The Life and Times of Caughlin Mare

Chapters

2: Enter the Order of Order
3: Enter the Order of Order 2
4: Enter Project ALICORN
5: Enter Codename LUNA
7: Enter Codename CELESTIA
8: Enter The Facade
9: Enter The Stalemate
10: Enter the Answer
11: Enter Parenthood
12: Enter Project ALICORN, Part II
13. Enter the Decageas
14: Enter the World Above
15: Enter the Physiotherapist
15b: Enter the Physiotherapist, 2
16: Enter the Deal
17: Enter The Hunt
18: Enter Codename NIGHTMARE MOON
19: Enter the New Era
1: Enter Caughlin Mare & Whooves
6: Enter Furhich, Leader of the Order of Order

2: Enter the Order of Order

"Rum and whiskey? Rum and whisky?"

"Two pennies for a birdie, three for a quail!"

"Does this sack make me look fat?"

The low murmur of the animated flour bags shuffling around her would have worried her a long time ago, but Caughlin had seen far worse. At least the bags were not malicious, and the most they could do was puff her with snout-tickling flour. Caughlin waited for her assistants to make the final calculations, amusing herself with the way their figures bent and stretched through the lens of the curved glass she was behind. With a nod from them, she closed her eyes and performed the only spell that came naturally to her.

The talking bags of flour faded away as the bubble expanded, engulfing everything in a a perfect radius. She sighed as the assistants shook their heads, and with a flick of her head, the bubble, too, vanished, leaving her alone in the chamber.

"Bravo! Well done!" said Whooves, tapping the floor enthusiastically.

"No, Doctor, that was a failure," replied Caughlin, stepping out to meet him.

"I don't see how," frowned Whooves.

"The experiment was an attempt to cast the bubble away from myself. We've placed variations in the thaumic field of the chamber-" Caughlin stopped explaining when his frown deepened, relented, and gave him a playful clop on the head instead. A bit of flour rubbed off into his mane. "And what about you?"

"What about what?" grinned Whooves.

And then she had only just stepped out of the cylinder, and he had a clean head. "Eh... oh," said Caughlin, frowning. "Wait, did I say something? I think I did. But in this set of time I haven't. I told you to stop doing that. It's disconcerting."

"Yeah, okay," replied the stallion. "It's fun, though."

Caughlin simply laughed. She felt happier, somehow, she noticed. It had been a few months since Whooves' inclusion into the Equestrian R&D department, and she had tried her best to treat him as a fellow, not as a test subject. It was hard, considering that he wanted to know the details about everything, but lacked the knowledge to understand it. She herself was curious about his powers, but figured that experimentation could wait. When he was more willing, then she might set some time aside to run tests. So Caughlin had taken him on as a student, teaching him the basics of Discordian physics and how their unique talents came to be.

Caughlin knew what "order" was, because under the Pony Elementary Education Program (PEEP), fillies were raised up for the first four years of their lives in normal, non-chaoatic conditions. This was Discord's own initiative; according to him, chaos lost its meaning without order, and so for Equestria's residents to fully "appreciate" it, he had them all experience order first. To live out perfectly normal, sheltered lives, only to be thrust out into the real world at puberty... It was cruel and twisted, but then again, this was Discord.

It was not completely bad. Through the PEEP, Caughlin had discovered her thirst for understanding. She was fascinated by the idea of heavenly bodies moving in regular patterns, and objects not moving unless given force. Discord had kept a careful eye on her, and found to his glee that instead of flinching away from the chaos of the outside world, Caughlin had taken it all in with wide, amazed eyes.

"So, little mare, I believe you have not casted a spell before." Discord had laid a reality-bending finger on her horn and stepped back to watch. "Let's see what you can do." Still stunned by the chaos, she did not feel it until it happened - the magic welled up inside of her, unused due to restrictions, rose and burst out as a reality bubble. The grass under her hooves were green instead of blue. A bouncing rock next to her lay dead still. Discord had laughed hard, she recalled, even going so far as to clap and cheer.

She shuddered at the thought of Discord taking interest in her. She glanced at her student, struggling with his newest reading assignment on density. He had not been through the PEEP; his parents had hid him, whilst they were still alive. Somehow he had managed to grasp the idea of time manipulation without any concept of it whatsoever. Just went to show that some natural talents were more natural than others, she mused.

"So, do you know about the term, time-space?" she had asked early on.

"No, no, no," he whined, "I don't get any of these sciency things! I just, you know, do it, just like that!"

"I find it very hard to believe that you can take advantage of the weakened state of time fabric 'just like that' without knowing what you're doing," snorted Caughlin.

"How do you do yours?" shot the stallion. "You probably know, though, since you're such a smarty-pants."

"What are pants?" frowned Caughlin. "Ugh, wait, you're getting me off track. Look, it's like...well, imagine a piece of fabric. Cloth." She stretched her hooves out, imagining velvet. "It goes in a certain pattern, weaves, whatever you call it. But it's made up of many, many long threads. With me? Now between those threads, in the tiny holes, is what we call 'magic'. And on those threads are things, objects, ponies like you and me. Now Discord - Discord here uses magic and rends the holes bigger. He weakens the relationship between things. He's very good at it, to the point that he does it all the time, just he pulls harder in some places than others." With gusto, she ripped the air-fabric apart. "Like the shower of frogs in Canterlot a few days before you arrived, I'm sure you heard of it. So because they're not bound to each other as tight as normally, in your case you can take hold of them and move them backwards - that's your time-reversal ability." Her hoof made a little hop from Point B to Point A. "And mine is my magic to pull things back together."

"So...you just do it?"

"Uggggh." She gently massaged her forehead with a hoof. "Yes. Yes, I just do it."

She could not help but chuckle as she remembered those slow, aggravating lessons. Whooves had grown up considerably, and was much more at ease in the Laboratory. It was touching, watching somepony grow up through her amateurish efforts.

"So, then, Doctor, you ready to explain to me what density is, and how Discord affects it?"

"Yeah, I guess so. And can you stop calling me Doctor? It's, uh, sarcastic."

"Sarcasm is funny for everypony except the user and the target," smirked Caughlin. "For the user, it isn't funny, it's just fun. Now come on."

Before Whooves could speak, there was a loud pop. He had not yet become used to it, and had gave an involuntary jump. Caughlin took a deep breath and headed toward the sound.

"Caughlin! Cauuughlin?" called out Discord, doing a mock survey of the area.

"Yes, lord Discord," greeted Caughlin, stiffening her knees from shaking. "Welcome."

"Ah, Caughlin. Good. Say, do you have anything that can spy on an area?" asked Discord.

"I'm sorry?" Caughlin blinked. A request? This is new.

"You know. An extra eye, or something. Something that records? Oh, come on, you know what I mean," grumbled Discord.

"I guess I could set something up, if we had a lens and some circuitry," said Caughlin carefully. "But we need to know more to get the design to be practical-"

"It's those damn rebels!" roared Discord, the sudden force of his voice physically pushing her back. "They're at one place, and there's at another the next! I've seared the ground, torn up forests, caused earthquakes, and they're still nowhere to be found? What do I have to do to get them, bring about the end of the world?"

"No, no, no! That's okay! Just calm down, lord Discord! We'll fix you up with something! Just tell us where you want to use it, and-"

Discord did not wait for her to finish. He pressed a talon hard on her horn. She yelled in pain briefly as an image seared itself into her mind, a scene of wasteland, still smoking.

"There's your setting. I want full surveillance of the surface in a hundred-metre radius," said Discord evenly. "When you're done with the workings, I'll find a way myself to have it linked to me. And I expect this to be done when I next come back, or so help you all."

With a crack of thunder, the tyrant left. Whooves immediately ran up to her. "Caughlin! You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Ooh, boy," muttered Caughlin, getting back on her hooves. The image had not faded from her mind. It seemed to be stuck there. "Alright, Whooves, get me a sketching pad, a pen and that new drug Team 7 was working on. Asp-something, you know, the painkiller." She raised her neck, and her head throbbed even more. "Dammit. The rest of you! I want you all to freeze your projects and prep up! Surveillance device, multi-faceted! Radius of one hundred metres from a side view! With zoom capabilities! Oh, by Discord's claws," she moaned, slumping on the floor. Whooves came quickly with the items, and after downing the drug, she drew out the landscape. It was fairly easy, as the place was simply a desolate plain of debris. It had probably been a small village, judging by the charred clay and many stumps on the edge of the radius.

"I can't make copies of these," said Caughlin, getting back up. "It hurts even to draw this. Get somebody else to duplicate the thing. Memory spell, whatshisface, tell him to come and extract it."

"Yes, ma'am!" yelped Whooves, voice unusually high, and scrambled off. Despite the agony, she felt her heart lighten at the hurried figure of her student. He was a good kid, even if he wasn't too bright.

"Hey, uh, miss?" said Whooves upon returning. "I wonder, but why don't you just use the reality bubble? That is, if the drug isn't working?"

It wasn't. Caughlin blinked at this sudden stroke of inspiration and thought about it hard. Then she shook her head.

"I can't risk that. Right now, my powers can't simply fix anything with a trace of Discord's interference, they take some of the thing away too. I can't be sure what he did to me. It may be an illusion, or he may have altered my brain itself. You remember the flour bags? If my bubble could simply un-Discord things, the bags would have remained. But they disappeared. I'm not going to risk having my brain disappear," reasoned Caughlin. "But thank you, Whooves. That was smart of you. Now go help. I just need some rest."

She wobbled slightly as she left for her room. Whooves watched her, mumbling something apologetic.

It was two hours since she lied down, each minute painful and boring, with her condition only slightly better, when she heard a loud din. There was shouting, curses and threats. Panicking, she forced herself out of bed and ran outside to see the commotion. What she saw left her speechless.

There was another pony in the middle of the den, an outsider. He had been pinned down by a load of other ponies, and he was protesting to no avail.

"Oh, Caughlin! Caughlin's here!" cried a scientist, and they all scrambled off, with Whooves refusing to budge.

"Where...did you come from?" she asked, drawing near, her mouth dry.

"So you are the famous head of the Laboratory," coughed the pony with a grim smile. "Good question-"

"I asked where!" she shouted, kicking dust into his snout.

"I'm from the Order of Order! We're the rebels, and we ask for your help!"

Caughlin felt her heart pound. Her head was in a swirl as she said, "Whooves, get off him. Get off! Take him to your room. The rest of you, pretend this never happened. Do you hear me?"

When it was just the three of them, she had a better look at him. He was a jet-black unicorn stallion with a black mane, most probably dyed. He had no cutie mark, or rather if he did it was hidden by the dye.

"You used magic to teleport here," said Caughlin, brain now whirring in overdrive. He used magic to teleport in here.

"Yes. Yes I did. We have abilities. We've mastered our environment. We know how to use Discord's chaos against him."

"So do I," said Caughlin simply, drawing near to him. It hurt even more, but she had to make sure. It was fortunate that her magic worked the way it did - rather than engulfing herself with it, the reality bubble had a small null field that just covered her horn, head and spine. She produced another bubble that wiped off over him. "Now you teleport away."

"But I-"

"Now!" she shouted, the word coming out in a croak. I've never shouted this much in a day. First time for everything, eh?

When the stallion refused to respond, she said without turning, "Whooves, get me a knife. Now. This very instant."

Abashed, he stepped over to the bedside drawer and took out a long bread knife. She decided to ignore the fact that he was hiding a long knife in his room - for now.

"Stab the silly pony's shoulder. Three, two, one-"

There was a yelp as the blade sunk into his shoulder, and more gasps of pain. Caughlin lowered the bubble, weary, and gave a confused Whooves a pat. "Go get some dressing." To the stallion she said, feeling silly as the words came out in a tumble: "I'm sorry, but I had to check. Discord's the only one theoretically that can overcome my bubble. You said that you could manipulate Discord's chaos. So can I. Much, much better. He doesn't like to get hurt, of course, so at the threat of the knife he would have revealed himself. I'm sorry, but I had to make sure. That you weren't Discord playing tricks on us."

The stallion stared at her blankly, and began to snigger painfully. "So I see, so I see. You are one heck of a mare! I just wanted to deliver a message, so I won't impose any further." He magicked a saddlebag from nowhere, and opened it. Out came a scroll and a small, green alligator: a creature known to her only through PEEP books.

"I'll get fixed up back at the base," said the stallion. "Until then, stranger." With a gasp, he teleported away before Caughlin could say any more.

She hid the two items away until Discord's next visit, which was five days later. In those five days she was stricken with heightened panic of the discovery of those items, curiousity about them and the slow madness the image was driving her into. It refused to fade, staying in her mind all the time. It kept her awake at nights and woke her up in the wee hours of the day. It interfered with her theoretics and blueprint sketching. She was almost glad that she could present the system to Discord, and the moment he left the image was relieved.

On the first day of her freedom, she decided to take out the items in favour of collapsing in rest. This was simply too important. She gathered her team together - they were family, after all, and they kept no secrets - and opened the scroll.

3: Enter the Order of Order 2

"To those who are reading this, greetings and peace.

I am Furhich, leader of the Order of Order. We are a band of ponies who wish to return the world to harmony and order; we wish to topple Discord.

I do not need to tell you how much ponies all over Equestria are suffering at the whim of Discord. To him, they are just events of chaos, but to us, it is a fight for survival.

We are different from previous rebels. Unlike them, we have mastered Discord's influence on reality. Many of us can teleport freely regardless of boundaries, and some of us can revert areas touched by Discord's paws to its original, rightful state. This has given us a great advantage: we are still alive and well despite Discord's efforts to make otherwise; we are in hiding and on the run, but still alive.

