for a reason, gentlecolts. I could exercise supreme authority, but unlike so many others in my position I’m not dampened by avarice. I won’t sacrifice my principles for this. If they attack, we defend. When Staatskongress makes a declaration, THEN we make campaign. Pegasopolis is of the sky, and we are the sky’s masters. What can the land-dwellers do to bring us down? What, but throw stones and shout to the wind?”
>The others nod in agreement, some more enthusiastically than others
>Honestly, you wouldn’t really mind if Hurricane took the fight to the Canterians; it’d give you a chance to wet your wings in real combat, after all, and those more weak-willed in Staatskongress wouldn’t have any way of stopping it
>But you trust his judgment, and from all his talk about setting precedents you know this is just a continuation of that
>Putting too much power in one pony’s hooves is a dangerous thing… even when those hooves will one day be yours…
>”So, with that, I have nothing further to say. Does anypony else have anything they’d like to add to today’s agenda before we begin preparations?”
>”One more thing if I might, General.”
>Time Turner cocks his head to one side, and one of his eyes freakishly darts to glance at your expression for a single instant while the other remains fixed on Hurricane
>You had no idea he could do THAT…
>After all, his eyes seem mostly organic on the surface apart from his ocular implants
>”I share Captain Dash’s interest in these two mares whose appearance coincided with that of Commander Spitfire on the border. Earlier, we glossed briefly over apprehending them, but I don’t believe anything was said further on the matter.”
>”Yes, well, rest assured I’ll have a search party detailing the area by sunset. If they’re trying to enter Pegasopolis, we’ll know about it soon enough.”
>”It’s strange though, isn’t it? If all this, the invasion, these mares, the explosive element in the Badlands, if all these are interconnected somehow… well, call it a hunch, General. Those two may very well have answers to questions we don’t even know how to ask.”
>”That’s an interesting notion, ambassador. What are you suggesting?”
>”Suggesting? Nothing, of course. I’m only a visitor, dear General, I don’t know a thing about the arts of interrogation. But if they are apprehended, and if they are questioned before this supposed Canterian invasion comes to fruition, would it be too much to ask to have a few minutes alone with them? The image you’ve shown us interests me greatly, and I think it would interest the Highmind Empress even more if it were revealed that these two had a hoof in it.”
>Surprisingly, General Hurricane smiles and hovers lightly off the ground
>He crosses the table to come face to face with the mechanical stallion, and there are almost visible vectors of intensity between their stares
>”I can do you one better, ambassador. We need a small detachment to canvass the area the two fugitives might be occupying, one skilled but discreet. One without certain… entanglements. Captain Dash.”
“Y-yes sir?”
>”How would you like to take the Wunderbolts out for a fly?”
“Um… oh! Of course! It’s an honor to… but… the ambassador…”
>”Can accompany you! We’ll have him outfitted with a glidepack post-haste. You and the Wunderbolts will locate that vehicle, apprehend our border-hoppers, the ambassador will get his quick word in edgewise, and we’ll have them in Pegasopolis for formal questioning within twenty-four hours. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. Consider it done.”
>”Good. Dismissed.”
>As the others sigh and stand, alternately walking and flying towards the exits scattered around the hall, General Hurricane motions for Time Turner and Bulk Biceps also to leave, which they oblige
>With all but you and your father gone, Hurricane merely touches your shoulder and fluffs up your wing
>”Watch him. He was very eager to speak to those two fugitives. He’ll get his interview, but I want you there, and I want you listening. You’ve gained his trust?”
“In a sense. You know how these Exsilists are, General. The wheels are always turning one way or another.”
>”Good. Keep doing what you’ve been doing. If this all pans out the way I suspect it’s going to pan out, then the Cult is going to have a lot to answer for. And the price of our nuclears is going to go up and up until they do.”
“Do you really think the Canterians would be bold enough to strike now? When they’re already fighting on one front?”
>”It’s like your mother always said, Rainbow Dash. Probabilities come in all shades, but at the end of the day it’ll come to a zero or a one. And I see a great big zero on the horizon, for better or for worse. Dismissed, Captain.”

