Hope

Chapters

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
The universe had, somehow, lurched horribly. There was a disturbingly silent rending, and then everything was annihilated by pain. Eternity itself lay motionless, floating adrift in nothing, for aeons. And then, as suddenly as it began, there was a ‘him’ again.

It took a rather long time for him to realize that ‘him’ meant ‘he’. A few moments later, he realized he had no idea what was going on.

The first word that came to him was “white”.

“White” floated about for a while, until it was joined by “blurry”, “windy”, and “cold”.

He lay on his back in this cold, windy, white blur. While these words went a long way to describe his current state, he could not ignore a screeching, keening sound. It sounds like someone screaming, he thought, and it seems to be coming from everywhere at once.

With some effort, he closed his mouth, and the noise vanished.

He lay there a while longer, before it dawned upon him that neither ‘cold’ nor ‘windy’ were improving. Slowly, painfully, he sat up, and surveyed his surroundings.

Snow. Well, that explains most of it.

Overhead, a brilliant moon shone across a severe landscape of white drifts and black, craggy peaks. Nearby, the wind-blown snow swirled near an impossibly dark shadow against the stone.

A cave? Anything would be better than this chill.

He staggered through the snowdrifts towards shelter. When he entered, he found it slightly warmer than the outdoors, and noticed a few scraps of wood and stone in a corner.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he peered into the gloom, and poked at the scattered debris. Wooden crates, it would appear, and some packing material.

Being too dark to see anything more, he decided to solve both problems at once and start a fire. Soon, a merry glow battled against the gloom, and fought against the chill.

“Guess I should check out th—,” he began, before a yawn split his features.

He tried to speak again, but sleep had already rolled him under.

***

Morning came and went, yet the hedgehog slumbered on. It was not until noon that he stirred, and then, in a panic, scrambled to his feet.

“Dammit,” he growled at himself, “I gotta get to work.”

While he could see brilliant sunlight shining on the snow outside, it was just as dark within the cave as it was when he had found it—the fire had long gone out. That’ll teach me to sleep in when I’m on-duty. He glanced about for enough wood to start another fire, and then remembered his time limit. Maybe widening the entrance would be faster? Sure enough, with a bit of digging, there was enough light to see.

The shapes in the back of the room were crates after all, and each of them empty. More importantly, each of them bore an all-too-familiar emblem: a pair of spectacles, and a bushy moustache.

“Looks like I owe Knuckles a drink,” he muttered to himself. He turned to the cave’s mouth, and stared out at the blinding mountainside. “I hope I can buy it for him.”

The world became warmer, greener, and more welcoming as Sonic descended. It was winter, here, wherever ‘here’ was, but spring was fast-approaching.

The fastest way to search, he thought, is to cover as much ground as possible. I can zig-zag back and forth, at speed, and see if there’s anything unnatural or out-of-place. And so he proceeded.

It was dusk when he finally noted a wisp of smoke in the distance. Changing plans mid-stride, he made a beeline for the silvery-grey tendril that trailed from the forest ahead. As he did so, signs of habitation began to appear.

He crossed a path, leapt a stream, and trod through an abandoned campsite on the far side. Further ahead, he passed the remains of a treehouse, scraps of its rope ladder in a pile against the trunk.

Night had fallen in truth by the time he neared the source of the smoke. Up ahead, he saw a comfortable-looking home perched on the side of a cliff, built of stone and timber. It had a wrap-around porch, and appeared to stretch out over the edge of the mountainside. Why it—

The world went black, then green, and erupted in pain.

Sonic moaned, biting back a choice obscenity as he gingerly poked at his legs. Nothing broken, he marveled, which is a miracle in itself. Leave it to me to stop watching where I’m going.

His legs were tangled in a low, manicured hedge, expertly woven into the terrain to appear as a natural growth. He pulled one leg out and had started on the next when a light came on in the house before him. He froze behind the shrubs, and hoped that he had not been spotted.

After a time, more lights came on around the building, illuminating the deck on all sides. Soon, a creature appeared to investigate. It circled the home, stopping to check windows and the surrounding wood, pausing from time to time to shine a flashlight across Sonic’s hiding place.

Soon, the creature turned away, and Sonic relaxed, taking the opportunity to examine the resident.

It appeared, for all the world, to look like a shaggy pony, yet one with a coat and a flashlight. It walked towards the back of the house, and looked about to leave, when it paused and leaned against the rail, looking out into the valley. Soon, it was joined by a second pony, who brought something with it. The two creatures spoke in hushed tones for a while.

A beetle began to climb up Sonic’s leg, and he twitched uncontrollably, shaking the underbrush. The pair of ponies did not seem to notice.

The discussion on the deck seemed to become heated, and then subsided, and soon both ponies went back inside, leaving a basket in their wake. Moments later, the outdoor lights went out, and then the tiny patch of yellow vanished from within.

Sonic counted out three minutes, and then flicked the curious beetle off his arm, extracted his leg, and flexed it. Good, nothing wrong but a little stiffness. He stood, and spared the house one last glance before moving on again.

He approached the cliff’s edge, being careful to avoid the open spaces wherever possible. One house implies more, he thought, peering through the oddly-tinted pines that lined the ridge. Sure enough, a sprawling village slept below. From this distance, it appeared that most of the buildings were dark, but an occasional lamp cast a faint amber glow through the empty streets. Before he could search there, however, he’d have to make his way through what appeared to be an orchard.

Orchard first, then. He breathed on his hands to warm them, then bent to tighten his laces, and dropped silently over the rise. After that, the village itself.

Destroying the robot was easy enough. It hadn’t tried to stop him, or defend itself. It didn’t even seem to notice he was there until he flipped it over and smashed it. Still, it had the look of Robotnik’s work, and that meant it was worth investi—There.

He pried a badge from the twitching machine’s undercarriage. While he could not understand the strange letters, the emblem looked familiar: even in the moonlight he could make out the stylized moustache and glasses, although the horseshoe was new.

“Here for a day,” he complimented himself as he turned the logo this way and that,“and I’ve already found one of his machines.” The corners of his mouth twitched in the memory of a smile—a familiar smirk briefly finding its way home before it vanished. Something buzzed in the distance, and it was getting closer. It sounded like...

SWATBots!

His heart raced as he scanned his surroundings for a hiding spot, but the barren trees afforded little in the way of cover. Forcing himself to remain still, he listened a moment longer, locating the source of the sound. Then he sped off in the opposite direction.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! His face twisted in disgust at his own carelessness. It had been too long, and he had gotten lazy. Of course it would sound an alarm! Next time, just destroy it, don’t take your time! You’ve wasted enough of it already! His good mood quickly turning sour, he set off for the village, doing his best to avoid any further devices in the orchard.

It wasn’t long before he arrived. The village was clean and tidy, with well-groomed walks and houses in good repair. Whoever lived here clearly cared for their surroundings, but as he had not yet seen a living soul, he was wary. Could robots be staffing the homes?

He circled the hamlet once, then twice, trying to see any hint of movement or even a night guard. Pausing next to a small shack, he crouched, catching his breath and deciding on a course of action.

I could search the main streets, he debated, counting out his options on his fingers, and try to find something else with this logo. He extended another digit. I could stick to the back alleys and see if there’s anyone or anything that lives in this place. A third. Or, I could wait for sunrise and simply walk in and say hello. He chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah. That’d go over great.”

Time’s an issue, so... His thoughts trailed off as he stood, stretched, and strode into the town, heading to what appeared to be a road of shops and storefronts. He had barely walked for ten minutes when he found something promising.

It can’t be that easy. The shop was huge, easily twice the width of any other building on the street, and standing three stories tall. Even in the dead of night, it was softly lit, every window glowing with gentle amber light. Most importantly, it bore a sign that hung out into the street: a large horseshoe, over which a pair of spectacles and a huge moustache rested.

He approached the picture-windows with caution, looking this way and that for tripwires, lasers, or switches. Seeing nothing, he peered inside, and marveled. On every countertop and every shelf were dozens of boxes, bags, and loose devices, each bearing the shop’s mark. There were wheeled devices, some that had legs, even a few with wings. They were all... Toys. Why would he make toys?

Pushing the thought away, he peered around the edges of the windowsill, and then looked up and down the street. Seeing no wires or witnesses, he smashed the window, wincing in expectation of an alarm. Beyond what sounded like barking in the distance, there was no response. Someone had to have heard that, he realized. Gotta jet.

Making haste, he cleared out enough glass to safely enter, then stepped inside. He leapt over tabletops and low shelves until he arrived at what appeared to be the register. Ignoring the machine for what lay beyond it, he headed to a solid-looking door. A shove granted no access, nor did attempting to force the handle.

He took a breath, stepped back, and dashed against the hinges, curling his head low and exposing his spines. To his relief, the door groaned and he heard something give. Trying the handle again, he was satisfied to find the door now opened, and more importantly, concealed the shop’s office.

A small safe was set into the floor, and a large desk took up the entire far wall of the tiny room, but what caught his eye were a series of framed newspaper clippings that decorated a low table near a padded chair. Each one featured a photograph of two happy creatures—ponies—like the one he had seen earlier at the house on the cliffside.

No, not like that pony. The mustachioed, wild-maned smiling face clearly was that same pony, and...

That moustache. Those goggles. That had to be this zone’s version of Robotnik. But he seemed so... nice.

He picked up one of the pictures and quickly made his escape. He had a thousand new questions, but the only place to look for answers was back at the beginning.

Worker blinked and poked his head out from beneath a pillow. It was just before dawn, he noticed, and the sky was just beginning to change from a deep blue to a —

He was startled awake by a hurried tapping on the glass. Adrenaline coursed through his veins when he realized a large, winged silhouette loomed at the door. Worker found himself halfway across the room before he recognized the blue & white mane of his old friend.

“Sundown!” he croaked. “What...” Breathing was good. Yes. He took the opportunity to cross the room and unlock the door. “What are you doing here? At this hour?”

The athletic pony wasted no time, turning to leave as he delivered the message. “There’s a problem in town, Worker. Something happened to the shop, and it doesn’t look like it was an accident. You need to hurry.”

“The shop? Let me wake Skyshine, and then I’ll head there with you. Please, come in and warm yourself a moment. I have some loose tea if you think we have time for a cup.”

“I don’t think we—” began Sundown, but Worker trotted away.

Skyshine was already up when Worker opened their door.

“I heard the commotion,” she began as he entered. She hurried a brush through her mane and kept one eye on him. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t rightly know. There’s been a problem down at the shop, but Sundown seems more intent on getting back to Pasofino than explaining. I’m going to pop down there and check things out. I should be back well in time to help with Snowdrop’s party.” He sidled close and pecked her cheek.

“Mm. Be sure you do.” She nuzzled him in return, and smiled warmly. “She’s got quite the list of preparations, you know.”

“I saw the wish-list last week. Regardless, I have to go. Love you, Skyshine.”

“Love you too,” she replied, before tending to her coiffure.

“I don’t think I’d enjoy being a pegasus!” Worker poured every measure of magic he could to keep himself firmly atop Sundown’s back. The town passed below, and then the sky, and then the town again. “I think I’m going to be ill!”

“Nonsense!” Sundown laughed as he shouted over his shoulder. “You were fine until the updraft!”

Moments later, the mischievous weather pony gracefully turned a dive into a gallop, then a trot, and then an easy canter as Worker slid off his back, panting. “Ha!” laughed Sundown. “You’re as green as my coat.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t change its color,” Worker replied, still nauseous. “Never. Never... again.” The airsick unicorn staggered on his feet, and tried to find his bearings. “Ah, yes, the shop. And-” his eyes narrowed, “-it’s got a broken window?”

“Nobody’s been inside yet. I figured you’d be able to tell if anything was out of place, but someone went in through here.” Sundown flicked his synthetic wing at the broken pane, then clarified. “At least, the hole’s big enough for anyone in town to have entered.”

“I see,” Worker replied, his stomach’s protestations suddenly silent. “Let’s go in.”

The door opened slowly, and the pair entered on careful hooves. Worker peered left, and then right. Suddenly, he asked, “How’s your memory, Sundown?”

“Uh, pretty good, Worker. I used to deliver messages for the Cloudsdale Weather Service before I hired out here.”

“Mm. Okay, so, I need you to remember what I’ll be saying here, best you can. I don’t have a recorder or a notebook at the moment.”

“...Okay?”

“Good.” Worker stepped forward, took a breath, and began surveying the room.

“Glass shattered inwards. Two distinct arcs of shards, suggesting the window was broken first, and then widened. I cannot detect prints in the glass, but there seems to be a coating of street dust from the outside. This implies someone entered.”

He stepped in further and began calling out items that caught his notice.

“The third craft table has been jostled and moved, with a weight atop it. There are gouges in the floor, and what appears to be a strange impression in the papers. The toy that previously sat on that table has been knocked to the floor and smashed. Craft table seven as well as the half-wall separating the children’s work area from the rest of the shop also display road dirt and signs of disturbance.”

Worker turned and flicked a switch, flooding the room with light, then smiled at Sundown before continuing his narration. “Someone stood on these tables and then leapt on them across to the back of the building. From here, I can see the door to the office has been forced. Come with me, please.”

The two of them wove a careful path through the disturbed papers and the swinging door to the back of the store. “Peering into the back of the shop, I see nothing obviously disturbed, and the safe does not appear to have been opened. Skyshine’s papers are still stacked upon the desk.” Worker stepped closer, and moved through the door.

“In fact, the only thing that seem to be missing is something that was framed here. If I remember, it was an article about the shop, with a picture.” Worker’s throat suddenly went dry. “Sundown, it was a picture of me and Skyshine. If she’s in trouble...”

“No time to waste. Outside. We’ll get you back home.”

“I... yes. Let’s go.”

Chapter 3

Chapter 3
Worker clung to Sundown’s neck, too distracted to consider magic. His mind was flooded with images of Skyshine in trouble, and with every passing moment the thoughts grew darker. By the time he arrived home, his wife was already struggling with an implacable foe... and trying to convince her to finish her waffles.

“Skyshine!” he called, bursting into the kitchen. “Someone-”

Two sets of surprised eyes looked up from the breakfast table, each above a feminine muzzle. One was covered in whipped cream, and the other tried to swallow a mouthful of tea.

“Worker,” Skyshine choked down her drink and stood, bracing herself with one hoof against the table. “What’s wrong?”

“I...” Worker sighed, and rested his head against the doorjamb. “Nothing, apparently. Too little sleep, and too many worries.”

“Something must have caused this.” She approached her husband, worry knitting her brow.

Sundown peered over Worker’s shoulder and, seeing nothing of concern, busied himself outside.

Snowdrop took the opportunity to reach for the whipped cream bottle.

The mare nuzzled Worker’s cheek, then pulled back to look him in the eye. “What happened at the shop? Young lady, put the bottle down.”

Snowdrop stared at the back of her mother’s head, incredulous. Worker spared his daughter a smile and a shrug before looking back to his wife.

“Someone broke into the shop. They made a beeline to the back office, forced the door, but only took a picture. Everything else, if scattered, was left behind. I’m afraid I drove Sundown to distraction getting me back up here. I was convinced something bad was going to happen; the picture was one of you and me.”

“Worker,” she began, then sighed. She opted instead to kiss his cheek. “Your dreams have been getting the better of you. Will you write to Luna tonight, after things have quieted down?”

Worker took a deep, calming breath, then relented. “We’ll talk about it after the party.”

“Good. Now, I think you have some promises to keep. A stack of them, if I recall. About eight inches high.”

Worker blinked, and mouthed to his wife. “Eight?”

A satisfied grin was her only reply.

He sighed in resignation, glanced over his wife’s shoulder, and addressed his daughter. “How about it, little filly? Are you ready to set up for your big day?”

With an eager nod and a graceful leap from her chair, Snowdrop cantered towards the couple. She favored her mother with a brief nuzzle, and then practically pushed her father into the next room, grinning madly. “Let’s go, Daddy!”

He could only chuckle and obey. Soon, his worries collapsed under the weight of her optimism.

It was going to be the best party a filly ever had.

Two ponies lay exhausted atop a jumbled pile of cushions in a corner of a large room. While the mare slept fitfully, the stallion examined with weary eyes what remained of his surroundings.

Streamers hung from every imaginable point, spilling over the floor and tangling around piles of debris. Empty boxes were piled high, wrapping paper strewn to every corner, and, somewhere in the pile of stuffed animals on the other side of the room snored a little seven-year-old filly.

A stack of new books had collapsed at some time during the evening. From his vantage point, he could just make out titles like Seapony Adventures, The Cutie-Mark Crusader Handbook, and Legends of Everfree. He could not see the one he had purchased—Teach Yourself Levitation—but from his wife’s reaction, he had a suspicion that she was sleeping on it.

There had been a cake on a table, somewhere. He knew that because his left hoof had just found a slice of it. No sign of the table remained, but it might have been moved to the deck—a draft was coming from somewhere, and he could see the front door was tightly shut down the hall.

“Skyshine?”

There was no answer.

“Skyshine...” He nudged her gently.

“G’way.”

“The party’s over, Skyshine. We need to get a filly to bed, and then ourselves.”

“Mm. Fine here.”

Worker realized that he was fine there, too. He rolled over, slid the back door shut, latched it, and then snuggled close to his wife. Soon, they both slept.

The mess was still there in the morning when they woke. After waiting a few minutes to be sure it was not a dream, the pair helped each other up and set to work. Skyshine started on breakfast, and Worker levitated the bulk of the trash into separate piles. Then, he began searching for the furniture.

The table was outside, after all. And upside down.

He slid it into place and began his hunt for chairs. By the time he returned, Snowdrop was perched atop the table, Teach Yourself Levitation open across her lap. She had found her father’s goggles, and was trying to read the instructions, one lens over an eye, and the other perched atop her horn.

“Snowdrop?”

She looked up, smiling. The goggles swayed precariously atop her head. “Yes, Daddy?”

There was an odd silence, then, as Worker tried to think of what he had wanted to say. His words had been chased away, and he found himself defeated by his own grin.

Surrounding the precocious filly, all of seven-going-on-twenty, were scraps of spare parchment and a few half-full flasks of ink. Behind each ear rested a number of mismatched quills. A smudge of black ink crossed her muzzle.

“Ah.” No good. He’d start laughing any moment now. “Uh, is that a good book?” His voice squeaked as he fought down an outburst.

Snowdrop lifted her chin and stared imperiously at her father through her goggles-cum-monocle. “Yes, Daddy. It’s very good. Very educushional.”

Worker could only nod and mumble, then walk as quickly as possible to the kitchen.

“Dear?” He barely managed a straight face.

Skyshine looked up from a sink full of dishes. “Mm?”

“Your daughter. She’s... Well. Just go see.”

Her curiosity piqued, Skyshine trotted down the hall.

Worker managed to pour himself a mug of coffee just in time to hear his wife collapse in laughter, and his daughter screech in indignation.

“We really do need to thank Tea Blossom, dear.” Skyshine fumbled with an earring, checked her dress for the fourth time, and then rummaged through her vanity for something that was apparently vitally important.

Worker stepped in from the bath, absentmindedly adjusting the collar on his jacket. “I thought what we were paying her was thanks enough,” he replied with a grin. He turned to the door and pretended not to hear her annoyed grumbling. “But I’ll be sure to thank her directly.”

Worker stepped out into the greatroom, and his grin grew wider.

Bulwark, dressed in a lovely white and gold gown, stood beside her husband, gazing intently everywhere but the room behind her. Skean, close-shaven and wearing his family’s hunting plaid, stared with her, flicking his wings in absent-minded irritation. Beyond the pair, a harried Tea Blossom pleaded with her charge who seemed determined to levitate everything in the room.

Snowdrop still wore the goggles.

His guests, as one, looked to him as he entered, an unspoken plea in their eyes.