We also know more than previous rebels. We know of the existence of the Laboratory; we know who you are and what you do. Your actions are mixed and confused; you side with him in things, and yet you help save thousands of lives through innovations and creations. Your ability to turn the tide of this battle is high, very high indeed.

Are we to be trusted? Consider this. We are fighting against Discord. Discord favours you for now. When he gets bored he will dispose of you, no doubt. But we are in no place to dispose of you, in fact, we value you highly. You are basically our only hope of winning. It is not a matter of trust, it is simply a matter of choice. Whether you will move out of your comfort zone and aid the world, or ignore this and be judged by history.

Can we win? Not by ourselves, but only through unity. We have a plan to defeat Discord. Should you agree, we will send it to you.

This leads us to the issue of communication. You will have received with this letter an artificial dragon. Communication via dragonfire is safest, but impractical considering the nature of dragons; we have therefore developed this - an artificial dragon. He is toothless, and contains a spell that stores messages unless prompted, hence lowering risk of physical injury or unwanted discovery. To prompt the message, poke its right eye, and it will belch out any messages in storage. If you do not poke it, it will not release its messages. The dragon feels no pain, as it is a golem of sorts, so do not hesitate.

We understand that you are a team of brilliant individuals. No doubt you are reading this immediately after one of Discord's visits; no doubt, the safest time to do so is immediately after he leaves, as we gather that Discord generally appears at random time intervals, but not directly after leaving.

To reply, feed the dragon your message. We await as long as necessary. Please, consider us, and our plea on behalf of Equestria.

Sincerely,

Furhich."

After the reading, everypony fell silent. Caughlin examined their expressions. All were torn between reluctance and guilt, especially Whooves, who seemed rearing to go already. She herself did not want to think about it. Could she just ignore it, pretend it did not exist? Maybe when Whooves developed his ability better, they could go back in time and destroy the letter before Caughlin could read it aloud.

She closed her eyes to think. Instead, she was filled with memories. Images of ponies on the run for their lives, struggling against Discord's latest design, images all seen while perfectly safe from harm. They were special and protected. All they had ever wanted was to learn, to work, to understand. Was that so wrong?

And then she remembered the Incident. She made up her mind.

"I'm in," she said softly, before her logic took over. "I'm going to help them."

"But our projects, our research! What about those? Are you going to throw it all away?" yelled a scientist, cracking from the unspoken tension.

"There is no need for a reality bubble if the world is no longer plagued by chaos," said Caughlin quietly. "Nor is there need for cotton candy clouds and chocolate rain if all they do is ruin crops. There is no need for painkillers if there is nothing causing pain! There is no need for any of these things, if we can end them at the root!" She felt herself flare up, but the energy was soon lost to weariness. "I refuse to force anypony. But I need rest. So do you all, since you've been working non-stop on the surveillance system. Go and sleep. Heck, we're all scientists, and we can't decide on anything unless set everything out properly and examine it. Tell me three days after so that I can send a reply."

"But what if Discord finds out?" stammered another scientist.

"Then we die," said Caughlin simply. What the hay am I saying? "Besides, we can still try out that thing. Plan number one."

That caused the murmur to boil into panic. "Caughlin Mare, you have gone mad! It must have been what Discord did to you! I suggest a motion to depose you of directorship!"

"And I suggest a motion for you to shut up," replied Caughlin, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm going to bed. And hey, when you all do the same, think about how many ponies can do that without worrying about the sky falling on their heads. That, or razor blades."

The last phrase made everypony except Whooves flinch. Without another word, Caughlin trotted off, and collapsed on her bed minutes after.

Whooves was one of the few who couldn't sleep - during the construction of the surveillance cameras, he had been unable to do anything, and the lack of activity had made him nervous. He paced the den restlessly, and when he got bored of that he began jumping back in time. Caughlin would have lectured him for being an idiot, he was sure, but there wasn't anything else to do. At least time-shifting felt natural to him, and helped to take his mind off things. Despite only being able to reverse a maximum of three point four seconds (his latest record), the process was draining and he soon found himself too worn out to even stand.

"Are you done with messing up time, kiddo?" snarled an old-timer from his bench. He was drinking something hot from a mug, and looked ill at ease. It took Whooves some time to pick up from his voice that he was one of the neigh-sayers. Whooves did not know how to respond. He knew how he wanted to, but that would only upset Caughlin, so he remained silent. The old pony took a sip and motioned for Whooves to sit with him. Wary, he complied.

"Bah," murmured the old-timer. Up close, Whooves could see just how wrinkled his eyes and snout were. There was an ugly, throbbing scar on his neck. "Well, kiddo. Caughlin's new boy. You decided on your vote? Probably have, eh."

"That's right," said Whooves defiantly. "I'm sticking with Caughlin all the way."

"You're not even sure of what it'll end up like, do you?" smirked the old-timer.

"Of course I don't! But I know what's going to happen if we don't do something. Nothing is going to happen. And everypony's going to be stuck in this cycle," defended Whooves.

"Aye. Young words, those are. Good on you." The old-timer's voice was suddenly filled with sorrow. "But you need to think for other ponies, too. Such as us. You all forget about us, just waiting for us to age and rot away, but we matter, dammit!" There was a brief, painful choke. "I'm resigned to the idea of being stuck. A cycle's a cycle for a reason, after all. Because things don't change that easy. That's why it's a cycle."

"But we can at least try, right?" pleaded Whooves. The old-timer took another sip.

"Let me tell you a story, boy, one about an accident from a long time ago..."

"How long?" quipped Whooves.

"When Caughlin was but a young mare, around twenty years ago," said the old-timer, annoyed at the interruption. "When we all first started."

It had been a year since the formation of the R&D department. We were settling into our new lives, our new home, learning to live with one another. The pony-in-charge was a stallion called Macquaire Pie, and his forte was geology. Most of our projects back then were focused on one aspect or another, not like today where everypony worked on their latest inspirations. And as Pie was the leader, he had the say of things, and we mostly worked on rocks - gems, bedstone, densities and such. Because of that, we needed sharp tools and their replacements every few months or so. Only Discord could give us supplies, so Pie had to put in requests.

Well, anyhow, one time Discord got bored with Pie's systematic way of asking every three months. He hates order, after all, and so he told Pie to bring him a tray of blunt tools for a change. Pie was on the director's stand, so he in turn asked Caughlin, who was as scared and withdrawn as any sciencepony could be. Not only that, she was the youngest one in our team. She was very nervous of course, and I find it so hard to blame her for what happened next - whatever the case, it was whatever had possessed Pie to ask her instead of somepony else that was at fault.

Caughlin carried the tools with her magic up the steps. She was too hasty, and she tripped on the last step. She sent the tray flying all over the two, and that's when it happened - Discord's scaly, physics-defying body was cut by a scalpel.

The sight of blood was just... Discord was the absolute ruler, there was no doubt. But to see him cut like that by such an accident... I guess several things happened that day, to all of us. We realized that Discord wasn't immune to problems like injury, or pain. He was just good at dispensing it. And we think he knew we knew, because at that moment he exploded. No, not literally, just his gasket.

You thought Discord was scary a few days ago? Hell, that was much worse. He roared and bellowed like a manticore for minutes, no words, just pure rage. Caughlin had fallen back down the steps in shock, and lay there cowering. I don't want to remember, but he said something like this:

"What on Equestria made you think this was blunt, huh? Asking for new tools? Are you toying with me? If this is blunt, I'm sure nothing would be wrong if I did THIS!"

We were surrounded by an illusion, or a simulation of something happening in the world above. This wasn't real, because Discord would never let us out, even if it was to teach us a lesson. We were in the middle of Ponyville, a small, peaceful town that produced most of the apples ponies ate. Discord roared again, and the skies turned gray. We watched in horror as Discord first ripped the buildings down, turning every possible piece of cover into thin paper. Then came the rain.

It wasn't chocolate anymore. It was scalpels, just like the one that had cut him.

It was horrible. We screamed and shouted until our throats failed as we watched the Ponyville residents...no, I'm not going to say anymore. You can guess what happened next. It was a massacre. There was so much blood, so much screaming, wailing, crying... the blades did not fall on us, even when we flung ourselves toward them. Like I said, it was an illusion. Discord had meant for us to watch it in its entirety, without giving us a chance of relief.

But we knew that he was vulnerable. I think he spared us just because he thought it was more fun. He's kept a careful eye on us since, veiled by his usual foolery and even affection, and heaven knows what really goes on in his mind.

"Then what happened?" asked Whooves, shivers dancing all over.

"Then we came back," choked the old-timer. He was now crying. "Discord returned us all except for Pie. As the illusion faded, he nudged Pie and said, 'Here's your new supplies', and left him there in Ponyville. Don't ask me how he did it. He's Discord, all right. Why, just to prove it was real, when we were back in here, he dropped a bloodied body on us. The stench was terrible. As for Pie, he probably went crazy from the trauma. Any of us would. We never heard of him again."

Whooves sat silently as the old-timer sniffled for minutes. He felt hollow inside. He had heard news of the Ponyville massacre when he was a child; his parents had been still alive then. They had been arguing about whether they should trade in some of their food for materials to build a better roof in case of it repeating itself in Manehatten. But he had no idea about the details.

"So Caughlin..."

"Caughlin recovered, or at least we hope," said the old-timer. "She blames herself for it. Goes a bit crazy whenever Discord threatens an area or somepony because of something we say or do, or fail to do. Haven't you noticed she becomes all pleading whenever Discord wants to do a demonstration of his powers?" He snorted and drank again. "And she hates Discord. She smiles and bows and things, but we know that deep down she hates him. We all should, really, just that none of us want to face this hate in case we get funny ideas and do something stupid."

"But why not?" exclaimed Whooves. "Why don't you just band together and fight back?"

"Because he's too powerful, you stupid foal!" shouted the old-timer, spilling his drink as he slammed a hoof on the workbench again. "What good is it if we die here and now? Tell me! What's the point? What's the point?" He breathed heavily. "Ponies are just ponies, boy. Discord...he isn't a pony, he's something much worse. He can be cut, he can feel pain, he can be led astray by emotions. The problem is that none of those are weaknesses for him. Just more death for us. And I... I don't want to hurt anypony anymore."

Whooves stiffened and bit his lip. He got up and left the pony without another word.

That night, Caughlin had nightmares. She awoke in a cold sweat and gave a yelp at two, fluorescent purple eyes met hers. The offending figure blinked, and in an act of stupid defiance lay back down on her blanket. She reached for it and held it at leg's length. The creature seemed content with that, and stared at her.

It actually feels kind of soft, she thought. For a dragon.

She hesitated, and finally decided to give it a quick hug. It gave no response.

"You're a silly little thing, aren't you," whispered Caughlin. "You probably don't even know what you are." The same could be said for you, her mind retorted. "Looks like you're the newest member to our group. My name's Caughlin. What's yours, hmm?"

The artificial dragon yawned and closed its eyes.

"Stupid. That's be a very fitting name for you. Stupid, the artificial dragon," said Caughlin, rolling her eyes. "Sigh. I think I'll let Whooves name you. I don't even know if I can keep you, let alone name you..."

That night, she slept with the dragon curled up next to her, and thought no more of the day's events until she woke up.

4: Enter Project ALICORN

The day had been spent in silence. Nopony felt like talking, and the tension was thickening with every passing hour. Caughlin felt like kicking worktables just to get an outburst from them, just to ease even a bit of the frustration in the air. Thankfully Discord was still caught up with whatever it was he did, for a visit now would almost definitely elicit a nervous breakdown from somepony in the hall.

That night, she had a hasty dinner and wrote in the secrecy of her room:

To: Furhich, of the Order of Order.

I am Caughlin Mare, chairpony and head of the R&D department. We are all aware of your offer, and we considering its implications.

Personally, I do not believe that many will join. We are sympathetic, but feel that the cost is too great. Have you considered, in the event that we fail, the effects our absence will have on Equestria? You know of us, which is more than we had ever expected... surely then you must know of the good we do. Who are you, and why should we believe in what you say? More importantly, can you fill the hole we leave behind for your fellow Equestrians?

We understand that you are not agents of Discord. But we require more information about your operations e.g. intelligence, transportation, and more importantly administration before we can decide. Give us the scale of your operations. Convince us that you have the power to make our alliance work. A life is not easy to give up, after all, when it is your own - not to mention the countless others that will starve, die of disease or cold besides.

She found the artificial dragon under her bed, and tentatively waved the scroll in front of it. It watched almost boredly. Just when she was about to give it a bop on the head - maybe it had an On switch - it opened its toothless mouth and lashed out, gulping the scroll. Nothing else happened. She stared at it, and it stared back. She wondered how long would it take for a reply to come - if the letter had been sent at all. It was a rather unconvincing dragon.

There was a knock on her door. "Caughlin?" It was Whooves' voice.

"Just in time, Doctor. Come in, please."

Her student stepped in, blushing slightly. This was not the first time she had let him in, nor was there anything special about it - just a hollowed-out space, walled with smoothened rock, lit by a soft bulb, and furnished with the standard bed, desk and drawers. Perhaps it's the high blood pressure, she reasoned. Heaven knows we've all got it.

Caughlin indicated to a chair and pointed to the dragon. "Now, this thing. What do you think we should call it?"

"That's what you wanted me here for?" asked Whooves, taken aback.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked incredulously.