******

>Before you even received Agent Lucky Clover’s frantic message on the subject, you had been made aware of the incident in the Badlands
>If it hadn’t been your own drones monitoring the Maker’s Fist which picked up the radiation signature at the edge of its detection range, it would’ve been mere word of mouth
>Everypony is talking about it now; even the news managed to get some amateur photographs of the afterglow of the thing, swirling about against the midnight black sky
>By the time the parasitic photographers had arrived, the second sun had nearly entirely dimmed, but it was still all too visible, all too enticing a prospect
>You are Chancellor Neighsay, and your desk is stacked high with paperwork you won’t be working through for some time
>Most of it is comprised of charters and proposed addendums for the Liberation Act, which is now seeing smooth progress through the Senatori
>With luck, it’ll be passed into law by next week, and Operation Thunderstruck will be retroactively vindicated
>Ahhhh, Thunderstruck… what a brilliant move, Shetland…
>Complications aside, you’ve received notice from Captain Spitfire that the first phase of the plan has been set in motion; by now, the PAS’ high command has almost certainly been made aware of the possibility of invasion from the south
>And if they’ve any brains at all in those flighty heads of theirs, then they will have realized that this implies the possibility of invasion from the north as well
>All directions, my dear, all directions…
>In truth, you’d conceived of this ultimatum long before your meeting with the Imperialists last week, those lickspittles led by Blueblood, but it was only their persistence in their aim to see the PAS pardoned for their crimes against Canterium that made you certain it was the right move
>You stroke your beard and chuckle softly
>If your theory is correct, those dolts aren’t doing any thinking by themselves; they were TOLD to come to you with such a ridiculous proposition, they’re being used as puppets by General Hurricane himself
>And while you doubt the ex-revolutionary Hurricane is on your level per se, he hasn’t been without his cunning in the past; you don’t believe that he expected a favorable outcome in using Blueblood, Hoity Toity and Jet Set
>He knows about the Liberation Act, which means the Imperialists in the Senatori are not merely sympathizers to the Pegasus Armistice State anymore; they’re spies
>Passing information to Hurricane, as they’ve no doubt been doing all this time; you’d feared this possibility, but until now you didn’t think they would have the balls to go through with it
>Traitors…
>But so long as their treason benefits you, you’ll not see them tried for it
>So long as Blueblood knows nothing about your true intentions, as truly nopony but you and your operatives in the field do, he poses no threat to you
>And besides, your own spy in the PAS is working wonders
>Though whether they’ll go through with the task you’ve prepared for them come the day of reckoning… well, that remains to be seen
>From what you know of her through your go-between, her loyalties are split, and she’s conflicted
“Thank Celestia for the backup.”
>When Pegasopolis is taken, you’ll have not only cut off the Exsilists’ steady supply of nuclears, but also answered one of the more nagging questions that’s lately infested your mind
>How DO the pegasi make that cloudless city of theirs float, anyhow?
>Before you can venture another of your infinite mental guesses, the microphone on your desk beeps, and Moon Dancer’s low voice greets you in crystal quality
>”Sir?”
“My, my. Could it be that an expected visitor actually showed up on time for once in this place?”
>”Nail on the head. Should I send him through?”
“Give me about three minutes, then yes. I’d tell you to apologize to him for having no entertainment of his caliber while he waits, but then again I doubt he’ll mind.”
>”No, sir.”
CLICK
>You settle down in your chair and begin carefully offloading the paper stacks from your desk to make it somewhat presentable
>Most of these propositions, from what you can tell, are the typical affair; senators attempting to latch whatever petty legislation they can onto a bill that’s certain to pass before it’s too late
>You very nearly lost the images Lucky Clover sent you last night amid all the clutter when you brought them in for the morning, but luckily you recovered them before they were gone for good
>You examine them once more, adorning the left edge of your desk: microfilm prints of a file discovered by your trusty little agent in a restricted laboratory in the depths of Site 23
>You suppose it’s safe enough to keep these prints on-hoof even after your visitor departs; you’ll even let him make copies if he wants
>After all, if he’s the only one in this damned city who has even a chance of deciphering their meaning, then it’s not as if OI could trace their origins back to the eggheads in the Maker’s Fist who drew them up in the first place
>You yourself puzzled over the information contained within for hours before finally resigning to your own inadequacies; or, rather, the LACK of information
>Every other word is blacked out, those secretive shits!
>What precisely are you supposed to glean from something like “Scans of the occipital lobe of ■■■■■■■■ after the fact revealed ■■■■■■■■■, as well as ■■■■■■■■■■■■"?
>Or for that matter, even if the document were intact, would you comprehend it?
>The jewel, of course, is the chemical compound iterated upon in the preceding pages, which Lucky Clover seemed to believe was tied to this “secret metal” he overheard the labcoats discussing
>You’re no chemist, but even you can tell that the diagrams are nonsense from a chemical standpoint: the “compound”, if it can be called that, is composed of chains warped about a central axis with no discernable atomic composition available
>It’s more like a weave than a chemical diagram, but your agent in the field insisted that it existed on the quantum level, that this was Professor Neigh’s field of expertise
>Gluonic substructure… well, if anypony can crack it, it’s the pony currently waiting outside your office
>You know him only by his reputation: your predecessor in the Chancellor’s chair used him frequently for consultations in nuclear development as more and more precise tools were being developed for their manufacturing
>It was he who initially proposed the construction of gravity-fed water-cooled reactors beneath the river-beds in Rich Valley, a proposition which was advantageous in that it provided a secure location where reactive material could be contained, transported, and launched all from a single station
>You heard rumors a little over a week ago that there’d been a breach in the security of one of the stations which had yet to be staffed, but you held no concerns over it; nothing to see, nothing to report, right?
>But this pony… you’ve been reluctant to bring him in on such matters as these, for even if his identity remains anonymous to the general public, Black Bar and OI know him all too well
>If one of his infinite sources were to report that you’d had a meeting with this pony, he’d suspect something
>Good; let him suspect away
>For all the lying he’s done to you, you consider this fair payback
>You collect the microfilm prints into a neat pile to be presented to your consultant on his entrance, then tap the intercom next to them
“Alright, Ms. Dancer. Send him in.”
>Without waiting for an answer, you click the transponder off, unplug it from its cord, and place it in a drawer underneath your desk
>Your office is bug-checked every other day, but just to be safe…
>You hear hoofsteps outside your door, and you stand to greet their originator
>On the other side of that sliding door walks perhaps the most brilliant mind of your time, and you’ll be damned if you don’t make a good impression
>The panel hisses open, and the unassuming eyes of the stallion are the first sight you take in
>They’re grey as a storm, and behind their meekness is something terrifying and bright
>A mind of the ages
>”Evenin’, guv. Long time, neva’ seen.”
“My apologies, Mr. Brittle Bong. Please, take a seat.”
>The blue stallion moves slowly, deliberately across the room, though there’s an electricity in his step such that you can tell he’s concealing some truer nature
>Intelligent as he may be, that doesn’t stop you from reading him
>His cutie mark, a broken clock, seems tastefully ironic given his reputation
>And his manner, well, that’s another reputation of its own
>”Caught in traffic, I was. Loads ‘a folk comin’ up the I.C. from the lowlets. Me lorry were makin’ a ruckus anyhow, gonna get ‘er replaced one o’ these days.”
“Nonsense. You’re right on schedule. Please, take a seat.”
>The middle-aged engineer obliges, settling down in the same spot where, barely a week ago, that coward Blueblood very nearly had his throat opened by your night-clad bodyguard
>You wonder briefly where Pink could be hiding now, but dismiss the idea; you won’t be needing her with this one
>”’Aven’t been called up to the Mount for a consultation since your predecessor’s days, Chanc’llor. I ‘ad thought that I’d been right forgotten.”
“Forgotten? Hardly. It’s my understanding that without you, half the automated plants in the lowlands would be derelict within a month.”
>”Do me fair share of upkeep. Ye’ve got nary another pony wot can see those designs the way I see ‘em. No ‘ubris in that, just Celestia’s honest truth.”
“Are you a pious stallion, Mr. Bong?”
>”Well, the proximity to that convent’s opened some selfsame part o’ me, that’s for sure. But in a general sense, no. I work with what the Makers gave us, Chanc’llor. Whatever godly aspect’s in that, it’s one that can be read. Understood.”
“I’m glad you think so. Let’s see if I understand this correctly…”
>You retrieve the file from your desk containing the profile you’ve amassed on Brittle Bong, noting the array of photographs on the first page of the set
>So many from his younger years, before digital cameras removed the grit and soul from such images
>Pictures of a family; a brother, a brother’s wife, an infant nephew
>Smiling in that borderland home that would become hell so shortly thereafter…
>You flip the page and squint to make out the tiny font of such an extensive biography
“Brittle Bong, aged fifty-four. You lived in Isingeld, something of a frontier town in the Westlands, until the age of thirty. A family of watchmakers… an antique profession. Underappreciated nowadays, I’d imagine. Despite adherence to your birthright, you had other academic interests… graduated summa cum laude from the University of Unicronia, double major of industrial engineering and physics, with a concentration in high-energy particle states. Obtained an M.S. in the same institution, in which time you brushed withers with some of the top minds of the century. Unicronia… a very difficult place to get by without a horn, Mr. Bong. Was that your experience?”
>”Not so much me physiognomy as me background. I disliked… the culture there, in academia. Their ideas about the Maker’s Handbook, their fanaticism wot bordered on cultish at times… we didn’t see eye to eye, me and them.”
“They saw ghosts in those machines, then?”
>”Wot they saw, Chanc’llor, was frankly too small by ‘alf. Many of my peers, even the professors, no doubt… they went into the thing with an expectation that somethin’ unified waited for them at the other end. Like the Makers’d left a trail of breadcrumbs in their artifacts, like there was a synthesis in… well, I wouldn’t expect you to fully understand.”
“I have some notion. But you just wanted to solve problems, didn’t you?”
>Brittle Bong leans back in his chair, eyeing the floor with great interest as though there, among the miniscule ribbons of the carpeting, was an equation
>”There’s beauty in the formulas. Powerful things, the designs they kept in that stony tomb. Way I see it, them’s wot diggin’ out there still, ain’t got nothin’ left to find wot can’t already be extrapolated from wot we already ‘ave. Any beast can pick a tool off the ground and make wonders with it by accident. Real beauty, Chanc’llor, comes from intent, and intent comes out of knowledge. Theory… it’s always been about theory. Mimicking the Makers can only take us so far.”
“I agree. So, given such disagreements, you elected to depart that institution without reaching any higher. You continued your studies in private upon returning to your home in Isingeld.”
>”Those four years were the best of me life… me nephew was born towards the end, his papa… wot a stallion, he was. I was so proud of ‘im then. ‘Is watches were always be’er-crafted than mine, but towards the end… that’s wot I talk about, when I talk about beauty.”
>He’s an emotional stallion, you’ll give him that
>You expected somepony a bit more clinical and cold, given his reputation, but this… you’re surprised, for the first time in what feels like forever
>You divert your attention from his features and continue your reading
“Spring, 966. You published a paper on quantum field theory, needed to go through the university for approval. Publicity, and all that. The Sea of Night was already stirring, wasn’t it?”
>”Dun wanna talk about that none, if that’s why you’ve asked me ‘ere.”
“Hardly. Just nod for my own personal record if these memories are too painful for you to recall. You departed Isingeld for Unicronia, apparently got into a physical altercation with one of your peers. You were there, in Unicronia, when the Cult of Exsilium first—”
>”Stop.”
>Brittle Bong shifts in his seat and levels a glare at you
>You realize you were wrong about his eyes; they aren’t all grey now, they’re blue, deep blue
>As though changed by the tide of his heart…
>”I don’t need you to tell me wot makes me own life story. The Cult rushed over Isingeld, is that what you were gonny say? Enslaved me brother and his family with everypony else, that what you wanted?”
“The Cult made a daring expedition that year. Their first major encroachment on sub-Canterian territory. Legally, we could do nothing about it, of course, though heads were turned, and that was always their expectation and intent, wasn’t it? To turn heads. To be noticed.”
>”Look, if you’re askin’ me wot grudge I’ve got against them Exsilist hounds, you ain’t got none to worry about me loyalty. I came ‘ere to make a new life for meself.”
“Interesting choice of words. Your file says you were brought here to Mons Canteria, under government supervision, first as a potential sympathizer with—”
>”LIES! ALL O’ IT, BLOODY LIES!”
>The engineer slams his hooves on the desk, surprisingly fast for his age
“Mr. Bong, your temperament is not conducive to this discussion. And may I remind you, though I’m loathe to do it, that I am your Chancellor, and will exercise necessary precautions should you raise your tone to me again. Understood?”
>Then, as quick as it came, the sudden burst of rage is gone, and Brittle Bong settles down, nearly collapsing in his chair
>”They ‘ad me pegged for bein’ a sellout, a trai’or, but only because I’d ordered equipment from the Cultists before the raids. BEFORE! How else was I to do my work, my research, I ‘ad no federal grants, nothing. I spent me own bits on those materials because they were westerly, because they were good, ‘ad no particular care for the religious or political affiliations of the sellers.”
“But the sellers were Exsilists.”
>”They weren’t the enemy then. They were strangers selling Maker metals. Not wot we’d built in replication, but the GENUINE article. New Exsilia, wot they call it now, sits on top o’ the husk o’ the Maker civilization. Everything they ever built since the death of Celestia, everything since their retreat from Equestron, it was there for the taking, and they took, and I bought.”
“Regardless, you were cleared of that suspicion. But national interests weren’t finished with you, were they?”
>”Ye, they needed wot I’d done learned. I’d dealt with Exsilists more than anypony else with enough brains to know how they operated. They used me for schematics, f-for…”
“For the parts of the Handbook that couldn’t be accounted for. Your knowledge of theory was unparalleled, even your peers who so scorned you knew that much. You don’t just run those factories down there, do you? Your involvement has always run deeper than that.”
>”The specifics o’ the type of work I did was classified then, and still is now.”
>You gesture broadly around you, and at yourself
“Chancellor.”
>”Ye already know everything I’ve got to say.”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? Stand up, please, and come here for a moment.”
>Brittle grunts as he tosses himself up off the soft cushion of the chair, and trots a lazy semicircle around your oval-shaped desk
>When he reaches the other side, you key a trigger on your desk, and the frosted-over window plate which dominates the back of the room returns to transparency
>Here, at near-sunset, the lights of the city below have begun to flicker on, and a multicolored tapestry of shapes and colors greets you there
>Mons Canteria, the city on the mountain, once merely a castle and a keep, now a sprawling metropolis which extends for miles beyond the foot of this great hill
>From the uppermost echelon of the city, the summit of all achievement in this world, you realize how easy it is for those lights to seem as fireflies, dancing in the sky
>Beautiful, but inconsequential
>But you’ve long since pushed away that notion through meditation, never mind seeing the struggle on the warfront in Unicronia firsthoof
>Everything in this world has consequence, great and small, and the most significant events almost always take place behind closed doors
>Whether intended or not, a shade has formed, a tangent reflection of the World’s inhibitions
>You see it in Black Bar, his calculated machinations eating away at the security of this nation’s foundations even as he claims to protect them
>You see it in Blueblood and his cronies, their acidic dream of a return to Empire banishing any feelings of shame they might have cultivated while they betray their own country to Hurricane
>But the Exsilists… oh, the Exsilists…
>There’s something darker in them, something deeply nihilistic… to reject ponykind outright in favor of the Makers, not merely through worship but something, something…
>”Dark now, innit? For this time of year.”
>You shake your head, and your abstractions away with it
>You’ll lose your head one of these days if you follow this path too far
>Focus
“Down there, Mr. Bong… what do you see?”
>”Everypony sees somethin’ different, I expect.”
“What I see is potential. Potential for progress. Potential for liberty from the confines of our imagination. Every day, great things are happening all across Canterium, even as war rages in our borderlands. Conflict necessitates ingenuity, just as violence perpetuates a need for security. We can only create peace through war. This has always been the case.”
>”I ain’t no philosopher, Chanc’llor. I’m a scientist, for wot that’s worth today.”
“Everything, Mr. Bong. Everything. Now, I’ll ask again: what do you see there, in those lights?”
>The gruff pony appears to ponder for a moment, the gears in his exceptional mind turning 
>For a moment, your eyes wander to his flank, and you can almost see the broken watch there turn again
>Turning like wheels…
>”I see… slavery. Slavery o’ the mind. To be braced with such understandin’, to be brought up in such a world… how can a pony think any different now? Sometimes I wish I was born before, long before the Maker’s Handbook, long before what we ‘ad was transformed. Although I s’pose they’ve always been a part o’ our ‘istory. They’ve weaved in and out o’ us ‘ere, now, for a thousand years. They were there at the genesis o’ the new breed, there when the Prophetess died and was reborn.”
“Not pious, I see.”
>”Pious, no. A recognizance, a fatal understandin’ o’ becoming. Of…”
>The stallion drifts off, the thousands on thousands of glow-globes and electric wonders beneath him dancing in his eyes’ reflections
“You helped to make this world, Brittle Bong. You. And now you’re going to help me with something.”
>You turn and reach back to the smooth surface of the desk, picking up the folder filled with Lucky Clover’s microfilm prints
>Stalwartly, you place them gently before Brittle Bong, and watch as his attention gradually shifts towards them
>His eyes are grey again, away from the light… you must know how he does that
>He’s certainly more worthy of your respect than any other pony in this entire building, nay, this entire upper haven
>They’re all cowards or traitors, they don’t see, they don’t SEE the true vision, they would never understand Operation Thunderstruck, nor anything else you’ve devised
>It must be done this way, however; nothing else can so assure your victory
>Brittle Bong, meanwhile, appears to be laser-focused on the crisp words embedded in those documents, poring over each character with care
>”Gluonic substructure… chiral undrilling… and, Celestia above… where the bloody hell did this come from, Chanc’llor?”
“Strictly confidential. Just know that unraveling the secrets behind this document would be of great national interest.”
>”These diagrams… if it’s wot I imagine them to be…”
“And what precisely do you imagine them to be?”
>”Goin’ by the text… do you know what gluons are, Chanc’llor?”
“No. Nor, I think, do any of my other scientific advisors. Atomics are not my specialty, as they are yours.”
>You purposefully neglect to mention that you never asked your other advisors, rather going straight to him
>You haven’t the foggiest idea which of them, nor how many, could be compromised by OI
>”A particle, an atom, is composed o’ quarks. From a theory standpoint, as was what could be surmised from the Maker texts, these quarks are held together by what we know as the strong force, one o’ four element’ry forces. The others bein’ gravity, a mass exchange, electromagnetism, a charge exchange, and the weak force, a decay exchange. The strong force is perpetuated by gluons, like a, a go-between for carrying the force between quarks. The quarks are held together by gluons, making atoms, which make up everything.”
“This research is subatomic, then.”
>”I’d be ‘ard-pressed to call it research, Chanc’llor. This stuff is as theoretical now as it was in my day. I mean, chiral undrilling, I can only assume they’re talking about negating the spin of these gluons, building this chain bit by bit… one would have to individually pick the gluons out of static annihilation processes, and piece ‘em together without invoking uncertainty. A chain like this would be the strongest substance known to ponykind by a factor of ten million. The tensile strength of a material based on this structure… ye could hoist this whole castle atop a few strands of the stuff with the thickness of piano wire. Assumin’, of course, it don’t punch holes straight through the foundation.”
>So the secret metal… it isn’t a metal at all!
>It’s an impossible compound, a paradoxical mad science experiment
>You almost feel the need to contain a burst of laughter over the absurdity of this thing
>So that’s what they’re doing there in Site 23… tinkering with materials that could never exist
>Unless, of course…
“What of this, here?”
>You point at the anecdotal report on the third page of the prints, to which Brittle Bong merely shakes his head
>”So many blacked-out spots makes it difficult to get a read… and permeation depth means high-frequency radiation’s involved. Or low… alpha waves? What the significance o’ this is, I ‘aven’t the foggiest. Reads like science fiction to me. Whoever you snagged this from’s puttin’ thoughts in ya ‘ead.”
“And say, for the sake of argument, they weren’t. Say it’s a real report. Then what?”
>”Then… if these two documents are talkin’ about the same thing, then it’s a finding, not a theory. A material with that type o’ gluonic substructure was discovered, and they’re tryin’ to see inside it. Using ponies, as ridiculous as it sounds. Alpha waves, radiation on the order o’ merely tens of hertz, they suggest neural activity in intelligent creatures. Ponies, Makers, everything with a motor cortex produces ‘em. But the wavelength being so long… their permeation effectivity is piss-poor. To see a substance ONLY permeated by alpha waves, much less only by alpha waves produced by PONIES, rather than a more stable source… they’re seeing things. Prophetic dreams… this is Exsilist trite. Is that where ye found these, Chanc’llor? The Exsilists?”
“As a matter of fact, no. But that’s an interesting comparison to draw. Why the Exsilists?”
>”I know enough about ‘em, wot I did… I did readings on ‘em. Their philosophies. Before the attacks, before the slaughters and the… well. They are obsessed, after all, with the spiritual connectivity between the pony and the Maker, and the technology between ‘em. The machine is everything. And within the machine, there are elements, and within the elements there are forces. Forces driving the motor of time and space, a-and one day the cosmos should open and take them all into what they call the Living Machine. Psychic connection with the Material…”
“No, I think not.”
>”Eh?”
>You shudder before the words leave your lips, not knowing if you really even believe them or not
“They already know the Material. They aren’t trying to see it, they’re trying to see what’s beyond it… what’s inside. What’s inside the thing… what’s inside…”
>Inside Site 23
>There is a secret
>More potent than you imagined
>Not research, no, no, not as you thought
>A discovery
>An uncovering of an ancient mark
>If only this were the Cult, as Brittle Bong suspects, it would make sense, it would be within the confines of their delusional fancy, it would not be taken seriously
>But this… this is Ordo Intelligentia, your very own intelligence agency, this is Black Bar, this is THEM…
>THEY have found this, and THEY are finding a tangible connection between the mind and the machine
>An indestructible Material, yes, they’ve dug something up in the Maker’s Fist and they’re looking inside and finding…
>Well, nothing yet, it seems
>What was paranoia, however, is now a deathly fear, as your worst dreams have been made manifest
>The danger on the homefront could very well be greater than the danger in the warzone if Black Bar continues to keep secrets like these from you
>But this makes sense… it makes terrifying sense that conniving damned stallion is playing with the boundaries of the natural law of the universe… that explosion in the desert, that second sun, that was HIS doing after all!
>It must have been! There’s no other explanation!
>”There’s somethin’ else I should mention, Chanc’llor.”
“Y-yes?”
>You clear your throat and startle yourself back into composure
“Yes, Mr. Bong?”
>”The implications of this Material… it’s beyond divine. It’s critical to… to understand that to take something so small, and play with it in the hoof as though it were a tinkerer’s toy, that’s to…”
“Out with it.”
>”To unwind the spin o’ a constituent substance, no, BEYOND the constituent, the transfer function o’ the atomic bond, that’s… well, you understand how powerful electromagnetic repulsion is on that level, yes?”
“Enlighten me.”
>”W-well… you take two protons, you shove ‘em together, they’re gonny want to fly away from each other. Their charge so exceeds their mass that gravity plays no factor there. Electromagnetism dominates. But you add in the gluon, and… at a certain radius, the ratio becomes incalculable. It’s not a matter of squares, but cubes. An inverse relation o’ the cube o’ the radius, and suddenly these protons aren’t repelled, but attracted. Smashed together like glue, inseparable barring decay. That’s the gluon’s power. To overcome every force in the universe. And whoever created this Material has overcome the gluon.”
“The Makers.”
>”Who else? It requires a precision beyond light. Beyond c, lightspeed. It implies an anti-causal relation, a-a… we already know the Makers had this capability. If they were extraterrestrial, as it’s common to believe, th-then probability dictates they must’ve arrived here by those means… but this… this is sensational science. The lengthening a-and shortening o’ spacetime isn’t just necessary for this type of advancement, it’s fundamental.”
“And the dreams?”
>Brittle Bong sighs
>”Dreams, dreams… I ‘ad a little birdie talk to me about dreams not too long ago. Do I believe in prophecy? More and more, with the world the way it is. There was magic, THAT was the dominant force in the universe. And now… you barely see it at all. It departs in the presence of enlightenment. It’s turned obsolete. But dreams predicting the future, dreams seeing beyond what can’t be seen with the eyes, o-or any other instruments…”
“What does it mean, Brittle Bong?”
>”One of two things. One, that it’s magical in nature, and beyond our ken. Or two, it’s anti-causal. Tachyon dreams, colliding with our narrow sense of time.”
“And which explanation do you prefer?”
>”At this point, Chanc’llor, assuming this ain’t all just hypothetical… I’d say it’s a mixture of both.”
>Both…
>A synthesis of magic and technology? A hybrid?
>Even through your narrow lens of understanding in such matters, that would be borderline incomprehensible
>But if OI is speaking through this… this HULL, as they name it in their report, that suggests that something is on the other side speaking back
>Artificial intelligence, perhaps… perhaps
>A discovery again, in Site 23, after all these Celestia-damned years… first the New Maker’s Handbook, then fifty years of rubble and stone, and now…
>He’s keeping it from you, they’re ALL keeping it from you, and…
“Do you smoke, Mr. Bong?”
>”On occasion. It kills ye faster, but eh. You?”
“Not anymore. I stopped when I entered politics. Wanted to absolve myself of my former being.”
>You gently tug the file out of the stallion’s hooves and place it back on the desk
>Then, with a sweep of your cloak, you turn away from those eyes desperately
>Those eyes which have seen the birth of the new world firsthoof…
“I need to know that you aren’t compromised. Internally. Absolutely.”
>”Internally…?”
“These prints are from an interior agency. Canterian. If somepony with your wit’s connecting this to the Exsilists, then the doubt my mind harbored about that is vanished now. There are influences within this nation colluding with the enemy to create… something. Something with enough leverage to tip over our very institutions. They’re working with the PAS, with the Cult, with…”
>Once again, you aren’t really even sure you believe yourself
>But what matters now is that Brittle Bong believes you, and you’re experienced enough to know that you’re putting on a damned good performance
“I digress. I have evidence of such collusion elsewhere, but this is an even more dangerous factor to consider. Something the great Brittle Bong considered impossible before now is not to be taken lightly. You’re certain that this sort of belief is Exsilist in origin?”
>Brittle Bong nods his head wearily
>”That, or t’was developed independent-like. In tandem, y’see. The Material this here is describin’ is almost definitely the work of Makers. If they ‘ave found somethin’, I would like to know about it.”
“Mm, perhaps soon you will. It’s information not presently available to me, sad to say.”
>”Not… you said this was an internal agency’s work. Can’t you—”
“Ah, Mr. Bong. For all your talents you are no political stallion. And I’d advise you not to pose such questions if you don’t think you’ll like the answers.”
>”If I won’t like the answers, sir, then I would like off now, thank ye very much. Dun want to get involved if it means danger for meself.”
“Well, there’s that famous cleverness. Unfortunately, Brittle Bong, you forfeited your right to be clever as soon as you entered this office, along with your right to be ignorant of the political side of this discussion. You and I will be working closely, you see. Very closely. I understand how you despise the Cult of Exsilium, so any notion I may have had of your being compromised by other interests are gone now. There IS collusion, I’m sure of it. Collusion with the enemy. Collusion which may lead to catastrophe. More evidence will come; evidence like this, from some of my finest agents. I need you on hoof to decipher it, as you have done with this.”
>”There are other subatomic physicists.”
“None I can trust as well as you. And none so gifted. Let us say, again hypothetically, I could procure a sample of this Material for you… would you be able to recreate it?”
>”No. Not at present. It’d take me ages, decades that I don’t have left. But I could do the next best thing: I could determine ‘ow it WAS made.”
“I find that answer remarkably acceptable.”
>You stroke your goatee, a bit more calmly than before, reconciled by this promise of new understanding
>Understanding which, given the right timing, can be used as a devastating weapon against the forces which mount against you on every side
>Then, with renewed priority, you replug the intercom and tap the switch so that your secretary can hear you once more
“Miss Moon Dancer. This afternoon’s meeting has gone quite splendidly. Please escort Mr. Brittle Bong back to the entrance of my offices.”
>”Yes, sir.”
CLICK
“I know it can be quite labyrinthine, this building.”
>”I know my way ‘round it, Chanc’llor. Not my first rodeo.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t your last. I’ll expect to see you again within the week, Mr. Bong. Oh, and one last thing!”
>Brittle Bong, who has begun to shuffle towards the sliding door, turns about-face to see you poised by the window
“This is quite classified, but a matter of this delicacy… well, I’m certain you won’t go spilling the beans to anypony, now will you?”
>”My lips are sealed. Not as though there’s anypony much left to talk to down in the industrial scape.”
“Good. Then you should know that one of your more potent innovations has been deployed in the field recently. A weapon, Mr. Bong. One never used in close combat.”
>”D-deployed… no. Approval for that would be—”
“Handled by me, and by me alone. I’m not asking your permission for this, Mr. Bong, it’s far too late for that. What I want is certain specifications on the limits of its power which were never properly communicated to the engineers who built it on your order.”
>”You can’t take it to the limit, Chanc’llor. I-if you intend to take Project Pericles to the max—”
“Shh. Now, now, let’s not speak its name here.”
>”Fine. Then that THING cannot be overclocked. If the regulation pump exceeds 600 K, then the EMP shockwave is the least o’  your concerns. It’s dangerously reactive. Under normal circumstances, the response can be directly controlled and maintained, but, Celestia, if you’re intending to use it in a military operation…”
“I intend to use it how I please. Then it’s settled, Mr. Bong. I’ll inform those responsible for its handling to be cautious of that exact figure. Goodbye for now.”
>”Y-ye… yes. Bon filthy soir.”
>Without another look from those grey-blue eyes, the engineer skulks out the door, back down to his jungle of smoke and motors
>You, meanwhile…
“Heh heh… ahahaHAHAHA!”
>You can’t contain it any longer!
>In a few days time, Operation Thunderstruck will go off without a hitch!
>General Hurricane will be decimated, and the Cult of Exsilium will have lost its supply line of nuclear weapons for the remainder of this war
>Seek and destroy operations will be conducted against the existing arsenal, but by then it won’t matter; the show of force will be enough to break even the coldest of those cyborg hearts
>They’ll surrender their petty claim to Canterian lands, Canterium will be free from tyranny, and then…
>THEN, the real battle begins
>The war against OI, against Black Bar, a secret war without guns or ammunition, a proper war of information against a worthy opponent
>And it starts with the greatest secret of all: what power, this secret and dark Material, lay dormant beneath even the New Maker’s Handbook for six hundred years?
>And what does OI plan to do with it?
>Well, what would YOU?
“I could dominate. I could PROVE. Pink!”
>Noiselessly, your Mouthless Jester’s long neck extends from the ceiling tiles, her masked head squeezing impossibly through the millimeter-wide crack
>You’d have been horrified by this sight mere months ago, but now it’s routine
>Now, the almost imperceptible rasp of her jagged breath doesn’t scare you, it excites you
>Because now, she isn’t a monster; she’s an opportunity
“My dearest Pink… I have a mission for you. A part only you can perform…”