“She’ll just be a moment, folks,” he recited, dodging a stuffed rabbit. “I’ll go take the composting out, and we should be ready to go.”

The three, having heard this timeline before, wore fixed expressions of calculated, lifeless joy. Worker’s grin surrendered to open laughter, and he strolled out of the room, stopping briefly in the kitchen for the trash bin. He then left to attend to matters out-of-doors, and away from the enthusiastic filly’s home-grown chaos.

It was a beautiful day outside. The late-afternoon sun had just begun to color the clouds in faint washes of yellow and orange, and the lengthening shadows had brought another early night to the valley below. Worker, still chuckling, trotted to the composter, loaded it up, and spun it about. He shook the dirt off of each hoof and turned around and began the trek back inside, stepping to a merry tune only he could hear.

He paused. The woods had gone utterly silent. Suddenly, he felt very alone, and very vulnerable. The world seemed to tilt, and then something impossible stepped out of the gloom at the edge of the forest.

Worker froze, his mind racing, trying to figure out an explanation while simultaneously calculating an escape. He recognized his visitor. The blue spines, white gloves, and red shoes were unmistakable. What he did not recognize was the expression; that is, it did not seem at home on the hedgehog’s face, but it was one he had seen countless times before.

Sonic approached, slowly, palms out in a gesture of goodwill. He made soothing noises with each step, as if approaching a skittish animal. Were that not an accurate assessment, Worker might have been amused, but in his view those gloved hands were akin to grasping claws.

Soon, he was a pace or two away, and had not said a word.

Worker tried to speak, but found his voice had left him. He opened his mouth again, and making no noise, closed it, watching his guest with wild eyes.

“Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.” Sonic crouched down, lowered his hands, and brought his eyes level with Worker.

“Who are you?” the hedgehog asked quietly. His usual sarcasm had been replaced by what sounded like genuine concern. It had been so long since Worker had heard Mobian that he found it difficult to follow. “And where am I? And who taught you to make this?”

Whatever it was Sonic brandished in his right hand, Worker could barely see it. His head was swimming. He felt like he was being slowly asphyxiated by his own jacket. He forced himself to take a breath, which cleared his vision. He recognized his goggles-and-horseshoe emblem stamped on a piece of metal.

His mind raced for answers, piecing together what it could. However Sonic came to be here, he was looking for Robotnik, not a pony. World-hopping was nothing new, and they had both encountered parallel selves in the past. This could be his chance to feign ignorance... But, somehow, misleading him now seemed wrong.

A decision made, he found his voice once more.

“Good evening, Sonic,” he croaked, cordially, in his old dialect. “You’ve looked better.”

As Worker said it, he realized it was true. Sonic looked older—even elderly—and his features were creased with worry and age.

Sonic recoiled as if struck, stumbled back half a pace, and gaped. The scrap of metal fell towards the ground, forgotten, but before it landed Worker found himself in the hedgehog’s grip.

“Robotnik?” Sonic’s voice was a strained whisper, and his pupils widened to take in every new detail. “It’s you? Actually you? You look like an exile from Acorn!” The hand on each of Worker’s shoulders tightened painfully, and his voice grew louder. “Is this some sort of sick joke?”

Worker heard the click and creak of a door opening. Let that be Bulwark, he thought. Let that be another pony. Any pony. Anyone but...

There was an audible slam followed by the sound of hooves on the deck. Sonic’s head swiveled towards the front of the house. There was no doubt of a witness now. They both peered at the corner intently. Worker began murmuring a prayer to Luna while Sonic’s eyes narrowed at the interloper.

A little sky blue unicorn trotted into view, curious about whatever new thing her father had discovered outside. “Daddy?” she called, her gaze scanning the treeline before it fell upon the two old foes. “Daddy!” she cried. “Who is that? Are you okay?”

Worker’s heart nearly froze in his chest. “Snowdrop,” he gasped, “go inside. Get the grown-ups. Go.”

“But, Daddy, I...” She stepped forward, curiosity and a desire to help prodding her closer.

Out of the corner of his eye, Worker noticed a change in Sonic’s expression. He seemed to be weighing options.

“Snowdrop, I said go!” His voice touched upon an emotion he had not felt in some time, and he used its power to push the filly away. “I said go, young lady, or you will regret it! Go, now, and get the adults!”

Worker’s heart shattered. He watched his daughter’s face crumple and her eyes well with tears, but she went, and she did so as quickly as she could. Sonic watched in wondering silence before he managed to put the exchange together. When he turned to face the pony again, his expression was unreadable; an eerie, emotionless calm reigned over his features.

“A child. You. Which means that other pony’s a sweetheart, at the least. Does she know about what you’ve done?”

“She knows,” Worker replied simply.

“You’ve murdered millions for power. Destroyed a planet. Singled out my friends. And you come here and start a new life—in a new body!—in some sort of candy-colored fantasyland? What gives you the right? What gave you the right?” The calm vanished like a soap-bubble, and the world exploded in sparks.

Sonic had lifted him and thrown him against the wall. Worker, dazed, in a heap on the ground, tried to focus on the face of the creature that loomed over him, shouting . “I should end you here!” The hedgehog balled his fists and rolled his shoulders in their sockets, moving in for the kill.

The unseen door slammed open, and hoofsteps could be heard galloping closer. Sonic’s head whipped towards the corner, and then back to Robotnik. Frustration and fear battled on his face, and in a flash he was gone.

Bulwark was the first to clear the corner. When she did, she saw only some strange prints on the ground, and an old friend who lay against the wall, too terrified to do anything but mutter a strange word over and over again.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“The good news, Skyshine, is that there’s nothing physically wrong.” Swift Winds tucked an assortment of instruments into his saddlebags, and then dug out a small bottle and offered it to her.

“The bad news, though...” He frowned at his patient, then regarded Skyshine again. “He’s suffered a blow to his psyche, but that will heal. I’ve sedated him for the time being, but what concerns me are the side effects: chiefly, disturbingly vivid dreams. With an imagination like his, he won’t rest peacefully, but he will rest. When he wakes, he’ll need patience and love.”

“I understand. Love and patience in abundance.” Skyshine took the bottle and set it down on the nearby mantle, then turned to adjusting Worker’s pillows until he seemed more comfortable. “Swift,” she began without looking up, “what about the creature outside?”

The physician peered out of the large windows of the greatroom, and into the night. “He might not remember the encounter at all. From what Snowdrop tells me, there was a large blue thing holding him, and by the time Bulwark got to them it was gone.” He turned to face Skyshine, and hugged her briefly before looking her in the eye, a hoof lingering on her shoulder in comfort. “If he does recall the encounter, try to remember what he says, even if it seems nonsensical. We can’t be sure that whatever it was is hostile, but the more we learn about this new visitor the better.”

“I’ll do that, doctor. Thank you.”

“Be safe, Skyshine, and take care of yourself too. Your husband and daughter will need you.”

She nodded, and he turned to the door, leaving without another word. Before the door could close completely, it stopped, and opened again. A moment’s terror seized Skyshine’s throat before a white pony slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Oh, Bulwark. I’m so relieved. For a moment, I—”

Bulwark held up a hoof and gave her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it. I spoke with Skean and he’s gonna keep watch tonight on the roof. I’ve got indoors duty. Tomorrow, Saber Dance and Amaranth will take over. Oh, Saber wanted me to tell you that Tea Blossom has offered to keep Snowdrop for the rest of the week, Sisters bless her.”

Skyshine’s expression flickered between confusion and concern. “Guard duty? You’re taking up posts?”

Her friend smiled, and shrugged. “It’s what we do, Sky. We look out for each other.” She closed the distance between them, and squeezed her tightly. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I...” Skyshine buried her face in Bulwark’s neck, and sighed, breathing raggedly. “Thank you.”

“Nah, kid. No thanks necessary. Love you.”

“Love you too. Tea?”

“Yes. Please. I’ll wait here.”

The door lay just beyond a disused, narrow catwalk, and Worker approached it with relief. Beyond it, he knew, lay the answer to his dilemma and the ability to protect what he held dear.

He put one hoof upon the corroded steel mesh, pushing against it, testing its strength. Remarkably, the rusty metal flexed but held firm. One step, and then another, and soon he found himself halfway across. Another step, and the floor fell out from under him. The chains that held the catwalk dissolved into dust.

He plummeted into the darkness, reaching out in vain towards the door which was now open. On the far side of the ruined catwalk stood a tall, round man with spindly limbs, who peered over the rail and shouted unintelligibly as he vanished from sight.

Worker woke with a start, panic rising in his throat as his eyes tried to focus in the dark. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Deep, soothing brea—

In the dim starlight, something stirred. The pony froze as the room slowly resolved around him, strange shapes becoming a pile of pillows, or a doorway, or an empty fireplace. One shape, however, was unfamiliar, and it crept along just past the windows to the deck, windows that he realized were now missing.

They were not the only items missing. The starlight was not coming through the windows, but from above. The roof to his home sagged, and gaping holes revealed the clear night sky. He could see no moon. It was then that the smell registered.

He found himself enveloped by the dank, mildewed atmosphere of a home long abandoned. The pillows at his side stank of mold and rot, and crumbled at his touch. The floor groaned beneath his weight, and the doors from the greatroom hung at odd angles.

Whatever lurked outside continued its slow journey. Breathing as slowly as he could, Worker waited for it to pass beyond sight. It did so in time, and the faint crackling from outdoors hinted at its passage into the woods.

He stood, then, and looked about. It was an odd relief that no personal effects seemed to remain. No photographs rested on the mantle, no toys lay in the hall, and when he stepped into the master bedroom, he noted no jewelry on the vanity, or clothes in the closet.

He left his quarters and, against his better judgement, walked towards his daughter’s room. As he approached, he noticed a faint bluish glow that shone under the closed door. His pace quickened and he rested a hoof upon the door’s handle, swallowed hard, and pushed it open.

It swung freely: perfectly balanced and noiseless.

Past the door, instead of his daughter’s room, he found a tiny workshop. Clean and sterile, with white countertops and steel shelving, it was something between an operating theater and a storeroom.

A lamp glowed faintly near a set of clamps and a magnifying glass, meant for delicate work. A set of tools ranging from hammers to tiny pliers adorned a nearby wall in neat rows, soldiers ready to march upon his command. Two chairs sat nearby, one invitingly empty, and the other occupied by a tall, round man with spindly limbs.

“It’s about time you showed up. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Worker woke with a start. He lay on a dimly-lit scaffolding. A rusty catwalk waited nearby, and it seemed terribly familiar...

Skyshine stroked Worker’s mane, humming tunelessly, one soothing note placed after another in an attempt to bring him comfort. Nearby, Bulwark snored, her muzzle buried in a pillow.

“You did warn me that weirdness followed you, you old lummox, but you never said it would be this extreme. You look so tired.” She bent close and kissed his forehead. “I can only pray your dreams are pleasant ones.”

Worker mumbled something in his old language, the same thing he’d said a dozen times that night, and turned slightly in his sedated slumber.

Skyshine sighed, and leaned into the pillows next to him, too exhausted to sleep, and too fearful she might miss him waking. There was nothing to do but wait.

“I’ve waited too long to talk to you!” a familiar voice shouted from above. “You know what’s at stake!”

Worker’s hooves struggled to find purchase on the slick, scum-coated steel. The only light here was his horn, and it fought vainly against the oppressive darkness.

Before him, and behind, waited a featureless black. He could see flat grey walls to either side, rusting where the paint had sloughed away. Mesh catwalks hung above, and he thought he could see someone leaning against the nearest railing.

Whoever it was, he continued shouting. “You know how driven that creature is. He’s found us again, after fifteen years, and he’s only grown angrier!”

Worker pressed on. Maybe up ahead he’d find a ramp out of this trench. His companion kept pace.

“I don’t know if you even remember what’s happened, but we’re in serious trouble. He’s back, and he’s going to hurt us in any way he can. Do you remember our reasons for leaving? Do you remember how relentless the little bastard was?”

The unicorn stepped over a hole in the flooring, and peered up again at the rather insistent fellow. “Look,” he called back, the words feeling strange in his mouth. “I don’t know what you’re going on about, but if you know a way out of this pit, I’d appreciate the information.”

“Bah. Fifteen meters ahead, on your right. I’ll wait.” With that, the voice was gone.

Worker trudged ahead and found the ramp in short order. He climbed out of the trench, shook off his hooves, and turned to thank the mysterious speaker. There was no-one there. Bewildered, he scanned left and right, and then on a whim, he looked up. There, again, waited the shrouded stranger.

“There’s a ladder about twenty meters behind you. Come on up. The light’s better here.”

Worker could see it was true. A quick jaunt and a rickety climb later, he arrived at the spot where his benefactor once stood, only to be treated to a glimpse of his heels as he strode up a stairwell.

And so it progressed. Every new floor was a little better lit, and in a little better repair. Every new encounter was more fleeting. After what seemed like hours, Worker stalked his counterpart by sound alone. The rattle of a tracked door and a flood of light told of his quarry’s passage to the outside.

Worker quickened his pace, clambering up one last stairwell. He longed to see the sky once more, and possibly the face of the man he had followed so long. He found himself in a large warehouse, empty save for the tunnel from which he had just emerged, a collection of dust and cobwebs—and the way out.

He staggered outside, squinting in the too-bright sunlight. His mind raced to take in every feature of the terrain, but he soon found it unnecessary to devote such attention — everything seemed familiar. No, not familiar. It seemed like home. Those hills, there: he knew them. The crescent moon that hung along the horizon was also hauntingly known.

He turned to view the warehouse, and stumbled. His legs gave out, and he fell gracelessly to the ground. Beyond the warehouse rose a tower, and to the top of that tower was tethered an immense vessel. It resembled an enormous sphere, fashioned into a face that he knew too well: one with a great, bushy moustache, mirrored spectacles, and a shiny, bald forehead.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the voice behind him. “It took some doing, rebuilding Mobius here when you clearly wanted to forget it. Still, it was worth the effort. After all, ‘that which we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly’. Now, we have some catching up to do, don’t we?”

Worker pulled his eyes away from the blasphemy, and turned to look behind him.

He found himself waiting.

Skyshine woke to a scream of terror. A keening howl of raw fear erupted from the throat of the pony that thrashed beside her. It was wordless, but it did not need words to impart its message. Every hair on her body stood on end. Across the room, she barely saw Bulwark scramble to her hooves, shaking sleep out of her head. Her focus, however, was on her husband.

Worker stared out the window, his features blank but his eyes fixed on the brilliant disc that was just clearing the horizon. His mouth worked, his jaw flexed, and every tendon in his neck stood taut. The roar faded to a wail, and then to a whimper as the last tendrils of breath left him.

To hell with caution, she thought, and reached out to hold him. He shuddered at her touch, and gasped audibly. Suddenly lucid, he began to panic, unsure of who or what held him. She tightened her grip, squeezing him close, and murmured his name again and again.

Gingerly, he held her back, then squeezed. Soon, his embrace was iron. “Skyshine,” he croaked, “are you okay?”

She laughed despite herself, nuzzling his neck, nickering with joy. “Me? You’re worried about me?”

“You seem frightened, dearheart.” He smoothed her mane with a hoof. “Of course I’m worried.”

“You old lummox,” she replied in a bare whisper. “You’re awake. I could live off this feeling alone.”

Bulwark smiled at the pair, invisible to them now, and stepped out to the deck to give them some well-earned privacy. She noticed her husband leaning on the railing, watching the dawn, and trotted to his side with her heart soaring.

“I tell you, hon,” she began, nuzzling his neck, “those two could face the Princesses themselves, so long as they had each other.”

Her husband flicked his ears at the mild blasphemy—he had always taken the more formal view of the Sisters—but never took his gaze from the town below.

“It’s good they do, Bulwark.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take a keek,” he replied, gesturing with his muzzle.

Bulwark peered over the railing towards Pasofino. From somewhere along the tree-lined streets rose a tendril of oily black smoke.

“Sundown was jus’ here,” he continued. “Someone’s destroyed Worker’s shop. It’s burnin’ now—a complete loss—an’ it appears t’ be th’ only loss on th’ row. It must’ve been delib’rately targeted.”

Bulwark spat, uttering an epithet that Skean hadn’t thought she’d known.

He could only nod in agreement.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The kitchen was too quiet, she decided. Mommy wasn’t telling a story about the town, and Daddy wasn’t even at the table. He was busy working in the other room again and he really should stop and come have his breakfast.

Snowdrop put her fork down and slid out of her chair, then headed for the door. After two steps, she paused to look at her mother. Mommy hadn’t moved. Mommy hadn’t even said a word about leaving the table without clearing her plate.

That wouldn’t do at all! Mommies were supposed to be bossy. She looked forward to being a mommy too, one day, and practiced being bossy on her Daddy.

“Mommy!” she pleaded.

Mommy did not answer.

“Mommy.” This time she commanded, using a tone that would normally get her a time-out.

Still nothing.

Snowdrop walked back to the table and nudged her with her nose. “Mommy?”

Her mommy shook her head and blinked, as if waking from a nap. “Hmm?” She glanced up at the empty chair then turned to look at her. “Snowdrop?” Her eyes looked tired, too. “What’s wrong, hon?”

“Mommy, are you okay? You look sick.” Mommies that were sick needed special care! Like breakfast in bed, and not staring at cold pancakes.

Her mommy smiled, then, and everything was suddenly better. “I’m a little tired, sweetheart, but I’m just fine.” She bent down and kissed her on the forehead, in that special way only she could. “I promise. Now, why don’t you run along and go play? Maybe Daddy needs some help. I’ll clean up in here.”

That was even better! Not only was Mommy okay, but she didn’t have to do dishes. Humming a nonsense song to herself, Snowdrop cantered out of the kitchen and set off to find out what wonderful things were going on elsewhere.

Worker paced briefly along the windows that looked out onto the deck, lips slightly pursed as he considered his options. The table had been moved by the fireplace, and Holly poured tea for three. Bulwark waited patiently, focused more on her teacup than the room about her.

“No, I don’t think so,” he decided. “We’ll need to set up something here where I can get my work done and keep an eye on the family.” He lifted a thick pad of sketches and spun it about so that Bulwark and Holly could see. “The problem will be the minimum space requirements, and the time we can spend without impacting everyone else’s schedules.”

He looked over Holly’s shoulder and smiled. Holly glanced up and saw Snowdrop enter, while Bulwark studied the brown liquid in her cup.

“There you are, sweetie! Did you have a good breakfast?”

“Mm-hmm, and Mommy’s fine too.”

Worker’s brow furrowed momentarily, but he scooped up his filly and brought her to hover before the sketchbook. The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement as he turned her this way and that, keeping the sketchbook just out of reach.

“Now, Snowdrop, I’m glad you’re here. I have an important question for you.”

Snowdrop giggled, now upside down, as she tried to focus her attention long enough to move the sketchbook closer. “What is it, Daddy?”

The sketchbook suddenly zoomed towards the little filly, and a few pages tore themselves out to dance about her. “My dearest darling daughter!” Worker began in the voice he used when he sold his toys. “Your father would like to know if he should make a workshop here. I would be able to spend more time at home, and have my lunches here every day, but...”

Snowdrop tried to look attentive, but her eyes were drawn to the fascinating sketches of tools and machines she could only guess the names of. Suddenly, the papers were gone, and she found herself looking at her father.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to distract you. Listen: I need to move my shop here, but to do so means I’d need to move into your playroom. We just don’t have enough space right now. In the meantime, I can set up a play area out here in the greatroom. Would that be okay?”

“I dunno, Daddy,” she replied, one hoof tapping her lips in serious consideration. “Could you build me another playroom?”

Her father chuckled, and set her gently to the floor. “Hm. Negotiating, are we?” His eyes twinkled, and he bent down to nuzzle the precocious filly. “How’s this? If I don’t move out of your playroom in a month, I will build you a new one, and I’ll let you help me design it.”