"Well... I thought, you know, about the Oh-cube."

"Oh-cube? What cube?" The idea hit soon enough. "Wait, you mean the Order of... oh, Whooves, you silly filly. No, that's all right. You're your own stallion, as are the rest of us. And all of us are rational thinkers, perfectly capable of making decisions as we see fit." She gave him a tight smile. "There are two more days until the final vote, two more days before we spend the rest of our lives wondering why we chose to do what we're about to do. I'd rather save those moments."

"To spend them on naming things?"

"It's the little things in life that keep us going, Doctor," said Caughlin, shrugging. One of those little things - a small crystal, the last one old Pie had cut before his demise, lay glimmering in the corner of her sight on the desk. Lately she had spent more time staring into it. The absence of work - well, the will to - left her with little else to do. "Ponies like us don't get many little things, which is why we have to treasure them all the more."

"Never thought you to be the sentimental type," snorted Whooves. "Still..." He examined the dragon critically. "How about Stupid?"

"No!"

"Then... what about Toothful?"

"I think you're taking the whole 'sarcasm' thing a little too far, Whooves," said Caughlin, rolling her eyes. "Gummy?"

"Plain. Accurate." Whooves seemed to chew on it. "Sounds just like something you'd choose. Sure, why not?"

"So then, Gummy it is," said Caughlin, beaming. She extended a hoof and gave its eye a careless poke. To her surprise, it belched green fire, and a dirty scroll unraveled itself mid-air from the flames.

"... Caughlin?"

"Wait." She grasped the letter quickly.

Dear Caughlin Mare,

We understand your possible reluctance and fears. They are of good standing. However once again I plead our cause because your team is the conerstone in our ultimate plan.

To help persuade your members, we have attached Phase 1 of our plan. We do so at very great cost to ourselves, as Discord's discovery of this plan will certainly fail all other future plans like it. We apologize for the dense terminology and oftentimes disgraceful typography. However, for ponies of your scientific understanding, you should be able to appreciate the content and delivery of these papers, and thus understand our confidence in the chance of success of this plan. It is true that you are irreplaceable. That is why we must have you on board.

As to who we are, we are simply regular ponies who wish to bring back harmony to the world. You must know by now the difficulty Discord is experiencing in handling us, from the absence he spends away from you. Surely that, and our ability to gather intelligence regarding you should be enough to convince you of our capabilities. The other issues will be answered in good time, should you accept.

Sincerely,

Fuhrich.

Whooves stood impatiently as Caughlin scanned the plans. Impatience soon gave way to curiousity, as he watched Caughlin's eyes widen. He sidled up to her.

"Uh, Caughlin? What is that?"

"Nothing like we've ever seen before," said Caughlin softly. "I... they are either mad or brilliant, Whooves. Possibly both. But this changes everything."

Caughlin had gathered the entire department immediately after breakfast. She passed around copies of the plans, and after letting it sink in, she pressed it further: "You see, my fellow ponies, we run no risk of punishment. We can hide it in the open. If anything he'll even approve it without realizing. And you have to admit, such a project is compelling, ambitious. The concept is so radical, yet the initial calculations and theories point to success. If you do not wish to do it for the Order nor Equestria, do it for the sake of science."

Nopony had anything to say in response. She could see it in their faces; they were thinking hard, being pushed harder than any cloud mass breakdown or rapid-growth seeds. She hated to admit it, but there were some truly selfish ones in their family, who cared nothing for helping and only for discovery. The eccentrics, the curmudgeons, the heartless. The soft-hearted ones were all too willing to raise the flag of revolution, but now, with this project... The bait was too good to resist. Ponies whose only purpose in life was to discover and develop, faced with their greatest project yet. She felt a pang of guilt as she moved up for the final blow - and she had said all that about being their own pony to Whooves, too. But history would be her judge.

"Now I know I gave everypony three days to think this through. There are two left," she said quietly. "But I will now draw up the deadline to this moment, because neither we nor they have time to spare. All in favour, raise a hoof."

She raised her hoof slowly. Whooves' shot up energetically. Moments of exchanging glances went past before, with a solemn nod, everypony else raised their hoofs.

Caughlin felt an immense thrill rush up her body.

"Thank you, everypony," she said, gulping. "I can only give you my own thanks, yet someday, perhaps, the Order and all of Equestria will reward you too."

After passing on the news to the Order, they waited.

Discord arrived sooner, two days after the sending of the confirmation letter. He looked worse for the wear, with his scales dirty and his demeanor thoroughly annoyed; he almost seemed weary, and was standing on the floor instead of floating for once. He must have spent a lot of energy hunting the rebellion, to no apparent success.

"Lord Discord!" said Caughlin, bounding up to meet him. She wore an expression of positive excitement that instantly earned a scowl. "We are so glad for your return!"

"You are? Well, well," muttered Discord. "You are, are you? What is it you want?"

"Always to the point, lord Discord," said Caughlin, feeling her face ache from the wide smile she was wearing. "We have an amazing idea that we want you to see."

"Oh? That sounds new," said Discord, raising an eyebrow. Caughlin was decidedly out-of-character. But a being of chaos could not stand the lure of new things, and coupled with her unnatural enthusiasm, he swallowed it - the flash of his eyes told her that she had his interest.

"Here it is," she said, handing him a sheaf of notes. "We call it Project ALICORN."

Discord kept his expression straight as he skimmed through the notes. They were chock-full of scientific expressions and terms, rewritten and edited to complete the forged front. He would have no problem understanding them - Discord's knowledge was the foundation for theirs, after all - much less the simplified diagrams and charts. Even before he reached the end, his tail began to twitch. By the last page he was guffawing.

"This... this is amazing! It's hilarious! Not even I could have thought of this!" he exclaimed, wheezing at his cackles filled the den. "This is a joke to the highest degree, Caughlin! How on Equestria could you think of such a thing? Oh, by me!" He fell over, writhing as he laughed - just as expected. The entire project was so absurd. It was unnatural, sick even, a complete defiance of Nature.

It was chaos. Of course he would love it.

"Well, my lord," protested Caughlin, dutifully playing out her lines, "the idea is plausible. Theoretically, if we can balance the Horn, Wings and Potential found in the three classes of pony, it is possible for them to co-exist in the same body. Why, if you would allow me to explain..."

"No, no, no need for that," gasped Discord, wiping a mock tear from his eyes as he floated upright. "This is great, Caughlin. You deserve a promotion, except that you're already in the highest position possible for ponies. Why, I can't wait to see what happens. Get this done, Caughlin, with my full blessings. Why, I think I might even look forward to visiting here just to see how things are going."

"I cannot promise anything," said Caughlin. "The actual work is complex and we need to factor in many, many things. It will be slow to say the least."

"Bah, that's alright. Just do what you must. Oh, my. Alicorns, as you call them, huh. My goodness! The limitless chaos these things could wreck! Good job, everypony, and carry on, carry on! Oh, bother me. I haven't had fun in ages." With a final, maniacal laugh, Discord leapt into the air and left the den.

As Caughlin gathered up the papers, the words, etched into her mind from countless re-reads, burned fresh.

To accept the possibility of an "alicorn" one must first consider the nature of the classes of Pony: Unicorn, Pegasi and Earth.

With reference to the time-space fabric theory, each class of Pony exists and interacts within the fabric in limited manner. Pegasi possess Wings that allow them to control "light" matter such as clouds and wind; Earth ponies possess Potential in their bodies that allows them to manipulate "heavy" matter due to their strength, speed and stamina, while the horns of the Unicorns allow them to harness "magic", that is, the all-present inter-matter force, giving them a variable degree of control over both kinds of matter, as well as space and, in rare cases, time.

The presence of one defining characteristic blocks out the other two. This is largely due to Physical Limitations, that is, natural pony bodies cannot withstand the strain of using and upkeeping more than one characteristic, not to mention the incompatibility of the elements themselves. Wings and Potential are the most obvious, as they manipulate matter in different ways ("light" material by, crudely, "going with the flow", and "heavy" material by exerting force. In the same system, should one attempt to use both, they will cancel each other out before effecting a result).

To produce an "alicorn", which is a pony that possess all three characteristics (in a stable situation), one must go lengths to alter the Subject, as well as closely monitor and regulate said Subject's growth and development. The key to alicorns, we believe, lies in the horn; as the characteristic that holds the widest range of power, methods should be designed with it as the primary, supported by the greater latent control given by Wings and Potential, resulting in a pony that has heightened powers over matter.

After Discord's departure, they took Gummy out and prodded it for any new messages. With a thank-you letter came the blueprints, sketches and workings for the alicorn design. Leaving nothing to chance, Caughlin had her team double-check everything, reporting to her any improvements that could be made. There were exactly ten of them, herself included; while eight worked on Project ALICORN, two others were to keep at "beneficial" assignments, and they would rotate shifts every three days.

The work of the Order's scientists was well-planned, meticulous and thorough. The only thing they don't have is facilities, mused Caughlin. Which is where we come in... how is this different from merely being used? But there was little room for that kind of thought. It did not change the fact that they were taking part in scientific progress. The first steps in the project were largely on thaumatic fields, translating the Wings and Potential physical fields into thaumatic terms, and finding a percentage balance. These were mostly calculations and applications. Next was dealing with the issue of implanting this amalgam of Horn, Wings and Potential, as a thaumatic mass, into a host body. There were suggestions, together with argued pros and cons, but no definites - the Order scientists seemed to need answers from them, and would not accept anything less than replicable results from at least five trials. It was all theory and wandered teetotal into philosophy and theory-mongering, but it was at least interaction than remote DIY.

With Whooves at her side, trying to follow as best as he could, she began to draw up diagrams and labels to lay out a better picture of the project. The first thing that came to her mind was the use of a newborn foal, contrary to the Order's belief that fully-grown stallions would be best because they could withstand the stress of the operations. However, she felt that being able to endure was not enough; the alicorn had to be able to use her powers after all, and no other pony learnt quicker than a foal... the time cost of learning how to fly from scratch would be incredible. She couldn't imagine going through something like that, let alone completing lessons in a week to trundle off against Discord soon after.

The team spent a total of sixty-seven hours and fourty-three minutes revising the Order's drafts, and roughly triple that on generating simulations, models and other means of establishing the optimum means of execution. Many a letter had been sent back-and-forth in Caughlin's room, debating over issues and opinions. Every other night Caughlin demanded more information from Furhich, and received nothing substantial in return.

After sending what would most likely be another fruitless request, Caughlin lay wide-eyed in bed.

The Order wants an alicorn, something with amazing powers. But can an alicorn defeat Discord? she wondered, staring at the ceiling. What will we do with it then, if we win? I guess there's a lot of things an alicorn can do. Why, the greater thaumatics base the Wings and Potential provide can allow the alicorn to achieve significant levels of magic ability. They could also rob the Horn of the mental focus required to power it... no, no, Caughlin, you're on break. Get some rest, for Equestria's sake.

And why does it have to be a "he?" asked her mind in a final attempt to be heard.

Which one - Gummy or the alicorn?

Good question, Caughlin. Touché.

Well, Gummy's a 'he'. I mean, you know, because of the thi-

Um, Caughlin, hello? Derping much here?

She sighed and rolled over in her bed. Gummy choose this moment to crawl up on her mane.

"You know...I like you, Gummy, even if you are a bit silly. I think I'll keep you, officially, when this is all over."

Gummy did not say anything, but the way he curled up seemed to imply that he was perfectly all right with that.

5: Enter Codename LUNA

Hours usually crawled in the den. There were twenty-four hours in each day - regardless of Discord's meddling, the scale, arbitrary as it was, held fast as long as its users held it - and each crawled past. Not the dying cripple crawl, but a tarantula kind of crawl. Definitely not fast, but not slow. Purposeful. Dreadful. The excitement of the grand, new project had faded like the heat from a watchglass; it had brought a genuine thrill to the system, but things felt no different any more. The fact was that experiments could only be done for so many hours on end, and options for rest between those rest breaks were limited to watching other projects or going idle. After the other projects became familiar, plopping down on haunches and vacating the mind evolved into a pastime. There was grace in the lack of absolute silence; the combination of that and the scheduled boredom would have driven a good deal of the scientists mad.

Days, weeks in to the final development stage, and Caughlin was beginning to have doubts. She had been too caught up in the research to notice, but now she saw that each letter was taking the Order longer to reply. A side-by-side comparison showed that the handwriting in each was different, and was deteriorating as time went by. Perhaps they were finding it hard to keep up due to circumstances.

"Say, Doctor. Maybe, just maybe, if the Order were captured before we finished the project, what do you think we should do then?" she asked idly, as she gave the rock-sugar lump in front of her a sharp poke.

"Since when did you need to consult me on the alicorn project?" sniffed Whooves. He was looking at the far end of the hall almost decidedly, even though - she followed his gaze - there was nothing there.

Caughlin stared at him. "Really, Doctor? Playing hurt?"

In the frenzy of fresh work, she and most of the team had dropped their previous activities, and one of that was her tutoring sessions with Whooves. She recalled him poofing about in her reality bubble-testing chamber for long periods of time. Rolling her eyes a bit, she gave him a gentle clap on the head and added, "Yes, Doctor, I do need to consult you at times. After all, I think you're much better at some things than I am."

"I wouldn't mind hearing what those things might be..." mumbled Whooves.

Caughlin flourished a smirk. "The conical flasks were particularly well-polished last week, if I recall correctly."

The far wall was met with a stronger stare. "Those rocks won't turn themselves into sugar unless you figure out the magical cross-matter designation, you know."