******

>”Thermal imaging set… scanners are hot. Alpha Seven, take position on that dune, there.”
>”Roger.”
>”…okay, I can see you. Alpha One, you too?”
“Affirmative.”
>”Calibrated. Mark ten, fan out. Beta Squad, tight check on me.”
“Copy, Beta One. Alpha Squad, keep close. Keep Beta in visual, don’t want to get lost out here. Thermal flare check in five, if I or Lightning—uh, Beta One—can’t see your flare we’re moving on without you. Copy?”
>”Copy.”
>”Copy.”
>”Copy.”
“Check. On my mark, that’s liftoff. We maintain low altitude, sweep, search for more tracks, search for smoke, anything. If a desert mouse pops its head out, we’ll see that too, so keep your cowl at the right signature calibration. We’re looking for ponies. They tend to be difficult to miss.”
>You are Captain Rainbow Dash, and right now the world exists in shades of hot and cold
>Light is nothing; it’s immaterial, so it doesn’t concern you in the least
>There’s none to see out there anyway, in the darkness of the desert
>The sun has gone from the horizon, but the heat remains, and the air is punctuated with a warmth that makes your coat bristle
>Not enough heat, however, to register in your new eyes, the thermal cowl through which you scan the dunes for your target
>Hot to cold, searing red to crackling gold to cool blues, to deepest black
>The forms of your companions, Lightning Dust and her Beta Squad, move like fireflies across the dark in the distance, floating soundlessly in their own direction
>They are faceless masses of firelight
>Though you could never hope to understand the internal mechanisms of these cowls, what you do know, and all you really need to know, is that the Exsilists designed them from Maker blueprints to trade light receptors for heat signatures
>Though pegasi DO naturally have better night vision than their surface-dwelling inferiors, there’s a limit to that talent, and these vision enhancers are intended to ensure your advantage in nocturnal outings
>You briefed the Wunderbolts yesterday about your mission immediately following the council meeting, where General Hurricane instructed you to track down the two alleged border-hopping Canterians and interrogate them
>What they might know could be extraordinarily valuable; if they’ve seen the movements of Canterian armor along the southerly route, whether they have any knowledge of the radiation incident which occurred above the Badlands from whence they came…
>But what you’re personally interested in is the question of WHY they took the risk of crossing the border in the first place
>Are they spies? Are they trying to pass further on west? Or could Pegasopolis really be their ultimate aim?
>Never mind the questions, Dash, when the answers are only a few steps ahead of you
>With the Ambassador Time Turner in close tow, you’ve been scanning the San Palomino Desert for twenty-four hours, searching for clues as to the targets’ whereabouts
>When you made camp this evening, you left him behind along with Blaze; no need for him to get in the way of the search, since his insistence on getting an interview with the targets has brought him this far anyways
>Besides, his glidepack can only run for so many hours of the day, and it needed recharging 
>He’ll get his turn, you promised him that
>You swoop low over a nearby dune, close enough that your wing skirts along the coolness of that starlit sand
>You wonder if they’ve passed through here by now… while you did find tire treads earlier in the day that seemed to indicate a stopping point, there’s been no such luck for tonight
>Luck would bring you the sight of the white-hot warmth of a campfire on the ground, or even the curled-up shape of a pony lying beneath the folds of a tent
>You can see everything through this new vision, everything that matters
>To your right and left, Misty Sky and Starcatcher whiz through the blackness, likewise scanning the long reaches of the desert
>A few hundred meters to the south, Lightning and her team are sweeping their range, with the intent of regrouping in fifteen clicks
>Below you, though you can’t well discern it like this, the broken asphalt of the old highway scrapes through the dunes, mostly covered in sand
>To drive on that would require an offroad vehicle, something tough, something bulky… and if it was recently driven, it still might give off a bit of heat
>That could be something, even if the trespassers are blocked off from a bird’s eye view
>Even still, you’re hoping to glimpse more than just those two
>The REAL prize, in your book, would be to spot out the advance squadron of Canterians who you’re certain must be in the general area
>The border agent’s account of his encounter with Captain Spitfire baffled you at the time, but the picture is becoming clearer even as defensive measures are mounting back home
>Time Turner was right; the whole entanglement at the border was a staged setup from the start
>Maybe not a false flag, but certainly a way to force General Hurricane’s hoof into withdrawing all active troops back to Pegasopolis
>Captain Spitfire was placed there to impersonate a border agent, fail to overpower the real deal, let him relay the message back to high command, but…
“Something doesn’t add up…”
>”Repeat, Alpha One?”
>You didn’t realize you’d mumbled that under your breath
“No priority, Alpha Five. Just talking to myself.”
>”Solid copy.”
>It’s just that… well, MAYBE the Canterian’s arrival at the border corresponding with the two unidentified mares’ arrival was just coincidence
>MAYBE they’ve got nothing to do with anything, and were just in the absolute worst place at the absolute worst time
>But even if that were the case, they still decided to cross the border for a reason, and given their trajectory it’s conceivable that they witnessed the radiation incident firsthoof
>Possibly even had something to do with it, although you aren’t going to start throwing out random theories
>You’re a soldier first and foremost, and a soldier follows orders, and your orders are to seek and apprehend
>It requires no more thought than that, only loyalty to commands
>Yeah… loyalty’s gotten you this far, after all
>”Alph… ne, come in, we’ve go… tential sight on… in now with all operatives.”
“Repeat, Beta One? Comms are spotty.”
>”Shouldn’t be at this ran… cedure’s to move in tight. I can still see your squ…”
“Gorgons… what’s this damn transmission rate? Alpha Two, you reset comms before takeoff, right?”
>”Roger. We’ve also got visual on Beta Squad. Should we move in on them?”
“Affirmative. See what’s up with all this.”
>With visual, what could be causing this disruption?
>You can barely hear Lightning Dust, and it sounds like she may have found something
>Once you’re rolled back together, you can work it out
>You ride a gust of wind up a few dozen meters, then adjust your span to compensate
>What was just a breeze a few minutes ago has begun to pick up considerably, and you suddenly notice the density of dust that’s striking you with the current
>A few more seconds, and the wind is whining in the distance; a few of the Wunderbolts in formation in front of you stumble against the sudden updrift
>A rusty crackle indicates that Lightning Dust is trying to reach you again, but you hear even less this time
>”Al… in, go… ter before it ge… off… downwind, sky’s… alt… pass…”
“Repeat, Bravo One! Can’t hardly… gah, what’s this wind?”
>You don’t dare remove your thermal cowl if you risk all this sand getting in your eyes, but now you can’t even distinguish your altitude aside from your sensors
>And the number the sensor’s giving you is all over the place…
>It’s hopping from twenty meters to fifty to two… what the hell?
>An EMP? No, that would knock out comms and the thermal imaging entirely
>You can’t set yourself down now that you’re in the air, you don’t even know where the ground is with these stupid things!
>Far ahead of you, the tiny red blips of Beta Squad are beginning to spread thinner and thinner, like they’re fanning out
>Or else, they’re being forced apart by something…
>Gorgons, this WIND!
>The howls have turned to shrieks, and you have to clamp your ears down to keep the dust from filling them up
>It’s a damned sandstorm!
>”Comms range is compromised! Zero visibility on the ground, Captain!”
>Alpha Two, Starcatcher, sounds like she’s screaming into her microphone, and despite being just a few meters away from you, you can’t hear her native voice at all over this wind
“I’m aware! This storm came out of nowhere! But we can’t take cover if we can’t see the ground!”
>”Everything’s fuzzy… must be the particles rubbing together, giving off heat…”
“I don’t care what it is! If it isn’t safe to land, we don’t land!”
>”It isn’t safe up here either! Somepony needs to take off their goggles and—”
“NO! You’ll blind yourself, you idiot! Maintain altitude, proceed to Beta Squad! Keep tight, don’t let the wind carry you off! If they’re on the ground, we can take an estimate and land on their position! All copy?”
>”Roger.”
>”Roger.”
>”Roger.”
>Even as you speak the words “keep tight,” you realize how impossible it’s going to be
>Beta Squad’s heat signatures are getting lost in the haze of moving sand particles in front of you, and while they aren’t totally invisible yet the static just keeps getting stronger
>You aren’t even going to attempt to radio Lightning Dust now, the transmission range in this weather is next to none
>The sand rips at your coat, thousands on thousands of gritty particles pelting you at rapidly increasing velocity
>You’re less worried about your own well-being than you are about the equipment you’re carrying; if too much dust gets into the black box, it won’t matter how long the transmission range is or how fuzzy your imaging is
>Both will be unusable, and you’ll be stranded up here in unknown space in the middle of this dusty hell
“They can’t be far off now! Keep flying!”
>Misty Sky, White Lightning and Fleetfoot swoop into view in basic trinity formation, but then White Lightning suddenly sidles to the right and rams into the Fleetfoot’s side
>”Gah!”
>”Can’t… against this…”
“Hold your formation! Don’t lose track of each other!”
>”Broke something… Gorgons, you whipped me in the—”
>Before she can finish, another gust sends White Lightning careening again into Fleetfoot’s flank, this time causing the latter to buckle against the force and sending them both down fast
“No!”
>”Ribs… falling fast, Alpha One… can’t maintain altitude, guh… we’re go… fa… alt in… dark…”
>And just like that, radio silence
>Misty Sky attempts a downward spiral to regroup with the two, but after only a few seconds she resurfaces out of caution
>They may be safer down there than up here, albeit with a few broken bones
>You’ll only know for sure once this thing settles down and you can track them again
>If they aren’t too buried, that is…
>No, that’s not going to happen
>You’ll find them, but not before you find Beta Squad
>Focus, Dash, focus… what would your father… General Hurricane… do?
 >He’d finish the mission, whatever the cost
>He’s already paid the ultimate price for what he believed in, so why shouldn’t you?
>This is victory, ahead of you… this is victory…
>The dust stings, it stings so much
>The feathers on your wings can only take so much before they crumple and become worthless for flying
>Lightning Dust… where are you?
>Where… are…