Snowdrops eyes went wide. “I can have a skylight?”

He nodded, picking back up his sketchbook. “You can have a skylight.”

“And a little deck?” she squealed, sitting back on her haunches.

“And a little deck,” he replied, grinning at her over the pages.

“And a pool with a waterfall?” Her voice was very much like a whispered prayer.

Worker shook his head, chuckling. “No.”

“But you might change your mind, right?” Her smile was forged of pure avarice.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Not on the waterfall, I think, darling. But we’ll talk. Do we have a deal, Miss Snowdrop?” He stuck out a hoof.

Snowdrop nodded, and shook his outstretched hoof with two of her own. “Yes, Mr. Daddy, sir. We have a deal.” She leaned in, hugged him tight, and pecked him on the cheek.

He squeezed her in a hug, and tousled her mane. “Okay, then. Run along and play in your room for a few minutes. Tea Blossom will be here soon, and I need to discuss things with my friends now.”

“‘kay, Daddy. Love you!” With that, she dashed down the hall towards her room.

He watched her go, then turned back to his papers. “Now, where were we?”

Bulwark spoke first, still studying her tea. “We were politely ignoring your descent into obsession.”

“My... what?”

Holly sat down across from Bulwark, and gestured to the tea at the third seat. “Sit,” she commanded, her voice gentle, yet implacable, like a moss-covered boulder. “We need to talk.”

Worker glanced at his sketchbook, then back at his friends. Sighing, he set it down, joined the mares, and steeled himself for a debate.

He’d never been one for planning. He had never needed it.

Robotnik would build a big evil thing, paint it red, and make no attempt to hide it. He, in turn, would rush in, and other than a few clever traps or foes, would find little impediment until he reached his opponent.

They’d square off, fight, and Sonic would prove that good and fast could defeat evil and brainy time and time again. Something never sat quite right about that...

Now, however, he needed a plan. More importantly, he needed information. Most of all, he needed someone to talk to.

“As annoying as she was,” he said to himself, “Amy always had the time to listen.”

She’d had more than time, lately. They all had. Despite all their differences, the old team of friends had been getting closer over the last few years. Maybe it was just the comfort of familiarity, but he knew that a good friend was only a few small steps from a confidante, and perhaps even a lover.

Not that Knuckles would sit idly. He’d fancied Amy for far too long, even though she was blind to it. She was too focused on the only other available hedgehog. In that light, he had to admit, their last argument made a lot more sense.

“I still don’t see why you have to go at all, Sonic,” she’d groused, pacing the floor of the lab. “It’s been decades since we saw glove or goggle of the old man.”

Amy’s hammer was close at hand, and the frequent glances she threw at it made Sonic glad he could still outrun her.

“We’re not sure he’s dead,” Sonic replied. He looked over to Knuckles for support, but the red grouch was studiously ignoring the argument by focusing on his coffee. “We never found a body, after all. I have to be sure.”

“You have to. You, singular.” Amy had, somehow, laid hands on her hammer, and was now resting her chin on its handle. She peered over it at him. “It’s not enough that we’ve managed to live happier lives now that he’s gone.”

“I can’t afford to have a happy life if he’s still out there.” He shrugged at her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You won’t have a happy one if you insist on going,” she snapped.

Sonic sighed and sat down on the floor next to a pylon, staring at his hands. He ran them through his quills, and then let them fall to his side.

“Knuckles. Help me out here. You know how relentless he was, trying to get the Master Emerald from Angel Island. “

Knuckles said nothing for a moment, but Sonic waited patiently. After a few minutes’ silence, the echidna set down his mug and grumbled to himself. “I think,” he began, then nudged the mug away from the edge of the table. “I think that’s how we know he’s finally gone.”

Sonic was incredulous. “You’re not taking her side,” he gestured towards their pink companion with both hands, then threw them up in frustration. “Or are—”

Knuckles forestalled him with a raised hand. “I’m taking no-one’s side. I simply think that as smart and resourceful as he was, he’d have come back if he intended to.” He picked up his mug once more and sipped it, grimacing. “That’s all.”

Sonic stood and kicked the dust off his shoes. “Fine. I see. Fine. So, because we’re not in danger, we can sit around and retire comfortably. Meanwhile, he might be out there razing some other world. A world with more foxes to kill... or more bats, Knuckles.”

Knuckles got to his feet, the mug’s contents splashing to the ground as it was crushed into dust. The old warrior had a fire in his eyes, and glared at Sonic menacingly.

Sonic barked a laugh. “Save it. I’m going. I’m going tonight, as a matter of fact. I’ll go alone, since my friends don’t see it fit to support me on this.”

Amy shook her hammer at him menacingly. “Sonic, that’s not—”

“Forget it, Amy. Just forget it.” He stalked down the gangplank towards the private quarters.

“Two hours!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Have it ready!”

Knuckles shrugged at Amy, and walked towards the machine to check on some repairs.

Amy fumed behind her terminal, but soon she too was back at work.

***

The time had passed quickly, but he’d not been idle. Letters were written and left in his friends’ chambers. Arrangements were made and contingencies set into motion. There was too much to say, and too little time to say it. If he started, he might not go at all.

He had a swig of something bracing, checked his laces, and made a beeline for the teleporter’s catwalk. He took care to climb quietly so he could watch his companions for a time. He knew he had to go, and he was fairly certain they knew it too. There would be no rest until they had their answers, despite Knuckles’ optimism.

The pair were still at their stations. It looked as if neither had left their post, save to refill or replace their mugs. Sonic felt a little guilty about losing his temper, but despite the argument, Amy and Knuckles were running a last few diagnostics. He wanted to apologize, but... The letters would have to do.

Amy looked up from her terminal, and called over to Knuckles. “Give me a status on the Emerald?”

“I think we’re ready,” came the reply. Knuckles walked into view, stifling a yawn. “Let’s start ‘er up.”

Amy didn’t even look up before shouting, “Sonic! We’re firing it up. Get to the launch platform!”

Sonic shook his head, and called back from the catwalk. “On my way. Go ahead and start the sequencing.” He broke into a run and headed for the platform. By the time he got there, Amy was shouting more instructions.

“Starting the sequence now, Sonic!”

“Roger that.” He looked at his friends toiling below him, and felt a chill. “And Amy? Knuckles?” Thank you.”

Knuckles looked up at him and squinted. “You make it sound like a funeral, hedgehog.”

“C’mon!” Sonic replied, blustering like old times. “This is me we’re talking about. I’ll come back just fine.”

Knuckles shrugged and returned to his crystal-gazing.

Amy called up a moment later. “I hope so! Return to the same spot in two weeks, and we’ll re-open the portal. Don’t forget. The Emerald’s taken a few hits, and I don’t know if we’ll have another chance.”

“Two weeks,” he replied. Then, he reached for the button, and...

***

Sonic winced. That had hurt, in ways he could not even find words for. Still, he was here, and so was Robotnik. That left him to decide what to do.

He paced back and forth in a tiny clearing just north of the village. The smell of smoke was still heavy in the air. I guess the town would be more concerned with checking for damage than forming a search party. Besides, I could always outrun one of these ponies if they came looking.

He paused and looked back towards the thin tendril of smoke over the trees. “That... could have gone better,” he admitted aloud. “Knocking the place over seemed simple. How was I to know it’d go up?”

It’s too late now. Maybe you’ll have time to explain it before you head home.

“Home. Heh.” He shook his head. “Shoulda thought of that when you had him in your hands, Sonic. You could be outta here.” It was true. He had told himself repeatedly, since last night, it was better to be sure of his victory. Anyone, or anything, could have been coming around that corner, and then where would he be?

What was the word he was looking for? Prag-something? It didn’t matter.

He could remember a time when his goal was simply “stop Robotnik”. Capture him, put him away, and go on with life. Problem was, life was getting scarce, in more ways than one.

Pragmatism, that was the word.

Sally... he had been barred from attending the funeral, as he was the primary suspect at the time.

Tails hadn’t survived the assault. One too many booby-traps. Well, at least it’d been quick.

Rouge had been next to go. She’d never been exactly stable, and one day Knuckles found her in her room, staring at the walls, mumbling about “trust” in a half-dozen different languages. Then there was...

No. He wasn’t going to list them all.

All the old arguments had begun welling up. Seemed that without a villain to band together against, the old agendas resurfaced, and everyone was back to fighting each other. In the end, there remained only three loyal members of the Freedom Fighters: Amy, Knuckles, and himself—and he was feeling his age. A few decades would do that to a hedgehog.

So many years, and for what? A pony.

He laughed aloud, then. “All I need now is a pretty dress and a tiara.”

The laughter didn’t last. Soon, Sonic fell silent as he turned everything he knew over in his mind. He paced an hour more, wandering deeper into the forest. His stomach was growling, and he hadn’t had a comfortable night’s sleep since he had arrived.

“Too tired for this, Sonic.” He chuckled at himself. “Next thing you know, you’ll be talking to yourself in the woods.”

He sighed and watched the clouds drift by. The sky grew progressively darker as time passed. Around him, the forest prepared for nightfall. Squirrels darted from tree to tree, birds returned to their nests, and all around him, unseen things rustled beneath the leaves.

Sonic’s brow furrowed. He glanced from branch to branch, from cloud to cloud, and still found nothing of inspiration. He spotted a nearby stump, sat, and began counting on his fingers.

“Alright. One. Robotnik is here, with a kid, and living as a pony.” He still couldn’t get his head around that, but it didn’t matter.

“Two. There are other ponies here, living in a village. From the shops, homes, and the alarm that went out when the fire started, it’s got some kinda government.” The smell of the smoke might have faded, but he still felt a little guilty.

“Three. Robotnik is a member of this place, and well-liked enough to be allowed to work here.” He paused, then, considering the implications. Shaking his head, he moved on.

“Four. This means that either the ponies are ignorant of his past, know of his past and do not care, or are actively supporting him with knowledge of his past deeds. That means...” He moved to his thumb.

“Five. I have no idea what that means, other than Robotnik still needs to be taken down!” Groaning with frustration, he craned his head back and returned to watching clouds.

A squirrel bounded into his field of view, stopped, and regarded him with curiosity. Muttering, the hedgehog sat up and dusted off his quills. The squirrel remained above, chittering inquisitively.

Sonic glanced up to the vexsome creature. “I don’t suppose you can be of any help?”

The squirrel squeaked and bounded into the upper canopy. From somewhere in the high branches, the angry rodent chattered at him for the fright.

“Figures.” He stared at his hands for a moment, turning them over this way and that. His thoughts followed suit.

“Robotnik needs to be brought to justice. That much is known. The ponies here either have been misled by him, or enlisted into his work. So, they’ll be no help, or will actively protect him.” He stood, cracked his back, and paced in a wide circle around the stump.

“This means I need to get Robotnik away from them, somehow. Problem is, he’s not left his house since my first visit. He didn’t even leave when I destroyed his factory, and in the past that was a sure-fire way to get him to show his mug.” He was sure that would have worked. So sure, in fact, he had waited too long in the street for him to arrive. He knew he’d been spotted by some of the townsfolk. Careless.

“So, what does he value more than his factory? What can I use to get him to react? I haven’t seen any hint of his roboticizer, despite the machine I wrecked earlier. It’s like he’s gone soft.” For a moment, Sonic considered the possibility, then spat in disgust.

“Soft or not, he still needs to answer for what he’s done. I can’t afford to take it easy, to give him a way to weasel out. His hands are covered in blood.” His own hands tightened into fists, and he studied his knuckles.

“I really should have taken him out, back there. Or at least dragged him off. Lesson learned. Next time, I’ll try harder, no matter what friends he may have.” Friends. He suddenly felt very alone. I wish Amy were here.

Sighing, he peered up the incline that eventually led towards Robotnik’s house. “I should have tried harder.” His mood turned bleak as he trudged deeper into the woods.

In the moonlight, he found an ideal spot near a rise in the land. A number of fallen logs were scattered nearby, and soon enough he was able to collect enough beetles and grubs for a meal. They’re not chilidogs, but they’ll do. After eating his fill, he burrowed out a small recess at the side of the rise and settled in, covering himself with leaves.

Sonic felt wearier than he could recall. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

Her royal duties done, Celestia relaxed on a low settee and flipped through her most recent acquisition. Weeks had passed since her last new book, and Twilight’s latest treatise on Diamond Dogs kept her attention. It was well-written, exhibiting a practiced balance of accurate, useful information and just enough personal anecdote to keep the subject lively. She had clearly been practicing her craft.

Celestia would have been able to focus more on the work, but there was someone at the doors to her chambers.

There was someone at the doors to her chambers, and that someone was rapping a hoof repeatedly against them. Who in Equestria would— Ah, yes. Her sister. She slipped a scrap of parchment between the pages and closed the book.

“Come in, Luna,” she replied, as if she had expected her all the while.

The door opened partially and a familiar blue muzzle peeked in. “Oh. Good. You’re awake.”

“Mm-hm.” She gestured to the closed book with the flit of a wing. “I’ve just been reading. What’s on your mind, Luna?”

“Well...” she began, then stepped into the room. She channeled the doors closed behind her with practiced nonchalance and strolled casually to her sister. Celestia watched her performance with a growing concern.

As if discussing plans for lunch, Luna murmured, “Tia. We have a problem.” While her face was serenity itself, her eyes swam in panic.

Wordlessly, Celestia shifted on her seat and lifted a wing, making enough room for her sister. Luna slid in close, and Celestia wrapped her up, holding her tight.

“You’re trembling, little sister,” she soothed. “Don’t fret. I’m sure we can sort it out.” She nuzzled Luna’s mane affectionately. “Now, what could possibly be so frightening to the Princess of the Night?”

“I am not a child, Tia,” Luna sulked. Still, she did not move from the embrace. “I am genuinely concerned. We have another visitor.”

“Another visitor? What d—” Celestia blinked, then began again, cautiously. “I think I see. Any relation to our first?” She watched her sister with a wary eye.

Luna was too intent on her thoughts to notice. She stared out the window into the starry night. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not yet sure. His will is strong, like the first, but the stories he tells himself...”

She shuddered, and looked back at her sister. “His dreams are filled with anger, and pain, and loss, and... hate. Where his counterpart arrived not knowing what he wanted, this one wants something very strongly. He’s on a mission.”

Celestia studied Luna’s features, weighing her words. “I understand. Where is this visitor?”

The younger of the pair looked out the window once more. Celestia realized she gazed towards Pasofino. “Close to the first. Almost atop him.”

Celestia lit the lamps throughout the room. Then she stood, favoring her sister with a light nuzzle. She walked to the carafe atop her bedside table and poured each of them a drink. She wasn’t thirsty, but it gave her some time to collect her thoughts. “That is troubling. Could he be following?”

“After fifteen years?” Luna shook her head in dismissal, but then paused, considering. “I suppose it’s possible, but I simply don’t know.”

A sip, and then, “What do you propose we do, sister?”

Luna cocked her head, and furrowed her brow. “What do I propose?”

“Indeed. You have found this creature, as you did the first. Your instincts served you well with that discovery, despite what I thought at the time. What shall we do with this one?”

Luna shrugged, studying the ripples in her glass. Finally, she replied, “For now, we watch, and we wait.”

The Sun Princess nodded. “I agree. I’ll send a few of my scouts to keep an eye, if you’ll do the same?”

“Done. And Tia?”

“Yes, Luna?”

“Please get some sleep? The book can wait, but I have a feeling we may need our rest in the future.”

“Excellent counsel, little sister.” Smiling warmly, she turned down the coverlet and began straightening the room. “Be safe tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight.”

Luna stepped towards the door, then paused, but did not turn back. She studied the doors’ paneling for a moment, then asked, “Sister?”

Celestia paused in her organizing. “Mm?”

“Should we let Worker know?”

Celestia had been examining that idea herself. She found herself tapping her lips in thought, and forced her hoof to the floor. “It has been some time since we’ve spoken with him, in an unofficial capacity. With the seasons changing, though, asking him to travel might not be best.”

Luna stared at the floor. “And journeying ourselves might bring unwanted attention.”

“Yes.”

“So we watch...”

“...and we wait.” Celestia set the book on a nearby shelf and emptied the carafe into a nearby plant. “We must know the truth of things to act.”

Luna resigned herself to a sigh and opened the doors. “Love you, sis.”

“I love you too.”

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

His tea had long grown cold, but despite the fire that roared behind him, the room seemed even colder. The chill emanated from the expressions of the mares across the table. Avoiding their gaze, Worker studied his mug, contemplating his next attempt to make headway, and wondering if it would even be worth it to try.

To his right sat Holly. The rose-colored mare was always respectful, even deferential in manner. She was the youngest of the four who had first met him, which may have been why she always addressed him as her senior. Today, her usual warm formality had taken on a tone of disdain. Every time Worker opened his mouth to defend himself, she would raise a slender scarlet eyebrow, and he would find it difficult to continue.

Did they teach mares this art as foals? He’d barely gotten twelve words out in the past half-hour, and for some reason felt grateful that he had been permitted that many. Sparring with Skyshine was a game they both enjoyed from time to time, but this? This was tantamount to torture!

To his left was Bulwark. As imposing as her namesake, she seemed to fill that side of the room. She could loom menacingly like no other, and was now staring down at him as his mother had when he came in late, or was impolite to adults. She was not about to allow him a reprieve. “Have you forgotten you’re among friends?” She addressed him as if he had just been caught stealing corncakes. “We help each other here.”

Holly laid a hoof against her arm. “Maybe,” she suggested, “Mr. Worker has decided he doesn’t need friends.” It was a plea-bargain, a benevolent explanation for someone too slow-witted to speak for himself.

Bulwark nodded assent. “I suppose that’s possible, Holly.” She turned to him, then, and spoke at a measured pace. “Well, Worker? Are you through with friends?”

“No, I—” Worker tried to reply, only to be trampled beneath Holly’s too-light conversational tone.

“Interesting designs here, Bulwark,” she interrupted. She had pulled a few sheets out of the binder open before her and laid them on the table, tracing part of the design with a hoof. “What do you suppose this is? Some sort of weapon?”

“It certainly appears so,” she replied gravely. “It looks like one of those water-sprayers on his fire-wagons, but much larger.” She tapped her hoof on the design, pointing at a domed cannon with heavy hoses and a tank. “Maybe it sprays something else?”

Holly frowned, trying to make out the row upon row of careful lettering. “It is a shame he never taught us to read this script. But that’s Mr. Worker for you. Full of secrets.” She might have been discussing a pony who never remembered to wipe his hooves on entering the house.

Bulwark nodded patiently. “Too many secrets, I think. And not enough sense. Ah, to be as smart as he, and too dull-witted to understand. Quite the puzzle.” At once, she was a long-suffering but patient matron, wishing a wayward child could see the truth.

Worker could only gape. The white pony paid him no mind.

“I do believe he’s too close to the problem. He’s re-acting, not acting. Nopony can survive like that, but he seems intent to try.”

Holly snorted disapprovingly and tossed her mane. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood, flicking her tail in irritation. “Well,” she declared, “if Mr. Worker won’t see sense, I don’t know why we’re trying to help at all.”

“No,” Worker began anxiously, moving to stand before Bulwark fixed him with a stare. He found himself back in his seat and holding his mug before he knew it.

Bulwark raised a hoof in supplication. “Do sit, dear. Even someone as stubborn as Worker here can be shown the truth of things.”

Holly considered her options for a moment. “I suppose Skyshine would be grateful. Sisters alone know how she manages him on her own.”

“I really do want your help.” He did? When had that changed? “I just...” He searched for the words. “Uh... didn’t know how to ask.”

Holly smiled at him faintly, but returned to her seat. For some reason, Worker found this was a huge relief. He glanced over at Bulwark who wore a mysteriously satisfied expression.

“Fine, Worker,” she replied in a comforting tone. “We’ll help, but only because it’s the right thing to do.”