"It's 'thaumical', not magical," corrected Caughlin, although she was impressed that he could say it in one stretch now. "And yes, there really are some things. Like Gummy. He seems to like you much better than he does me."

"So you're saying I have a thing for animals?"

"Um, Whooves. We're ponies," said Caughlin, rolling her eyes. "Put things in better terms, will you?"

"Fine, little creatures. Squirrels in the trees, the cute little bunnies, birds flying free and bees with their honey, and that's only if you extrapolate the possibility of you being right." Caughlin could not help but snort as the stallion waved an annoyed hoof. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, if I'm to have my way, the alicorn will be a foal. And since, you know, the rest of us are simply hermits living in close proximity when it comes to interaction, the task of taking care of them will probably fall into your lap. Literally," said Caughlin. "Wait, no. Give me that hammer."

He handed it to her with a pout. "Why? I'm not a unicorn. Oh, and hey, that brings us to another thing. You know, it's probably just me, but something just feels wrong about the whole 'make the horn the focus' thing. What's wrong with wings and, uh, potential?"

Caughlin chipped away at the rock as she considered this. He had a point. She had actually suggested it before, but the replies had a somewhat haughty vibe to them. Alternate pivot points of energy channeling were, it seemed, hard to understand, as if even suggesting otherwise was silly. She had attributed it to regular, smart-alec stubbornness. She would have to ask Furhich about that some time.

"Personally? I agree with you. Ponies are equal, after all. And you can teach the alicorn that too, when you babysit her."

The den was now noisier than ever. Caughlin's test chamber had been reconstructed as a life-support device, and was now filled with viscous, light green liquid. There were tubes and wires everywhere, splayed across the floor and ceiling like roots. On the walls of the chamber itself were runes and symbols that served to stabilize the thaumic field during union and transfer. Extending from the cylinder was a triagram - a geometric expression of magic direction and behaviour control, three circles linked in a triangle etched into the ground. Utilizing it would aid attending to the physical and thaumical details in the alicorn creation; its design had been a joint venture, incorporating exactly half of each team's concept points.

Dear Caughlin,

After much consideration we have finally decided to agree with you on the use of a newborn foal for Project ALICORN. We will no doubt have difficulty obtaining this foal, not to mention the time cost required for it to mature, but given the circumstances this should be for the best.

Sincerely,

Dr. Klipit,

Chief Scientist of the Order of Order

She gave a silent cheer as she read the letter aloud to everypony. The usually irritating sideways jabs the Order was fond of did not matter. She had won. Everything was in place now. The equipment, the calculations, the amounts and measurements needed were all set. Now all they needed was a sample of Horn, Wings and Potential, as well as a foal... the Order, of course, were to send them these items. How exactly they were to go about it, Caughlin did not want to think about. She only knew that the fruit of their labour was approaching soon, and she was excited with anticipation. The letters had assured her that many parents would give up their foals for a chance of them achieving saviordom, and the samples could be obtained from donors... So the letters had said at least, but her conscience was willing to take their word for it. How else would the Order get them, after all?

Three days later, in the wee hours of the morning, Caughlin stirred to the noise of sharp crying. Head spinning, she made her way out into the main hall, lighting the way with her horn. There was a basket there, together with three ominous-looking black boxes. Immediately she perked up and began shouting, voice magically enhanced with a spell:

"Team! TEAM! Get over here! It's go time!"

She then examined the boxes. On one of them was a note, hastily scribbed:

Do not open

Do not ask "how" nor "why"

Just do it

Under any other circumstances she would have done all three, gleefully marking ticks next to them, just because somepony had the audacity to order her around. But this was now. She had a project to complete.

The procedure was simple enough to understand. The foal was to be suspended in the liquid, sustained by a gas-providing mask. The three boxes containing the essence of the characteristics were to be placed in the triagram, with the "director" in a fourth circle to start and oversee the magic processes. Standing in backup circles were a unicorn, a pegasus and an Earth pony to "provide thaumic support" should she fail to carry out the union (how they were to do that, they themselves were not sure; Caughlin sincerely hoped that it would not come to that point). With that done, the "director" was to implant the essence into the foal through the runes, slotting the product thaumatic field into the gaps of her own body. In short, like the thaumic equivalent of put-the-peg-in-the-hole, except you had to build the pegs first. And put all three into the same hole.

It had sounded easy. Why then was she so nervous?

"Whooves, get ready," she murmured, clenching his hoof tightly. "If anything goes wrong, you know what to do, the chamber first and then me..."

"I won't have to," said Whooves, grinning and clenching back. "You're Caughlin Mare, remember? Smartest pony in all of Equestria, and whatnot. Besides you don't want to risk me using my time-jump under pressure. Who knows what could happen?"

"Good point. When we're done with this it's going to be regular training sessions for you from now on. Until we can be sure that you won't rewind history or whatever." With a deep breath, she let go and Whooves stepped out of the circle.

"Everypony clear and ready?"

"Yes!"

"Let's do this." She closed her eyes and lowered her horn, and entered a trance as she gave the elements the first spark toward union.

"Well, well, what's this?" asked a dreaded voice amusedly, taking her out of the trance. Oh no. An assistant rushed up and placed a pair of earmuffs around her head. She had to stay focused. Let the others handle Discord, please, please don't mess up. Dammit, Caughlin, focus!

She refused to look back. All she saw were the insides of her eyelids, but the scene played out as fresh as day: from the sidelines, ponies were trying to explain things to Discord and stop him from going over. Their squeaky voices travelled regrettably well. In front of her, she felt the elements rejecting each other, and tried to delve deeper into the thaumic realm. It felt like conducting surgery with hooves moved with magic. If only she could reach their plane, she could activate her tools - all the runes - to coerce the elements together-

And suddenly she was there. She could not hear anything. She risked opening her eyes to see the world around her. The den was gone. It had been replaced instead with a vivid swirl of colours, from pink to yellow to green, rushing around her like a sea. It was like being on that other drug Team 7 made three years ago, but much more real. She could think in this place. In front of her were the three elements, pulsating lumps of red, blue and green. All she had to do was merge them together.

I'm in the thaumic realm, she realized as she tried a step forward. Then another. I'm in a freaking different dimension.

Focus, Caughlin, drawled a lazy voice. She spun around. Nopony else was there, but she got the message. She moved up and there the elements were, throbbing pulses of colour in the sea of hues. She grasped them gently; they felt like spongy clay. As she moved them together she could feel them repelling, like magnets. She tried a bit of magic to overcome the forces, to dispel the repulsion. It worked. With gentle prods and harder nudges where the tension felt strong, where it simply felt right, she got the lumps together. They seemed to dissolve into one another, becoming one mass. It was complete.

And with that, she found herself back in her own body, suddenly feeling weak. The black boxes had disappeared from their circles. The runes along the cylinder were glowing brightly, charged up with the thaumic field.

"Must I do everything around here?" spat Discord, rolling his eyes. "Go on, Caughlin. Finish it off."

Something clicked, and Caughlin gaped. "Wait, so you mean you-"

"Yes, yes, I gave you the ethereal shift into the thaumic realm. It wasn't easy, I can tell you," snorted Discord. "Ponies are such inflexible creatures at times, especially you with your reality affinity. Finish the procedure, silly mare, before the union dissipates!"

Nodding dumbly, she turned back to the cylinder and strained at the mechanisms, just waiting to be powered. She could feel the foal's pulse and vital signs as the triagram's energies linked her up to it. She had not yet examined the foal, but she realized that it was a unicorn. Not that it mattered, though; as a newborn she had literally no magical energy in or around her. The union slid perfectly into her neck, where the power soon flowed through her - up her spine into her horn, through her back and into her belly. There was a loud screaming that wrenched Caughlin's eyes open. Wings were beginning to sprout from her back, no larger than a chicken's, while her horn was glowing brilliantly. She tapped back into the scene and used her own magic to contain the burst within the foal. It had to remain in her, all of it, or there would be an imbalance. Just a little bit more further ...

And the crying ended, and Caughlin felt the burden lift. The foal had stopped crying. It was asleep, or unconscious from the pain. She sincerely hoped it was the former.

"V... vital signs."

"All present, Caughlin."

"Good. Good. Good job, everypony." She stumbled out of the circle and faced Discord. She bit her lip and bowed. "And...thank you, lord Discord."

Discord sighed and shrugged. "I suppose. I'll let you ponies off the hook for being too preoccupied to even greet me, but I will not do so again next time. Not that there'll be a next time, mind. Since you've already completed your little project. Right?"

"Well, my lord, there is still the issue of bringing her up and developing her abilities as an alicorn..."

"Yes, yes, but you know what I mean!" Discord made a few exaggerated flails. "The flashy lights, the liquid, the hoopla. Even though it was very entertaining, I expect that this would be all packed up and tossed somewhere. I haven't seen anything quite like it since those televised shows." He peered at the suspended foal curiously. "What is she called?"

Caughlin walked up to the cylinder. The foal was a midnight blue, with a blue mane, looking like an adorable creature of the night. "I don't know, my lord."

"You don't know? For Equestria's sake, Caughlin, lighten up a bit, will you, and just name the thing already!" Discord looked at her, then back to the foal. "Perhaps something like Tirek. An old friend of mine."

She stared at it. Quiet, peaceful, reminiscent of the night sky above she had stared at almost every night. Well, that, and also midnight blue.

"Luna," said Caughlin. "We'll call her Luna."

That night, they had a celebration, albeit a quiet one - they did not want to wake up Luna, nor were they capable of partying hard given their disposition to work. The food was better, though, there were drinks all around, and most importantly everyone was relaxing, something nopony had the luxury of doing in a long time. They even tried a bit of dancing to music from a "juke box" they had designed a year and a half ago.

"This is fantastic, Doctor," said Caughlin, laughing as she swung him about clumsily. "We did it! We actually did it!"

"I know, right?" Whooves was clearly happy as well. "So is this one of those little moments you were talking about? Because I sure can dig it."

"Little? What are you saying, you silly filly? We just created an alicorn! We've achieved history!"

"No, not that." Whooves was blushing furiously, and stammering. "I mean, hearing and seeing you laugh like that. It... looks good on you. And sounds good from you. You know, not that one is better than the other, but..."

She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it, and in a rush of mischief she gave him a peck on the cheek instead.

7: Enter Codename CELESTIA

That night, everypony ate their dinner in silence. It was almost like the days before they cast their vote, except that this time the tension was directed fully at one particular pony. The irony was not lost on Caughlin, though Furhich did not show any signs of being perturbed.

She had been watching him. He was eating very slowly - a deliberate slowness, she had realized, each mouthful the same little amount, possibly to last the duration of meal time. Quite some time had passed, and though the animosity was nowhere near dispersed, Caughlin was feeling sorry. And not just sorry, but worried - if the leader of the Order of Order was captured, what would become of their plan?

"Furhich," said Caughlin softly, getting up from her seat and walking over to him. The clank of dishes halting mid-air rippled across the table.

"First off, I want to apologize. Not for reacting, but for resorting to hoofs." She offered a foreleg grudgingly. Fuhrich nodded mutely, and shook it firmly, once.

"I, too, am wrong," answered Furhich. "I was just so, well, disappointed. You can't imagine how much we're relying on you. And seeing the alicorn as but a filly, well... you can figure out what happened." He bowed his head, and Caughlin saw a balding patch in the centre of his scalp - that, and the brittleness of the hairs. She realized just how old he was, easily around Macquarie's age if he were still alive. Even his voice matched, a bit hoarse, patriarchal and measured. "I let my heart get ahead of my wits. I am truly, truly, sorry."

The sudden turn in attitude caught her off guard. "No, it's alright. I suppose we're all being pushed closer to the edge, what with Discord stepping up his antics."

"I see. I noticed, miss Caughlin, how you tried to reason with Discord. It was odd, attempting to make sense to a being of chaos. But your efforts were noble. I respect you much more for it," continued Furhich.

"Weren't you all disappointed and mad moments after?" shot Whooves from across the table. Caughlin shot a chagrined look in his direction, but Furhich simply smiled and waved a hoof.

"Respect is earned, and has nothing to do with feelings. If anything, I was as angry as you saw me because I respected you so much. To have my hopes lifted up by so much by seeing her step up on behalf of Canterlot, then having them dashed, no, it did not feel good. But still what I did was unjustifiable." He looked at the two squarely. He had guarded eyes. Ones that seemed old and accepting, yet hiding something behind that guise... Intelligence, she thought to herself, and not just verbosity.

"We accept your apology," said Caughlin.

The screeching of table legs against the floor sent pulses across her ears. "Wait, we do?" half-shouted Whooves' lone voice, riding on the tide of unspoken doubt from the rest of the congregation.

"Yes, Whooves, we do. Or, at least, I do. I don't want this event to be a stumbling block any longer. But..." She turned to Furhich and lowered her gaze casually. "I warn you, watch yourself when around Luna. You may be leader of the Order, but ponies here take orders only from me." Yes, that sounded good. Firm, but willing to compromise. Fixing him in her glare, trying hard not to blink, she let the last word out. "Deal?"

"Yes, miss Caughlin. I humbly accept," said Fuhrich, giving her a relieved smile. "But then, what of your colleagues?"

"They'll come around," said Caughlin confidently. "Won't you, guys?" Although there were only non-committal murmurs and diverted gazes in response, it was good enough.