******

>”…MY DANGED TARPS! TWILIGHT!”
“I DON’T KNOW! I’M LOOKING!”
>”WHAT?”
“I SAID I’M LOOKING!”
>”CAN’T BARELY… COMING BACK IN!”
>As the piercing wrath of the desert screams against the exterior of the alcove, Applejack recedes back inside, encrusted from head to haunches in sand
>She bucks her hat off, letting the sand it’s collected slough off on the cool rock, then rocks her head from side to side to coax it out of her ears
>Even still, her coat and crude body wrappings are hopelessly covered in the stuff
>You are Twilight Sparkle, Missionary of the Truth and messenger on earth of Mater Solis and Her angelic proxies
>This is what you repeat to yourself, after all, in the face of this terrible awakening of nature, along with other comforting litanies
>Though you are about as far from the salt waters of the ocean as possible, somehow you feel the despairing grip of the Naiads about your heart
>They’re waiting for you in your dreams, this much you know, ready to drag you down to the Depths, away from the Holy Light…
>In the howls of this sandstorm you hear their harpy cries, their dark temptations
>This afternoon, when Mother Sun was just beginning to set, Applejack spotted a small fissure of rock jutting out of the dunes
>You drove up to the ridge and found this small alcove, perfect for setting up camp in this treacherous territory
>Pegasi are searching for you, of that you can be certain; Applejack was adamant that if the border agent you encountered was able to reach others of his kind, they would be looking hard for you
>And they would NOT be kind, especially given the circumstances…
>You continue to lament the strange arrival of that Canterian officer during your crossing; although she DID give you the chance you needed to cross without interference, she also may have created more problems for you than she solved
>In any case, this choice of campsite has proven doubly useful now that this storm has unexpectedly closed in
>Mere minutes ago the night was clear and tranquil, and now there’s naught but a dark electric flurry to see out the single passage leading into this cool cavern
>”The cave entrance is gonna be all flooded up with sand if we can’t get some kind of protection over it. We need those tarps, Twilight!”
“I’m looking! I checked the bags, they’re not there!”
>”Dagnabbit… must’ve left them in Winona. She ain’t doing so hot right now either, thank Celestia I shut the windows up out there.”
>AJ’s truck is sure to be nearly completely covered in sand by now
>Despite the fact that it’s mostly hidden from aerial view due to AJ’s expert parking job beneath an arc of sandstone, the horizontal winds will blow the sands directly into its front
>”Look, forget the fact that we might be buried alive in here come morning. I just don’t want it blowing in here while we try to sleep, getting all in our saddlebags and sleepsacks and clothes and whatnot.”
“I agree, but we have nothing, AJ. Nothing wide enough to cover that opening.”
>Applejack sighs and ponders for a moment, her features bronzed by the harsh lantern light
>”Then we sleep with our backs to the far wall. Damn, we were lucky to find this place… though I would’ve LIKED to move at night, when we’d be less likely to be spotted out.”
“From what I understand, AJ, they’re night hunters. I had a pegasus friend at the convent in Mons Canteria, she always said she could see everypony sleeping in the perfect darkness of the communal chambers, when I could never see anything at all.”
>”Ain’t to say we’d be better off during the day.”
“We have to move SOMETIME. At least we could see them too in the light!”
>”Well, it don’t make a lick of difference now, if we were moving in this we’d be tipped over in a ditch, dead blind and buried. Gonna have to wait ‘til morning, reassess. We CAN’T be far from the floating city now, can we?”
>From AJ’s dusty saddlebags, you retrieve the map on which she’s drawn the careful vectors of your journey
>You can scarcely believe how far you’ve come already, something in the range of two thousand miles
>AJ had surmised that it’d be but a day’s or day and a half’s crossing from See Rock all the way to Pegasopolis, but that’s proven to be untrue
>Not only does the old road wind more than expected, but the going is slow and periodic due to frequent stops
>AJ’s been sure on a number of occasions that you were being followed, and her wily paranoia, while ultimately a good trait in this sort of situation, has turned this day’s journey into two going on three
>But Pegasopolis is nearly in sight, that much is certain
>All that’s left now is to determine how best to approach it once you’re there…
“It’s going to have to be capture, isn’t it?”
>”Hm?”
“The entrance plan. We talked about this before. I like it as little as you, but if Mater’s plan for me is sound, then no harm shall come to us. We’ll need to submit to the authorities once we reach the base of the floating city. Then we simply ask to see their leader, this General Hurricane.”
>”Pfft. Twilight, your naivete is showing again. We already went over this, the last thing those traitor wing-jockeys are gonna do if we ask them to bring us to Hurricane is bring us to Hurricane. They’ll hang us from chains from the underside of the city before they do that.”
“What other options do we have, then? If there’s no direct transport from the ground to the sky, then all we can do is hope that they’ll listen to us when we tell them we have information on—”
>”On a premonition? You go in there and tell them, you Canterian unicorn, that their city in the sky is gonna burn soon. Tell them that, and see what happens.”
“They may lock us up, but we’ll have a chance. If they see reason, if we can save as many ponies as we can…”
>”They won’t see reason. They’ll see two foreigners in way over their heads which is what we dang well are. What we DO have is two things. One…”
>Applejack reaches around you and clutches the belt of her saddlebag, lifting it off the ground on one fetlock and reaching inside with the other
>As soon as it’s out, your horn starts pulsing again as before, but not in the unpleasant way that it’s done chronically for the past few weeks
>This time it’s calming, natural, synchronized with the tempo of that bright beacon of spiritual energy that Applejack holds in her scarred hoof
>The Element glows without heat, burns through space in a capacity you can sense not with your eyes or ears but in your MIND, in such proximity to its power
>And Applejack now wields that power fully; it’s bound to her, gives her the power to see across great expanses in an instant, through solid objects, as though giving her the Sight of the Matrons Celest in very literal form
>You can only dream of harnessing one-sixth of Celestia’s final magic, but AJ seems to be managing quite well all things considered
>”We have this. This gemstone—ah—Element. If it lets me see through walls, who knows what else it could do? Maybe it could lift us off the ground, maybe… maybe we could make our way up there without confronting anypony. Force an evacuation. Plus find the next Element bearer. That’s why we’re REALLY going there, isn’t it?”
“We can’t make assumptions like that at this time, AJ. The six seeds of prophecy are harmonics in their purest state. Each holds a portion of the Truth, but unless you know how to fully control it then it won’t make miracles. Do you feel as though you fully control it?”
>Applejack shuffles backwards, still gazing into the amber light at the Element’s core
>”No. Not at all. The power happens without any input on my end, if anything. Like it thinks it knows better than me, and most of the time it DOES. It needs me for my life force or something, or maybe…”
“For your tangibility?”
>”Sure. You said it best yourself, it was a scattered idea before I was there in the cave. It materialized because of my presence. So it’s symbiotic, it’s payment for privilege. I allow it to exist in the form it inhabits, it helps me out when times get tough.”
“It’s more complicated than that, but… I suppose that’s the case.”
>”We can’t let this get into their hooves, Twilight. That should be our primary motivator for NOT getting caught, they’ll try to confiscate this lickety-split.”
“It’s bound to you, though. It won’t be separated.”
>”They might kill me trying, then. So no. N-O. That’s one thing. The other thing is, you have proof of your uniqueness there, on your flank. No cutie mark. That might pique some interest if you showed that off, but who knows? It might just make them angrier.”
“I don’t think I can ju—”
>”Wait. Shhh.”
>Applejack pauses, setting a hoof on your wither and slowly pushing you down into a sitting position
>The Element, now apparently magnetically fixed to her other hoof, glimmers and fades in sinusoidal streaks across its geometric surfaces
>Your friend closes her eyes, then takes a deep breath
>”Somepony’s near. Whisper, but don’t speak too loud.”
“Who?”
>”I see… wings. Lots of wings. Not too far from here. They’re looking for us, Twilight. I see their shapes behind the rock, through the sand.”
“But you’re not even looking at the rock!”
>”It don’t matter. My eyes don’t matter when I’m holding this. It sees for me, it sees… they’re all splitting up now. They’re out there in the storm. I think they’ve lost each other.”
>If what AJ says is true, then this storm was providence sent by Mater Solis, it MUST have been
>A pegasus patrol so close to your campsite means they’ve tracked you down by the treads you left in the sandier parts of the road, just as she predicted they might yesterday
>This could cover you up entirely, along with any other extant trails you might’ve left behind, and at the very least discourage them from searching tonight
>”But there’s something else, too… I don’t really know how to describe it.”
“Another group of pegasi?”
>”No, it’s not… I don’t know what it could even be. It’s vaguely pony-shaped, but it’s cold, and it doesn’t have the same sort of life that I’m used to seeing with this. Even the helicopters over See Rock had more… well, SOMETHING to them. This is like a moving waveform. It doesn’t seem to be staying in the same place, like it’s scattered, but it still feels like it’s moving closer.”
>Closer?
>You search Applejack’s features for some kind of clue or intention, yet find nothing but intense concentration
>She’s lost in the well of the Sight, the eyes beyond space, and whatever she sees…
>It’s coming right for you
“We need to hide, Applejack. We need to hide NOW.”
>”Where can we hide, Twilight? Where, it’s, it’s scattered, it’s… a distribution. Just like… oh, no.”
CRACKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOOM

******

“That sounded like Lightning! LIGHTNING!!!”
>”HERE! I’M HERE, DOWN HERE!”
“Alpha Squad, you still read me?”
>A wave of copies greets you; aside from Fleetfoot and White Lightning, you’ve still got the rest of your squad intact
>You can barely see a few crackled forms in the thermal vision in front of you, but otherwise you’re totally in the dark
>But Lightning’s voice, her REAL voice, just echoed out loud enough to hear from whatever altitude you’re currently maintaining
“Okay, slow descent all! Slow! Fight the wind and drop inclination, we do this the way we did it in the wind tunnels back in the Academy!”
>Praying your comrades do the same, you force your body to turn into the onslaught of sand, feeling the motes pelt your cheeks and brow, hundreds every second
>Now that you’re parallel, you don’t have to worry about your roll getting offset, only your pitch; and it takes great effort to face ever so slightly towards the ground when you can’t even see the horizon
>But you notice gravity taking its effect, and you start flapping your wings relentlessly to match the force of matter against you
>Pretty soon, you’re somewhat stable; even though it feels like you’re flying straight on at eighty clicks, you’re not actually moving horizontally at all, rather dropping very slowly towards the earth
>What feels like an eternity passes, but when your hooves do finally touch a solid mound of sand you turn away from the wind and breathe a sigh of relief
>It comes out as a terrible retching cough, but you take what you can get
>As soon as you can speak again, you call out
“LIGHTNING!”
>”DASH! HERE!”
>You turn into the wind again and ascent the gentle slope, noting that at least two Alphas have just touched down nearby
>Your friend’s cries sound like a squeaking mouse compared to this horrible wind, but as long as you can get there…
>You just have to get there…
>You stumble in the sand, almost losing all your progress, but you manage to get back up again and get a proper grip, not daring to unfold your wings
>Then, out of nowhere, a dim red shape appears in your cowl
>It turns orange, then yellow, and pretty soon you’re only a few meters from the hunched form of Lightning Dust
>One of her hind hooves is stuck in an ever-mounting sand trap, and she’s hacking up her lungs
“Lightning!”
>”Dash? Throat’s too damn… help me out of this, will ya?”
>Without saying anything, you squeeze tight around Lightning’s midsection and yank her free
>She goes tumbling into the shifting dust, but quickly collects herself and faces you
>From her silhouette, you can tell she’s lost her thermal cowl; her eyes must be shut tight
>”Where’s the rest of your team?”
“Touching down now, back where I came from! But I could ask you the same question!”
>”Lost! We got separated when the storm hit, some kind of bright flash knocked us all off the top of the dune!”
“Bright flash?”
>”Yes! Like a red damn bolt! I thought it was lightning, but it was right next to me and I ain’t dead!”
“Red through the thermal? It couldn’t have been lightning, that’s not near hot enough!”
>”No! My thermal fizzled out when the storm hit, I took it off and then it happened! It was red-red! Like fire! And it left a trail!”
>You couldn’t see anything like that from where you were, so either it gave off no heat at all or the storm was affecting your thermal vision even more than you thought
“You said you had a potential sight on something before comms went haywire! What did you see?”
>”It doesn’t matter now! We gotta find Beta before they’re buried in this!”
“It matters to me! Two of mine crashed down back there, but we’re out here for a reason! What did you see before the flash?!”
>”I saw a signature! Trace of something, due east! It could’ve been nothing, but it looked like a rock surface, slightly warmer than the rest! I wanted to go further, but… did you get the radio check from Blaze?”
>Blaze?
>She’s supposed to be guarding Time Turner
“I couldn’t hear anything after the storm! What happened?”
>”It was right before the flash happened! The Ambassador collapsed and his vitals dropped fast back at camp! She thinks he might be dead!”

******

>When the dust clears, and the lantern light slows its flickering, the first thing you notice is that the storm outside has gone silent
>Sand is still seeping in from the cave entrance beyond, but you can’t hear the wind lapping at the rocks, or that despairing howl of the greater chaos
>The second thing you notice is that Applejack is slumped over, the Element still gripped tight against her hoof
>You would think her unconscious if her eyes weren’t wide open, staring into yours with a terrifying intensity
>But there’s something wrong with her; her face has gone deathly white, and she isn’t quite looking at you
>She’s looking past you, THROUGH you
>The only other time you’ve seen her this way was when she emerged from See Rock, near-dead, bearing the Element
>You’re afraid to turn around for what you might see, or rather what you may not see
>What only she can see, and what’s lurking there at the edge of Sight
>Blessed is the truth of Celestia as it is spoken through her by the Mother of wisdom and compassion
>Blessed is the word of the prophetess of the Goddess, it is Truth, it is to be praised…
>It is Truth…
>It is…
>You see the crimson on the edge of knowing when you turn around, and you know that it is not real
>But reality has never hindered the Truth, and what you see behind the
(Flames at the edge of the World)
>Is a stallion, though he isn’t quite a stallion
>Parts of him are mechanical: his eyes, his teeth, his ribs and spine
>He’s wearing a robe, but it’s transparent in this projection state, and you can see past it into his bones, his organs, his blood mixed with all sorts of ungodly implanted fluids
>His tail has been replaced with a long thin whipcord, gleaming bright from its own luminescence, and it moves as though underwater, unhindered by gravity
>His eyes are locked with Applejack’s, as though you aren’t even standing there between them
>You should feel fear… why aren’t you feeling fear?
>What is this calm?
>This… sense of right?
>When he speaks, electricity the color of blood arcs across the space of the alcove and dissolves against the ancient stone
>”She is the Bearer?”
>The voice is synthetic, like that of a machine, and his eyes now flit into your own
“Y-yes. Of the Element.”
>You should be running and screaming, collecting AJ and casting off from this demon, this impersonation of equine life!
>Why aren’t you running?!
>”Your paralysis, I’m sorry to say, is a measure I’m forced to inflict given the circumstances. I can’t have you two departing before I’ve had my say.”
“Wh-wh-what are you?”
>”I? There is no I. I am nothing. A messenger, or perhaps you could call me a temporary vessel. The last in a long, long, LONG line of temporary vessels. But inconsequential compared to you.”
“Y-you’re transparent. I can see your skeleton.”
>”This is only a shadow of my true self. My body is miles from here, I needed to abandon it temporarily. But I needed to get close enough to project this far, I can only wield a fraction of a fraction of the power this thing affords.”
“What thing?”
>At this, the tail moves with blinding speed towards you, stopping only at the tip of your muzzle
>Then, it bows like a snake and begins coiling around your steady form
>Beads of sweat trickle down your face, as though your body realizes what danger you’re in even if your mind refuses to react
>”The Element. How did you acquire it?”
“I don’t…”
>The red apparition moves to the side, still wrapping its tail around you, but regarding the still-prone Applejack
>”Well?”
>”I-in the cave. The cave in See Rock. It was so dark, and the h-heat… it called out to me. It formed out of nothing. My parents, m-my—”
>”The specifics aren’t important, and I won’t pester you for them. See Rock… even if I’d known, I suppose I wouldn’t have been able to approach it. It needed you there, didn’t it?”
>”I-I think so. The light that came out of it… what lit up the sky…”
>”Is what alerted me to your significance in the first place. These sorts of accidents don’t just happen. It took almost everything I had to will this sandstorm into existence. Only my augmentations prevent me from succumbing to it. They’re looking for you right now. They’re using thermal scanners. When I’m gone, and the storm dissolves, you must turn out your lights at once. They’ll probably retreat, but in case they don’t…”
“How do you know this? W-wait…”
>The mechanical implants, the eyes, the tail…
>This bitter taste in your mouth, even at this range…
“Y-you’re an Exsilist. Half-machine. Y-you’re from the far W-west, you KNOW the secrets of the Makers…”
>”I am hardly one of them. I came into this life for one reason, to conceal this power and pass it on to its rightful owner. Two generations have passed since the last attempt at unification, I will NOT allow another to pass.”
>”Granny… she saw the stars… she saw them in the tower…”
>”What’s your name, Celestial Sister?”
>He’s looking at you again, dilating those monstrous eyes to focus on your being
“Tw-twilight Sparkle. I’m only an acolyte, not privy to the S-sight of the M-matrons…”
>”Our orders are not so different, you know. We both despise magic. See it as an insult to the natural order of things. The only remarkable factor which distinguishes us is that we are enlightened to the alternative, the technology afforded us by the Makers before their final suicide. Whereas your order is dying because you have not changed with the tide of the world. You see them as equally repulsive, technology and magic.”
>Your breath is weak, and the tail, though apparently immaterial, nevertheless IS
>It’s cold and chrome and you can touch it, as though it were really there, and it touches you, squeezes you
>Still, you aren’t afraid
>It reminds you of Numena, somehow; terrifying in its ability to placate you
>There is comfort in understanding, you realize; even in moments of the greatest terror, of divine impossibilities, to know the danger is to place it in the world
>To know its boundaries…
“Th-that’s not true. I’m different, I… I think different. Technology is the greatest hope for the future of ponykind. The New Maker’s Handbook is what’s driven us this far…”
>”Then we really are one and the same. The Living Machine was evil to me as a child, pure evil. A slave was I to the Cult’s machinations, and yet I rose up and became what was necessary because that is what fate is. It challenges the interest of the rational, invites truth beyond truth.”
>”W-we know all about that.”
>”Indeed. Now I know that what the Makers gave us is our only ward against what will soon be discovered. But you aren’t the only ones with prophecies.”
>The Exsilist’s eyes tremor and behind you, Applejack screams
>She sounds as though she’s in tremendous pain, but you understand that what she feels and what she sees are in her mind
>You are calm, but your body is not; your body trembles, jerks, tries to force you to cower or bite or hide
>It doesn’t want to see, but you do
>You want to see everything
>”I’ve just shared a portion of my visions with your friend. Now I need you to return the favor. You have the potential, don’t you? To bear an Element.”
“I… I don’t know. It hadn’t really occurred to me, I just wanted t-to bring peace. I wanted to follow Mater Solis’ divine will. Wherever it took me.”
>”And when you found the Element?”
“My Mission wasn’t changed. Not the current arc of it. Celestia protect me. Celestia save me from the undoings of—”
>”There isn’t much time, Twilight Sparkle. My shadow is waning. In your dreams, what did you see? Why have you come to this place?”
“I saw the city in the sky. Pegasopolis. I saw it burning. I saw a corona of light over it, a-and the sky falling.”
>”Then it’s true. And who was the messenger?”
>The messenger…
>Does he mean Numena?
>The tail constricts further, pressing the words from your body
“An angel. A Solenoid of Mother Sun, praise be unto Her name. A reflection of the stars was all I could ever see, stars in the shape of a pony. All I could witness without… without driving me from my body.”
>”You don’t know the half of it, Twilight Sparkle. Even the Highmind Empress saw… never mind. I’m fading now! You are but pawns in this game, albeit the most significant of them. Guard THAT, the Element, with your lives, if it scatters again before the beast arrives then all these centuries will have been for nothing! You’re looking for a pegasus, a mare with a blue coat! She—”
>Now it’s loosening again, and the fear is returning
>His hold on you, physical and metaphysical, will soon return to nothing
>Applejack, beneath you, trembles quietly
>The red electric form spreads like atoms no longer attracted, untangles into long wisps of light
>Still, his voice echoes, and the desperation in it is palpable
>”A rainbow mane! I can’t give it to her, she must take it for her own! Only then can it become hers utterly! But she… is… the one… the only one… all the rest may burn… they don’t matter… the beast will have them… the wheel… will…”
“What’s your name?! How do we find you?!”
>”Ask her… when you… see…”
>A shockwave of crimson energy sends you flying backwards, tumbling over Applejack’s limp body
>When you regain your senses, naught but a smoking black spot remains of the apparition
>All the wisps have gone, collapsing back into the void of the night
>The noise of the sandstorm outside returns for a few brief moments, like a bubble around the cave has popped, only to die back down naturally
>This time, the effect is real; the winds really have stopped altogether
>Without thinking, you obey the Exsilist’s request, stumbling towards the lantern and snuffing it out with what remains of your breath
>Perfect dark, perfect silence but for Applejack’s ragged breath
>She’s conscious, you can tell that much
>The air in here is still and warm
“Applejack? Can you hear me, Applejack?”
>”Can… hear… the voices…”
“What did he show you?”
>”…showed me… death… showed me… what I saw again… in the cave…”
>Visions repeating, Truth cycling over again and again and again
>But how?
>How could an Exsilist be a Bearer of Truth?
>Or could he be bearing more than just Truth?
>”The eyes, Twilight. The eyes were the worst. Those inequine eyes… something’s almost here. And a fire… not the fire in the barn when my parents died, not the fire over Pegasopolis, not the fire that killed the Makers, but ALL of them, every fire all at once. And none of them. All sucked away, returned to a void that was never there…”
“I don’t understand.”
>”Neither do I. But it’s what I saw. I saw the wheel again, too. In the cave, I saw the eyes, and I saw the wheel. Driving the world. Something… I can’t speak. I have to rest. I have to sleep. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Sleep now. They’re out there looking, AJ, but they won’t find us. Not here. I can feel it.”
>”No… I know… I know…”