Worker nodded his assent. In the back of his mind, something roared with frustration. He was sure, given enough time, he could piece together what it was. For the time being, he had some planning to do with his friends.

It was dawn, and the princesses had just finished their royal duties. As was habit, the two met for a morning meal and a family meeting. Lentils had outdone herself. Even with Winter Wrap-Up barely complete, she had somehow found enough fresh fruits, vegetables, and pastries to cover the small table. On a side cart waited pots and urns of tea, coffee, and juice.

Celestia sipped her coffee—she had decided that tea was too weak for the day’s work—and regarded her sister over the mug’s rim. “It would seem, Luna...” She paused for a sip, then continued. “...That they know each other.”

Luna nodded in response around a bite of pancakes. “It would.” She swallowed, then continued, “And they’re not on friendly terms.”

The elder sister set down her mug and busied herself slicing a melon. “You say this blue creature’s dreams are full of anger and hate.” She looked up from her work with a curious eye. “Since they’ve met, how have Worker’s been?”

“I...” She sipped her tea, and studied the finery on the table. Her cheeks reddened, and she mumbled in reply, “I’ve not been able to tell.”

Celestia’s mouth dropped open a fraction in surprise. “He’s blocking his dreams?” she whispered. From any other pony, that would have been a cry of alarm. “From you?”

“No,” she grumbled, shaking her head, “but something is. There’s a cloud on his mind, whirling like a dust-devil. I can get glimpses from time to time, but it’s... unpleasant to do so.”

“One of his machines, perhaps?” the eldest offered.

“No.” She shredded her remaining pancakes with a flurry of agitation. “I don’t know how but I know it’s not him.”

“That makes it all the more worrisome.” Celestia poured herself and her sister each a glass of water, and floated the offering across the table.

Luna accepted it with an inelegant grunt.

The white alicorn continued as she speared another slice. “Our visitor seems to be fixated on Worker. From what I’ve heard from my observers, he’s destroyed a few machines, destroyed a shop, and it seems he’s done something to Worker himself. The doctor’s been up to his home, recently.”

“I doubt it was anything serious. His wife would insist on him being brought in for care at the hospital.”

“That much is true. They truly do care for each other.”

“You sound surprised.” Luna finished her water and set the glass into a slow descent to the table. “But that brings up a good question.”

“Oh?” Celestia managed, swallowing the last of her melon.

Luna brought her hooves together, and rested her chin atop them as she leaned on the table. “Why don’t you care for him?”

Celestia blinked, affronted. “Pardon?”

“More than most ponies, I understand the need for observation. But this? You know this creature is a danger. And yet, you order your pegasi to observe and report, never to interfere." She regarded her with cool curiosity.

Finding herself on the defensive, Celestia replied, “I note you keep your observers well-hidden.”

Luna brushed it away. “That is my nature, and my role. You operate more in the open, although you too have adopted some secrets over the centuries. Indeed, according to the terms of the Accord, you must act to preserve the Sovereignty and the peace of its peoples, against all threats, even if you have cut the definition of ‘act’ finely from time to time.”

Celestia frowned, murmuring noncommittally.

“You do not deny it, sister.”

“No, I don’t.” She studied the tines of the melon fork, then set it down. “I must admit I am curious.”

“Curious?”

She nodded, the barest motion of her head. “About how he will react.”

A level gaze replaced her sister’s usual regal air, and her voice fell to a whisper. “Worker. You’re curious about how Worker, a pony smarter than the pair of us combined, with knowledge beyond our epoch-spanning ken, will react...” Luna took a calming breath, but her expression grew darker. “...To being hunted.”

Celestia’s serene expression twisted into a grimace. “Well,” she began. Then, more quietly, “Yes.” A faint blush rose in her cheeks, and she stared intently at her empty mug.

Luna stood and placed her forehooves upon the table. Her wings fluttered wildly, and she seethed, hissing with anger across the banquet. “Art thou mad? Hath thou taken leave of thine senses? Of thy morality?” The hissing graduated to a growl. “My sister, Master Worker deserves our compassion, and we must strive to be deserving of his trust!”

Celestia’s eyes widened with shock. “Sister, I understand, but—”

However, Luna was not yet finished. She flared her wings to their full span and stood upon her hind legs. Her eyes went white with fury, and her horn sparked dangerously. “Hath thou no restraint? Common ponies need naught but your respect and care, not your jest and sport! Doth thou not recollect the lessons uncounted of Twilight’s own teaching? Hath thou forgotten the unpleasantness with the Empire?”

Pausing solely for a breath, she added, “Hath thou forgotten the beginning? Thy first ‘faithful and true’ student,” she roared, “and the fall of Sombra?” The name hung in the air, echoing faintly from the high ceilings, and Luna fell silent. She dropped to her hooves, but neither lowered her wings nor broke her gaze.

Celestia sat stone-still, silhouetted by the sun that rose behind her, as the name of her protegé faded into nothingness. Despite the rays that illuminated her mane, there was no warmth in her voice. “There is no need to take that tone with me, little sister. I admit my lack of forethought.”

Luna seethed, folding her wings with crisp motions. “Thou doth appear content to lie about upon thy backside, working eyes and ears where thy hooves once stirred. Well, then, if thou art reticent, We shall act.” She clipped her hooves against the floor, as if freeing them of dust. “With or without thy support."

“Little sister,” came her whispered reply, “if you think you can dress me down and take the high road here, you are mistaken. I agree with you, in that I have been unwise. Foolish. But you delve too far, and speak of times clouded by your own shadow. Do not think you impress me. For all your art and artifice, I am still your equal.”

The princesses glared at one another, motionless save for the flowing of their manes. After a moment, the elder of the pair glanced down, then away.

“I said, Luna, that you are right. I have been too reluctant to act, solely to satisfy my curiosity. I suppose, over the years, I have lost sight of the hearts of my ponies. I am sorry.”

Luna’s expression softened, and she nodded, trying to smooth her features. “We... I apologize for my outburst. You did not deserve the brunt of my anger. I, too, am at fault for not expressing my concerns earlier.” She was surprised to hear the sound of her sister giggling, like crystal chimes.

“Look at us, sister.” Celestia shook with laughter, tears streaming down her face. “As old as anything, and still arguing like schoolfillies. We truly are night and day.” She hooted with laughter, then took a breath. “Let us make this right. We’ll move up our holiday this month, and visit Pasofino as friends. If there is a problem, we will be sure to address it when we arrive.”

Luna just shook her head, and a hint of a smile sparkled in her eyes. “I agree. Let’s go tonight? I have a few things I need to set right. Besides...”

Celestia wiped her eyes. “Mm?”

“I am concerned. After all, if this creature is a threat, we do not know his capabilities. We do not know his drive. If this is the same foe from Worker’s past, then keep this in mind: Our own limitless, fathomless friend finds him implacable.”

“A fair point, Luna. I shall keep that in mind today. Now it is my turn to bid you sleep well.”

Luna nodded, and turned to leave. “Sister,” she began, pausing at the door, “I am sorry. Truly.”

“I am as well. We’ll talk more, later. Especially how you knew about Sombra. We were barely on speaking terms, then.”

Luna rolled her eyes, and strode for the door. “Really, Celestia. You’re impossible. Yes, we’ll talk later. Be safe today.”

“Dream peacefully, little sister.”

Skyshine grimaced and looked across the Meeting Hall. She stood behind a podium atop the central dais. Worker and Bulwark sat behind her, to her left, and Holly and Saber Dance were on her right.

Knots of ponies, most in deep conversation, ignored the five on the dais and paid no heed to her or her husband’s attempts to bring order to the assembly. They seemed content to guess at the reason they were gathered, rather than pay attention to their surroundings.

Trying once more, Skyshine rapped an insistent hoof against the podium, and was stunned to find it boomed with every strike.

The room fell silent, and every eye rested on her. She tried to regain her bearings quickly enough to take advantage. “Uh... Friends,” she managed before a chuckle interrupted her thoughts. She glanced towards the floor to find Whisper winking at her, poking a hoof towards her horn. Of course.

“As I was saying,” she continued, trying to pick up momentum. “Friends, we are here to report and to request input. As you are all aware, recently, Worker’s Toy Shop has burned to the ground.”

A few mutters of displeasure rumbled through the room, but otherwise the ponies remained quiet. So far, so good.

“What many of you might not know, however...” She gripped the podium in expectation of an uproar. “...is that the building was intentionally destroyed by a trespasser.”

As predicted, the crowd exploded in shouts of anger and concern. Skyshine raised a hoof in an effort to control the tumult. To her surprise, the gathered ponies quieted almost immediately. She marveled for a moment, then proceeded.

“Thank you. Now, for some details.” She had been over this time and time again with Worker. Keep it simple and factual, she reminded herself, with no room for misunderstanding. “In short: There is a trespasser in or around Pasofino. This creature has assaulted my husband, threatened him, and destroyed his shop. He has come here for the sole purpose of taking Worker away. I, for one, do not intend to allow him to do so!”

A chorus of shouted assent met her declaration.

Worker watched with astonishment. His wife was indeed a dangerous mare—one who had honed her skills over the years since they first met. He glanced to his right to see Bulwark grinning at him.

“You don’t normally see her with the townsfolk do you?” she whispered.

Worker shook his head, and responded in kind. “How could you tell?”

“Your jaw was in your lap,” she replied with a satisfied nod.

Worker grunted. He turned his attention back to his wife and watched her manage the crowd with a growing admiration.

Bulwark murmured into his ear. “She’s going to be mayor, next. Whisper’s ready to retire, and she’s pretty much paved the way for Skyshine to assume the role.”

“But, the election,” he protested, his sense of civic duty stirring.

“Will be a landslide. Look, they love her.”

“I begin to—” He paused in his reply, having heard his name. He searched his memory to put the speech back together. Ah, yes. It must be my time to speak.

Skyshine smiled back at him, moving from the lectern, and he stood to take her place. He stationed himself behind the podium, leaning forward to rest his hooves atop a stack of papers his wife had left behind. He glanced down and saw the top sheet: A hoof-drawn sketch of his wife, his daughter, and himself all taking a walk. His daughter had drawn it no more than a week ago. For a moment, he stood silent, examining the cartoonish crayon drawing, then placed his hooves firmly on the ground.

“I must thank you all for coming,” he croaked, his voice barely audible. “I...” he coughed into a forelimb, then regained some of his composure. “Well, enough about ‘I’.”

Worker turned and motioned for his wife to rejoin him, and she moved to his side. “We,” he corrected in a louder voice. “Skyshine and I. We greatly appreciate that you all, our friends, some new and many old, have taken the time today to hear us.” He looked through the room, pausing at the faces of some of his oldest friends.

“The fact is...” He rubbed his left forelimb against her right, hoping the touch would soothe. “The fact is that the creature who pursues me is the same that pursued me fifteen years ago, when I first arrived.”

Immediately, a low buzzing filled the hall. He could only imagine what was being discussed, but he could hear the name “Mobius” from a half-dozen muzzles.

“I do not know how he came here, but I can hazard a guess that he duplicated my work. This is unfortunate, and it greatly complicates things for a great many ponies who have no stake in the outcome.” He sighed, and leaned forward again—not to project, but for support.

“I was recently reminded, by some of my oldest and dearest friends, of the benefits of friendship. The esoteric qualities that make it up. Some are a bit more immediate than others. For example...” he turned to Bulwark and motioned her forward, then to Holly and Saber Dance as well.

“A friend will tell you when you’re being an idiot. And if she’s a very good friend, she will do so in such a way that brooks no argument.” He dropped his voice a moment, and mumbled to Bulwark. “Seriously. If you teach my daughter how to do that, I will never forgive you.”

Bulwark roared with laughter, and Holly fought to stifle giggles that were rapidly gaining ground. Worker turned his focus back to the crowd.

“A good friend gives you love, and understanding, and patience, and the occasional kick in the flank. And all they ask in return is one’s trust.” He smiled, standing shoulder to shoulder his four friends. “These four ponies are the first I met in this strange and wonderful world, and since that day, I have grown to trust them implicitly.”

He sighed, and continued. “But there’s more to this meeting than remembrance. Well, let me be plain. This creature is dangerous. He is obsessive, and he is relentless, but he is also focused. I do not think any of you are in any direct danger at the moment. For now, he is focused on me.

“However, this may change. If he decides that he can get to me through you, or through threatening the town at large, he will do so. Of that I am certain. And so, I would ask that you trust me, and allow me to help you defend yourselves. I do not know what has happened to my nemesis in my absence. I do not know what he is capable of. But, as I am responsible for him being here, I offer my help in securing the town so long as he remains.”

He looked to his four companions in turn, and then declared, “I hereby open the floor for discussion. My wife and my friends can answer any questions you may have about the basic plans. I will be available to discuss the fine details once the discussion, and if necessary, a vote, is complete. For now, I take my leave.”

With that, Worker stepped away from the lectern and strode off the rear of the podium, then continued out a side door. Once it shut behind him, he fell against it, barely able to stand on legs that had become unruly.

He nearly collapsed with shock when a pale green head suddenly poked out of a window alongside the door. “That was well done,” Whisper commented in conspiratorial tones. “Very well done. Not only do you show your trust by letting your companions handle the arrangements, but you remove yourself as a distraction. I must say,” she mused, “I may have been grooming the wrong pony.”

“No,” Worker wheezed, holding a hoof to his chest. “You’ve got the right one. I don’t want any more responsibility than I already have.”

“A shame,” she replied airily. “That sort of outlook usually means I’ve got the right candidate. Your wife said nearly the same thing.” She looked the yellow pony over, and frowned. “Worker, once you catch your breath, why don’t you check on Snowdrop? I’m sure Tea Blossom could use the break, and I think you could use a hug from a certain filly.”

Worker nodded. He had already decided to go, but it warmed his heart to hear it suggested so casually by another. “That’s a good idea, Whisper. Thank you.”

“I’ve got to get back in there. I am still the mayor after all, and someone has to call the vote to order. Good luck, Worker. Everything will work out, somehow.”

Worker made no reply, but after she had been gone for a few minutes he felt stable enough to travel. He made good time across the nearly-empty town, and soon found himself approaching Saber’s and Amaranth’s home.

From beyond the fence, he spied a note pinned beneath a heavy brass knocker. He opened the gate and trotted up to the front door, then pulled the note free. It read, simply:

Gone on a picnic with Snowdrop.

Will not go far. Expect us back before noon.

-Tea Blossom

It was well past noon already.

Mild panic rose in his chest, and he peered through darkened windows. The house seemed tidy and well-kept, and there was no sign of anything amiss. Still...

He seized the knocker and let it fall, striving to keep himself collected. There was no answer. Maybe it’s naptime, he hoped with desperation.

Worker tried the lock, and found the door unsecured. He entered the home, peering left and right. “Tea Blossom?” he called, and finding his voice weak, tried again. “Tea Blossom? Snowdrop?”

There was no reply.

Desperate, he bolted through the house, checking every door and crevice, then threw open the back doors and searched the yard. Neither hide nor hair of any pony could be seen. Nor blood, or struggle, suggested an unwelcome voice.

His mind raced with options. Where could they have gone? Where should I look? The park was closest, so starting there made the most sense. He raced down the empty thoroughfares, shouting his daughter’s name.

“Snowdrop! Snowdrop!” he called, and turned the corner to the park. There, beneath a large oak, sat a checkered blanket and a picnic basket. He felt a momentary relief until he noticed there were no ponies anywhere in sight.

Tea Blossom would never have abandoned her charge, he reminded himself. This means they either took a walk, forgetting the danger, or...

He was unwilling to finish the thought.

“Worker?” someone asked behind him. He spun about to see Skean folding his wings. “I saw y’ runnin’. Y’ look puggled. Are—”

“No,” was Worker’s strangled reply.

Skean saw the basket, and the empty park, and the look on Worker’s face. “By th’ Sun...” he began, but his voice trailed off. He tried again. “Worker...”

The unicorn stepped to him, unsteady on his hooves, and clutched at his shoulders. “Skean,” he croaked. “She’s gone. My daughter is gone. I don’t know where, but she’s not here, and she should have been back at the house by noon. Tea Blossom is gone too.”

“I ken y’, Worker. Stay he—No. Get to th’ Hall. Tell everyone there what’s happened. I’m goin’ t’ do a lap o’ th’ town. If y’ see Sundown, tell ‘im t’ join me.”

Worker nodded, numb, and staggered as quickly as he could towards the hall. His mind was blank with fear, and soon he found himself running, ignoring the concerned look of the few ponies out-of-doors. Skyshine. Skyshine will know what to do.

He had to get to the Hall as quickly as possible. He vaulted fences, plowed through a pony’s flower garden, and knocked over bins, shaving seconds off his journey each time. The town clock was just chiming two o’clock when he crashed through the door he had exited twenty minutes prior.

“She’s gone!” he shouted, his voice breaking as he skid across the floor, scrabbling for footing on the planks. He stumbled towards his wife and friends. “My daughter is gone!”

Chapter 7

Snowdrop was cold, icky, and just covered in gunk. Worst of all, the little filly couldn’t move very much. She could see even less. Something heavy and warm was on top of her and she couldn’t seem to budge it. She wondered where she was. She wondered where Tea Blossom was. She was not enjoying this game at all.

“Tea?” she whispered. Wherever she was, her whisper echoed. Snowdrop could just barely make out some light from the other side of the heavy thing, and gave it another push. To her surprise, it slid off of her and flopped over.

The heavy thing was Tea Blossom, and she wasn’t moving. “Teeeaaa,” she begged, shaking her shoulders. Whatever Tea was doing, Snowdrop didn’t want her to do it any more. She was cold, and she was scared, and she wanted her Daddy.

The light shone from a hole on the far wall. It looked like she was surrounded by rocks and dirt. Maybe she was in a cave? If she was, it was a small one—she could barely stand all the way up.

“Tea? How did we get here? I can’t remember...” She turned back to her babysitter. From here, in the light, she could see something dark on her muzzle and chest.

Snowdrop reached out and gently pressed a hoof against the stain. It stuck to her hoof, and she held it up in the light. Red. Was it blood?

No. No, no no no nonono. Bleeding and asleep was bad. Snowdrop knew that from her books. She also knew she had to get a grown-up, but there weren’t any in here. Maybe the hole? Maybe she could squeeze out? But who would keep an eye on Tea Blossom? She couldn’t just leave her... but it wouldn’t hurt to look outside.

Snowdrop patted the unconscious pony on the shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.” Reluctant to leave her sitter’s side, she nonetheless made her way to the hole in the wall and peered outside. She could see some trees, and some dirt, and a tiny bit of pale sky, but what caught her eye was the strange blue creature pacing back and forth a little way from the cave.

It was tall, and spiky, and had gloves on its hands and strange things on its feet. It looked kinda like the dogs from her Daddy’s foun... fawn... metal-making place in the mountains, but with bigger hair. She remembered it. It was the thing that had been yelling at her Daddy.

Suddenly, it all made sense. This blue dog-thing had put her and Tea Blossom in the cave. He must have hurt Tea, too! Why was he being so mean?

“Hey! Doggie!” she shouted through the hole. “Let me out! You’re gonna be in trouble!”

The blue dog-thing looked up and then moved very quickly to the hole. It shouted strange, scary noises at her and looked angry. Then it turned around and ran away.

“Wait!” she cried at the retreating figure. She shoved her muzzle into the hole, but it was too narrow to let her squeeze through. She struggled against the wall, pushing and straining, but the stone wouldn’t budge. Snowdrop was all alone. Even though the blue dog-thing had been mean, at least it had been there. It was too much.

It was all too much. Snowdrop wanted to leave. She wanted more light. She wanted a hug. She wanted Tea to be okay. “I forgot about Tea!” she gasped.