"This is a very big relief to me, miss," said Furhich. "But, if I may be so bold, we cannot ignore the fact that Project ALICORN is not coming to fruit yet." He stood up now, and Caughlin found herself stepping back more than a few steps instinctively. "Discord is using a lot more force to deal with us, much more than we thought. He's increased his disaster output too soon - what little preparations we could have made are even more insufficient now. The average body count is rising. Resources are extremely scarce. I wish to sacrifice as few ponies as possible, and for that to happen we need to take him down quickly. Every day spent in chaos is a day wasted. Surely you ponies would be most aware of this."

"Believe me when I say we do not want anypony to die unnecessarily," defended Caughlin. Anypony. Not "as few as possible". "But the alicorn is more than just a tool or a weapon. She is a pony just like you and I. She needs what everypony needs. And care is one of them."

"Then she is a lucky pony. Others above do not have this luxury," said Furhich, a restrained rumble in his tone. "I... I had a foal, about her age, and..."

When he did not continue, Whooves prodded, "And...?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned him," said Furhich, voice now stone cold. "But the point is, there has to be compromise. Perfection of a single pony at the expense of all Equestria is something I cannot accept. I know she is precious to you, all of you, and I understand that feeling. However priorities are priorities, and mine are to my followers and Equestria. I beg of you to re-consider yours, and where they lie."

Equestria, Equestria, sang the voice in her mind. He sure likes to speak on its behalf. Aloud, she frowned and sighed, "I do see where you are coming from. And we are sympathetic. Why else would we have agreed? But a pony is a pony, and their growth processes, physiology, they're all courses of nature, and they need to play out at their pace. Her development is precisely that: her development. We can't change that. It's not like force-feeding her or zapping her with electricity would make her grow faster."

"What if you programmed another alicorn to do so?" asked Furhich without missing a beat.

"Wait, what? Program a pony to grow faster? Age, mature..."

"Yes, all that," cut Fuhrich. "Isn't it possible?"

"Well, theoretically, yes..." Caughlin trailed off. Already her mind was whizzing away at possible algorithms for sped growth. They had done this sort of thing for crops, hadn't they? But to use it on a pony, a living, feeling, thinking pony, who felt...

The question hung in the air uncomfortably before Caughlin cleared her throat. "We need to discuss this before we can decide. We have to think through this thoroughly. All things considered." Including ethics, added Caughlin meaningfully.

"Thank you," said Furhich, bowing again. "But I pray, please think faster. We have not much time to spare."

The debate started soon after Discord's next visit, exactly sixty-five hours and twenty minutes after the last.

A debate system had somehow worked its way into the discussion, with ponies crossing over the side of the table to support or oppose the portfolio of ideas produced. As they battled out their protests and suggestions, it became evident that Furhich was no less skilled in theory - but the way he commandeered his points and the flow of discussion betrayed his high level of experience. Amidst the parries, the baits, and the increasingly frustrated arguments, Caughlin tried to listen and pick out points, jotting them down.

Home team:

1) Running a 2nd alicornification process without Discord's approval.

2) Acquiring resources for the alicornification process without Discord.

3) Performing lab work and calculations without Discord's approval.

4) The unavoidable pain involved with rapid cell multiplication.

5) Sustainability issues given hormones, emotions and the negative feedback system.

Furhich:

1) Possible to manage the work if the Order provides sufficient distraction.

2) Lab work can be done by the Order without a need for double-checking.

3) The Order can provide more materials: Furhich seemed willing enough to bear the costs, and argued that the alicorns were their only hope, and hence worth every ounce of resources spent.

4) Drugs and magic can be used to ease birth pains and control growth

5) A 2nd, faster-growing alicorn was necessary to save more ponies, and to liberate Equestria faster.

"So it's a matter of risk," murmured Caughlin. The sound of her voice immediately brought a hush of unintended silence. Once again the crowd turned to look at her. She had remained quiet all the while, but that was just because it was hard to listen and think at the same time. "So you propose that you can distract Discord while we develop the second alicorn. In other words, we are to bet our lives on whether or not your ponies can keep Discord away. Isn't that right, Furhich?"

He did not reply. Caughlin went on. "By artificial means, we keep this second alicorn alive. But for how long? When will this altered system stabilize? Do we keep her on drugs and hide her in a room? Discord will show up at any time, maybe even now-" She paused and looked around - "so we can't bring her out. She'll be cooped up in her little room, stupefied. How can you expect to teach her anything? She'll turn out a feral beast, if the trend continues."

"But with the help of my scientists, I'm sure we can find-" began Fuhrich, but Caughlin raised a hoof.

"No, Furhich." The words hung heavy in the air. "The cost is just too much. For both ourselves and the second alicorn." She closed her eyes and saw Luna tucked up in bed, blissfully none the wiser. She could not imagine her grown up, much less bruised and battered and, knowing Discord, much worse off than that. "Furhich...I'm sorry. Equestria will have to wait until Luna matures. I am not going to bring another pony into this world if she has no chance of happiness." Caughlin stood up and gazed at him keenly. "So that's my decision. Shall we take a vote, then? Everypony against the production of a second alicorn, raise a hoof."

Silently, they were raised.

"A majority of all minus one." Caughlin bit her lip. "I hope you understand."

"I...do," sighed Furhich. He turned to face the others. "I thank you all. You are all brilliant ponies with such wonderful gifts. From this, I can see why you will not take the risk. Yes, you have a point." He gulped visibly. Probably for show, thought Caughlin suddenly. She became alert as she examined his words with renewed doubt.

"But I will ask you. Will you at least share your equipment, if we acquit you of all risk? If we can ensure that you will not come to harm because of the second alicornification, will you allow us to come and perform it ourselves?"

Caughlin felt something rise in her throat. That was it.

Furhich had... planned for this?

Her heart raced as she tried to foresee every possibility. The Order knows about this place. They've had a pony teleport in here before. Furhich was brought here by Discord himself. They have ponies with special abilities, like me and Whooves.

Share equipment... that means he has some way in?

She was about to shout for quiet when the hubbub of protests escalated to screams.

Turning to the opposite direction her scientists were running away in, she saw them: jet-black ponies filtering through the ceiling like water through a paper cone. There was no time to think about it as she swiftly turned to Whooves, and with a nod from him, lunged at Furhich. With the backing of her magic, she pinned him down, Whooves following half a second later. With a yell, she shouted for the other ponies to brace themselves, to watch out, to hold guard... then there was a flash of light, a deafening roar of magic unlike anything she had heard before, and everything became dark.

Caughlin woke up feeling sore in the head. She had had a rough night. She got out of bed to check on Luna's cradle. Luna was not there. She's probably having breakfast already, thought Caughlin.

"Good morning, Gummy," yawned Caughlin, stretching a leg. The dragon, of course, gave no reply. She got herself washed up and ran through a mental checklist on her things-to-do as she trotted out into the den.

"Good morning, Furhich."

"Good morning, miss Caughlin. You're up late today."

"Yeah, I know. I had a bad night." Caughlin stretched her neck, trying to ease the stiffness. "Gah. Well, anyhow. You know, I'm glad we worked things out," she half-sang with a sheepish grin. She relaxed at the memory of last night and tried to suppress the feeling of embarrassment. And even after she had committed to not repeat the offense, too...

The Order's watchmen had been monitoring them, ready and waiting to protect Furhich in case of untowardness due to Discord. He had made a careless remark and Caughlin's hasty jump at him had set them off. Furhich had quickly dismissed them and tended to her. After she awoke, they had more conversations. She was skeptical of the situation - something just felt odd about the recap he gave he, in his knowing, careful voice - and still was to an extent. But Furhich had finally managed to convince her, and she had to concede that it was probably just the concussion playing with her mind. He was so sincere about his regret for the intrusion that he had apologized to each pony individually.

"I too am glad. Misunderstandings are so cruel," said Furhich, smiling warmly. "I am honored by the generosity of you ponies in letting us come."

"Don't mention it. You're the ones at risk, though. I hope for your sakes that you can keep Discord busy and at bay," replied Caughlin, shaking her head. "You're really into this, aren't you?"

"Anything for Equestria," answered Fuhrich gravely, and they both laughed.

She felt a bump on her knees, and she bent down happily. "Luna! Oh, Luna, there you are. Did you have a good night's rest? Hurry up, Luna, and then I'll get you started on some work before I go for breakfast." A quick cuddle and a peck on the forehead, and the foal waddled off. She looked around her, where the other ponies were gearing up already for the day's projects. Two of them would be doing supplementary work on the growth algorithm for the second alicorn, while the rest continued with their previous stuff. The Order would handle the rest of the load, just as agreed. It was a good thing that they had voted unanimously in support. She was loathe to deal with rifts in opinions at a time like this; the scientists were decidedly stubborn and bad when it came to fundamental disagreements.

"By the way, Caughlin, I have an idea for the implanting chamber. Do you know of guise spells?" asked Furhich, drawing her attention once more. "They're rather simple but useful things. It's basically an upright plane of magic woven in, like a patch on a quilt but in two dimensions, and what happens is you can hide the changes by making it seem like..."

Furhich talked on, but Caughlin wasn't listening. She felt her head throb briefly.

"Eh, I'm sorry, Furhich. Headache," she said, feeling her eyes cross briefly. She squeezed them shut and gave him a wan smile. "I must've been more out of it than I thought. I think I need to take a nap later."

"Don't overwork yourself," chuckled Fuhrich. "Don't worry, I have your back. By the way, out of curiosity, what shall we name her? The second alicorn."

Caughlin blinked. At least she could handle this without too much thinking. "Well, the first one's called Luna. I'd like to think they'll become sisters. So one's named after the moon, the other the Sun, perhaps? Ray-ray? No, that sounds ridiculous, no. Hmm..."

"How about Celestia?" suggested Furhich.

"It sounds so grand and royal," complained Caughlin, frowning. "I mean, it's important for her to still be a pony, rather than an object. But I suppose...I can't come up with anything. The Sun. What is the Sun's name in Old Pony, hmm. Ah well. Celestia it is."

She glanced at Luna, who was already deep in reading. You're going to have a sister, Luna. Isn't that nice? I hope you get along with her. Because she's going to be family too.

She felt her head throb again. She wasn't going to be able to do much. Somehow, her mind just felt addled today. And yet amidst this mess, there was a tiny but persistent, nagging feeling that she was forgetting something.

She would have to ask Whooves later.

8: Enter The Facade

She had not felt normal all week. Things were going well on the Order's end. Their experts were sneaking in visits every other day, and together, they were making astonishing progress. Consultations on complications and particularly nasty variables in the experimental accelerator gems planned for Celestia were so much faster and clearer without the barrier of time and hoofwriting - the fact that consultations were taking place at all meant that her R&D had been recognized as worthy partners. Obviously this was good. So why did she feel that something was wrong?

Ponies that can phase through matter. Teleporters. Wouldn't be surprised if they had some kind of sonar-pony too, thought Caughlin grimly. They could have been watching us all this while. Probably have been. Maybe if I catch one coming through the roof next time, I should try out a reality bubble to see if he gets stuck halfway... She quickly quelled the thought. That was simply immature. Actually, I haven't used my spheres in a while, have I?

The only other application she made her magic serve was levitation, and she had not been doing much of that either. With the amount of free space suddenly halved, it was wisest to not tamper with space, both thaumatical and physical, in case somepony got hurt. Still, she could feel the build-up of unused magic itching in her horn. Nature's course or otherwise, it was annoying, like a particularly persistent pimple. I wonder if Celestia would suffer this kind of problem. Magical build-up, huh.

Fuhrich had suggested that they take Celestia out of the den for excursions when possible, to give her a greater sense of space. Caughlin did not like the idea of letting young foals out into the chaotic world above, even if guarded, but it was a better alternative to cooping her up. He had also said something on the pains of faster growth, and she had agreed to it, but what had it been again? She couldn't remember. That was odd.

"But if you can take her out, then why not us?" Whooves had asked.

"Well, teleporting through a magic barrier isn't easy," Furhich explained. "Discord set up one around this area, right? But he himself teleports in and out, so that means there's a loophole, one we've found. But maneuvering it takes much more stamina, and even more if carrying somepony with you. It's easier to carry a foal, since there is less mass involved, yet even so I think we'll need at least two ponies to carry her out."

"Then what about your, ah, phasers? The ones that can go through walls?"

"They can't carry anypony. They're only good for surveillance," said Furhich with the slightest smirk on his face. "And sudden entrances, of course. But not transport. That's why I had to strut my, ah, 'powers' in front of Discord to get here. I never told you, come to think of it - basically, I made it seem like I was phasing in and out of rock while Discord was in the vicinity, knowing that it would amuse him enough to make me part of his collection. I couldn't have gotten in here any other way."

The sting from the word "collection" aside, Caughlin was content with staying underground. She realized that she had never really thought of escape, since life was busy enough with science and, now, Luna. But Whooves had been whisked away without warning. She could understand where that desire to re-surface came from. Maybe when this was all over he could take her to Manehatten - that is, if Manehatten was still standing.

"Caughlin? Er, Caughlin?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, Whooves," said Caughlin, snapping to attention. "What is it?"

"How do I resolve this here, uh, time-tension with reference to a moving frame of reference?" asked Whooves, planting a worksheet in front of her ruefully.

"Well, it's quite simple. You just have to, here you go, start off with the stationary frame formula..." The problem, while not elementary, was not complicated. It felt like second nature almost, drawing additional lines and the occasional formula in a smooth flow of ink and explaining along the way - a correcting factor here, a rearrangement there. "Once you've rewritten the formulae, you just have to find which tensions oppose each other, and they cancel."