******

>”I know what I saw, Dash. I’m not crazy.”
“I never said you were crazy. But we’re past that now. Whatever happened in the storm, whether it was just some kind of crazy lightning shock in the middle of it all. But right now, we need to get back. It could be our only chance before the storm picks back up again.”
>”Yeah… right.”
>You tap the black box, the tiny storage unit containing all the sensitive electronics for your equipment array, with the frog of your hoof
>It seems to be undamaged by the sand, so you key in
”Alpha One to Alpha Squad, over. Who’s still got a head on their shoulders?”
>”Alpha Four.”
>”Alpha Two.”
>”Alpha Six.”
“Storm’s cleared up good. Any sign of Three and Five?”
>”Roger, Alpha One. I have visual on their signatures. Their comms are probably busted, along with a couple of bones, but they seem to be alright.”
“Go see how they’re doing, and light a flare when you get there. The thermals are coming off, they’ll be no good if the storm comes back. I need to make a call.”
>Looking down the slope, you can make out Misty Sky and Starcatcher trudging up towards you in the dark
>It was a hard storm, and the outcome could’ve been a hell of a lot worse
>Hastily, you set down your codifier in the sand and begin punching in the long-range parameters
“How much did you get out of Blaze before comms went dark?”
>”Only what I told you. Your buddy, the Ambassador, just went totally limp. Heartrate dropped to zero. She tried resuscitating, but then the storm hit her about the same time as it hit us.”
”The storm was moving west. How could the front have—”
>”…ash, come in… ptain Dash! Storm’s cleared up, he’s back!”
“I have contact! Alpha One to Sigma! Blaze, what’s going on?”
>”The storm’s gone down here! Gorgons, is it good to hear your voice, Captain Dash.”
“The Ambassador. Tell me about Time Turner!”
>”He’s back! His breathing just started back up again, and he shot out of bed like a wild stallion. I’d dragged him into a tent when the wind picked up, couldn’t just leave him out there.”
“Let me speak with him, if he’s capable.”
>”I’d say so. Gimme a sec, Captain.”
“Roger.”
>You wait patiently, the radio fizzing in front of you, Lightning Dust hovering over you with a look of abject awe
>”The way she sounded before, I was sure he was a goner. What the hell do you think happened?”
“No idea. But the search is off for tonight. I need to go back and monitor him, and Fleetfoot and White Lightning are out of commission too.”
>Lightning scoffs
>”What’s so special about him, anyway? You go running to his bedside as soon as he goes down?”
“Shut up. He’s important, Lightning. Important to the General.”
>”If he was so important, then he shouldn’t be out here. Sand probably didn’t agree with all his metal bits.”
>You roll your eyes and listen to the static, trying to think of a proper explanation for this mess when you report back to Hurricane
>What can you say? That you flew the Wunderbolts into a sandstorm? Compromised the safety of your troops? Left an Exsilist Ambassador behind to nearly die?
>HE was the one who insisted that he come, not you!
>Hurricane told you to keep a close eye on him, and you didn’t listen
>You didn’t…
>”Rainbow Dash? Can you hear me?”
“Ambassador Time Turner! Affirmative. We heard about your mishap on our end, what happened?”
>”Oh, it’s nothing to be concerned over. A condition of my being half-machine, nothing more. We have malfunctions sometimes, but the components which allow us to live in the heightened way we do tend to compensate.”
“Hell of a condition. We’re headed back to camp now, Ambassador. No prize tonight, sorry to say.”
>”It’s your mission, after all, Captain. I’m just along for the ride. I… what the… where’s my watch? Where’s my bloody watch?!”
>Over the radio, the sounds of intense shuffling and a flurry of mechanical grinding resonate
>There was panic in Time Turner’s voice there, genuine panic you haven’t heard before
>”Where is it, damn you! Did you take it off me?”
>”N-no, sir. I haven’t touched it. You need to calm down, you’re—”
>“Don’t tell me to calm down! I need to know where the—ah, here. It’s just… I’ve found it. Under my own silly bottom, it was. Apologies, Captain Dash, and apologies to you, my dear. It wasn’t my intention to accuse.”
“Everything solid down there, Ambassador?”
>Time Turner chuckles, a gritty, metallic noise distorted even further by the radio over which he speaks
>”Yes, Captain Dash, no worries. I had thought I’d lost something quite valuable to me.”
“You’re very protective of that watch, Time Turner. I’ve noticed.”
>”It’s an heirloom, Captain. I know you’ve seen it. True beauty can’t be left out here in the desert, eh?”
>That crimson-faced watch of his… you have to admit it’s beautiful
>Something about it just… calls to you
>Just as you understand devotion to family, an instinctual desire to protect what’s come before
>That’s loyalty; that is strength
>Before you can collect your comms array and take off camp-bound with Lightning Dust, one last thought from Time Turner echoes out of that receiver
>Something that stays with you even as you cross the San Palomino, borne on skyward waves, the night air cool and still, the Mare in the Moon hanging high over your head, near-full
>”What’s more important in this world than knowing the time?”

******

ECHO LOG: ACCOUNTABILITY REPORT, TRANSCRIPT PENDING CLASSIFICATION
CAPTAIN-MAJOR SPITFIRE, SEVENTH AERIAL, TEMP. “THUNDER 9”
06 JUNO
10:36:00
14 DAYS BEFORE THE SUMMER SOLSTICE

>”Why’s it matter that it’s two weeks out, anyhow? I’ve never kept track of that sort of thing.”
>”It’s gonna be the longest, hottest day of the year. Ergo, hell to be on the field if we don’t wrap this up quickly.”
>”Way I hear it, we’ll be out of here LONG before then. Might be out before the day is up.”
>”Yeah, let’s hope so. I mean, what’s the timetable here, Cap? What’s the sitrep?”
“I can’t make that call. Even if I knew everything, I couldn’t tell you, and I don’t know everything. Way I understand it is, everypony’s got a different job. We all do those jobs correctly, and in the right order, the city surrenders within the next twenty-four hours. IF we do it correctly.”
>”And if not?”
“Then we may well be here until the solstice. Our greatest advantage on this is the element of surprise. We hit them hard and fast, we strike at their leadership, we create zones of influence that are easier for us to control than for them to retake, and we can afford to do that given what’s at our disposal. But like I said, that’s not in our job description. The way I see it, it’s better that we DON’T know. The more we know, the more can be used against us in case something goes south.”
>”Not very intuitive, but I’ll buy it. All I’m really asking, Captain, is that when we make our play, what assurance do we have that the others will make theirs?”
“We’re synced up. We don’t interact except for when we need to, we don’t ask questions we don’t need the answers to.”
>”This sounds like a hatchet job to me.”
>”But we’ll be the ones that finally end this thing, right? We’re gonna win, right, Spitfire?”
“That’s up to all of you. You’re the elite team, you have your instructions. The ponies we’re going up against are equally elite. We stall them for as long as possible, take them out if necessary. There’s one pegasus we don’t touch, that’s our informant. There’s another, too, but it’s unlikely we run into him while we do this.”
>”Just seems like we’re running into a firestorm here, Cap. Why the rebranding? Why the hush-hush? If the point was to make sure the PAS knew we were coming anyway, why are we doing this shadow dance?”
>”Yeah, I wanna know that, too. What did the Chancellor REALLY tell you, Captain?”
“I already told you everything I know. You want to take it up with high command, be my guest. Go get court-martialed for disobeying a direct order. If you want to live in contempt of the military, go do that. Just because they know we’re coming doesn’t mean they know HOW we’re coming, or in what number. They saw me, that’s it. That was intentional, you all know that.”
>”And the concussion you got from the butt-end of that hick’s rifle? That was part of the plan, too?”
“Hasn’t stopped me from thinking straighter than the rest of you, if that’s what you’re asking. I mean, what is this all of a sudden? You’ve not all read the brief? You all didn’t know what this was when we were assigned to it?”
>”Not like that, Captain. We just don’t wanna be left with our tails up our asses if Thunders One through Eight, and Celestia knows how many other teams there are, fail to account for us. If we don’t know them, and they don’t know us, can it really even be said that we’re on the same side here?”
“Piss off, Soarin. Yes, the Chancellor knows what he’s doing. No, I don’t think he’d send us off on a suicide mission if he didn’t have a plan for extraction.”
>”I heard he didn’t have Senatori approval for this.”
>”What do you care if he did or he didn’t?”
>”I care if I’m about to go commit some war crimes, yeah, I care a little bit, Fire Streak. What kind of question—”
“Enough, you two. Instead of focusing on whether this’ll be legal or not when we come back home, focus on this: the Wunderbolts are said to be vicious in aerial combat. We know from our informant that there are twenty-two of them, we know their formations are impeccable, we know they work as a unit, but we also know that outside of simulations and field drills, they’re total greenhorns. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take them seriously, but we use that to our advantage come the engagement. We fight dirty. Maybe they don’t know how to handle that. Maybe they break. That’s where we excel, isn’t it?”
>”And their commanding officer? Why does the brief say she’s also not to be harmed?”
“She’s General Hurricane’s daughter. We can incapacitate her if need be, but she’s to be taken alive in case we need her as a hostage.”
>”Daddy’s little filly.”
“She’s the best of them, make no mistake. What we really need to do is separate her from the pack. The informant said that she’s to be dealt with specially, i.e. out of our hooves. She’s not our job, she’s somepony else’s.”
>”And they didn’t tell you whose.”
“I have no problem with that. You shouldn’t either.”
>”Well, what about the rest, then? Aside from the daughter, and the informant, what’s our level of engagement?”
“Like I said, we stall. That’s the official version, at least. You want to know what I think? Elimination, plain and simple. They’re too dangerous to make it out of there alive. The Wunderbolts die in a blaze of glory.”
END REPORT