She crept back to the older pony’s side and snuggled close. Choking back her tears, she tried to hum the song her Mommy did whenever she was sick, but she couldn’t remember it now. Outside, the sun was going down. Soon, the cave was pitch black, and the only noise that Snowdrop could hear was her own quiet sniffling.

Sonic paced back and forth, suddenly finding himself with too much time on his hands. Every moment that went by increased the risk of a response that would be too large to handle.

He was pretty sure the bigger pony was wounded. How badly, he couldn’t say, but he also couldn’t help her yet. The smaller one had fallen over with fright. She’d probably be okay, but either one was a liability now.

“What were you thinking?” he grumbled. “Assault? Arson? Kidnapping? To bring back a... a reformed Robotnik?”

He knew it was true. Robotnik had spent the last few decades building a new life, and avoiding most of the trappings of his prior existence. Including, apparently, his original body. “Knuckles was right,” he admitted. “He didn’t want to come back.”

How he was a pony was still an open question, unless... Sonic froze. He hurriedly checked his hands, feet, and felt his face. No changes. At least, not yet.

The panic subsided, but it left the larger question looming. What next?

“The pony needs help. Help I can’t provide. But I also can’t let her go. Then there’s the little one. I have no idea what to do with her. I mean, grab the kid, get Robotnik’s attention.” He threw up his hands in frustration and continued pacing. “Great plan, Sonic! Thought that one through!” Sighing, he stopped his circuit and stared into the sky. “Good thing she’s quiet, at least. The less attention, the better, right now.”

As if answering his fears, a small voice called from somewhere behind him.

“Damnit!”

Sonic dashed to the cave and shouted at its inhabitants. “Shut up! Just shut up! If you don’t shut up, I’ll... I’ll block up the hole!”

He took a step back and glared at the pony within. All he could see was a wide eye pressed against the opening, staring out. Growling with disgust — at the situation, at himself — he dashed off into the wood.

The only way to end this stalemate was to find Robotnik. Reformed or not, he still had to answer for his crimes. And you, said a tiny voice in the back of his head, will need to answer for yours.

Celestia strode through the darkened corridors along the palace’s southern wall. It was barely four o’clock—hours yet ‘til sundown—but her sister’s chambers in the palace were already empty. Luna must be preparing for the journey to come. This usually meant she could find her here, in the tower farthest from the city’s merry cacophony. Luna called it her aerie. The original meaning of the term was not lost on Celestia—a high refuge—but it had picked up a new definition in the past millenium.

The Sun Princess frowned, thinking back. The history between her ponies and the griffon tribes was a rocky one, and often unpleasant. They were, after all, predators, and in the grand scheme of things, ponies were prey. Well, they would have been, had she not intervened. Still, there had never truly been trust between their peoples since, and she knew it had been due to her decisions—her actions—centuries ago.

She arrived at the ornate door and smiled warmly at the identical silver-clad unicorns to either side of the portal. They, in turn, gave her the slightest nod of recognition.

“Is my sister here, good ponies?”

“She is indeed, your highness,” answered the guard to her right. With the glamour her sister preferred, it was impossible to tell the pony’s natural colors. When in uniform, every member of the guard had identical markings: a coat of grey, a mane of deep blue, and eyes a tawny yellow.

Despite the physical appearance, the clipped cadence of the guard’s voice seemed very familiar. “She is expecting you,” the guard continued, opening the door with the shimmer of her horn. It silently swung inward. “Please, do go in.”

Despite her sister being back for a good two centuries—or was it three, now?—it still took some getting used to: these rooms being occupied, these passages no longer freely hers to traverse, her need to ask permission—and the chance, however slim, of refusal—were nearly alien. She did not begrudge Luna her privacy, but she was naturally wary of any realm where her light could not freely shine.

Celestia nodded again to the pony to her right, spared a glance of acknowledgement for the one to her left, and entered the dimly lit tower. The door closed behind her without a sound, and she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

It was cool and quiet here. In truth, she imagined it would be perfectly silent were it not for the periodic squeak of a dormouse that had made its home under the ramps and balusters. The occasional enchanted candle or lamp glowed faintly along the spiraling path, each illuminating a particularly lovely pattern in the stone wall or a detail of a carving in the railing. Between these points of interest, however, there was more light cast by her mane than any device.

Still, the ramp to the upper landing was sturdy, and the rise comfortable. She soon found herself approaching a large trap-door, intricately carved of ash and inlaid with silver. The ramp ended abruptly beneath it. A large iron ring dangled from the leading edge of the door, and were it pulled down, the ramp would continue upwards.

The sudden flood of sunlight momentarily blinded Celestia as she opened the door. She stepped forward, blinking, and found her sister leaning against the parapet.

Luna peered out over the city, towards the horizon—and towards Pasofino. She alternated between chewing her lip and frowning. She did not immediately acknowledge Celestia’s presence. The two of them stood side by side, one gazing off into the beyond, and the other peering towards the city below.

A breeze picked up as the sun crept towards the horizon. Suddenly, Luna shook her head and sighed, then turned to address her sister.

“Celestia, I fear we will need to travel quickly.” Luna stepped away from the parapet, turning her back on the city proper. “There’s been a problem, and the visitor has done something rash.”

“Rash? What has happened?”

“It’s too early to tell, but at least one pony has been injured, and it seems another has been taken against her will.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, sister. Who has been injured? And who has been taken?”

“Direct it is. Tea Blossom, for the one. You may remember her; she’s Amaranth’s daughter.”

“I do, indeed. Amaranth and his family have done excellent work in establishing a school in their town. How severe are her injuries?”

“Severe enough that, for the moment, she can only speak to me, and I have no idea how long she will be capable of that.”

Celestia grimaced. “What of the abductee?”

“Snowdrop,” Luna growled. “Worker’s daughter.”

“Oh no.”

“I have taken the liberty of informing my guard that we may be travelling to Pasofino without hesitation. If we do depart, they will inform your guard immediately, and those ponies already in the village will be alerted upon our arrival.”

Celestia nodded, studying Luna with an appraising eye. “I understand. You have been busy, sister.”

“No matter.” Luna returned her sister’s gaze. Celestia quickly assumed a mask of serenity. “Are you prepared to go, or would you prefer to take care of a few things before we leave? I was hoping to convince you of the need for urgency. In fact, if you are willing, I feel we should consider teleporting.”

“No, it is not necessary to convince me. We shall leave in but a moment. First, though...” Celestia concentrated, and the light over the city shimmered. Within moments, a piercing cry was heard from below, and a ball of red-orange flame streaked towards their location. It soon resolved into Philomena, and the radiant creature alighted on Celestia’s outstretched forelimb.

“My old friend, I must be away to take care of a problem. Please alert the Captain and his guard of my departure. I will be handling my royal duties abroad, and will send a message to the palace once I have safely arrived. Can you pass that on for me?”

The regal creature nodded its head.

“Good. Thank you. Please, go now. I imagine my sister and I will not be long.”

Philomena leapt from her forelimb and soared over the edge of the parapet, where she folded her wings and dove towards the city below. Her raucous call washed over the palace, but by the time it reached the parapet, the sisters were gone.

Skean alighted on the balcony, shook out his wings, and folded them slowly. “Sundown,” he groaned, “I’m gettin’ old. These gals are outflyin’ me. In armor.”

Sundown chuckled and downed the last of his tea. He stretched his neck and stood from a pallet of blankets near the edge of the balcony. “I’m twice your age, lad. Go have a rest. I’ll keep an eye on the pretty ones for you.”

“Ahem,” objected a too-familiar voice.

“Ah, Skyshine. Hello.” Sundown’s cheeks grew hot as he tried to remember what he’d said. “I didn’t know you’d come out.”

Skyshine grinned savagely at the embarrassed pony. “You’d probably have heard me open the door if you weren’t talking so much.” Skean wisely stepped inside and slid the door shut behind him. Sundown watched him go, then turned to Skyshine.

“Look, I wanted to talk to you real quick before I started my rounds.” The old green stallion glanced over the rail, then back towards Skyshine. “I don’t know that I trust these ponies. I mean, I’m not complaining that they’re helping. I just don’t know why they’re here.”

Skyshine stifled a yawn. “No, no. I understand. But, please, accept their help wherever they can grant it.” Her voice trailed into a whisper. “The more eyes we have, the faster we can find her.”

He nodded gravely. “We will find her, Sky.”

“I know,” Skyshine replied, but her voice was distant. “I just hope it’s soon. She must be terrified.” She stared blankly at the wood below. “I am too.”

Sundown rested a hoof on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Skean’s gone inside for a rest. Maybe you should too. You’ll need it if—when—we find her.”

Skyshine nodded absently, but her gaze slipped back to the forest and she walked to the railing to continue watching the search.

Sundown sighed. He turned to the balcony and leapt off the edge. In moments, a pair of armored pegasi, wearing Celestia’s livery, appeared from the tree line and took formation behind him.

***

Inside the home, Worker sat at the table in the greatroom, clutching a mug of tea in his hooves.

He could not remember a time he felt so alone.

Bulwark and Holly were with Saber Dance, at her home. Amaranth was leading one of the ground-based search parties. As of the latest report, he had covered the southern forest to the treeline, but with the light failing, further searches would take a lot longer.

Skean and Sundown had been taking turns running grids over the western wood. A pony had reported seeing a blue creature running in that direction after the fire, and it was as good a place to start as any. There was word that the royal guards, both Luna’s and Celestia’s, were offering their assistance. Where they had come from, nopony seemed to have a clue, but Worker was not about to refuse any help.

It’d be faster if you helped, too.

Worker knew that voice. It had been taunting him all night. He tried to push it away, but it was insistent. For now, he let it talk, and did his best to ignore it.

It wouldn’t be hard at all. You could make a few changes to the repair-bots that hover over the orchard. You’d have a half-dozen more eyes, then, and they wouldn’t get tired.

It had a point. Worker pushed his mug aside and picked up his journal and pen, flipping through some sketches he had made earlier in the week. Yes, the repair bots could easily be modified for a search. He eyeballed the measurements and marked the best locations for hardpoints.

You’d just need to re-program them with a search pattern. Plug in a better communications array. Maybe add a remote control unit, and a weapon or two.

Wait, a what? A weapon?

Purely for defense, of course! You’d want to know if it found the little bastard, wouldn’t you? If he destroyed the scout before it could report back, well, then you would have wasted all that effort.

Yes, yes, a weapon array would make sense, then. Worker began sketching furiously. The changes would be simple, and the modules to be added were already built and waiting in a storage cabinet. Still, he might want to run some preliminary tests for compa—

“An’ what is it you’re drawing there?” interrupted a too-cheerful whisper.

Worker reflexively snapped the cover shut, and looked up to see Skean standing over his shoulder. The pegasus nodded a hello, and continued chattering.

“Bulwark tells me y’ spend a lot o’ time in that book, Worker, an’ no good is t’ come of it.”

Worker frowned. “No good?” He reopened the journal and looked down at his drawing. A Hover-SWAT stared back at him. Shuddering, he closed the cover and pushed the book away. “No, she’s absolutely right. No good would come of it.”

Skean watched the book slide across the table and come to a stop near the opposite edge. “Aye. She’s a sharp one.” He strolled casually around to the journal, stopped, and put a hoof atop it. “But, y’know, I am too. Why push the book away? There’s a fire behind ya.”

“What, burn the book?” Worker was incredulous.

“Knew y’d catch on,” he said, in much the same manner as his wife.

“But that’s got my sketches,” he protested. “And my designs and—“

“An’ you’ve got ‘em all in y’ head already,” Skean finished for him.

“Well, yes.”

Skean gave a satisfied nod. “Seems t’ me, then, that there’s no reason not t’ remove this peerie temptation.”

“Temptation?” Worker’s brow knotted, and he eyed Skean with suspicion. “My machines are a temptation?”

Skean’s playful tone vanished. “Don’t play th’ fool for my sake, lad!” he shouted, slamming his hoof against the pad. “You’ve been guardin’ this book e’er since Snowdrop vanished, an’ your expression goes darker wi’ each line y’ draw!” With that, the pegasus flipped the book off the edge of the table, seized it in his teeth, and hurled it towards the fire.

“No!” Worker shouted. He stood, knocking over his chair, and stretched out a hoof before he realized the book was not coming any closer.

Skean was held motionless in a shimmering light, and the book floated mere inches from his open mouth. Worker spared his journal a glance and it fell to the floor. Skean, on the other hand...

Kill him.

Worker walked slowly towards the pegasus, his teeth bared, his face twisted in fury. “My daughter is out there, Skean,” he hissed. “She’s been captured by a monster who will not stop until I am dead.” He lifted Skean higher and turned him upside down. “These machines are my only chance to find her.” Worker stared directly into his eyes, then set him on a slow course, backwards, towards the fire.“Do you understand that?”

“Erkr...” Skean squeaked, straining to speak with frozen features. His eyes were wild with panic as the fire crept ever closer. Worker did not seem to hear him. “Rkr! Leeze!”

Kill him now.

The wall behind Worker exploded, and shards of glass buried themselves in the table, the chairs, and the two occupants.

“Worker,” cried Skyshine, “no!”

Worker spun about and roared, “Don’t you dare interfere, you—” There were three ponies standing beyond the shattered windows. One was his wife, and the other two...

Skean crashed to the ground beside the fire.

Worker collapsed immediately thereafter.

Throughout the greatroom, armored pegasi and unicorns gathered in pairs or trios, discussing the evening’s events in hushed tones. Each group kept at least one eye on the two ponies near the center of the room.

Worker and Skean had already been moved to Snowdrop’s playroom, and all that remained of the evening’s unpleasant events were a few marks in the furniture, a tattered journal, and countless fragments of glass. Luna’s horn shimmered, and in response, the glass swept out of the room. It ground itself to dust and poured over the edge of the balcony.

“I think I’ll leave this in your care, your highness,” muttered Skyshine. She nudged the book with a hoof, but did not stoop to pick it up.

“I know just the place for it,” Luna replied, twitching her wings in discomfort, “but I think we should check on your husband and his friend, first.” She glanced to one of the small groups of ponies.

A pair of unicorns snapped to attention and strode down the hall towards the makeshift infirmary.

“Princess Celestia’s talents with healing are legendary, your highness.” Skyshine turned towards her own room, and began walking away. “I have no doubt they’re fine.”

“Skyshine.” The distraught mare paused. Luna sighed, and continued. “First, you can call me Luna. Second, you need to see him as much as he needs to see you.”

“I don’t know that I can, just yet, y—Luna. He was right. He still is...” Skyshine’s voice faded, and she choked back a sob.

Luna stepped close beside, and murmured comfortingly in her ear. “That wasn’t him, Skyshine.”

“What?” Skyshine tossed her mane in confusion, and tears welled in her eyes.

“Didn’t you hear him shout?” the princess asked, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Of course I did,” she whimpered, nearly wailing in despair. “He roared at us.” Skyshine looked away, and took a deep breath. “It was awful.”

“He spoke. In Mobian, if I guess correctly. That gives me an inkling of what’s happened, here.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Come with me, then.” She gestured with a wing towards the hallway. “We’ll visit him together, and my sister and I can explain.” She guided the earth pony towards the hallway. As they left the room, the journal found its way into the nearby flames.

“Your highness,” said a low voice, “we’ve found the site. He’s there now, or was, fifteen minutes ago. They can’t be too far.”

Skyshine stirred atop a pile of cushions and opened her eyes by the barest fraction. A black-maned, deep pink unicorn held a silvery helm under his right hoof, and was standing from a low bow. He then returned the helm to his head, and his coloring shifted to match the hues of his order: Grey, blue, and gold.

Luna nodded. “Thank you, Ebon.” She then turned to look at Skyshine. “There is no need to pretend. Go and fetch your husband. I think we should travel quickly, but first I want to talk to you both. Please meet me on the balcony.”

Skyshine stepped out of her makeshift nest in the greatroom, shook out her legs, and walked as quickly as she dared to the bedroom. When she opened the door, she found Worker already awake and packing a saddlebag.

“I’ve been up for hours.” He smiled warmly at her, and returned to his packing. “I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”

Skyshine stood in the doorway and blinked at him for a moment. “I... good morning, Worker. It’s good to see you up.”

“I just needed a little rest, is all.” He set the bag down and stepped towards his wife. Before he had set a hoof down, she had scrambled backwards out of the room, as if evading a serpent or the edge of a cliff.

“I...” Skyshine broke eye contact and stared at the floor. “I can’t. I just..”

Worker’s shoulders drooped, and he turned away. “I understand,” he murmured, and returned to his bags. His horn shimmered briefly, then stopped as he shook his head, muttering at himself. He bent low and picked them up in his mouth instead.

A few tugs with his teeth and he had them balanced, more or less, across his withers. Turning back to Skyshine, he made an effort to smile once more. “Luna’s waiting. Should we hear what she has to say?”

Skyshine made no reply, but turned out of the doorway and walked to the moonlit balcony. Her husband shadowed her every step.

When they arrived, they found both Luna and Celestia waiting, and their guards strangely absent.

“Hello, Skyshine, Worker,” Celestia intoned. “It’s good to see you awake.”

Worker managed a half-bow as his pack slipped. “Thank you, your highness. It’s good to see you too.” Skyshine made no reply, but bowed her head as well.

Celestia nodded, and then looked to Luna. “We should go. It will be dawn, soon.”

“Yes, my sister,” Luna replied, then turned her attention to the two smaller ponies.

“Worker, Skyshine, let me explain, simply, what is going on, and then what we will need to do. Please, understand that this is just the surface,” she spared a glance for Celestia, then continued, “and I am being as direct as possible in the time we have.” Luna took a moment to look over her shoulder towards the horizon, where the moon nearly rested. She then turned back to her subjects.

“First, the events of this evening are a point for concern, but not alarm. Worker was not in complete control of his faculties. When we arrived, he was able to force a darker influence away. That influence is a matter for later discussion, but so long as he is with friends and family I see no cause for distress.”

“Second, it’s been reported that the strange creature—a hedgehog, if I remember our previous conversations, Worker—has been spotted in the woods below.” Luna closed her eyes and her horn flared. Suddenly, a map of the surrounding area floated between the gathered ponies. She opened her eyes again and pointed a few areas out with her horn.

“Your house is here,” she tapped the map along a ridgeline, and an orange dot sprung to life. “The town at large borders here.” She drew an arc along the trees which glowed green. “He seems to have found a small clearing here.” A blue dot, this one farther out, appeared towards the mountains where Worker had first arrived. “While we have no word of Tea Blossom or Snowdrop, it is likely they are hidden nearby.”

Worker studied the image, rubbing his chin with a hoof. “Water, shelter, possibly food,” he murmured. “Yes, that would make sense. There are some old caves there from when the Diamond Dogs did some prospecting. He’s probably holed up in one.”

Skyshine marveled at the tiny floating model. It grew in detail the closer she looked.

“Third, my sister and I will need to attend to our royal duties in short order. We have discussed the timing of the situation, and feel we can move towards the hedgehog, then hang back while you confirm whether or not he is present.” Two tiny emblems appeared near the glowing dot of the campsite. One moved towards the dot, and the other stayed in place. The entire scene zoomed in, parts of the map passing harmlessly through those gathered. Skyshine stifled a whinny of alarm.

“He wants you, Worker, and once he sees you, he is likely to ignore the presence of additional ponies. By that time, we will have managed the sun and moon, and can then move in and capture him safely.”

“Are there any questions?”

“Just one, your highness,” replied Worker. He watched the blue dot intently. “Neither my wife nor I can fly.” He glanced up at Luna. “How will we reach his hiding place before dawn?”

“We’re there now, Worker.”

The map faded, and Worker realized he stood on earth and stone, not wood. Skyshine swayed dangerously, and he stepped in close to hold her up.

Luna frowned. “I do apologize. You could not have felt the spell being woven, and I did not think to alert you.”