She tried to smile as she made a flamboyant cross over the two equivalent variables, but her eyes blurred and she felt herself slide on to the table with her leg.

"Caughlin! Are you okay?," asked Whooves, leaning down quickly.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good, Whooves." She waved him off and blinked hard. Back to normal now.

He stared at her with a frown, but when she returned it in full force he nodded and buried his head in his work once more. Suddenly he shot up and exclaimed, "Oh, wait! Darn! I forgot something, and it's in your room, Caughlin. Come on with me and unlock your door, will you?"

"My room? Left something? I can't remember..." But then again, you haven't been remembering a lot of things lately.

Sighing, she let him lead the way. She ignored the inevitable sniggers from the next table as she followed the agitated stallion down the corridor, through the door...

And she was suddenly inside, pushed roughly on to her bed, Whooves blocking the way to the door, when they had been nowhere near just a second ago-

"Whooves?" she asked, panic rising in her voice. "What are you-"

"Shh," pleaded Whooves. "Just, dammit, Caughlin, hear me out, okay!"

"I...okay, Whooves," said Caughlin, getting off the bed and circling him a safe distance away. "But you had better start explaining to me what's going on."

"My pleasure," he said grimly. "But first I need you to work a reality bubble."

"Why?" asked Caughlin suspiciously. "Listen, I guess this is some sort of elaborate prank, and even if you're trying to cheer me up I don't-"

"Shut up and just do it!" shouted Whooves, his voice cracking. That had never happened before; she would have laughed, if not for the rawness of his voice and the dead serious look he was wearing.

She was about to snap back at him, but the shouting hurt unexpectedly. She could feel her irritation rising; whatever had possessed him had better leave soon, or she was going to kick it out with him. She snorted, rolled her eyes and complied. Her horn glowed. As the magic began to channel she felt her head throb again.

"You can do this," drifted Whooves' voice through the pain. "You can. Just push through the pain. Get it done. For my sake. For everypony's sake."

"I don't know what you're going on about," mumbled Caughlin, now straining to get the strands of magic together. This was strange. Normally it just flowed to her so easily. "I..."

"You can, that's all you need to know."

"I..." She wanted to pin Whooves down and demand a proper explanation, but the worry filling her took priority. Why wasn't it working? With clenched teeth she pushed harder. She could feel the pain burning between her eyes, but it felt just within reach. The magic was welling up inside, close to bursting, but something was holding it back. She just had to push, push!-

With a huff and a wild swing of her forelegs, the sphere burst forth and engulfed the room like a burst dam. And suddenly it was lifted, all of it. The pain, the muddle-headedness, the tiredness. It was so shocking that she fell down from the clarity flaring behind her eyes.

More importantly, she remembered, and the recollections began pouring in.

"Tell me what you know," said Whooves hopefully.

She sat still, gathering her thoughts and joining the dots. Images flashed by. Fragments of sentences drifted. Scenes put themselves together but failed to complete, like Luna's jigsaw zoo, doomed to forever be a distant visitor and half a lion missing. Yet as they piled up, she could make out something of a picture, and there was only one possibility.

"Furhich used a memory hex," she whispered, her voice escalating. "He used a bloody memory hex. On me, on you, on all of us. He ambushed us and used a bloody!-"

"Shush, Caughlin, you don't want him to know you know," said Whooves hastily, a hoof on her mouth.

She batted it away and swung around for something to prop herself up. Focus. Now. Pull yourself together. She closed her eyes and waited for the wave of feeling to wash over. All she could hear was breathing and her heartbeat.

"I...thank you, Whooves. I had no idea." Caughlin swallowed hard. That was the point of memory hexes, after all - a comprehensive, detailed over-weave of past recollections. Her thoughts were rushing in all directions, but at least they were coherent now. Amidst the billowing, the first sensible thought ran to the desk of her mind and slammed down on the reception bell.

"Luna?"

"Luna is, well, immune," admitted Whooves. "The memory hex did nothing but put her to sleep. Not that they know, of course. I've told her to play along. It's like a game for Mommy, I told her. And she has to play it really well because that's what Mommy wants." She could not help but notice how he was scraping the floor with a hind leg.

"And you?"

Whooves slumped on to a chair. "I saw it coming a second before. A book mentioned it before, how funny is that? The colour of hexes, I mean. It was bright green-and-purple. When I saw it, it just kinda hit me - well, not literally, but - in the midst of the hex hitting my brain, I shifted back." A hollow smile spread across his lips. "Not just me, the whole den. Four seconds. A new record. It's amazing what fear does to you, eh?" He gave her a painful grin. "Then as events progressed again - you know, you jumping on him and telling me to move - I pretended to trip and faint. Furhich didn't suspect a thing."

He sounded weary all of a sudden. "It's been ten days, Caughlin, with everypony clueless as to what happened. I was so worried, so afraid. What happened if Furhich went and did this, or did that to you? You're his biggest threat, of course. He's probably only keeping you alive because everypony, Discord included, would notice if you were gone. It was all I could do, acting dumb while stopping myself from exploding and sending him to kingdom come. I'm not even angry any more. I'm just so... relieved, I guess."

Caughlin took this all in mutely. She waved for him to go on.

"Anyhow, I've done my best to watch out for things. I took a gamble with you and the reality bubble. It was the most horrible moment of my life, worse than when Discord found me..." He was looking through her now. His legs hung uselessly at his sides. "Wondering whether you'd lose your brain like you said you might a year or so before. You know, when he hit you with the image thing? Whether I'd... prefer you alive but confused, or back to normal but possibly dead." He shook his head, tried a grin, and drew his hooves back on to his lap.

"So far Furhich hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. It seems like he just wants to get Celestia done," continued Whooves. "I don't know what he's planning after that. By the way, I had to guess too that his memory hex was something Discordian and not magical. If it was magical, well, you know...I'd have lost you forever. And I wouldn't have a clue what to do." He shook visibly as he said the final words. "It was so bad, I had nightmares of you and him. But thank the Creator, thank Discord, thank anypony up there that you're all right, Caughlin."

He looked deep into her eyes, and she into his. The next thing she knew, he was in her embrace, bringing a rich warmth on and into her chest.

"You stopped calling me Doctor. I realized that I like being called Doctor." She could hear the smile in his words, and drew him tighter. "Damn, Caughlin. Just, damnitall. What do we do now?"

She let go slowly and wiped the last tears from her eyes. "I'm not sure. But we will do something," she said quietly. "We have to find a way to free our colleagues and get them out safely. And we can't hurt anypony either."

"Not even Furhich?"

"Well, maybe a little for him," said Caughlin, sighing. "But we can't resort to violence. The reason being, we don't know how many ponies Furhich has with him. If they're harmed, there might be more coming for us. And I refuse to stoop to their level. If we're going to make it out of this, we have to do it the right way."

"Right isn't easy," groaned Whooves. "I'm not even sure whether right is possible."

"But it's what makes us different from them, Whooves," she said, nuzzling his mane. "Remember what we're teaching Luna? We can't go around being hypocrites. We'll never be able to live it down. We're living for the future, for all the little things. And this is one of them."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Appreciate the little things," said Whooves, laughing now. "But hey. You have to take your own advice too."

"Since when have I ever not appreciated the little things, Doctor?"

"Well, here's one for size," said Whooves, leaning in with a smirk. But because he could make contact, Caughlin nudged him away with a sly wink, and he toppled face-first on to the edge of the bed.

Act normal. Our first advantage is Fuhrich underestimating us.

The two ponies re-emerged into the brightly-lit hall. A pony leaned forward and gave Whooves a nudge and a wink, to Caughlin's disgust. Others came forward with reports and data for her to review, at least having the decency to hide their sniggering.

Don't prod, pick out. Fuhrich may be the perfect puppeteer, but his lackeys may still slip up. Don't ask odd questions. Analyze and compile.

She walked over and began talking about the guise spell for the chamber with Fuhrich, whether there was anything left to cover, only to "discover" that it had been settled and prepared yesterday. She laughed it off and blamed it on her less-than-optimum state of mind.

Be prepared. I have my bubbles, and you have your time shift. With our powers we can already reverse most fatal situations. But don't use them until somepony is at risk of death.

That night, at dinner, Caughlin invited Fuhrich to deliver a short address to the R&D department, which he graciously accepted. He expounded on effort, work and unity to defeat a common foe, and extended yet more thanks for their generosity on behalf of everpony in Equestria. There was a smattering of applause. Even hexed, the ponies did not take well to speeches, it seemed.

We have each other, and we find the counter-spell, and either stop the second alicornification or save Celestia, we'll get our family back together again. And that is going to be our greatest motivation, our source of strength and our final goal. I don't care if it's selfish; Equestria can wait. Family comes first.

9: Enter The Stalemate

Furhich. The scratching of quill on paper ended with a particularly venomous tap.

Discordian ability, memory hexes, capable of maintaining simultaneous ones. High magical stamina. Perhaps physically weak. <- observe conditions. Manipulative skills shown in leading and tactical planning.

Caughlin sighed and looked at the sheet. She had, on the whole, a good memory, but mapping out the key details on something visible was better than ruminating the words over and over on her bed. Her newest sentence, in its tiny writing, was burgeoning past the half length; the top was crammed with the events of the day, or more precisely what she had been told and shown and spoken in turn.

Her memories were supposed to be augmented. Furhich had implanted the memory of her being won over by reasoning, though she was sure that there were other options open to him that weren't as prone to doubt. She suspected that it was because he wanted them to follow him of their own accord - whatever the reason, he chose to keep them themselves rather than hypnotized zombies.

Prefers some degree of autonomy in followers. She paused, looked behind at the door, waited to listen for approaching hoofsteps. There were none, and her head ducked down again. Goal: 2nd alicorn.

He had not directly assumed a leadership role, she also realized - he could have very well disposed of her, and replaced her with one of his own scientists. Though the sheer degree of power required to rewrite all forty-, fifty-plus years of a pony's memories, not to mention the risk of causing irreparable damage... She did not like to think that he had wanted to keep her alive for his own means, nor that a pony had such skill with such malice. It had to be his own limitations.

He did not participate in Laboratory activities, and spent most of his free time reading. He engaged in light conversation every now and then, and always kept a respectful, attentive tone. It was all an act, of course. Had to be.

Order patrols in the ceilings, with at least five identified from the ambush. Violence triggers their movement. She wondered whether it might be possible to catch them in a reality bubble before they landed, if Whooves were to give him a hard one in the jaw, trapping them... but that would mean making and maintaining something as large as the den, and Caughlin had never done that before. It was a silly idea, and she frowned as she returned her sights to the sheet.

But it would also disable Fuhrich's own memory hex ability, wouldn't it? Then he'll become nothing but a frail, regular unicorn. And as out-of-shape as we are, surely we can take on that. If we could just stop the guards, and if the memory hex dissolves, then Furhich could become our bargaining chip against the Order. The scene unfolded, in hazy patches - trapped unicorns, her colleagues piled on top of the old pony, who for some reason looked nothing more than disinterested in her mind. No. It was a silly idea, and she did not even dignify it with ink.

The most important thing was that she undo the hex on everypony before they carried out any sort of active plan. It would take too long to explain the situation to a newly-freed, confused mass; better for them to be well prepared when - if - it happened. She knew quite a bit of general knowledge on hexes, and could see how they could be adapted for mind manipulation, but the exact nature of his... she needed more information to come close to cracking the code.

Hexes. An advanced triune, the third level of joint spells above triunes and pentaspells. While the triune is a union of three single thaumic threads, the hex is a union of three pairs, producing an elaborate, comprehensive patch layer on the intended target, be it imagery or memories. The textbook definition was more or less so. With a few loaded questions delivered out of earshot, she knew at least that the hex was constantly maintained - a channeling spell, which meant that he was expending a lot of energy a lot of the time. He is weak, she thought grimly, though his lackeys sure aren't.

Then there was the issue of Celestia. She could not stop the Order from obtaining a foal. But she could save her from alicornification, or at least the process regarding the offending accelerating gem. She tried to remember the schematics for the improved procedure:

"Firstly, the Accelerat will be added alongside the characteristics. As a spell, the Accelerat is already thaumic; conversion is not needed, but it has to be placed in the right nook to avoid development imbalance between characteristics."

Her lips moved soundlessly as she jotted down each letter. Most of it was overheard conversation; she had not been on Project ALICORN duty since Furhich's takeover. "Meanwhile a second, physically-crystallized Accelerat will be surgically implanted in in the foal. This ensures that her physical growth is on par with her thaumic development." Which meant that Celestia would be plagued with the problem of mutated growth already, even if she was not an alicorn. She could only hope that they did the procedure here, instead of above the surface; then she would have a chance to stop it. "Once both sides are ready, they will be unified according to the same procedure as Alicorn #1."

So she had to somehow convince Fuhrich to perform the surgery in the Laboratory.

You could just leave Celestia be, whined a tinny voice at the back of her head. You don't even know her yet. Besides, what can you possibly do?

She sat up and looked in the direction of Luna's cradle, and sighed. I'm not going to leave her behind. I intend to save everypony, and that is what I will do.

She could not liberate her colleagues yet. It pained her, but she would have to let them continue under the illusion of submission. Right now, securing Celestia was the most urgent, and everything else would fall into place afterwards.

She gave the paper one last look, making extra certain that she knew what she was supposed to know and not know. With a tiny spark, the paper burned to ash, swept up and buried under a mound of waste paper in the little trash can in the corner.

"Good morning, Caughlin."

"I wish it were," grumbled Caughlin.