******

>”I’ve been pondering something, Captain Dash.”
“Ponder away. We’ve got time.”
>You are Captain Rainbow Dash, also known as the Worst Commanding Officer Ever
>This morning, you received a message from High Command ordering a total recall back to Pegasopolis, and to abort your seek-and-apprehend operation for the two border-hoppers
>And why shouldn’t you abort, after all?
>To your left, Fleetfoot and White Lightning lay parallel on stretchers, their broken wings and hooves splinted together for immediate transport to the Militarbezirk Medical Center
 >They’re tended by your comrades, who can do little more for them but wait for the extraction transport to arrive at its destination
>To your right, Ambassador Time Turner stands weakly, drained of energy from his recent medical incident
>What should’ve been a straightforward operation was marred by bad planning and a sudden storm which wrecked the entire illusion that you had things under control, and now you’re being recalled as a failure
>You know that’s not REALLY why you’re being recalled; of course they need the Wunderbolts on the defense if and when the Canterians mount their offensive on the city
>But it definitely feels like this was your chance to prove yourself, and you wasted it
>You couldn’t even find two lousy surface dwellers, and three among your expedition team nearly died trying
>How does that reflect on you? What must High Command think of you now?
>What must Hurricane think of you?
>Push it out of your mind, Dash
>Ready yourself for the storm…
>”Ahem.”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry.”
>”You looked off in another world.”
>You regard Time Turner, who despite his recent near-death experience seems to be just fine in the snark department
“It comes and goes. I’m afraid I’ve failed you. Failed my comrades.”
>”You did nothing you could have prevented. From what I hear, you saved quite a few of your Wunderbolts in that storm.”
“I could’ve saved more.”
>You glance over at Fleetfoot and White Lightning, tranquilized and unmoving, and you know Time Turner is looking at them too
>”Console yourself, Captain Dash. We have bigger problems on our hooves.”
“Kinda worrying to hear you of all ponies say so. You seem like you always have a plan.”
>Above you, the harsh electric blue light of the transport interior casts a gloomy shadow over you
>The rest of the Wunderbolts line the walls in simple benches bolted to the grated floor, beneath which the exposed motor hums
>It’s a helicarrier, a fast-moving one at that; you requested it for evac when it became obvious that the injured weren’t going to be flying anytime soon
>”As I was saying, what I’ve been pondering is this: say, for the sake of argument, that our two missing Canterians were indeed attempting to enter Pegasopolis. And say also that the Canterian military moves on us at this very moment.”
“We’ve been saying that, haven’t we?”
>”Indeed. But their vectors crossed at the border, and supposing they aren’t working together their routes are much the same. We have evidence of the movement of the strays, but none of an armored division.”
“Not even with drones, according to Hurricane. We spoke over the phone earlier.”
>”I heard.”
>The conversation had been brief, and you heard no ill will in your father’s voice, but you KNOW he must be disappointed in you
>Even if he pretends not to be, it’s something he would’ve done better, and for you to have failed so spectacularly…
>”I see in your eyes where you place the blame for this mishap. It wasn’t you, Captain Dash. Your actions were those of loyalty.”
“Loyalty… what do you know about that?”
>”A great deal more than you can imagine, Captain. Mine is reluctant, which makes it ever harder.”
>Time Turner’s eyes glisten, almost as if they’re real flesh and blood, real emotion
>Almost
>At the end of the day, he’s a golem puppeteered by the elements of himself which were never meant to be
>The machine at the heart of him, at the heart of all Exsilists
>The Living Machine… they’re ALL living machines
>All with their own plans, wheels within wheels
>If there’s anything behind those eyes, it’s this: that every move Time Turner makes serves one purpose
>And it isn’t the one he’s provided you
“You think they’re masking themselves somehow? The Canterian forces.”
>”Cloaking technology is beyond our reach, if that’s what you’re proposing. But if they are closing in, they’re not taking any anticipated path. They’re moving erratically and covering their tracks.”
“They can’t think they’ll take the city with just one contingent.”
>”Then they have several. And the tactics they use won’t be conventional.”
“Nothing’s been conventional in this war. And nopony’s been truthful either.”
>Time Turner’s prehensile tail grins along with him
>”Is that a veiled jab, Captain?”
“Hardly veiled. When we first met, I asked you to drop all pretenses. That was my condition for trusting that you’re here with me in good faith to weed out a rat.”
>”I did as requested, didn’t I? I’ve told only you of my true intention in coming here.”
“But you didn’t tell me everything. Why were you so interested in getting to know those two border-hoppers? Really. Why was it so important to be the first to get a stab at them that you could drop everything, the investigation into the traitor included, and tag along with us out into the middle of the desert? You left your bodyguards behind, for Gorgons’ sake. You’re single-minded here, Ambassador, like everypony.”
>”And you’re sharper than even I expected.”
>Your wings stiffen by your sides
>Pegasopolis is near, you can feel it
>You’re careful to speak in hushed tones to not alarm your fellow Wunderbolts, but it’s taking a lot of effort not to scream in Time Turner’s face
“Then spill it! They were important to you in some way you didn’t let on at the council meeting. You tacked on that request to shadow us on our mission as an afterthought, and my fa—Hurricane, allowed it. Was it the radiation incident? Is that what tipped you off? Did you somehow know for certain they’d come from it?”
>”Sharp indeed. But how could I have known something like that?”
“You tell me!”
>You hiss at him, whisper-shouting up a storm in this little corner of the helicarrier
“It’s your kind that has the ‘prophetic encounters’ and all that techno Maker mumbo-jumbo! And now that we HAVEN’T found the border-hoppers, what? You’re totally content to just drop it? You did something out there. Changed something, I don’t know what. Ponies don’t just drop dead and come back to life without a care in the world.”
>”I fainted. You know this.”
“You had no pulse! Blaze is our combat medic, she knows what a beating heart sounds like, and you didn’t have one!”
>”A condition of our being. These augmentations are fickle sometimes…”
“Bullshit. I want to know everything. Starting with that watch—”
>You point accusingly at the crimson face on Time Turner’s fetlock, only for your hoof to want to draw even closer, to touch it
>Like an instinct, it has a mind of its own, and you restrain yourself
>”This? It’s an heirloom. My father gave it to me.”
“Your slave father.”
>”Before that, he was a watchmaker. He died four years after the Exsilist assault on our town. I was but a foal, barely aware.”
“Why does it call to me?”
>”Beg your pardon?”
>Though he hides it well, you detect the slightest hint of… something, from Time Turner’s inflection
>As if he expected the question
“I heard a ringing in my ears when you first stepped off that blimp. I thought it was you at the time. But I get this feeling in my head like I need that thing, and I know it’s coming from it. Your watch. I… this is stupid.”
>”No, no no no. Not stupid. You want it?”
“Do I… what do you mean?”
>”I’m asking if you desire this watch for your own.”
“This is hardly the time for—”
>The cyborg stallion lunges forward, placing his hoof in yours
>Before the shock of what’s happening even registers for you, his muzzle is inches from yours, and his eyes are piercing and black, staring into your own
>His tail slithers along the grates, and his outstretched hoof…
>The watch, the crimson face, is right there, you’re nearly touching it, you’re nearly
>Inside
>The white sunset
>”Do you know why I became what I became? This beast of flesh and steel?”
“I—I…”
>”You’re nervous. You’re trembling. And you’re wondering why nopony’s seeing this happening, or interfering.”
“What do you—”
>”If you move now, you risk everything. There is a potent artificial venom in the tip of this tail, which—”
>The curved tip of that strange appendage leaps into the air towards you
>Millimeters from your sweat-glistening throat, it halts unnaturally fast, and you’re reminded that it’s a machine controlled by impulse, not some murderous snake
>”Is now poised to strike at you. To end you if you make the wrong move, or pretend not to feel fear in the presence of this thing.”
“I…”
>”Are you still because you’re not afraid? Do you feel a sense of calm washing over you?”
>You look for calm, something that you can latch onto, but nothing’s there
>There’s only fear, fear that the legacy you’ve imagined for yourself is about to come to an end at the hooves of this, this…
>This traitor!
>”I am no traitor, Rainbow Dash.”
>What is he doing?! Is he reading your thoughts?
>Has he been capable of that all this time?
>”Only through great effort. So no. This is the first time I’ve needed to do it to you, Rainbow Dash. You generally wear your heart on your sleeve. But not when it comes to matters of valor. You pretend to be brave because you are brave. All bravery is playing at not feeling fear when it counts. But I need to know now whether you are afraid of this death.”
“Y-you can just look inside me, a-and see it, then.”
>”No. You must say it. Say it now. And do not lie to me.”
“I… I…”
>If you even breathe wrong, that sharp needle goes right into your artery
>If you move funny
>Your body tells you to move away, to fight back, but your mind…
>Has it really come to this?
>You don’t understand what’s happening, all you know for certain is that…
“I’m afraid of you. I’m afraid.”
>The piercing gaze lessens; the wheels in Time Turner’s mind are spinning, he’s contemplating you
>The watch is there… you could touch it, take it, you could run to the other side of this hold, have your Wunderbolts eliminate him in an instant
>But…
>”You still trust me, don’t you? Even after that. Inexplicably.”
“You goddamn… you…”
>”There is a smokescreen around us now. A slight suggestive power, begging everypony else in this hold to avert their attention from us. There are powers in this world which are beyond our knowing. The Exsilists, my mistress the Highmind Empress, believe that science makes possible things which we cannot even imagine. I am a living rectification of that statement.”
>Ambassador Time Turner, this thing which is before you, is miles high now in your eyes, he is bold and terrifying, and the red crystal he carries in his watch spans the universe with its glow of ages
>”MAGIC, the true magic, makes possible things of which we cannot conceive. My father lives in the face of this watch. His father, and his father’s father, all live in this face. Back to the age of the Makers, when this watch was gifted to my ancestor, who was himself the descendant of a great magician…”
“Stop… I c-can’t…”
>You can see, SEE, the images he’s conjuring for you, bathed in red but visible as though you’re peering into some other world
>That, or a dream
>Yes, this all must be a dream, but you KNOW the difference between dreams and reality and this is reality, this is real this is real…
>You see a red line, extended into infinity and negative infinity, points on that line which are ponies, stallions, some unicorns, some earth ponies, all stallions…
>Time Turner’s apparition gestures to one point on this line, and you see that past in front of you, a strange hat, stars and spells
>”Starswirl the Bearded begot a son, who begot a son, who begot a son, unbroken until the founding of the new era, the banishment of Celestia, her turn to Prophetess of the apocryphal faith of the Sun…”
“Let me out of this, I can’t listen to this, y-you’re a goddamn… a goddamn…”
>You see a massive, haggard mare with a rainbow mane, like yours, though this one flows in the wind like a star field
>Her wings are torn and bent, her horn cracked, her white coat filthy
>And yet her eyes speak of great satisfaction, like her purpose has been totally fulfilled
>She is surrounded by stallions with crowns, and the infinite line intersects one of them
>They, in turn, are surrounded by…
>By the Gorgons, they’re massive and monstrous
>Tall, lanky forms, upright, eyes beady and dark, watching and waiting, observing history as it unfolds
>”And when she returned to Old Equestria, and ousted the Unified Kings who had replaced her before vanishing into oblivion, she allowed a single one of them to remain, one she trusted because of his heritage…”
>You feel like you’re swimming
>Like you’re underwater, and the ripples are above you; you felt this before, you feel it now
>”His name was Kabardian, Rainbow Dash. He was the descendant of Starswirl the Bearded, who even you must know by name. He carried her gift into the west, following the Makers, founded ancient Exsilia, and he was buried on death but her gift to him remained in his very blood, his very bones. Passed to his son, who passed it to his son, who passed it on for eight hundred fifty years, on and on, until New Exsilia grew from the ashes of the old, grew like a cancer without agenda. Do you know why I took this form, Captain Dash? DO YOU?”
>He’s growing still, and his voice is the voice of hundreds
>Even though he’s still standing there in front of you, nothing if not his normal self, his presence is a million miles high
>His eyes are galaxies
>And even now, those forms are like giants even to him, their heads flaming with strange manes, their muscles bound by bristling flesh, their gazes predatory
>”To survive! To be more than a slave to THEM! I offered my soul like a lamb to slaughter because I could feel the light dying in this artifact of ancient memory, this… this elemental shape which belonged to me only in the sense that I was holding it for somepony else. That somepony, Captain, is… is…”
>And then, he’s small
>Infinitesimally small
>Smaller than an atom, at least from your perspective
>The power isn’t in him, it’s entirely in that thing, that crystal face
>It’s calling to you now, but you can’t… you can’t…
>You don’t deserve it… you know you can’t deserve it
>”I can speak no more of this. The fact that you were not calmed by its power, as everypony else is, has proven what I have known to be true. You are special to it. And you… you… I understand its intentions, but you above all others it senses to be worthy. It’s unexplainable. But if fate has been kind to me, if this is truly the time of reckoning, before the coming of the Beast, if the Summer Solstice is what we’re waiting for, then… then this you cannot know. And what limited power I am afforded, this must be… must… be…”
>Erased
(Discontinuity)
>You are Captain Rainbow Dash, and you’re riddled with guilt
>Guilt over White Lightning and Fleetfoot, for handling that situation in the desert so poorly
>Time Turner stands beside you, and though he’s tried to offer you some consolation you can’t take it to heart
>When you return to Pegasopolis, which last you checked was around twenty minutes out, you’ll have to explain your failure to Hurricane and High Command
>Your reputation’s on the line here, and when the Canterian military comes to face Pegasopolis, wherever they end up coming from, you’ll have but that one chance to redeem yourself
>After all, if you ARE to be your father’s successor one day, you must be loyal to your true self
>And those border-hoppers… if they’re coming to Pegasopolis too, they’ll soon be in your hooves anyway
>”Captain Dash?”
>You regard Time Turner, whose dark frame is highlighted by the glint of electric light reflected off his chrome appendages
“What is it, Ambassador?”
>”I am sorry. Truly sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
>”For… for nothing. We must find this traitor and expose them. Only then can your father be saved.”
“What’s bringing this on?”
>”The time’s drawing near, Captain. You must reassess your surroundings. Think about everything that’s transpired. The key to this mystery is within you.”
“I don’t know who’s going to betray my father, if something like that’s even going to happen, and isn’t just your Empress’ delusion.”
>”It will happen. It’s as fated as the sunset.”
“I hope you’re wrong.”
>Time Turner sighs wistfully, turning his back on you and retreating into the shadow of the hold
>As he walks away, you sneak a glance at the pristine face of that mysterious red watch adorning his fetlock
>Seems like you were mistaken; you’re almost in Pegasopolis, not twenty minutes out
>Just where does the time go?

******

ECHO LOG: ACCOUNTABILITY REPORT, TRANSCRIPT PENDING CLASSIFICATION
CAPTAIN-MAJOR SPITFIRE, SEVENTH AERIAL, TEMP. “THUNDER 9”
06 JUNO
12:51:30
>”So everything’s set, then? I thought the op don’t start until Thunder One gives the O-K.”
“It doesn’t. But that’s our only contact with another unit for the entire duration of this mission.”
>”Is there a reason you took me aside here, Captain, or do you just think I’m slow and wanted to reiterate?”
“Bite me, Soarin.”
>”Gladly.”
“There’s something special I need you to do for me. Something the others can’t know about.”
>”Need me to, uh, get you in the fighting spirit? Maybe help you get the juices flowing, if you know what I mean?”
“I could break your forehoof in half before you count to one, soldier.”
>”But you won’t. ‘Cause you’re so infatuated with me.”
“Listen. We don’t have much time before pre-deployment. Have you ever heard of something called Project Pericles?”
>”Sounds above my paygrade.”
“I wasn’t being completely truthful back there when I said I knew nothing. The Chancellor let it slip from the outset when he consulted spec ops that something big was being deployed in the field for Operation Thunderstruck. A piece of hardware that’s barely even been field-tested, much less used in combat.”
>”But that’s somepony else’s job, right?”
“Right. But we don’t even know how many teams this operation has. For all we know, we could be flying in the dark right down the barrel of whatever the Chancellor’s going to do to these separatist pieces of shit.”
>”He wouldn’t authorize something that would put us in harm’s way.”
“You don’t know him like I do. Our job’s to take out the Wunderbolts and whatever else stands between the extraction team and General Hurricane. But who knows? It could very well be somepony else’s job to clean up whatever mess we make afterwards. Maybe clean us up too.”
>”You’re overthinking it, Spit. You said it yourself, we don’t ask questions.”
“He doesn’t have Senatori approval for this. I’m sure he doesn’t have any sort of writ to deploy Pericles, whatever the hell that is, and if it’s some kind of atom bomb times ten then we’re royally screwed.”
>”You think the secrecy’s to mask our own suicide.”
“No. I’m not gonna start thinking anything until I KNOW.”
>”The PAS knows we’re coming. I mean, they SAW you. That WAS intentional, right? You didn’t just say that to save face?”
“I did what I was asked to do. The Chancellor wants the enemy to hedge up all they’ve got, get everypony in one place. That can only be bad for us, no matter how you slice it.”
>”What am I supposed to do about it?”
“I was getting to that, asswipe. Look, once we find the informant, we’ve done our job. Either the Wunderbolts are all incapacitated, or all of us are. When that happens, and I mean the SECOND that happens, you round everypony up and get them as far from the city as possible. It’s not desertion if we’ve done what we came to do. But you’re not gonna stick around to see what the other Thunder teams have planned once the Wunderbolts are out of their way.”
>”Why’s this my job? What are you doing during all this?”
“Classified, sorry to say.”
>”Aw, c’mon. Don’t hit me with that red tape nonsense. We’re pals, ain’t we?”
“I just can’t, Soarin. If everything goes as well as we hope, then we’ll see each other on the other side like nothing ever happened.”
>”And if it doesn’t go the way we hope?”
“Then we’d better pray that Project Pericles is just some fireworks to celebrate our victory.”