Worker tried to look in every direction at once. “No, no. It’s no matter. We’re here now.” He squeezed his wife’s shoulders, and whispered, “Sky? We’re safe, we’re here. It’s okay.”

Skyshine shivered but managed to keep her hooves beneath her. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Go on, then,” Celestia urged. “He’ll be just ahead. We must attend to our duties now. It won’t be long.”

Worker swallowed, then steeled himself and walked forward. Skyshine kept pace alongside.

Snowdrop woke to the sound of noises outside her cave. Loud noises. She stirred, staggered to her hooves, and looked towards the hole. The patch of sky was beginning to get brighter. Was it morning already?

She nuzzled Tea Blossom’s sleeping shape. “Wake up, Tea,” she whispered. Tea groaned in reply, but did not stir. At least she was making noises now. When she was quiet she was just creepy.

The curious filly crept through the gloom and peered outside. She saw the blue doggie, and he was yelling at something she could not see. She wedged her hooves against the wall and tried to get a clearer view.

She could see him better now. He was shouting, and waving his arms, and very angry at...

“DADDY!” she squealed, and nearly lost her balance. Her Daddy was here! Snowdrop strained to see everything.

Worker and Skyshine picked their way through the tree line. Up ahead, in the faint light before dawn, a blue figure paced back and forth. He seemed to be arguing with himself. Suddenly, he stopped, and stared directly at the pair of ponies.

“Robotnik!” he shouted, his face twisted in an odd expression.

“Sonic,” he replied, his voice level and measured. “Good morning.” He nodded a greeting and strode towards the hedgehog.

Sonic stood, his arms folded, and spared a glance for Skyshine. He sneered a moment, then looked back towards the unicorn. “I suppose this is your girlfriend, then?”

“My wife,” Worker clarified, coming to a stop a few paces away. “And she does not deserve your disrespect.”

“You really have changed, Robotnik. But that doesn’t forgive your crimes.”

“The name’s Worker,” he growled, his temper flaring. “You’ve changed too, hedgehog. That’s why I’m here—you’ve added kidnapping to your repertoire.”

“It got you here, didn’t it?” Sonic snarled. “I did what I had to.”

“Worker,” Skyshine asked, nudging his flank. “What’s going on?”

“A debate, my dear,” he replied, trying to keep his tone cool. He turned his head to address his wife, but did not look away from the hedgehog. “Just an old argument. We’ll find out what we need in a minute.”

He turned his attention back to his adversary. “Sonic,” he stated, his voice without emotion. “I will ask you once. Where is my daughter?”

“Once?” he laughed. “You can’t threaten me! I have all the cards, and you can’t even fight.”

“Might makes right, Sonic?” Worker chuckled ruefully. "You’ve certainly come a long way. You sound like me.”

“I am nothing like you,” he spat. He hunched his shoulders, and his expression darkened. “You bastard.”

“Sure you are!” Worker taunted. “Arson, assault, kidnapping, extortion... Why, if you add some murder, I’d be right proud of you, son.”

Robotnik’s words were too familiar. Too close to home. “I am nothing like you!” Sonic roared.

“You never could see the forest for the trees, Sonic,” Worker needled. “All those little steps. Every time you’ve told yourself 'just this once', or 'the results matter more', that softens you. Makes you weak. Less pure, if you fancy the term. And in the long run? That makes you exactly like me.”

There was a moment of eerie calm, and then everything happened at once. Sonic flared his spines and dashed forward with murderous intent. Skyshine screamed in panic as he shoved her to the ground, and then turned towards Worker. Worker rose onto his hind legs, and brought up his hooves to strike.

Over the hedgehog’s shoulder, Worker spied the sun crest the horizon. There was a brief flare of brilliant golden light, a lance of searing pain, and then...

As hard as she tried, she could just not stay in place.

Daddy and the blue doggy were arguing, and Mommy was there too. She could barely see anything at all!

She dropped to all fours and stared at the boulder that blocked the cave’s entrance. Maybe... maybe she could push it out of the way?

Snowdrop closed her eyes and reached out with her magic. She could feel the cold, heavy rock. She could feel it resisting her. All she had to do was push it a little, find out where it would move. The book called it ‘center of balance’, but that seemed too plain.

No, she needed to make the rock want to do what she wanted it to. She needed to convince it, or boss it around.

The little filly strained with the effort, her horn flaring and pulsing with arcane energy, but to no avail. The light flickered out, and the pony staggered with dizziness, leaning against the wall for support. She could still hear the arguing, and it seemed to be getting louder.

Snowdrop clambered back to her perch and peered out at the ponies outside. The big blue dog was yelling and growling, and Daddy was talking quickly with weird words. Suddenly, Mommy screamed! The big doggy reached out and...

“No!” she cried. “No, leave them alone!”

A low rumble shook the earth and the stones underhoof began to groan, but Skyshine could only see the hulking creature that stood over Worker. She crawled to him, trying to shield him, but the beast would not stop kicking, and kicking, and kicking.

Suddenly, the onslaught ceased. The world went white, and her assailant was gone.

A brilliant light filled the clearing, obliterating every color. In its center stood Luna and Celestia, their wings flared, and their horns coruscating with burning sparks. Above them floated an improbable creature: a blue hedgehog, clad in red footgear and white gloves. His eyes spun wildly, and from his mouth issued a scream of terror that faded into a breathless rasp.

The pair spoke as one, their voices combined into a strange incantation. “We are Equestria, little creature,” they declared. “We are the Powers that Be. Against our subjects you have acted, and so against you we are set. You have worked great evil in our lands. You shall be tasked with setting all aright, and you shall face justice.”

A deafening clap of thunder split the air, and the blue creature vanished from sight.

“No!” Skyshine shouted, her voice breaking with the effort. “No! What about Snowdrop? He didn’t tell us where she is!”

The glow faded, and color returned to the world.

“My daughter!” Skyshine wailed. “Where is my daughter?” She collapsed to the ground and clung to her husband, who struggled to keep conscious.

A tiny voice broke the unnatural silence. “Mommy?”

Skyshine was on her hooves before she knew it. She scanned left and right, trying to pinpoint her daughter’s call, praying she would cry out again.

“Mommy!” Snowdrop obliged. “Mommy, I’m over here!” A dozen paces away, a tiny blue leg poked out of what appeared to be a hillside. It waved frantically, and then retreated. “Mommy, hurry! Tea Blossom’s hurt!”

Skyshine raced for the spot. As she approached, a large boulder rose from the earth, revealing a cramped cave in the hillside. Snowdrop dashed out of the makeshift prison to meet her. The boulder fell back to the ground and rolled a short distance away.

Skyshine and Snowdrop clung to one another in the clearing. Worker staggered to his feet, the glow on his horn fading. He stumbled towards his wife and his daughter, and arrived alongside Luna. Celestia stepped past the family and approached the cave. With the utmost care, she gently brought out the unconscious form of a cream-colored pony.

Celestia set Tea Blossom down on the grassy hillside, and touched her forehead with her horn. A shimmer of golden light passed over the young pony, then Celestia turned and smiled. Luna sighed with relief.

Snowdrop was oblivious to it all. She held fast to Skyshine, murmuring her parents’ names over and over again. Skyshine kept her in an iron embrace. Worker wrapped his forelimbs around them both.

Skyshine could not recall a time that she had ever been happier.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

On one side of the bars, Worker and Snowdrop waited patiently. They spent their time together in silence, watching the captive pace the confines of his cell. Despite his circuitous route, Sonic never took his eyes from the window that looked out into the late morning. If he knew he had company, he didn’t let on. The two ponies nodded at the occasional guard that passed them in the lonely corridor.

Snowdrop nudged her father’s shoulder with her horn. “He doesn’t look so scary any more,” she whispered.

“No, he doesn’t,” Worker agreed, leaning down to nuzzle his daughter. “He looks sad. Lonely.”

Snowdrop looked into her father’s eyes. “Will you go talk to him, Daddy?” She glanced at the captive hedgehog and frowned. “I don’t want him to be sad.”

Worker marveled at his daughter. “Really?” He sat down next to her and put a hoof on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, do you really mean that? After all he’s done?”

She smiled up at him. “Well, yeah, Daddy. I mean, you told me he used to be a hero. A good guy.” She spared another glance for the prisoner, and her voice wavered. “I think he’d like to be a good guy again.”

“Do you think he can be a good guy again?” Worker was not one for rehabilitation. He was not accustomed to granting his foes a second chance. In fact, the idea of Equestria’s first public execution in 1400 years sounded better every minute.

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, then dropped into a mock whisper. “Mommy says he just got confused.”

Pulled from his dark reverie by this absurd claim, Worker cocked his head. “Confused?”

“He thought you were someone else. That’s why he...” Snowdrop bit her lower lip and studied the hedgehog. She murmured, half to herself, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Worker stared at his daughter, his jaw working. The fear that flickered across her face set his blood alight, and for the briefest of moments he entertained punishments that would make the Zone of Silence seem like paradise.

The Zone of Silence, he thought. Exile. Wait. That might just be the answer. Worker looked at the ceiling until he was sure he had regained his composure. He took a breath and leaned close to his daughter. “Snowdrop,” he confided, “sometimes I wish I was half as smart as you, or your mother.”

“You just have to keep trying,” she said, perfectly earnest.

Worker fought back a laugh. “Let’s get you back to Mommy. Then I’ll come back here and talk to him, okay?”

“Okay!” Snowdrop chirped. She cantered down the hall without a care in the world.

The guards smiled at her fondly as she passed. Her father shadowed her, his smile fading as he turned the possibilities over in his mind.

Some time later, Worker returned to his vigil. He studied his old foe, counting each grey quill, tracing every line on his face. Sonic didn’t just look old, he was old—far older than he. Somehow, that table had been turned.

He looked away from the hedgehog and studied his surroundings. The cot had been moved away from the window, if the other cells were any judge. A set of buckets sat in the corner, one with a cover. Beneath the barred window a rough grid had been scratched into the stone. Two by seven, he counted, and ten of them had been crossed through with an X.

After a time, the prisoner stopped pacing, and stood before the window, staring down at the bustling city. Worker wondered, idly, if anyone in Canterlot even knew a prison existed, much less saw use. Still, time was wasting, and if the marks on the wall were any guide, Sonic was running out of it.

“Sonic.”

The hedgehog stared out the window, but Worker knew he had been heard—Sonic’s quills had shivered.

Worker set down a cushion outside the bars and sat upon it. “My daughter asked me to talk to you, Sonic.”

“That’s a new one,” he replied. He could have been part of the stone on which he stood.

“She seems to think you’re worthy of rehabilitation.” Worker leaned forward and rested his chin on the lower rail.

Nearby, a guard started forward. Worker shot her a glance, and she stepped back into her stance, keeping a wary eye on the cell.

Sonic barked a laugh, but did not reply.

Worker tried again. “I think you’d find her very convincing.”

Sonic looked at the floor in front of his feet. Worker waited patiently.

Silent minutes passed. Neither creature moved. Finally, Sonic walked to the bars and sat down on the edge of his cot. Worker sat up.

Sonic stared at his hands, and then looked Worker in the eye. “You really mean that.”

“What? My daughter?” Worker laughed. “She’s got me wrapped around her hoof.”

“No.” Sonic glared with exasperation. “The rehab.”

Worker’s laughter faded. “No,” he said simply. “I don’t. I think you’d look very handsome dangling from a gibbet. Fortunately for you, though, I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

Sonic stood and returned to his window. He clasped his hands behind his back, but his fingers strained to ball themselves into fists. “You’re still a monster, Robotnik. You need to be put away. You need to pay for your crimes.”

Worker sighed, and shifted on his cushion. “Well, you’re partially right.”

Sonic turned his head and watched the pony out of the corner of his eye. Worker stared at the railing, blind to the observation.

“I am a monster, but I’m getting better. As for paying for my crimes? Ask yourself: Would Robotnik want to spend the rest of his life as the subject of magical unicorns?”

He sat up straighter and looked at Sonic once more, gesturing at the guards down the hallway. “Surrounded by candy-colored ponies? Bossed around by the most infuriating set of mares,” he continued, a strange warmth filtering into his voice, “and ruled over by a creature so sweet, she couldn’t stomp a bug?”

“Amazing.” Sonic leaned against the wall and studied Worker. “You really do mean that.”

“Seriously.” Worker shook his head ruefully, then ran a futile hoof through his mane. “Not a bug. I have to carry them out of the house and promise to let them go.”

“And do you?” Sonic asked, a familiar smirk growing at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” Worker chuckled. “As I said, she’s very convincing.”

Sonic stepped from the wall and dropped to the cot. “Ah, it’s all worthless, though.” He shook his head, grumbling at himself.

Worker stood, and shifted down the wall so he was closer. He watched Sonic for a time, then sat again, and asked quietly. “What, rehabilitation?”

Sonic threw up his hands in frustration. “I wish you’d stop using that word. I’m not so different from how I was.”

Worker coughed noncommittally.

The hedgehog glowered, but let it go. “Anyway. I’m stuck here. I could sing ‘Kum-Bah-Yah’ every day and praise those damn unicorns ‘til I pass out, and I’d still be stuck here.”

“The princesses would probably not appreciate your term for them.” Worker wore a scandalized grin. “But, they might be willing to listen to a trusted advisor.”

Sonic arched a brow and folded his arms across his chest. “You? Advising royalty? That worked so well last time...”

Worker met his eyes in a level gaze. “Sonic. I won’t lie to you. There’s a part of me that would like to reach through these bars, right now, and reduce you to a fine paste with my bare hooves.” He allowed himself a feral smile—it did not touch his eyes. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

Sonic blinked, opening his mouth to reply, but Worker continued.

“But, as I am not lying to you, you can trust me when I tell you that the best thing for you, for me, and for Equestria would be you going back home and telling everyone you never laid an eye on me.”

Sonic stood and leaned in close, looming through the bars. “That’s awfully convenient, Robotnik.”

“Worker,” he corrected.

“Robotnik,” Sonic growled. “You get off scot-free, my world is still in ruins, and I go home empty-handed.”

Worker frowned, and stood up. “Ruins?” He paced back and forth in the hall, turning the word over in his head. “It wasn’t ruins when I left. As a matter of fact, it was rather idyllic. And my final project never succeeded.”

Sonic spat. “It’s a hole.”

The unicorn stopped in mid stride. “Sonic?”

“What?”

Worker stared down the hall. “How much of your time did you spend helping this world you value so highly...” He turned to look at the prisoner. “...And how much did you spend trying to find me?”

Sonic gripped the bars and peered out into the hall. “How can I rebuild a world when you’re still out here?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I...” he began, and then sat down on the edge of his cot. “None. I didn’t spend any time at all.”

“So! The Great Hero of Mobius. The Blue Blur!” Worker reared up with a flourish, then planted himself on all fours and glared at Sonic. “And all those other ridiculous titles. When your world needed you most, when they needed a leader,” he seethed, “you holed up and hid yourself away in a quest to find someone that you didn’t even know still existed.”

“I...” His eyes went wide.

“And your world fell apart.”

“But...” Sonic protested.

Worker walked to the bars and looked him in the eye. “Sonic,” he murmured, “I was a monster. I enslaved that entire realm simply because I could. But you are far more terrible than I. You abandoned them.”

“No,” he pleaded, “I...” He looked up at Worker, and found himself staring into the most disturbing expression. His old foe struggled with a frown, but his eyes were filled with unsettling familiarity. They regarded him with sorrow, with understanding, and with pity.

“I’ll come visit again tomorrow,” Worker said quietly, then turned away. He walked down the hall and nodded at the guards, who saluted and opened the door. “Think on it, will you?”

With that, he was gone.

The Court of the Moon was a place of mystery. Where her sister preferred direct paths and bold expression, Luna infused her surroundings with her art. Passages tended to shift when you didn’t look at them, and the guards kept random patrol routes out of necessity rather than any larger strategy.

In a side-chamber currently fashioned as a sitting room, the princess lounged atop a large embroidered cushion the same shade as her coat. In the dim environs, she seemed to fade into shadows until only her eyes could be seen flashing in the low firelight—and flash they did.

“Rehabilitation?” Luna peered closely at Worker. “Are you serious?”

Worker stood before the fire, sparing the occasional glance for the pooling shadows. He wasn’t entirely certain, but he thought they had just rippled. “Not so much rehabilitation as reprieve. But as for sincerity? I am. Completely, your highness.”

“You only call me that when you’re planning something.” Worker was sure she was smiling in the darkness.

He stiffened. “I’m always planning something, your highness.”

“And?” Luna leaned forward. Her smirk was clear, and her arched brow invited him to continue.

Worker sighed. “...And you’re right. Luna, he needs this. He needs to go home, he needs to heal.” He looked towards the fire, and watched the threads of enchantment that kept it alight. It used no fuel. “He’s been undergoing a transformation in my absence, and now that he recognizes it, he can work to resolve it.”

Luna retreated back into shadow. Her voice, however, seemed lighter. “You certainly seem willing to forgive him, Worker.”

Worker closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

“Then what...”

He turned away from the fire and studied the violet tapestries. “Maybe it’s a selfish reason. But for all his faults, his habits, his blind spots and his frailties, he was right.” Searching the shadows, he found the shimmer of her eyes once more. “He deserved to be a hero, and the good guy deserved to win. But...” He swept his eyes back to the tapestries.

“But?”

“But he’s not the good guy any more. He could be. He needs his friends, his home, and his life back. He can’t get those here.”

The fire grew in intensity, and the features of the room began to slide into focus. Luna rose from her seat and strolled closer to her subject, placing herself into his field of view. “I don’t see how that’s selfish,” she said, slowly, soothingly.

“Don’t you?” He forced himself to meet her gaze, but his ears flickered with irritation. “I was beaten, plain and simple, by the unflagging determination of a creature who knew he was in the right. I could accept that.” His ears drooped. “I can’t accept this mockery. It’s perverse.”

“So you want him to go home,” her lips trembled as an involuntary smile played in the shadows, “so you can feel better about losing?” She turned around and repositioned herself on the cushioned dais.

“Losing to him!” Worker growled, straining to keep his temper. She did not deserve to be the target of his anger. “He’s earned a happy retirement. He deserves to go home and become what he once was.”

“Despite all he’s done?” Luna prodded.

“Because of it,” was his whispered reply. “And because if he stays in Equestria much longer, I may just take his place in that cell.” He stared at the carpet underhoof, no longer able to meet his old friend’s gaze. He was surprised to feel her muzzle against his cheek.

“You never fail to amaze me, Worker,” she murmured, and graced him with a kiss on his forehead.

“Oh, this one’s not my doing, your highness.” He glowered, but his temper subsided. “You can thank Snowdrop for the idea. I’m only supplying the reasons.”

Luna stepped back a pace, and smiled down at her subject. “You have a remarkable daughter.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled, and stepped to a small table near the hearth. “Did you know that she brought the application for unicorn training with her, just so she could show you she got it?”

Luna levitated a small flask and two tiny stemmed glasses, and laughed as she filled them. “Was there any doubt it would arrive?”

“Well, that’s where it gets funny.” He accepted the glass and sipped from it, then returned to his tale. “You see, Sundown had delivered it personally, and he got his feathers ruffled when he heard her marveling. It seems she’d overheard some of the townsfolk talk about waiting on packages, or delays on important shipments...”

“Oh dear.” Luna’s low laughter flowed through the room. “She didn’t share those opinions with Sundown?”

“She did,” Worker snorted. “He was rather put out. Well, you know Snowdrop. She wanted to know why he was so upset, and began asking some very pointed questions...”

The two ponies chatted as the night wound on. Luna had few guests of late, and truly enjoyed playing hostess—especially to an old friend.

Lentils had just finished setting the places when she heard the princesses approach. After a quick check of the table confirmed that all was as it should be, she made haste for the exit. From the tone of the muffled voices that drew near, she did not want to be in the room for the sisters’ arrival.