Furhich gave her a look of concern. She shrugged it off moodily. "It's just sleep. I need it, that's all, same as usual," she said. "It's all right."

"Good to hear that," said Furhich. "We're setting up the guise spell soon. One single drape right over there." With a sweep of his foreleg he motioned to her block. "It'll look just like that from this end, but on the other side, well, we'll have the implantation chamber set up and everything."

Slight wheezing at the end, noted. "Oh, okay. That's good. Need any help?"

"No, no, that's quite all right, Caughlin. Our unicorns will be here any minute. Rather I do have something else planned for you," continued Furhich with a smile.

"Oh, you do? What is it?" she asked, careful to stay sounding tired.

"As you have played the director's role before with Luna, we hope that you can do the same for Celestia. Thaumical union is a tricky business, but we believe that you have an affinity for it, as you've entered the realm before."

He's putting the alicornification into my hooves. This couldn't be better! "Why, sure thing," she said. "That is, of course, if I manage to rise up to it. I hope this insomnia leaves me in time, just, ugh," she added, groaning loudly for good measure.

"Thank you very much. And we hope so, too," said Furhich. "We wish only for the success of this event, and when Celestia is ready we will take hold of the future."

Great how you've ignored Luna completely, you controlling twat. Caughlin rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Yes, yes. We all do, I'm sure. But you're using accelerating spells, right? It'll be a new experience for me, directing them I mean. Is there anything special I need to know about it?"

"No, our scientists will handle that. There's a memo for you, I believe, but for the most part you just need to do what you did last time. We have in fact even prepared a spell that will simulate Discord's ethereal jaunt from last time." There was an extra dismissiveness in his voice; she thought of prodding him for more, but decided it wasn't worth the suspicion. Why would he withhold valid information from her like that?

"Okay. That's good, then. You know, just out of curiousity, what percentage of work are we contributing to this? Just curious, as to how much we're doing. Us, you know, I mean." That's good, keep fumbling up your sentences...

"Your efforts in the first alicornification are invaluable," said Furhich stoically. Ah, flattery. "However this time round we're making good progress by ourselves based on the wonderful efforts of your team. So please be assured that without you, this would not even be taking place."

You're damn right about that. So basically you're saying it's all you. Caughlin gave an appreciative laugh. "Very well. I'll be checking up on Luna's exercises, then."

Luna's characteristics development lessons were intensive, but were not much different from the norm - she was taught how to fly pegasus-style, in the way most pegasi learnt how to fly, and given weight-moving training to work her muscles. Even as she trotted over she could see Luna wobbling in the air, and felt a tinge of pride.

"Look, Luna, Mommy's here," said her pegasus trainer with a wink at Caughlin. "Come on down now, gentle landing, there's a good girl."

"Mommy! Did you see me? I was twirling in the sky!" exclaimed Luna, bounding up to her. She nuzzled the foal.

"Yes, I saw you, Luna. It was great. Good job," replied Caughlin. "You're coming along very well. But Luna, just, well, this isn't the sky. It's flying, yes, but you don't have to move in the sky to call it flying." She caught her moment of confusion. "The sky, is, well, the place above the ground. Not that this isn't above our ground, but there's a..." She exchanged glances with the trainer, who shrugged. "Ah, I'll tell you another time." She smiled warmly at her. "When you're older I'll show you the sky."

"Why can't Mommy fly?"

"Because Mommy doesn't have wings," said Caughlin.

"Then how will Mommy fly with me?" persisted Luna.

"I...can't," she answered, and felt a tweak in her heart. "But you know who can? Your little sister, Celestia. She's going to have wings just like you, and a horn as well. And when you two are older you can fly together, and do magic together. And you two can become the best of friends."

"But I wanna fly with Mommy! Mommy's my best friend," pouted Luna.

"Then what about Whooves?" joked Caughlin, glancing around for the stallion. He was busy watching the scientists raise the guise spell on the other side of the den.

"Whooves," repeated Luna, frowning. Then she shook her head, having made a decision. "Whooves is my second best friend."

"That's good then. Go on, Luna, you had better get back to flight training." To the trainer she said, "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"Nah, it's okay," giggled the trainer. "She's such a cute little thing, isn't she? Mommy this, Mommy that. Discord know how long it's been since we've had children. Actually we've never had children in here, before, have we? But I digress. Oh, Caughlin, I never knew you had it in you."

Caughlin blushed as the trainer gave her a final, playful nudge before attending to Luna. "I never knew I had it in me, either," murmured Caughlin.

That afternoon, she sidled up to Furhich once more. He was sitting at one of the benches, reading motionlessly.

"You know, I've been thinking, have you gotten a foal yet?"

"As a matter of fact, we have," said Furhich, looking up. Dang. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious, really," said Caughlin. "Where do you get them from, anyhow?"

"We just find them," admitted Furhich. "We have contacts in the main towns. Whenever Discord does a big doozy on one of them, we step in and try to rescue the remainder. That's how our numbers keep on growing, also."

The thought suddenly entered her mind. "So... does that make them orphans?"

"Sadly so," replied Furhich. Something in his voice suggested that he was wondering what sort of obvious question that was. "Well, at least until you adopt them. I see that Luna's grown very fond of you."

"Well, you know. I suppose she just grew on me," said Caughlin offhandedly. She had to be careful. If she let on too much, Furhich might see her as more of a stumbling block than before and decide to get rid of her prematurely.

"But that's good, isn't it? Look how happy Luna is." She's happy enough without you messing around! Stop looking at her! "I'm honestly hoping that you could do the same for Celestia."

Wait... you are? Furhich shrugged and went on: "After all, while we are doing our best to minimize the pain, we can't prevent it completely. The poor soul will need a parent figure for reassurance, and you're the perfect candidate. Also, this is why you have to make sure the alicornification runs perfectly." Suddenly, there was an evil glint in his eyes. "I don't think you've been shown the plans, have you? But you see, due to the complications of the acceleration spell, we have to divide her thaumical field into halves. We will give her anesthetics to numb her, but we are still not sure what the long-term implications are."

"Wait, what?" Caughlin's mind began racing once more. Split thaumical fields? But that meant-

"Yes. Basically, we have divided the essence of her being, and placed the acceleration spell in the core. The other half has been retrieved and mixed into the alicorn components. So the foal Celestia has only half a base field in her now." Furhich put on a pained expression, although the glint only seemed to worsen. "It is for the best, really. By placing the acceleration spell - we call it the Accelerat, by the way - deep into the centre, we can lessen the pain involved during her growth. It would be, ah, closer to the natural way of things, don't you agree?"

I was wrong. Furhich didn't just want to engineer a faster-growing alicorn, he changed the constitution of her essence altogether. This is insane. But it also means that-

"But when she's unified with the amalgam of characteristics, her essence will be rejoined, isn't that right?" asked Caughlin tersely. "Er, hypothetically."

An emphatic nod, like a teacher pleased with a student's answer. "Yes, precisely. Spot on! Of course, that is why we need you to perform a perfect directorship once more, or else who knows what will happen to the dear?" The words were stinging, and it was all she could do to stop herself from lashing out again. "We believe that the tendencies of such things like essence to... reunite on their own should come in handy. I am told that they were like rubber bands, they just pull together if you stretch them. So her body would be much more accepting of the amalgam, and the Accelerat along with it."

"I understand. Thank you, Furhich."

"My pleasure, Caughlin."

She was trapped, now an unwilling pawn. Either she gave her full support into the second alicornification, and made sure Celestia survived, or she sacrifice her and leave her with half a field, with death the most likely option. It was most likely that her essence had already been divided, and was simply awaiting transportation. It was sickening. She was treated no better than a rock or a piece of research! But it also meant that Furhich was determined to have his way. Unless she figured out how to reconstruct Celestia's being without going through the process... She felt the remainder of her hope dissolve. There was no way out, at least for now.

That night, after she made sure Luna was asleep, she told Whooves everything, and hugged it out.

"Shattered in less than a day," whispered Caughlin. "I have no idea what to do... but it's okay, Whooves. We can make new plans, right? Maybe you've got some ideas..."

"I'm more concerned that he's not briefing you even when you asked for it," murmured Whooves. "If he wanted you to do a good job, then he'd have told you what to do with the Accelerat."

"I don't know, Whooves. I really don't." She let go of him at last. "I'm tired and I'm worried, Whooves. This is spinning out of control."

He clasped her hooves in his. "Even if that's the case, I want you to know that I'm in this with you, okay. If we spin out of control or whatever, we do it together."

After Whooves left, before she slept, she tried out something she had never done before.

To anypony up there, anypony at all, she thought, if you can hear me, then please help us all. I know this is a sudden request, but hey, I'm sure it's not the first time, and if you've heard me, maybe you could just spare a bit more time to work your powers or something. Because I'd really appreciate it - I can't do anything anymore.

10: Enter the Answer

The Order had promised seventeen hours of safety on the fateful day of the operation. For formality's sake they had described the plan in a memo distributed to everypony, though the redundancy was soon evident by the sudden filling of the wastepaper bin. Outside, a daring, suicidal cat-and-mouse chase would start. Small teams would wait for Discord at every town. Upon sighting, they would launch attacks at him, and proceed to run the Hel away.

Of course, it wasn't as simple as that; every "leg" of the chase was rigged with spells and hexes to hinder, cripple or disable certain aspects of time-space. Discord was, it was almost certain, thaumic to a much higher degree than ordinary objects or ponies. This much wasn't hard to grasp; how else could a living thing possess such power without being part of it himself? The sudden distortions of magic would be off-setting for his teleportation, like falling through air into water, only to swim through the layer to find thickening concrete. Whenever possible they would take potshots at him using enchanted weaponry. Some of the designs were quite novel, and Caughlin found herself both grudgingly impressed and conflicted. She decided against informing them that regular weapons would work just fine. After all, the plan would already be in motion by the time word reached the ones who needed it the most.

She had managed to sneak out a copy of Celestia's growth guidelines from an Order scientist's pocket. If her lack of means to save Celestia aside from the alicornification gave her despair, this was not much relief, either: while the deep embedding of the Accelerat offset most of the pain of cellular-level adaption - tricking her yet-unformed physiology into thinking that the quickened rate was natural - there was still the matter of nervous stress.

The scientists were unable to reprogram her five senses. They would be overwhelmed, possibly leading to brain shock, risking eyesight and hearing loss. To overcome this Celestia would be dosed with drugs and magic every twelve hours until her vital signs stabilized. This was to go on indeterminately, until it was safe to stop; during the early periods of monitored development she would be read to in her tank to make use of her rapidly-expanding thinking processes and to keep her hearing in use.

The drugs and the spells needed to keep Celestia from going insane with pain were firmly in Furhich's hooves so she couldn't whisk Celestia away from him just yet. But as least she could try to get the job of reading to her. If she could just shape her right, then Celestia would be at least resistant to Furhich's philosophical manipulation.

Luna, meanwhile, was growing well. She had mastered flying unexpectedly quickly, early by two weeks. Caughlin had rewarded her with her first present ever - an old but functional abacus, frame of oak and beads of polished stone, which had been fashioned for her easily ten, twenty years ago by a now-deceased vitamins expert, Readphill. She had found it while digging through her collection of trinkets, which she kept hidden in a chest under her bed. Its discovery had been unexpectedly nostalgic; Readphill, for all her eccentricities, treated her like a younger sister.

"I'm going to have to teach you how to use this thing, won't I?" frowned Caughlin, realizing this moments after giving it to her.

"What does it do?" asked Luna, giving it a telekinetic shake, looking delighted at the rattle it made.

"Well, you use it to count. The ancient ponies used it. We don't anymore, of course, thanks to the invention of the Calculating spell - a proud product of your family, did you know? - but the art of using an abacus shouldn't disappear. It was mine, you know, before they invented the spell, but now I'm giving it to you." Caughlin leaned over and pointed to the middle row. "So you start here. The four on the bottom are 'one's. The one on top is a 'five'. So..." With slow, deliberate flicks, each one clacking loudly, she showed Luna, "that's one. Two. Three. Four." In a single motion she moved the 'five' and the four 'ones' down together. "Five. See? And then six, seven..."

"What about ten?"

"Ten is this one, the next column."

The alicorn had taken an unusual fascination to the device. The abacus had aged very gracefully, and the extra rub Caughlin had given it certainly helped. To Caughlin's pride Luna was doing simple addition and subtraction on it like a pro not even two days later, earning little exclamations of pride and pats on the head with her math teacher of the day.

"See? You're learning things really well," murmured Caughlin, wondering how she would react to her younger sister's artificially-endowed steep learning curve.

The day came at last. While the R&D ponies continued their work, a crowd of Order scientists huddled behind the guise spell, double-checking the equipment and their notes. A couple of her colleagues had stuck around to observe. Caughlin stepped into the director's circle once more. There was a thick air of expectation that did little to ease the mixture of emotions sloshing within her.

She had not slept at all last night. As day by day passed, she waited for Furhich to give her some kind of instruction about the alicornification. He had not given her anything, aside from "It's the same process that you performed last time".Almost as if he wanted her to go in uninformed and ill-prepared... Something was missing, but what?

"Are you ready, Caughlin?" asked Furhich, smiling with all the pleasantness of methanol poisoning.

"Ready as I'll ever be," said Caughlin. She wanted to snarl. She wanted to hide that she was almost snarling. But neither would have been true, because even stronger than her anger was the pounding of her heart and the blank whizzing of her brain. Characteristics. Union. Accelerat. I'm... I'm nervous, dammit.