******

>”Twilight Sparkle.”
“Numena? Is it you? Are you… are you here?”
>”The light, Whisperer. Come away from that light. It shines too brightly.”
“But you are a being of the light. A Solenoid. Your power is…”
>”My power is of no concern to you. I am occluded by that which you mortals see. As the Truth is by design occluded by the grand obligations of fate.”
“Yes… I-I know that. If I can see you so clearly now, in these visions, in these dreams… who’s to say that whatever’s between me and the Mother’s Garden hasn’t diminished?”
>”Your proximity to that power aids you.”
“The Element?”
>”You are connected to it in more ways than one, Whisperer in the Dark. Your friend Applejack is its rightful bearer, this is true, but you are the force which compelled them to unite. You are also a bearer in your own right, of a power that is not yet fully yours.”
“The Matron Celest’s advice… am I really following it correctly? She told me to find the Truth and see past it before I could make it mine. I still don’t understand that, Numena. I’m still so lost…”
>”And yet you are found. By myself, by the Prophetess and the Mother above, you are cared for and guided by our hooves. Is your purpose not clear to you now?”
“Yes… I must unite the Elements… then what?”
>”Then and only then shall you stand against the thing which has been foretold, the incarnation of all of ponykind’s past mistakes. History was irrevocably altered by one fatal happening, nigh on a millennium ago. If the happening were to be rectified, if the future might be freed by the suffering of the past, then perhaps the Prophetess’ dream might become reality.”
“I am away from the light now.”
>”Yes… you are away from that which binds you to your body. Your soul is welcome here. And look below. What do you see?”
“I see what I’ve always seen. I see the Depths, and what awaits me if I fail in my purpose.”
>”Not only if you fail, Twilight. You cannot be punished for failure, any more than suffering can be quantified. You will fail many times in this thing. You will bear a mark, but it will not be failure that gives you that mark. Your purpose is one of hope.”
“I have so many questions. As always.”
>”I cannot answer them. This is known.”
“You answered one before. This is important, Numena, I—”
>”You do not make REQUESTS of me! Of an Angel of the Truth! Of a reflection of Mater Herself!”
“I know! I know… I’m sorry… so sorry…”
>”You are afraid of what you have seen. You want an explanation, do you not?”
“The Exsilist… how can he possess the power he did? If it is what I suspect it is…”
>”It is.”
“How can he have an Element?”
>”The how of the matter is unimportant. But though he comes from a different tribe, his guidance was that of Truth. You are to find this pegasus mare, the one he described. When this is done, you will know where next to search.”
“And the city? Pegasopolis? What will become of it?”
>”You have seen it plainly. The Truth is not revokable. It cannot be altered. It encapsulates all time, all space. What you and Applejack have seen in your visions will come to pass.”
“Then I’m already too late. I can’t save them…”
>”You will save one. The one that matters most. They are not yours to save, Twilight Sparkle. Until you have gathered the Elements, the six seeds of prophecy, until you have brought to light the Prophetess’ ultimate course, you are but a pony. Nothing more, nothing less. Take this in stride. See beyond the harshest parts of the Truth, see only what you can change… and change it.”
“Change…”
>The light… the light beyond the shadow that is Numena’s form
>It’s blue… has it always been blue?
>Deep, dark blue, the color of the infinite void of space
>The color of the Depths, too
>As the dream state collapses from waves to single value, from the infinite to tangible, the question still lingers
>The one you wanted answered most from this being with all the answers
>How did this Exsilist…
>How could he possible possess…
>
>
>…

******

>An Element
>A second Element, equal in power to the first, if not greater
>Though, if they are pieces of Celestia’s power granted to her by Mater Solis, can their energies really be compared?
>You start awake, terrified of the ample yellow light that penetrates what was just darkness
>You’re certain of it now, more certain than before; what you and AJ saw last night was no shared vision, no dream
>There is a pony, an Exsilist stallion, in Pegasopolis RIGHT NOW, who bears another Element
>He used it to communicate with you across space
>He projected himself as Mater Solis projects the Truth across the Sun, exposed only for those willing to look
>It can only be more evidence that you’re on the right path, that the visions Numena imparted unto you weren’t just guiding you towards your own Ascension, but rather towards the higher purpose of the universe
>That dream… that dream!
>That was a dream!
>Where are you now? Why were you even asleep?
>Who are you? Are you Twilight Sparkle?
>Or are you something more… something less…
“A-Applejack?”
>”Finally awake?”
“Had another dream. Another encounter with Numena.”
>AJ snorts
>”Shoot, I barely slept at all last night. And I wasn’t quite in the mood for no more encounters with ghosts, after what we saw.”
“That was no ghost. That was an Element bearer.”
>The haze parts away from your eyes, and you’re able to see clearly
>You’re still in the cave where it happened, still tucked beneath that outcropping, the sands from last night still piled up on the other wall
>The sandstorm ended right after the apparition vanished, but you didn’t bother clearing out an exit then, you were so terrified
>AJ was worse; you had to drag her against the wall, since she either wouldn’t or couldn’t budge on her own
>She was pale in the face, and her hooves wobbled; whatever she saw then, when the Exsilist touched her head and shared his Truth with her, apparently robbed her of her finer motor skills
“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep. If I’d known I would’ve stayed up. With how weak you were, I’d assumed you were likely to pass out any time.”
>”S’alright. Somepony had to get up and clear the mountain of sand off of Winona.”
“You can stand.”
>”I can stand. I feel fine now, or whatever ‘fine’ is when you’re in the situation we’re in.”
>You struggle to do the same, lifting yourself gently onto your hooves and dusting off your robe
>It occurs to you that you haven’t changed clothes in four days, you’ve been in such a rush
>The clean spares are in your saddlebags, but this one…
>You suppose the dust suits you now
>Wordlessly, you hike your saddlebag up over your flanks and join Applejack where she stands, at the narrow exit of this rocky alcove
>You walk together outside, where the sands from last night have covered all trace of your being here
>Except for Winona, who’s been freshly cleaned
“How far out are we now? I wanted to discuss last night, but…”
>”Right. The map’s not much to go by out here, but my rough estimate’s that the city will be overhead in just a few hours.”
“I can’t believe we made it this far. All other factors notwithstanding, I guess I thought we’d be caught by now. Escorted up in one of their flying machines.”
>”You really ain’t scared of them, are you?”
“Me? I’m terrified. But I do what I do because—”
>”Because Mater wills it. Got it. But not every mare would stick her own neck out for what she believes in. I respect that.”
>You blush; Applejack flashes you a smirk, then starts towards the truck, where you follow her
>”Y’know, Miss Sunshine, that’s a mighty big assumption you made.”
“What?”
>”That what we saw last night was the work of another Element.”
“It has to be, doesn’t it? Numena all but confirmed it in my vision. As did the Exsilist. He’s out there somewhere, but rather than seek him out he wants us to find another. Somepony more worthy?”
>”Maybe he just came as a warning. Maybe he don’t want none snooping for him. That kind of power’s dangerous in the wrong hooves.”
“I don’t know. I felt… calm around him. Content, even though I felt as though I should’ve been afraid. And why should he have come to us, told us so much, if only to mislead us? We had nothing to go on to begin with.”
>AJ shakes her head as she climbs into the driver’s seat, and her body language tells you she isn’t quite convinced
>”The calm felt more like a side effect of whatever state he’d put us in than anything. Something to keep us from hightailing it outta there at the first sight of his spooky self.”
>Legs still wobbling, you stumble up into Winona’s cabin, saddlebag in tow, ready to face whatever’s ahead
>AJ flicks the starter switch, and the truck beneath you hums to life
>”This is gonna take some doing.”
>The sand is still piled so high up against Winona’s front grill that getting out of this little alcove is going to be tough
>After a few attempts at ramming against it, however, AJ finally succeeds, the front end lifting against the bump and careening down against the desert floor with a heavy thump
>Then, you’re back on the road, or at least what passes for a road in this part of the country
“I-I’ll be honest with you, AJ. These are all clearly points we’ve gone over before. What we’re doing in Pegasopolis, how it connects to the Mission, to the Elements, and now this new factor, knowing there’s an Element bearer in the city, knowing he plans to… well, I suppose to trade it off to somepony else he considers more worthy of its power.”
>”No guarantee of that.”
“My point being, the argumentation over it is all going to be moot once we make first contact. It doesn’t matter whether this Exsilist means us harm or good, and it doesn’t matter if the pegasi will treat us roughly or not. Either way, we must go into the city. Find a way, somehow.”
>”Our plan’s been loosy-goosy at best so far, so why change it up now?”
>You smile
“Precisely. We let the Truth unfold. We see past it.”
>”Easier said than…”

******

>”Done.”
“Can she stand?”
>”Barely. But I’m not about to allow her that risk, even on your command, Captain Rainbow Dash.”
“She’s your patient. And what about—”
>”Still the same, I’m afraid. We’re monitoring her condition, but right now all we can do is wait.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
>Together with Lightning Dust, you stride out of the cramped medical chamber into the broad hall of the Militarbezirk medical wing
>Beyond the threshold, your fellow Wunderbolts are waiting anxiously for news
>All you can do is shake your head to assuage their combined nervousness
“It’s the same as before, ladies. White Lightning’s going to be out by this afternoon, no major fractures, just cut up good on impact. Doc just finished patching her up, in fact. Fleetfoot’s a different story. Her head got knocked around, might be concussive, might not. She sustained fractures in her left wing and foreleg, which is going to put her out of commission for a while.”
>”Lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“That’s right, Lightning. As for the rest of you, you’ve been briefed. You know your places. We’ve been tasked with the standing defense of lower Highstorm alongside infantry, to fall back to the central district if necessary. Stay posted in the area, you’ll be contacted when we’re ready for action. Dismissed.”
>With a mixture of forlornness and anxiety, your comrades scatter into their typical groups, whispering as they recede into the rush of the medical center
>Now, as usual, you’re left alone with Lightning Dust
>”I meant you, by the way.”
“What?”
>”YOU’RE lucky it wasn’t worse. The two of them’ll be fine, but you? You’re gonna be in trouuuuuble.”
>That sing-songy mocking always sets you on edge, but in light of what’s happened you control yourself
“That’s not true. We were recalled to aid with the city’s defense. That mission was never pass-fail, and you know it.”
>”Although if it was…”
“If it was, you’d better damn well have given me a passing grade, considering I pulled your sorry neck out of that dune.”
>”I’ll let that be compensation for all the times I saved you from flunking out of Academy.”
“That never—”
>”Shh. You hear that?”
>At first, you expect some kind of crude jab from Lightning, but when one doesn’t come you scrunch your features and listen
>Through the din of the walking medics and nurses, through the constant droning of medical equipment in the rows on rows of recovery rooms, you listen
>Across from White Lightning and Fleetfoots’ joint chamber, a long plate window exposes a view of the lower courtyard of the military complex, which sweeps by suspension bridge into the concourse of the main platform
>Lightning’s right; you do hear something emanating from that direction, from outside, though you can’t place exactly what it is
>Some kind of low rumbling, underneath everything else
>An earthquake down below, on the surface?
“I hear it. Should we…?”
>”You’re the boss, boss.”
>You shake your head and look back through the open door at Fleetfoot’s prone body, tended by the resident nurse
“I can’t imagine that happening to me. I honestly can’t even picture it. Losing a wing, a hoof, even for a little while… I couldn’t bear it.”
>”Like your purpose goes unfulfilled. But injuries in the field do happen.”
“If there’s ever going to BE a field. This whole defensive is based on a single encounter at the border. Not that I think it’s a terrible idea, but we could be pushing in right now. Acting rather than reacting.”
>Lightning leads you away from the recovery chamber towards which you’ve been slowly gravitating, and down the wide sunlit hall
>”You’ve always been too eager, Rainbow. Don’t forget this was your little coltfriend’s idea in the first place.”
“My… hey! You stand down on that, Lightning! Ponies could hear and actually believe it!”
>”Pffft. Is it wrong to say you’ve been close with him?”
“Out of necessity. Time Turner is a sensitive asset to the PAS right now. He’s high in the Exsilist ranks, he has the ear of the Highmind Empress, and…”
>It almost spilled right out, but your brain caught up to your words at just the right moment
>You begin coughing spontaneously, and Lightning nervously comes around to your flank to rest a hoof on the base of your wings
>”Gorgons, Dash… swallow a fly?”
>You struggle to laugh; your lungs feel like they’re bursting out of your ribcage
“Probably still some sand deep in there from last night. I’m surprised you’re not worse.”
>”Guess I’m just realllly good at holding my breath. But Dash?”
>You know the question before Lightning asks it, with that devilishly quizzical look on her face
>”And… what?”
“And… what do you mean?”
>”Don’t leave me hanging. If there’s some reason beyond the fact of your being Time Turner’s adjutant that you’re spending so much time with him, then I need to know.”
“Unfortunately, Lightning, you don’t ‘need’ to know anything. It’s all… very… complicated right now. And confidential.”
>”So it’s ‘this’ then? All the rules?”
“What are you talking about?”
>”C’mon, Rainbow. All formalities aside. It bugs you that I call you Cap’n, well there. It bugs me when you pretend that it’s all cast in a different light now we’re the Wunderbolts, that that somehow changes everything. That what we used to be, which was best friends, isn’t how it is anymore.”
“Lightning…”
>Your friend looks legitimately hurt, in a way you haven’t seen in her since the early days of the Academy
>It’s a look you thought had been bred out of her, but there it is, plain as day
>”We made an oath way back then, y’know? We said… we said there’d be no secrets there. And I know we’ve had this conversation before, about different things, and I KNOW that duty transcends yadda yadda yadda… but…”
“We made that oath when we were fillies.”
>”And that lessens it?”
>You’re tempted to give her a flat “yes”, but you find that the word just doesn’t describe the way you feel
>You’ve wanted to share the details of Time Turner’s true intentions with her since the moment he divulged them to you, but you didn’t want to risk compromising her
>Despite how much she pisses you off, she’s loyal to you, loyal to the PAS; if there’s anypony you can tell about the theory, it’s her
“No. It doesn’t. And we ARE still friends, first and foremost. But there are certain things—”
>”I’m also your squadmate. Your second-in-command. I see no reason why you shouldn’t just say it, now that it’s clear there’s something to be said.”
“I… listen.”
>Cautiously, you point with your head and eyes to a dark, empty recovery chamber, which Lightning silently follows you into
>The shades are drawn, the equipment continues to hum, and you close the sliding door behind you
>Then, you look Lightning directly in the eye, her features crossed with stripes of diffused sunlight in this blue darkness
“This doesn’t leave this room.”
>”That’s a given.”
“Time Turner believes… and this is an enormous maybe. But Time Turner believes there is a Canterian spy, a traitor, working high in the ranks of the PAS. Possibly even a member of High Command. He believes they’ve been placed there to assassinate the General, my father.”
>Lightning shrinks at the word “traitor,” but quickly recovers and blinks frantically
>”Based on what intel?”
“Intel of a…”
>You can’t believe you’re saying this
“…of a supernatural origin. The Highmind Empress of New Exsilia has these visions. Something to do with her connection to the Makers through their technology, maybe even a tech they aren’t sharing with us. But she sees the future. And she’s seen what might happen if this Canterian invasion comes to pass.”
>”Okay. Um… yeah. Passing over how ridiculous that sounds, if there’s a mole, you should’ve come to me the second you learned about it. I could’ve helped you, Rainbow.”
“Time Turner’s been conducting his own investigation, as have I. To what… uh… limited extent I can. We compared notes before the High Command meeting that led us into the Palomino, but all we know for certain is that they’ll probably come out of hiding during the Canterian assault. We don’t know who, we don’t know when. But soon. And they’re entrenched deep.”
>”Somepony on the division?”
“I considered that. But I trust all of them completely. Time Turner’s implied a suspicion of Hauptgeneral Wind Rider, but…”
>”But he’s been with the PAS since its inception. Since the Rebellion. Who’s new? Who might’ve come out of absolutely nowhere, blindsided everything?”
>You shake your head in frustration, both at your lack of an answer to Lightning’s question and at your decision to tell her
>As much as you trust her, you’ve now placed a hefty burden on her shoulders that she doesn’t deserve to carry, especially in this time of crisis
“They can’t be TOO new. They’re trusted, we know that much. As trusted as a member of High Command? That remains to be seen.”
>”If—”
>Before your friend can ask you her question, the low rumbling you heard earlier intensifies
>It had waned down without your noticing, but it’s back now, and it’s impossible to ignore
>Lightning notices it too, clutching her head and regaining her balance as the room seems to destabilize for a moment
>”Wh-what the… the propulsion?”
“Doesn’t matter. We need to get to Staatskongress, now!”
>”We don’t even know if—”
“I said NOW!”
>You rush out the door back into the open hall, and Lightning relents, following close behind
>You weave through nervous fluttering military doctors and mobile patients, and when the galloping becomes too hard to maintain, you lift off and swoop over their heads
>Around a corner, into the atrium, and out the broad sky-door, into the light of mid-afternoon
>Into the sun
>The air is warmer than you expected, especially for the altitude, but you pay it no mind
>Noises like that are NOT supposed to happen, and if it’s happening universally across the city, rather than just being localized in Militarbezirk
>Well, you can’t answer that question without contacting your father
>You key into his offices with the short-range comm on your fetlock, listening to the fain buzz as the device attempts to establish contact
>Then, the static resides and gives way to a brusque voice on the other end
>”Rainbow Dash?”
“General! What’s happening, are you alright?”
>”Fine, Captain. What seems to be the concern, I thought you’d be stationed by now.”
“We’re in Militarbezirk. The briefing isn’t for another two hours. What’s the situation there?”
>”We were finishing up some detailing, and then I was about to meet you with a detachment for personal instructions.”
“There was a noise here. Something is happening, the propulsion is destabilizing, i-it feels like an earthquake!”
>”In Militarbezirk? That shouldn’t be possible considering—”
“General!”
>The command in your voice surprises even you, but now is no time for formality
>The sun, it’s… why is it that shade?
>You’re staring right into it as you sweep low across the courtyard and towards the bridge, intending not to stop flying until you reach Staatskongress
>The feeling in your mind… something is wrong, VERY wrong
>In any other circumstance, you’d chalk up whatever happened back there, that something that EVERYPONY felt, wasn’t worth your time or notice
>But given the possible imminence of Canterian contact, it’s as though there’s something driving you forward, something magnetic and awful, containing you to this path
“General, Lightning Dust and I are on our way to evac you, now.”
>”Captain Dash, I hardly think that sort of action is nece—”
“No! We’re running out of time!”
>”What makes you say that?”
>What does make you say that?
>Apart from the rumbling, and the sun…
>The sun…
>You stop dead in your tracks, fixated on that point in space
>It’s across the city, through the weave of pillars and roofs, towers and banners, not yet touching the summer horizon but approaching fast, and it’s…
>”Rainbow!”
>A sea-green blur rushes by your flank, then doubles back and halts hovering before you
>Between you and the object of interest
>”You shot out of there so fast I could barely follow! If we’re going to Pegasopolis Platform, we need to notify the rest of the Wunderbolts! They’re still back at Militarbezirk, and—”
“Lightning. Do you see it?”
>Your friend merely stares at you, dropping elevation slightly and rolling in front of you, but it’s already too late
>You can see it through her, past her, you can see the color of that light in the sky
>Of course in the daylight it shines, but dark clouds are brewing on the horizon, thunderclouds, and the light persists through them
>Not through them, in FRONT of them
>When it sinks there, when you’re right there, sinking along with it, you’ll see it again, you’ll see it so clearly, so intimately…”
>”Rainbow! If we’re going, let’s go!”
>”Captain Dash, we are perfectly capable here. Your presence at Staatskongress is not… ed at th… else…”
>The signal’s breaking up with General Hurricane
>No, dad
>Dad?
>He’s more than that, isn’t he, more than just…
>This presence in your mind…
“General Hurricane! Can you hear me?”
>”… all… posit… elp carry wha… nit all on th…”
>And then, silence
>But for the wind, of course, the highline wind carrying across all the lands of Equestron
>Ending here, at the edge of the world
>It isn’t just a white sunset anymore, there are two suns
>Obscured by the material things in front of it, but so visible to you
>Two suns, one eclipsing the other, one so much closer, mere miles away
>The satellite image, the grainy prints, they’ve come to life
>It’s something you feel in your heart, and even so far away, so obscured, you’re certain it’s there
>Certain that…
“It’s today. It’s right now.”
>”What are you talking about, Rainbow?”
“It’s going to happen soon. It’s all going to happen soon. General Hurricane, my… forget the Wunderbolts. We need to be there now. We need to…”