The door that led to the great hall flew open, and two creatures of grace and refinement stomped and glowered their way into the chamber. On the opposite wall, a servants’ door swung tightly shut, but neither of the new occupants noticed.

“Freedom?” Celestia scoffed, dropping inelegantly into her seat on the eastern side of the table. “You want to let him traipse back into the mountains, after breaking so many laws?”

“Technically,” Luna replied airily, settling herself into her seat, “he’s not been charged.”

“Technically my royal flank. You know the incantation we used: the same one we used to secure a number of threats from long ago. That carries as much weight as formal sentencing.”

“None are alive now, save us, who recall those traditions.” Her eyes traced over the various portraits and landscapes that adorned the walls. “Indeed, there are few spots on the map that remain from that time.”

Celestia fluttered her wings in irritation.

Luna held up a hoof. “I understand your reluctance, sister. To some extent, I agree. The rules are important, even if we are the ones who wrote them.” She studied Celestia’s handiwork in the window behind her, then returned her gaze to her sibling. “Let me make the case another way. Our guest has been formally taken into custody to answer for his crimes—crimes which, I recall, are rather severe.”

She poured herself a glass of juice, and held it before her. “So severe, in fact, that many of them call for either permanent imprisonment or exile.” She sipped it, then hid her muzzle behind her glass. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Unless, that is, you would care to reopen negotiations with the Lord of Tartarus?”

Celestia opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. Silently, she studied her sister. Finally, she poured herself a cup of tea. “You’ve been spending too much time with Worker, Luna.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Celestia glowered, but kept her tone civil. “Exile, then.”

“Yes,” her sister replied, casually filling a bowl with berries.

“To his own realm.” Celestia sliced some fresh bread and searched the table for the honey.

Luna smiled over her berries, and sent the honey and butter her way. “Again, yes.”

“Thank you.” The elder sister busied herself with filling her plate, then asked, “What if he can’t get back?”

Luna swallowed her berries. “I’ve given that some thought.” She dabbed at an imagined spot with her napkin, then set it down. “Were he to accept a geas that prevented him from setting foot in Equestria...”

“I see.” Celestia nodded, thinking it over. “It is a simple enough enchantment. Applied carefully, it would take some time to wear off.”

Luna shook her head, chuckling. “Some time.”

“Mm?” Celestia arched a brow. Her temper had subsided, but her sister had a way of finding her buttons.

“About a hundred years, yes. That would be some time.”

“I see your point.” Her lips played with a frown, but she assumed serenity once more. “While I have my reservations, if everything you have told me is accurate, then I am willing to allow this creature to return to his own world.”

“I’ll let Worker know.” Luna stood from the table, drained her goblet, and turned towards the door. She had barely moved a hoof before Celestia spoke up.

“Luna, you do realize we are not done with him. Especially after that matter with the fire. If Nightmare has surfaced once more...”

She nodded. “I’m aware. I do intend to address that matter with him soon. Just not now, and not with a ready-made outlet for his anger at hoof.” She stamped restlessly, half-turned towards the door, but she kept both eyes on her sister.

The elder alicorn regarded her with a practiced grace, her face a mask over her true emotions. “I simply need to make this clear: If you do not address the issue soon, then I will—and my skills in healing lie towards injuries of the body.”

“I understand, ‘Tia. I do. I will broach the subject with Worker as soon as our guest is on his way.”

“Thank you, Luna.” She glanced up and smiled at her sister once more. “Do give Worker my regards?”

“I’d be delighted.”

When Worker returned to the cell, he was unsure if the hedgehog had moved. Sonic still sat on the edge of his cot, and he stared through the bars at something Worker could not see.

“Good morning, Sonic!” he called. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“It’s only morning if you’ve slept,” Sonic grumbled.

Worker paused a short distance from the bars, then closed the gap at a slower pace. “I’m sorry that you were kept up.”

Sonic stood and leaned against the cold iron. Dispensing with pleasantries, he demanded, “Why are you here?”

“I told you I’d come back today,” he replied, ignoring the outburst. He took a seat across from his companion. “I’d like to ask you a question, but first, I think I need to explain a few things.”

“A few things,” Sonic smirked, slowly looking over the pony from hoof to mane.

Worker tsked. “Those things that we have time for, at least.” He made an effort to steady his voice. “Listen. As you’ve probably noticed, this world seems to be disconnected, at large, from the rest of the Zones. There’s no source tongue, for example, and no direct connection to any other realm that I’ve been able to find.”

“Which means?” Sonic had never been one for lectures.

“Well, for one, there’s no Chaos.” Worker shrugged uncomfortably.

“No... what?” Sonic started, then sat down heavily. “No Chaos energy? But the princesses...”

“That’s what I’m getting at, Sonic. You, personally, are the largest collection of Chaos energy this realm has ever known.” He channeled briefly, levitating his own glasses off his face, and let them drift lazily over his horn. “Ponies use magic. Innate magic. Even the ones without horns. I’ll spare you the history lessons on the various tribes, but as hard as it might be to comprehend, this place is detached from the zone network because, without Chaos, it can be.”

“So, the fact that the Emerald sent you here?” Sonic’s face was a study in incredulity, and he had folded his arms again. “And was able to send me on your heels? That’s just an inconvenient coincidence?”

Worker shook his head. “I don’t know ‘how’, Sonic.” His glasses returned to his face, and he adjusted them briefly with a hoof. “But I think it’s because it knew what I wanted, and searched every realm until it found it.”

“What did you want?”

“A way out,” he replied plainly. “A little peace. A little quiet.”

Sonic’s brow furrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

Worker arched an eyebrow. “Then believe your own eyes. What did you want? Me. Me, specifically.” He stood, and began pacing as he explained. “The Emerald could have sent you to any other zone, to any other universe to pick up a clone. Someone who looked how you expected. Someone who performed the same deeds. But no. It sent you to me.” He stopped in his pacing and stared directly at the hedgehog. “I wager it sent you to the exact spot I appeared. Was there a cave nearby?”

Sonic, who looked distinctly uncomfortable, shifted on his cot. “Yes. With your crates inside.”

Worker nodded curtly. “As I said, I don’t understand the ‘how’, Sonic, but I’m beginning to get the ‘why’. The Emerald, perhaps all the Emeralds, knew our desires. They altered time and space to achieve them. They can, frankly, do anything.” He stared into space for the briefest of moments, then shook out his mane. “We’ve just never dreamt large enough to find that out,” he murmured.

Sonic stared at him with an unreadable expression. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So when you get home,” Worker confided, “you can give your world what it needs.”

“My world.” Sonic ran his tongue across his teeth, and leaned back to study the ceiling.

“Yes,” Worker replied, sitting back down. He took a breath and visibly relaxed, as if an invisible weight vanished from his shoulders. “I no longer lay claim to it, Sonic. It belongs to you and yours, and always has. I hope you will be a wiser ruler than I.”

Sonic sat up and peered curiously at the pony, his hands on the edge of his cot. “I...” he began, then ran out of words. He thought about it for a moment and tried again. “I still don’t understand why you brought up the subject.”

Worker changed tack. “What I said about the ponies and magic is true. It comes in many forms: almost as many forms as there are ponies. When I first arrived here, I met a remarkable unicorn named Whisper. She has the unique ability of comprehension.” He glanced at Sonic to make sure he was following along. “That is, she can understand others easily, and make others comprehend her.”

Sonic leaned towards the bars, curiosity piqued. “Make? She controls thoughts?”

Worker shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking, no.” He rubbed his chin, and then approached the subject again. “Imagine a universal translator, but only from your words to Equestrian. Like... training wheels for learning the language.”

Sonic began to piece the conversation together. “So you want me to know Equestrian? Why?”

The pony smiled, an old teacher pleased at his student’s perception . “Because Princess Luna wants to talk to you, and offer you your freedom.” Sonic’s eyes widened in surprise. Worker raised a hoof to forestall him. “But, she wants to make sure there are no misunderstandings.”

“My freedom?” Sonic breathed, then his eyes narrowed into slits. “That means there’ll be conditions,” he glowered.

“There are always conditions, Sonic,” Worker said patiently. “Just like there are always unexpected results. You’ll want to keep that in mind when you go home.”

Sonic eyed him warily. “You keep talking about me going back, like it’s a given.” He stood, and strolled back to the the window, watching the mid-morning light play along the rooftops.

“I want it to happen,” Worker explained to his back. “I find that, here, if you want something to happen, you should behave as if it will.”

Sonic scratched the back of his head, then looked over his shoulder back at his old foe. “That’s... creepy.”

“Serendipity often is.” Worker stood, and leaned against the bars. “Now, tell me: Should I ask Luna to send in Whisper, today? Or will you turn down the opportunity?”

Sonic turned to face Worker once more, frowning. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “All she can do is that language spell?”

Worker nodded. “That’s the only spell I’ve known her to cast. She can barely pick up a quill with her magic. Believe me, I understand your concern, but...” He sighed, closing his eyes to piece together his words.

“Sonic,” he continued, opening his eyes once more, “after what you did in Pasofino, I have no doubt that Luna could—very easily, and without regret—reduce you to a greasy char mark on those very stones. I would be hard-pressed to not cheer as she did so.”

Sonic glanced to his feet, then forced his eyes back to Worker.

“She is incredibly powerful, and frighteningly adept. There is no reason for her to play games, or entreat her subjects to do so. She does not want to convert you. She wants you to know what you’ll be accepting, if you do choose to accept.”

Sonic shuddered. “Fine. Yes. If your princess wants to talk to me, then I will accept her translation-spell.”

Worker nodded, and stepped back from the bars. “I’ll tell Whisper to come this afternoon, then. In the meantime, Sonic?” He looked over the hedgehog, from sneaker to quill. “Get some rest? You look terrible.”

Sonic felt terrible, but did not move. He drummed his fingers against the wall, and studied the ceiling once more. “I’ve asked before, but, why are you doing this, Worker?”

“Because you won.” He shrugged, unable to stop the grin that crept across his features. “You deserve your prize. The universe as a whole isn’t very fair, but this place works best when it is.”

Sonic peered down his snout at the pony. “If I won, then why are you smiling?”

“You called me Worker.” He turned and strolled towards the exit.

As was her habit, Luna strolled through the Twilight Gardens, pausing to admire a bower of moonflowers and the moths that tended them. The princess felt a kinship with all nocturnal life, and that kinship extended, in some small way, to the hedgehog that walked by her side.

“He has a great deal of admiration for you, Sonic,” she confided. She inhaled the heady perfume of a strange white-leaved vine, then returned her attention to her guest. “Perhaps it is a little tarnished by your past, but still, I sincerely believe him when he says he wants you to be happy.”

Sonic didn’t quite know what to make of his hostess or his surroundings. He eyed the ring of guards that silently kept pace with him, and realized he was tensing his shoulders and balling his hands into fists. “That’s what bothers me, your highness,” he replied, forcing his hands to his sides. “He’s always been good at manipulating others. He can play the long game and the short game at the same time, and always has a way out. Honestly...” He eyed Luna, then looked back to the silent unicorn chaperones. “...I don’t know if I’m even talking to a real pony right now.”

“You are.” The princess wore a mysterious smile. “But then, you’d expect me to say that.”

Luna nudged a peculiar wrought-iron sculpture as she passed. It spun lazily in the moonlight, accompanied by an odd music. The strangely-balanced mobile caught Sonic’s attention, and he stopped to watch it move. He realized the princess was speaking into his ear.

“I can’t allay all your fears,” she murmured, “nor can I address all your suspicions. What I can do is offer you an Accord.” Somehow, Luna pronounced the capital.

Sonic realized the ethereal music came from the sculpture itself. The lengths of cold iron chimed and grated as they spun past one another. It was enchanting. “I’m...” He cleared his head, shaking out his quills, and glanced sidelong at the princess. “I’m listening.”

Luna drew away, seeming to flow through the shadows until she sat upon a nearby bench. She looked pointedly at an empty chair beside it, then back to Sonic. He walked to the seat, and noticed that the guard had turned their backs upon their meeting.

Once Sonic had taken his seat, Luna gestured at a low table between them. It held a crystal pitcher and two small goblets, which rose with a shimmer of her horn. “Would you care for a drink?” She filled one goblet, and waited for his reply.

“Yes, thank you.”

Nodding with satisfaction, she set the vessel beside him, and filled her own. She took a small sip, and, sparing the barest glance for their chaperones, turned her attention back to the hedgehog.

“I, Luna, Princess of Equestria, at the request of Worker and his family, will permit you to return back to your home world of Mobius, through the same mechanism by which you arrived. In exchange, you, Sonic, visitor from Mobius, freely and without reservation, accept the following geas to be laid upon you.”

“Geas?” he asked, arching a brow at the unfamiliar word.

“A spell that enforces a contract,” she replied, “in the most simple of terms.”

“More magic,” he frowned. He sniffed at the contents of the goblet, then sipped it. It tasted like water, but had an immediate warming effect. “What are the terms?”

“One,” she counted, and a tiny shimmering light sprung to life to float between them, “you are unable to enter the town of Pasofino for as long as you live.” The light bobbed lazily, a boat on placid waters.

“Two,” she continued, and a second light joined the first. They spun about one another, fireflies in courtship. “In the event that you are unable to return to Mobius, the geas will compel you to put a greater and greater distance between yourself and Canterlot until you are outside of the borders of Equestria.”

Luna blew on the two lights and they drifted apart. “Three.” Another light appeared between the first two, and they wove a graceful, formless orbit around one another. “Once outside Equestria, you will be unable to return to it for any reason.”

Sonic pulled his eyes away from the mystical display, and met Luna’s gaze. “So, exile.” She nodded in reply. “Well, it beats prison. When could we make this happen?”

Luna blinked in surprise. “You’re ready now, then?”

Sonic drained his glass, and set it down beside his chair. “Yes, your highness. No offense, but I’ve been in some weird places, and this one takes the cake.” He rose from his seat and, on a whim, tapped one of the glowing spots with a finger. It drifted away, the other two lights trailing behind it as they vanished into their verdant surroundings.

He looked back to his hostess. “The sooner I get home the better.”

Luna rose from her seat and nodded. At some unseen cue, the guard returned their attentions to the pair. “What about Worker?” she inquired. She stepped down a nearby path, but kept one eye on her guest.

Sonic followed. “That’s the question, huh?” He scratched the back of his neck, then shrugged.

“We’ve talked. There are several ways he could take his side of the conversation, but what matters to me is that I have the chance to go home. It could all be another ploy, another grand scheme of his...” Sonic wore a wry grin and shook his head. “...but what if he’s right? If he has changed, then that means the guy I’m looking for, well, he isn’t around anymore.”

“A sensible outlook, in the circumstances.” Luna stepped into a clearing and paused beside a pool. She watched the ripples on the water, then turned back to her companion.

“Sonic,” she said, peering at him, “I must admit: Given your actions when you first arrived, I did not think you would accept my offer.”

The hedgehog said nothing in reply, but strode to the other side of the pool. He stared into its depths, lost in thought. After a time, he shrugged, and returned her gaze.

“Your highness, I don’t know what to believe anymore. My worst enemy wants nothing but my well-being. The people I meet seem genuinely at peace in a very strange world. My goals will do more harm, in the long run, than good.” He threw up his hands in frustration.

“The best thing for me, I think, is just to go back home. Even if nothing changes, at least I can live out my years in familiar surroundings.”

“Are you very old, for your kind?”

“Fifty-seven, and fit as a fiddle.” Sonic grinned with genuine enthusiasm, and tapped his chest with a fist. “Amy says if I lay off the chili dogs, I might even beat my uncle Charles. He made it to sixty-five. Still, no chili dogs...”

“Who is Amy?”

“She’s...” Sonic looked away, suddenly interested in the nearby towers. “A friend. A good friend.”

Luna smiled faintly, a twinkle in her eye. “I see.

“Sonic, if you are ready, I can arrange the spell now, and see you on your way. Do you have any unfinished business you’d like to attend to, before we begin?”

“No, your highness. Not really. Just... If you see Worker soon, tell him I said ‘Thanks’.”

“Just ‘Thanks’?”

“It’ll be enough.”

Sonic sat in the shelter of his cave, watching a spot in the sky that seemed much like every other. It never changed, never gave any reason to deserve such attention, and yet he watched on.

As each day passed, he felt a growing need to move on—to place more distance between himself and the heart of Equestria. He could have pointed directly at the palace gardens by that feeling alone. So long as he did not stand, however, he could keep himself from walking.

His rations were nearly gone, and the only reason he had water was due to the daily rains. He would have to stand, eventually, and then he would have to go. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. If he just waited a little longer, Amy would come through. She always did.

Sonic curled up beneath his blankets and dozed off once again, entering a familiar dream—one he’d visited every day since he’d reached the cave.

He sat at a large table, surrounded by friends and family. Amy was there, as was Knuckles, and Rouge. His uncle, Charles, smiled at him, and at his side were his mother and father. Sally showed off a new vest. Tails simply showed off. Recently, Worker had appeared at the table, as did his daughter, and they laughed and chatted along with everyone else.

Tonight, another guest had arrived: Princess Luna. The other partygoers did not seem to notice her, but she sat by his side, and kept him company. For some reason, every time he looked away he forgot she was there.

Eventually, as all parties do, it ended, and his friends wandered off to other responsibilities. He sat at the table, surprised once again to find himself in the princess’ company. Finally, she stood, and leaned close to kiss him on the forehead.

“Wake up, Sonic.”

Sonic groaned. The sky was painfully bright, but the worst of the light was blocked by a familiar silhouette.

“Princess?”

“Indeed. I think your friends would like to see you. They’ve been shouting at you for the last hour.”

Sonic was on his feet before he realized it and stared wildly about. There, a few feet above the mountainside, hung a hole in reality. From within, he could hear the sounds of machinery, and the wail of a klaxon that signaled something was about to go very wrong.

“Damnit, Sonic! Wake up! Get in here before we blow the entire facility off the face of the planet!”

Amy.

In a flash, Sonic crossed the distance, and crouched to leap through. At the last minute, though, he stopped, and took a breath.

He turned and smiled at the princess.

“What the hell are you doing, Sonic?”

“Thanks,” he said.

Luna smiled. “It’s enough,” she replied.

Sonic leapt through the hole. Reality shattered about him, and the pain returned with a vengeance. He didn’t care. It meant he was finally going home.

“Daddy! Daddy!” screeched a bundle of sky-blue energy that bounced through the room. “Princess Luna’s gonna be my teacher! She says she wants to be a monitor!”

Worker sat up in bed, blearily trying to process the presence of the high-energy filly. The sun was barely beginning to rise, and the clock on his bedside table read ‘far too early on a Saturday’.

Skyshine reached over, seized his pillow, and pulled it over her own head.

Worker spared his wife a withering look, then he smiled at his daughter. “What do you mean, sweetheart? Luna wants to mentor you?”

“Uh-huh!” His daughter beamed with pride. “She says I have potent... po...”

“Potential?” he offered.

“Yes!” Snowdrop squeaked.

“That’s great!” he declared, and snuggled her close, dragging her up onto the bed. He tousled her hair and tapped her horn with his hoof. “There’s no better teacher I could name. You’ll do great. Now, can you give your mother and I a chance to wake up? We’ll be right out, I promise.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She kissed him on the cheek and with a great bounce flung herself off the bed, and was out the door in a flash, which slammed behind her with a deafening crash.

“Mnphflngeh,” said Skyshine.

“Can’t hear you, love,” Worker replied.

“I said it’s your turn, Worker,” Skyshine’s muzzle said from beneath the pillows.

“That it is, dear.” He stretched, then rolled out of bed and onto his hooves. “I’ll get breakfast started. Coffee or tea?”

From somewhere in the house, a little voice screamed with delight.

“Coffee,” she said. “Black.”