******

”Move! Go faster, faster!”
>”What in the sam hay do you think I’m doing, Miss Sunshine?”
>Applejack veers off the road, kicking up dust as Winona goes careening into the ditch at the asphalt’s edge
>It’s been three hours since you left your alcove campground, and you are Twilight Sparkle, a-and…
>And you can barely concentrate with all this noise
>Not the noise on the surface, not here, but someplace else, someplace both darker and lighter than this material world
>The sub-layer, the layer beyond dreams, beyond consciousness…
>Is it Truth? Is it…
GATHUNK
>”Get your head back in it, Twilight! They aren’t even following us!”
“Wh-what?”
>You’d sensed something there, another soul perhaps, but now it’s being ripped away, and you’re back here, back in the truck with Applejack, back to being chased by…
>Well, you don’t even know who
>You saw it on the horizon fifteen minutes ago, a distant shimmer, like a mirage
>But mirages REMAIN on the horizon; this one only rose, gaining speed and altitude, distorting the clouds and eventually the sun into rippling waveforms as it passed over them
>With the Element, Applejack had seen life there, but it was too fleeting for her to comprehend its shape
>It came closer and closer to you, following the road, coming to terminal velocity several meters overhead; only by that telltale sheen at its very edges could you distinguish its shape, its presence
>Something following, something LIVING…
>With how many bizarre things have come to pass in the last few days, you’re barely even fazed, though at least the Exsilist had cast some form of psychic inhibitor over you, preventing you from feeling fear
>No such presence exists here; your instincts drive your senses wild, you’re desperate to get out of this truck, to GALLOP, to RUN as fast as you can
>Your body doesn’t care that this way is faster, it must be better than this, it must be it must be…
>But… wait, what did Applejack just say?
>Your thoughts overtook her voice… did she say it isn’t following you?
>Then…
>It should be YOU who’s driving now, and her who’s…
>Celestia, of course!
“Applejack! Trade places with me!”
>Your friend shoots a panicked look in your direction, those emerald eyes full of the same confused terror you feel in yourself
>”Are you off your rocker? Not at this speed, and you never even properly learned—”
“I’ve seen you drive! How hard can it be?”
>”For somepony without any experience at all? Gee, I sure wonder!”
“It’s the only way for you to get a closer look at that thing! If it isn’t just an illusion, or some kind of PAS defense mechanism…”
>”That probably IS what it is! You have no idea what the Exsilists have cooked up for them, for how close we are to Pegasopolis!”
“Please, AJ!”
>”Gah!”
>Applejack tosses her hat off her golden locks, spiraling it into the back seat, then gently eases off the acceleration lever
>No, no… the “gas pedal,” that’s right
>”Cross over me! Now or never!”
>Standing up in your seat on all fours, your head crushed against the roof of the truck, you steady yourself as AJ gestures for you to take the steering module
>You take it just as she releases her hooves from it and from the gas, and you slide in opposite directions while Winona barrels on at a slight angle away from the road
>As long as you don’t crash into a dune, everything SHOULD be okay
>With some minor readjustments, and an unfortunate kick to AJ’s barrel which she receives with a huff, you slam yourself down into the driver’s seat and prepare to do what you’ve been afraid of doing this entire Mission
>Nervously, you drive your hindleg into the accelerator, feeling the vibrations beneath you as Winona responds to your input
>That part of it’s almost easier than you thought, but steering is another story; you’re too rough with it at first, and Winona jerks and almost loses balance in the low friction of the sand giving way to dry grass
>”Less force! Compensate, don’t yank it! Get us even with the road, and then just keep it steady
>You don’t really feel like you’ve got the hang of it yet, but for the first time you realize you’ve been looking at your hooves this whole time, not at what’s in front of you
>You glance up and out the windshield, and the rush of this incredible speed hits you again, just as it did the very first time you rode in a vehicle with Brittle Bong
>It’s different now that you’re controlling the movement; it’s like you’re galloping without anything to halt you, not your stamina, not the terrain, not anything
>It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, and without thinking you slam your hoof down on the gas as far as it’ll go and ease the wheel towards the road again
>By now, the shimmering invisible thing has surpassed you, and is moving along the vector of the road up in the air
>Applejack hurriedly produces the Element from her saddlebag, and as it glows in her hoof you can only guess at what she’s seeing
>It’s in clear view of you now, a distortion of reality gliding over the world, a great invisible monster
>With life force
>The quick glances you’re able to steal over at AJ while you pilot this metal box on wheels tell you that her explanation won’t give you much else to go on
>Her eyes are locked on the shape, transfixed by it; you even detect an orange glow there too, as though the Element’s energy is pouring out of her, too much to contain or suppress
>That sort of power… you find yourself desiring it more than anything else, but you banish those thoughts as soon as they appear
>A Sister of Solemnity should not covet…
>”Alright. I’ve seen inside.”
>AJ stoically sets the Element down, and its psychic hold on her form instantly dissipates
>She can control that more easily now, it seems…
“What IS it?”
>”There are ponies inside. Technologies I’ve never seen before… engravings all over, tiny, tiny engravings. Like random little grooves all over the inside. But the ponies… they don’t look Exsilist. They’re entirely organic. But they ain’t all pegasi neither.”
“So it isn’t a defense… it’s an assault?”
>”That Spitfire at the border… I think she was only the beginning. Whoever that is, they aren’t concerned with us in the least bit. Their destination’s the same as ours, but what they mean to do there I haven’t the foggiest.”
“It’s invisible… how is it invisible? Where did it… they…”
>”Ain’t entirely invisible. We could see it behind us after all, though only because we were REALLY looking for it. Though it ain’t making a lick of noise, and if I had to guess I’d say radar don’t see it none.”
“Then it’s today. Celestia, it’s today. What we’ve seen in the visions, the city in flames… we’re going to be too late. It’s already happening. Numena was right.”
>”She told you about this? Last night?”
“Only that fate is irrevocable. Unchanging. What we see is what will come to pass. In other communions, I’d been led to believe otherwise, but… no. We can only save our one.”
>”Then why the trouble of finding the missile silos underneath our own danged Sky Farms? Why any of the pretext from the very beginning? Assuming it was all ‘part of the plan,’ that is.”
“I… I don’t have an answer for that. But I suppose the truth behind the six seeds could not be revealed to us until we had one in our possession. It was too dangerous, or rather… if you had known what lay within See Rock, would you still have followed me up its slopes?”
>”Don’t expect an answer to that from me, either. I can never go back, knowing what I know. Being in possession of this…”
>Your friend regards the hexagonal gem snuggled between her leg and the seat
>”…this THING, it’s only made my belief that we’re doing the right thing stronger. But put all that aside for a second. How are we going to get in touch with this pony, this mare, once we’re there? Or failing that, the Exsilist?”
“We’ll find a way. I know we will. But I’m going to follow that thing for now. Keep your mind trained on it as best as you can, in case I lose sight of it.”
>The ditch deepens; you push Winona harder over a slope to get back to the road, but the terrain gives you more trouble than you expected
>The San Palomino desert is giving way to a more humid, grassier climate, with brush and old irrigation canals flanking you on both sides
>You suppose this land must’ve been settled by earth ponies before the PAS banished all non-pegasi from the region
>This is the borderland of Las Pegasus… that is, it used to be
>But that means…
>”Twilight? Look.”
>The slope crests, and you swerve back onto the pale, neglected asphalt to trail in tow of the invisible aircraft
>You look up from the road, and see what AJ signaled
>It’s there
>You hadn’t really believed in it until just now, just this moment, but it’s really there, the inverted dome
>Pegasopolis against the horizon, looking from this angle like any other city, but rising rapidly as it parts from that line between earth and sky, until it detaches completely from the land below
>Its size deceives you; you know it must be miles in the air, and yet it seems so close to the ground
>It is every pegasus city that the PAS have stolen, anchored, and towed into their monstrous collective
>It is Maker magic, the magic of technology beyond your knowing, that allows it to float without the aid of pegasus cloud magic
>No Blight, no blasphemy there, merely untold ages of an alien race, long dead now, perfecting their knowledge, and that knowledge passed on to ponykind
>There are no propulsion elements visible on the underside of the dome, no massive electromagnets or blazing blue flames, nothing but a smooth chrome surface that casts a shadow like a mountain below it
>And resting upon that bowl is a city, a real city, real as any other, and the likeness is so perfect to your visions, your dreams, that you can barely breathe
>It’s this angle, this fatal angle, the sun nearly eclipsed by the shape of Pegasopolis, it was from RIGHT HERE that you saw that terrible power inflict itself upon all within
>Engulfed in rainbow fire, ponies burning, and yet… you are here for only one
>You’re too late, you’re far, far too late
>All around the main “platform,” smaller satellite clusters comprised of elements of the other pegasus cities float suspended to the central axis, and that somehow bothers you more than anything
>Back in the convent, Orange Swirl called them “grav-platforms,” in a conversation which now seems ages ago, and yet truly it’s been only around a month
>But looking at the shape now, you don’t believe it’s some form of anti-gravity that compels Pegasopolis to reach those heights
>It’s something else, something more obvious, something…
>”You seeing that too?”
“I see… oh Celestia, I see it… the city, it’s… it’s incredible. It’s wonderful.”
>”It won’t be for long. But that ain’t what I’m talking about, Twi. It’s the invisible thing… or rather, the THINGS…”
>Things?
>You glance left and right, and sure enough across the plain, miles away but visible enough when you squint and search, are other shimmers, other transparent objects all converging on Pegasopolis
>Well over a dozen, by your hasty reckoning
>The base of your horn begins to burn, but you pay it no mind; you resolved to do this, you resolved to complete your Mission, to unite the six seeds of prophecy
>You will not abandon that course for anything, least of all fear
>You are a different mare than the one who left that convent, you are not afraid, you are a Sister of Solemnity imbued with the Truth, a sharer of Syncresis
>You are Twilight Sparkle, and you will drive on, drive on
>”I can warn them.”
>The tightness in your chest rises again, out of nowhere
>You aren’t far away anymore, you’re close, so close
“What? How?”
>”The beacon, Twilight. Before it was unconscious, it was just a sign of the fusion. The orange light in the sky over See Rock, I think… I think I can reproduce it.”
>The city must only be half an hour away or less now
>Your mind is racing; can you trust AJ to deliver on a promise like that without hurting herself?
>If her fugue state before was a consequence of the energy release that accompanied the Element’s materializing on the physical plane, then you have no idea what recreating the conditions of that release could do AJ
>It could put her out of consciousness, it could cripple her, or worse…
>To make such True magic manifest… but you’re left with no other options
>You could signal the arrival of these craft, as well as your own presence on the ground
>You don’t care about the consequences now, you NEED to ensure the survival of the Element bearer in that city, and whatever’s within those invisible craft is about to make your visions come to life
“Do it. I-if you think you’re able, do it.”
>”Here goes nothing.”
>AJ clutches the Element, and a sharp cry escapes her lips as her motivation fills its gleaming core
>It glows around her, through her, and before you even have time to shield yourself from whatever’s coming, a great arc of electric light blasts upward from her head into the air
>It blows a smoking hole clean through the roof of Winona, and continues upward into the sky, now darkening with foreboding clouds
>The storms of Rich Valley have caught up with you, and you’re bringing the thunder…
>Before the arc can puncture the underside of those storm clouds, however, it explodes like a great firework, and the rippling beauty of Celestia’s true magic echoes through your heart
>A star has appeared beneath the clouds, a great blinding sphere of divine energy, Mater Solis come to earth
>It surely glows as brightly as the sun, casting harsh shadows outward from your moving vehicle, the dusky grass, even the city far, far away
>You know they can see the beacon there, as can the inhabitants of the invisible craft
>If they notice you, fine; you could use the attention
>You’re so close now… so close to...

******

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As stated at top, this story is ongoing. I post updates semi-regularly in the My Little Progress: Technology is Magic thread. Cheers!
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