Worker smiled and trudged sleepily into the kitchen, where he busied himself among the pots and pans. Soon, he had the morning meal started, a pot of coffee brewing, and a filly at the table waiting eagerly.

“Dead?” she asked, incredulous. Amy set down a tray of fresh fruit and slid a mug of cider across the table to Sonic. He snagged it lazily and drained half of it in a swig, then set it on the table.

“And gone,” he replied. In some ways, it was the truth.

“So,” Knuckles inquired, “what’s next?”

“Well, that’s sort of up to us. But we’ve spent too much time in this facility, I think, and not enough time out there. Mobius needs us.”

“Are you okay, Sonic?” Amy asked. “You’re making sense.”

He spared her a glare, but it evaporated nearly immediately. “I missed you guys, is all,” he replied, staring at his mug.

Amy blushed crimson. Knuckles groaned and got up to fill his plate.

“What took you so long, anyway? I was on that mountainside for a good two weeks past the pick-up time.”

“Two weeks?” Knuckles paused, a spoonful of pasta forgotten in his fist. “Sonic, we’ve been trying to re-open that gate for two months, now.”

“Two months. Sixty days?”

Amy nodded. “Unless the definition of month has changed, yeah.”

“Huh,” he replied, suddenly needing a much stronger drink. “Weird.”

Worker relaxed with his wife on the back deck, watching the fireworks display over Pasofino. Snowdrop was already asleep in her chair, and her pennant declaring her allegiance to the Wonderbolts lay forgotten across her lap.

“Skyshine,” he murmured, nipping her ear, “did you ever think about having another one?”

“What, a foal, Worker?” she whispered in reply. “Aren’t we getting a little old for a larger family?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dear.” He squeezed her gently and kissed the back of her head. “Maybe I’m just being a silly old pony. But there seems to be something more out there for us, now, and it feels almost wrong to keep it to ourselves.”

“Why, Worker!” She reached up and stroked his hoof, pulling his hug tighter. “That was almost poetry.”

“I no good words, ugh,” he teased, chuckling into the nape of her neck.

Sonic clapped Knuckles on the shoulder, grinning warmly at his old friend. “I’ll miss you, Red, but I’m glad you’re happy.”

Knuckles nodded mutely, tears in his eyes as a low rumble filled the air. A shimmering light surrounded him, and the very ground on which he stood began to rise into the air. It ascended slowly, roots tearing and stones shifting precariously, until it finally leveled out.

The shimmer coalesced into a shining stone that hovered above the landscape, and its occupant waved down from Angel Island’s great height once more.

“Be safe, Knuckles!” Amy called out. “We’ll be sure to check on you soon!” She turned to Sonic, and was surprised to see him walking away towards the shore. “Hey! Sonic?”

Sonic looked over his shoulder at her, and smiled sadly, then continued his stroll.

“Hey, I said! Wait up!” She dashed behind him, then fell into step at his side. They walked together in silence for a time, until finally she could wait no longer.

“Sonic? Are you okay?”

“Never better,” he reassured her.

“Then why...”

“It feels good. I just wonder, sometimes, how much we could have accomplished if we’d started earlier.”

“What, without Robotnik?”

“Wo- yes. Without worrying about him.”

Amy stepped in front of the blue hedgehog, and placed her hands on her hips. “You can’t do that, Sonic.”

Sonic stopped, and lifted his arms to fold them across his chest. He was surprised to find that Amy had already seized his wrists. Glowering irritably, he grumbled at her. “Do what?”

“Hold on to the past like that.” She released his wrists, and took his hands in hers. “It keeps you from looking forward to the future.”

Sonic nodded, then squeezed her hands tightly. “Looking forward to the future sounds nice.” He released his grip, but she still held on with her right.

The two hedgehogs continued their stroll hand-in-hand. Somehow, the world seemed brighter.

“You think it’s doable?” Skyshine asked, shouldering the furniture as she rearranged the greatroom once more.

“Oh, definitely,” Worker replied. He waved to Snowdrop as she trotted off with Tea Blossom, two intrepid explorers heading into the unknown—and, eventually, the park.

“The Diamond Dogs would love the extra work, and we could put some of these eager young cubs from the southlands to work scouting the best routes. There are only so many pegasi this far from Cloudsdale, after all, and most of them have other duties.”

“Huh,” she paused, marveling. “Our own train station. We could go anywhere.”

“That’s the idea, love. Embrace the future, I always say.”

“Always?” She eyed him suspiciously, but her smile spoke to friendly teasing.

He chuckled at her, winked, and strolled down the hall towards the kitchen.

Skyshine shook her head and surveyed the room. No, the chaise would have to go back near the fire, after all. Still, there was one less thing to worry about: her husband had finally come around. Just thinking about it made everything seem better. Simpler, almost. For the first time in a long while, she knew things would work out just fine.

Knuckles sat atop the island, dangling his feet over the edge and basking in the glow of the Emerald behind him. From this distance, he could barely see the blue and pink marks that comprised everyone he knew on the planet. He had thought, for the briefest of moments, that he might have had a chance with her. Alas, it was not to be.

Still, there were others, and now that he had freed up his schedule, well, there was still a chance there. He just knew he had to have confidence. Trust. What was the word?

Worker woke in the middle of the night, but he did not stir from a dream or cry out in panic. Still, he rose from his bed, and strolled outside—barely pausing to flick on the lights. He leaned against the railing and watched the town sleep below. So much had changed in these last few years. A new life, a wife, a daughter, and now, something more. He had learned a great deal about himself, and even more about how the world worked.

Who knew his old foe could have shown him the way?

Worker understood, now. Anything was possible, if he just held on to one simple thing:

Hope.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1
Snowdrop snuggled deep into her blankets, safe and warm against the lingering winter chill. She could not fall asleep—she was simply too excited. The little sky blue filly dug a tattered cloth rabbit out from his pillow-warren and squeezed him tightly. She kept one grey eye on the light that shone under her bedroom door, and whispered to her friend in conspiratorial tones.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow, Mr. Bunny,” she said. “I’m gonna be seven. Seven!” She nickered with glee and buried her face in the rabbit’s tummy to muffle her giggles.

Seven meant a lot of things. For one, it meant she could stay up a half-hour later. It also meant she could join the magic lessons with the other unicorns at school. But most importantly, it meant she could go on trips with her daddy to Canterlot. Just the two of them! She nearly laughed out loud, muffling a happy squeak, then froze. Someone was coming down the hall.

Another pony cast shadows under Snowdrop’s door, then the handle slowly turned. Snowdrop closed her eyes, pretending to sleep, hiding under her cerulean mane. She should have been done with reading and play-time an hour ago.

There was a brief silence, and then she heard a soft, gentle laugh. “Goodnight, angel,” her daddy said. “Go to sleep. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

She giggled despite herself. How could he tell?! She’d closed her eyes before he opened the door, this time!

“Love you,” he whispered in a voice loud enough to be heard in the next room.

Snowdrop giggled again, eyes screwed shut. The door squeaked softly as it began to close. The excited filly immediately sat up and called out to the pony in the doorway, “Daddy?”

He paused. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you tell me a story? Please?” Please always worked.

“Well...”

She put on her best doe-eyed expression.

“...Okay.” He turned back into the room, switched her lamp to its lowest setting, and paused at her bookshelf.

“No, daddy. Can you tell me one?”

“Ahh. Yes, I think I can.” He walked over beside her bed, pulled over a cushion to sit upon, and snuggled his chin onto the pillow next to her head. “In fact,” he yawned, “I think I know just the one.”

Snowdrop snuggled back beneath her covers, clutched Mr. Bunny close, and listened closely. Daddy always had the best stories.

Her father ran a hoof through his wild orange mane, then started as he always did. “Once upon a time...”

In the greatroom, Skyshine rested atop a thick, shaggy rug, buried in a warm blanket and an assortment of comfortable pillows. Fighting slumber, she flipped through a photo album, smiling along with the frozen faces. Despite her protection from the cold, she shivered a moment, and looked up from the photographs.

She peered down the hall towards her daughter’s room. The lamp was still on. If she listened carefully, she could hear Worker doing his best to emulate different voices. Chuckling to herself, she returned to her album, keeping one eye on the hallway for her husband’s return.

Before long, the voices stopped, and then the light went out. There was a brief pause, then Worker stepped carefully out of the room. He set each hoof down gently so as not to make a noise. Once he was clear, he channeled the door shut, then slowly exhaled, turning back towards the greatroom.

“Seaponies?” she asked.

He nodded in response, grinning broadly. “You know how she gets. Next week she’ll want stories about talking rabbits again.”

“She’s got your imagination,” Skyshine said, shifting atop the pillows to give Worker room.

He settled in beside her, and nuzzled the back of her neck, playing with her mane. “And your way with others. Why, I think the two of you have me tied to a lead. Did you know she’s added a lip-tremble to her big-eyed stare?”

Skyshine laughed. “That’s what daughters do, Worker. They reign over their daddies. I did the same with mine.”

“Then I’m happy to be her servant,” he replied, shifting comfortably and closing his eyes. “Just as I’ve been yours all these years.”

“Ha!” she laughed, turning her head to smile at him. “You stubborn old goat. I have to argue with you daily just to make you see sense.”

Worker chuckled into her mane. “Goat? Me?” He nipped at her neck, tugging at her mane. “As for arguing...” He grinned, unseen. “There’s an old saying, dearest. Don’t wrestle with a pig.” He snuggled in close, sighing contentedly. “You get muddy,” he continued, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “and the pig enjoys it.”

“Ugh.” She closed the album, and shook her head ruefully. “Worker...”

“Oink,” he replied, laughing despite himself.

Skyshine picked up a pillow and swung it at him. “Ugh!”

A foreboding, directionless whisper was the only warning. Suddenly, a thousand strange craft appeared, their buzzing rotors tearing through the featureless charcoal grey of an overcast sky. Each egg-shaped machine—in unison with its brothers—dropped to a height just above the rooftops, and then began a slow, steady progression forward.

Nearby, someone stirred, concealing himself from the searching skies while he cleaned a recent injury. The wound was shallow, but dangerously close to an artery. Worker bandaged it best he could, tying an oily rag about the dressing, hoping it would do some good. Standing slowly, he surveyed his surroundings.

A burning SWATbot lay nearby, sparking randomly as its limbs twitched. A few hundred paces away, a foundry fire roared—he could feel the heat from its flames, even at this distance—and the building slowly warped as its support trusses melted.

As for his assailants, they were nowhere to be seen. Had they left? Did they think him dead, or escaped? No time to worry about it. Not yet. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and then paused, looking at his hands. He had hands again. He looked at himself, and noticed his spindly limbs, and pronounced belly. Reaching up, he patted his head, and found smooth skin.

He grumbled quietly, and decided on his next course of action. The platforms at his feet obscured part of the subway system. He would head there and...

A low groan interrupted his thoughts. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw them. A shambling mass of tattered fur, bone, and charred flesh surged forward, claws and talons outstretched, grasping at him. Their eyes—those which still had them—glowed with a sickening green light. Despite their shattered features he recognized them all: the victims of his reign.

He scrambled backwards, falling, his legs tangled in thick cables. In a flash, they were atop him, pulling, scratching, biting. He struggled to fight them off, but soon found himself overcome by...

Worker’s eyes fluttered open in the darkness. His legs were twisted in his sheets, and his face pressed against the floor. Uncomfortably supported by the linens, with his neck twisted awkwardly, he waited in silence, straining to hear his wife’s breathing.

Ah, there it was. Regular and calm. He hadn’t woken her.

He glanced at the clock; it was just after three. Sighing, he decided to get up, get dressed, and check on the house. “Better safe than sorry,” he grumbled. Resigning himself to a sleepless night, he struggled free from his woven prison.

Worker set his hooves on the floor. He peered out the small window by his side of the bed, staring into the darkened forest. Nothing stared back. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out...

There.

Something stirred in the underbrush just past the tree line. It was something larger than a rabbit, or else one that was extremely clumsy.

He moved cautiously, so as not to wake Skyshine. He didn’t want to have that argument again, and he had reasons for his paranoia. Worker left their room, and then strode down the hall towards the foyer, absent-mindedly flipping on the light. There, he slipped on a coat and levitated a flashlight, pressed a button to turn on the outdoor lighting, and ventured outside, locking the door behind himself.

He stepped out onto the porch, and into the night. Above his head, the fluorescent tubes began to glow, slowly increasing in intensity as they defrosted. He paced a moment, warming himself, trying to ignore the great clouds of breath that swirled about his muzzle, and then started his patrol.

“Hrm,” he muttered to himself, “windows first, and Snowdrop’s first of those.” He checked the glass and the window’s seal. Once satisfied that both were secure, he continued his route. The greatroom was next, as well as the scattered chairs and tables on its deck, followed by the master bedroom and kitchen.

Perimeter secure, he turned his attention to the woods. He peered into the underbrush and switched on his light, scanning it from left to right. Nothing stirred. Worker snorted, shook out his mane against the cold, and paced back to the deck. There, he leaned against the railing, and watched Pasofino below.

So much had changed since he first saw it, all that time ago. Now that this year’s Winter Wrap-Up was nearly complete, it was almost fifteen years to the day since he first stepped out of the woods and approached the curious village. He did not observe the anniversary. Fifteen since he met Skyshine, ten since they had wed, and now, seven since Snowdrop had joined them.

Pasofino had grown in leaps and bounds, and he felt a small amount of pride for that. It had, after all, been largely been due to his funding and his wife’s influence. What was once a small hamlet founded as a retreat for musicians had grown into a notable town, with its own hospital, postal office, and foundry. He had paid for those, from groundbreaking through construction, but insisted they bear no mention of him.

The dirt roads of the village he had first encountered were now dressed in pavers, and the road towards Canterlot was next on the workponies’ agenda. The town’s central meeting house had been expanded, and surrounded by a beautiful garden. Housing had tripled, and new boulevards thrived with shops and other businesses.

On the far edge of town, he could just make out the lamps of the Conservatory, now just as much a draw for Pasofino as his toy shop. When the wind was right, he could treat himself to their performances from his porch, although he preferred the box seats with his family. Below him, on the closer side of the town, was Pearmain’s newest acreage, filled with an assortment of apple trees and smaller gardens that would soon begin to sprout. Between the trees marched a small number of machines, scanning for damaged branches or root rot.

It was those machines that had allowed him to change the town and, to a smaller degree, Equestria. Under his badge of office as Royal Engineer, he had begun placing his devices wherever overdue projects lacked the necessary ponies to complete work, and withdrawing them when strong shoulders and eager hooves were available. He did not want his creations becoming commonplace. Familiarity bred contempt, as well as the desire to ‘improve’ his designs.

One pony had tried to do so, already. He had purchased a baseline wood-harvester, and then removed the safeties in an attempt to increase the speed of production. The machine was discovered ten miles away, in a straight line from where he had powered it up. The colt...

Worker frowned. It was too early in the morning to dwell on such things, and today was meant to be a happy occasion. In a few hours, Snowdrop’s friends would visit for a party, and there would be noise and chaos and joy.

The sound of hooves on wood awoke him to the presence of his wife, who approached with a small basket that held mugs and a carafe. She set it down on the rail, and then nuzzled her husband. “Can’t sleep?” she asked. “Excited about today?”

“Mm,” he delayed, pouring a mug of coffee for them both. “Just thinking, really. I wonder sometimes if it’s enough.”

“Enough?” She sipped from the mug, then leaned against the rail with him, holding the warm mug in her hooves.

“I know you don’t like to talk about it. Neither do I, for that matter. But...”

She set down her mug and rested a hoof on his shoulder. “No, go ahead. Whatever this is has robbed you of enough sleep. I’ll listen.”

Worker drank deeply from his mug as he thought. Setting it down, he stepped closer to his wife, enjoying her presence as well as her warmth in the late-night chill. “I’ve done some horrible things, in my past life. Things for which I’ll never be able to atone. I don’t deserve this, here. These accolades, this love. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you, or Snowdrop.”

Skyshine silently stared out at the sleeping town. Not meeting his eye, she began, “That’s what this is? You feel guilty for what happened, before you came here?”

“That’s being generous, love. Nothing ‘happened’ that I didn’t make happen.”

“You’re different, now.”

“That doesn’t change who I was, then. I made an entire world suffer, Skyshine.” He shook out his mane and studied his hooves. “Creatures very much like our friends, our acquaintances. Like ponies, and griffons, and those dogs that help work the foundry. I am—”

“A lummox,” she provided, then kissed him on the cheek. “Do you remember when you came back to me, after the trial?”

He began to answer, but she held up a hoof.

“Rhetorical. Don’t interrupt.”

Worker sipped his coffee instead, and watched her.

“When you returned to me, and to the town, everyone was there. They all waited in the meeting hall for you. Each one had the same two questions: Had you told the truth, and were you the same pony?”

“But...”

Skyshine, still watching the quiet homes below, dismissed him with a raised hoof. “I said don’t interrupt. It’s not often I get to lecture you, and I’m not about to pass this one up, especially since you seem to be unable to see something so simple. You told everyone that yes, you had told the truth, and no, you didn’t feel like you were the same pony. You said pony, Worker. You’re one of us, now, and you weren’t then. We simply cannot hold you responsible for your actions in another life.”

She turned towards him, and poked him in the shoulder, marking each word with an insistent hoof. “And you shouldn’t either.”

Skyshine sipped her coffee, eyeing him over the rim, daring him to speak. Worker opted to keep his tongue still. Satisfied, she set the mug back down, and continued. “You’re a good pony, Worker. A good person, to use the word you so frequently choose. Not once, despite your previous existence, have you ever raised a hoof in anger.

“Not once have you been dishonest, or hateful, or even condescending, which is remarkable in itself, seeing that you clearly know so much more than many of us. You live to make me, your daughter, and your town happy—and by extension, Equestria. You do not steal. You don’t cheat, even at rummy, which I’m happy to say you’re bad at.”

Her voice slowly intensified, a quiet thunder. “Your existence in Equestria has been nothing but a blessing, despite the heartache of the past. And now you doubt that you deserve happiness? You’ve built a hospital for the town! A hospital, out of your own funds and with the help of your marvelous machines. And you—”

She stopped speaking as Worker closed his eyes and turned away. There was a long silence, until her eyes slowly widened in realization.

“So... you think you’ve done all these things...” She tilted her head inquisitively. “And have been this wonderful pony that I know, and love, and treasure, as a deliberate act of kindness?” The tilt leveled out, her gaze becoming a level stare. “An attempt to purchase your salvation? Do I have to remind you that, even when you walked on two legs instead of four, you were just as kind? Just as generous?”

Her voice fell into hushed tones, but what it lost in volume it gained in intensity. “I remember your testimony, Worker. Nearly every word of it, until I couldn’t hear you over my own tears. You were not that... that bastard when you came here. You were different. Changed. Maybe you were just tired, like you said, but I think there was something more. I think you saw the futility of your... horrific conquest, and found that the one thing you wanted was acceptance. A chance for a peaceful future, instead of a crown in the present.”

She walked around him until she could see his face, then stepped closer into a hug, wrapping her neck around his. “I’ve told you before, Worker, that I don’t care about your past. I don’t care about it because it’s not who you are. You are Worker, pony of Equestria, Royal Engineer, father of a beautiful filly...” She tightened the hug, and whispered into his ear. “...And the love of my life. Remember that last one. It will never change, and I won’t let you try.”

The tiny horses lingered on the back porch for some time, then turned and entered the house. After a moment, the outdoor lighting faded. A few minutes later, the glow from a small window followed suit.

The watcher waited, silently counting out three minutes, before stirring. Then he stood, stepped gingerly out of the brambles, and, making sure he was no longer tangled, took off down the hill. Running swiftly over unfamiliar ground—especially in the dark—was dangerous, but he was on an extremely tight schedule.