"All right." Furhich gave an oblivious - or possibly not - short bow and turned away. "Everypony clear? Final checks on the triagram and and spell conduits."

"Final checks, complete," called out the chief assistant.

"Ethereal jaunt in three, two, one."

Too late to back out now.

Caughlin took a deep breath, closed her eyes and let herself shift into the higher dimension.

Now that I'm here a second time, it does seem a tad empty, thought Caughlin, taking in the swirl with slightly less awe. Nothing but colours and swirls. Tourism must be thriving in these parts.

She approached the three characteristics, floating at a non-distance away. This time, a faint white aura clung about them in addition to their own colors. Celestia's essence. Her soul itself.

Trying not to vomit - if it were even physically possible - she tried to meld the lot together. But something was stopping them from joining, more than the initial repelling she had experienced the first time. Looking closely, she could see that there was a second, acid green aura underneath the white. Somewhere, a helpful voice whispered: The Accelerat.

She cursed the Order and Furhich as she applied a greater force to no avail. She was having enough trouble trying to squash the objects together, where the very concepts of "squash" and "object" were so fluid... If she had calmed down, she might have found a better way to coordinate her efforts. But there simply was no time. Each moment Celestia's body existed without an anchor increased the risk of thaumic collapse - little more than a footnote on the memo, Caughlin bitterly remembered. As she pushed, the green aura flared up; the Accelerat was refusing to join the characteristics with a vengeance.

Was it possible to back out and ask for advice? Caughlin tried to force herself back into the physical realm... and failed.

Reverse ethereal jaunt, she thought to herself, not daring to open her mouth, which she vaguely felt she still had. How do I... How?

It didn't take long for her to resign herself to the answer. Runes and magic, that was how, none of which she had on this side. She was stuck here until she completed the union - maybe even after that, who knew? Maybe that was Furhich's plan, to lock her in the thaumic realm forever.

What do I do? I can't perform the union, I can't get out, what if I never do? Maybe I'll starve. Or maybe I won't, really, since I'm not in the physical- Her heart was going wild. She yelled, and felt the screech through her spine as it cut through the silence with all the clarity afforded by nothing. "Shut up, Caughlin!" she half-shouted, trying to gasp for breath and drawing pittance. "Just calm down. Keep calm. Go with the flow."

Her voice vanished as son as the words reached her ears. No echo, no reverb. As if she had not said anything. She bit her lip - thank goodness, it was still there - mustered up her thoughts, focused once more. Just do what you did before. She took hold of the characteristics and drew them together.

Mother? asked a tinny voice out of the blue, just before Caughlin was about to shove.

"Who was that?"

Mother? Are you Mother?

"Am I now? Who are you?" she called out, spinning around defensively.

You must be Mother! Oh, I've waited for you! It's so queer, Mother, it feels so odd...

"Ce...Celestia?" Caughlin drew near to the characteristics, and reeled back as the auras throbbed with each syllable. "Celestia, is that you?"

Celestia? I do not know who is Celestia.

"Then who are you?" she asked, her surprise giving way to annoyance.

I do not know. I am just... me. There were ponies in black, and they were looking for me. There was a lot of shouting, and then darkness, and then a small space with a tiny sun, and a single other pony who told me to-

"Okay. All right. I think I know," cut Caughlin warily. "You don't have a name. But the only pony who's here, other than me, is you. Your name is Celestia. It's the name I'm - we're - giving to you. And that's who you are."

And you are Mother. You are my Mother, said the voice, the brimming joy only made eerie by its context. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time!

"Well...I suppose I am," said Caughlin, her expression remaining taut. She could feel her curiosity take the better of her. "How is it that you can talk? You're only a week-old foal, maybe even less than that." The same age as Luna back then. I wonder if she could talk like this, too...

Talk? What is that? I cannot make sounds like the ponies outside, answered the voice.

"But I can hear you."

But I cannot talk. We must not be talking then.

"Maybe it's different in the thaumatic realm," muttered Caughlin. How strangely... logical that actually is. "Hmm. Thaumic realm. You must be thinking your thoughts, else they wouldn't exist... thinking is a form of communication here. And foals can communicate flawlessly... Ah, I'm getting off topic." She sighed and rubbed a hoof on her face. "Celestia, do you know how to perform a union?"

What is a union?

Caughlin repeated the action. "Nevermind."

Maybe I could leave with you. Is that okay, Mother? Can I leave with you? The cheeriness of the voice had been replaced with begging, almost hungry in the urgency of its tone. I feel lonely and empty like I'm in two pieces. Please, Mother, it doesn't hurt but it's so odd.

"Leave with me... leave with me," repeated Caughlin, thinking hard. Furhich wants to trap me. Even if he didn't trap me, he probably intends for me to fail. That's why he's given me components that can't unify.

The Accelerat is a spell. The components are thaumic. Celestia's essence is thaumic.

And I'm a unicorn.

"That's it!" exclaimed Caughlin. Before Celestia could say another word, Caughlin lifted her horn. "Celestia, you'd better hold on tight. This may be a bumpy ride. But I promise you, I will not hurt you. Not if I can help it. Please, Celestia, you don't know me yet... but trust me."

Outside, the scientists were trotting to and fro worriedly, bumping into each other every so often and bursting into fiery but short-lived shouting matches. Furhich was taking everything in with a quiet, unreadable demeanor. Whooves watched.

Time passed at different rates in the thaumic realm, and that aspect was something that the Order scientists had not considered important until then. Five of the seventeen precious hours had passed. They needed at least four hours to run the first recordings and tests, and to put Celestia's physical being into a sustaining medium took another hour's operations. And they needed a buffer time in case of emergencies. Buffer time was paramount. Whooves had heard them use the exact word more than once under their breaths.

Whooves himself was content with silently cursing Furhich, shooting dirty looks at him so much that it was more of a dirty stare.

Suddenly, the empty director's circle began to glow. The chatter died down as everypony strained to see what was going on. Cold observation turned into confusion as runes began to etch themselves around the circle.

Amidst the hubbub, Furhich remained silent.

The light from the circle intensified and burst forth, blinding everypony. In the pure white Whooves strained to make out what seemed to be Caughlin's figure, except that her horn was longer and she had sprouted a pair of wings... the light soon engulfed even that, and Whooves had to turn away.

The triagram was burning white with light as well by now. The runes along the chamber began to glow brightly, their hues adding to the brilliance. When everypony looked up, they saw that the deed had been done: Celestia, suspended in the nutrient liquid, had a new pair of wings. The circles were back to normal. The additional runes were gone, consumed in the process. And in the director's circle, panting heavily, was Caughlin, back in her gray, physical unicorn body, horn still glowing furiously with residue magic. Wingless. Alive.

"She made it," whispered Whooves, voice escalating into a shout the next second. "She made it, everypony, she made it!"

"Eh-" began Caughlin, but she was knocked down by a relieved Whooves. Slowly, the noise building up, the scientists began to clap their hooves on the floor, then cheer, then whoop with excitement.

"Man your posts, everypony! Move, move!" shouted an elderly voice, and at once they scrambled. The source approached the now-laughing Caughlin, who was tumbled on the floor with Whooves, and bowed.

"Miss Caughlin Mare. You are a genius," said the pony breathlessly. "I know exactly what you did."

"I know who you are," realized Caughlin, getting up. "You're Dr. Klipit, aren't you? I didn't know you were down here."

"How could I not for this momentous occasion?" wheezed Dr. Klipit. "We may have had our discrepancies and doubts about you, before, but I want to apologize for all that. You are truly a worthy equal."

"I'm impressed that you know what I did," said Caughlin, adding meaningfully, "given not even I was sure of it. I wasn't given a memo."

"But it was brilliant! The spell execution. The catalysing. The-"

"Will somepony care to explain what is going on?" asked Furhich, tone dangerously even. As if he had forgotten, his smile topped his sentence like a cherry laced with laxative. "For even Dr. Klipit to bring such high praise, I believe this must be worth knowing?"

"Well, Furhich," said Caughlin primly, "Allow me." She cleared her throat and hid a wince as soreness set in. Time for the big reveal.

"Your Accelerat was incompatible with the union. The Accelerat was not only incompatible, but also geared towards the Horn. It was inappropriately placed and slotted shoddily. I realized it when I gave the things a careful look - one was glowing stronger than the rest." She glowered at him. "It may have looked fine on the diagrams, but the fact remains that the Accelerat refused to have any part of the union." From the corner of her sight, she could see that Dr. Klipit positively shrunk at the words.

"That was when I began to think of the components in terms of nature. All of them - Celestia's essence included - were thaumic. And as a unicorn I had the ability to control thaumatics to an extent. So, using my own body as a catalyst, I took everything into myself. The whole lot. It was the hypothesis that I had greater control over events within my own thaumic field, rather than over their respective ones. I became a reaction chamber, so to speak. And it turned out right." She gave him another sharp look before continuing.

"Of course, I had to absorb some of the Accelerat. It was not pleasant, I can tell you that. But I did redistribute it back into the amalgam, so none of that -" She was about to say "junk", but changed her mind - "spell was lost. Carrying it, and Celestia's essence inside of me, I re-entered the director's circle. Which reminds me, I noticed a conditional barrier clause in the circle there, a tiny but present thing." She got up and sidled over to a blank patch around the chamber. "It wasn't there before, if I remember correctly. Somepony was making sure I did a good job before I came out, and I'm bloody grateful for that.

"Anyhow I think you saw me carrying the amalgam with Celestia's essence. I shifted into the thaumic realm again - I was carrying so much extra field that it was easy - and slotted it into Celestia. And hay, you know what?" She tossed her mane with relished flourish. "You were right. The two halves of her essence stuck together like magnets. The implementation was quicker and easier than Luna's. The conditions were met and I was freed."

"Absolutely wonderful, miss Caughlin. Once again you meet and excel beyond our expectations," said Furhich with a cold smile. "I knew you could do it."

Playing the fool? Hah. I see right through you, thought Caughlin. She felt a reply itching at the corners of her mouth, but looking at Celestia - a foal that she had actually borne inside of her (strictly speaking), somepony who had come to terms with her as "Mother" before even laying eyes on her - she was reminded of her goal. She forced down her pride, and settled for as contemptuous of a flick of her tail as possible. "You flatter me, Fuhrich. Just doing my best."

That night, it was a very weary Caughlin that climbed in to bed early. Luna was already fast asleep. Gummy crawled up to her, taking his usual spot on her mane, and Caughlin patted it absent-mindedly.

"I did it, Gummy," she said softly. "I saved Celestia." She heard the sound of Gummy blinking, eyes slightly out of sync as always. "It feels good, do you know? Being able to do something right. Success." She sighed, and shifted into a more comfortable position. "I just have to do everything right from now on, eh, Gummy? Then we can go back to living our lives in peace." To her ceiling, she mumbled as an afterthought, "And thank you. Even if you didn't do anything, things turned out all right today. And I'm grateful for that."

11: Enter Parenthood

The extra bed creaked as its inhabitant began to toss and turn, shuddering in spasms.

Shining a weak light to guide her path, Caughlin got out of bed and administered the painkiller spell with a gentle touch of her horn. The alicorn loosened up and sighed before falling asleep once more. She glanced at Luna, who was still in peaceful slumber, almost invisible in the murky darkness.

The unicorn sighed contentedly and got back into bed to catch a few more hours of rest. As her consciousness drifted, she noted that she didn't even need to be waken up anymore. Tending to Celestia's special needs had become, like so many other activities, part of her routine, one that never ceased to bring a warmth to her heart. Or perhaps it was heartburn - Caughlin had a deep suspicion that she was getting old. Even though she wasn't even past half her lifespan (the average safe-from-chaos pony lived for just over 100 years according to their shoddy but pioneering calculations), she could feel her muscles knotting, and an odd urge to call Whooves "young'un" or some variant thereof.

Interesting, she thought, as her horn dimmed down, the room returning to darkness.

The first week after the implantation had been one of immense tension. Celestia's frail state could not survive outside of the nutrient chamber until it had grown; she would have to remain in the Laboratory until her organs and senses were strong enough to live in normal conditions. If Discord returned in that period, they could only hope that he did not pass through the guise spell. Furhich had ordered two unicorns to stay on guard at all times behind the illusion in addition to the usual on-shift scientists; should the tyrant approach, and his magic-distorting presence begin to shake the spell, they were to reinforce it with all of their power. The flimsiness of this plan was painful to even think about, and the only thing worse than that was the idea that the R&D ponies couldn't see this. Furhich's memory hex was very competent and largely to blame. Caughlin had spent a few sleepless nights wondering how to deal with Discord such the plan botch itself.

Then came one day when the devil himself showed up.

It had been a few weeks since they last saw him, and Caughlin was curious as to his state. The peace that had followed his extended absences was uneasy - the previous duration of her life had trained her to expect otherwise. She was grudgingly impressed with the Order's efforts when he arrived in an unceremonious crash - his crow lines were deeper, and his usual smirk had been replaced with a tight, pinched look. The scales on his tail had lost their sheen, and the fur on his body was messy and dirty with ash. Clinging to him was a rank odour of sweat, soured milk and - Caughlin had to restrain her gag reflex when she realized - innards. Not just blood, but organs and their juices and enzymes and waste. The greatest change in him, though, was his demeanor - normally he carried himself with an air of mischievous intent bordering on malice, something that read "I do things for the heck of it". None of that remained. Discord was actually weary for once, and out for blood. He gave a loud sigh, and magicked a couch to fall on.

"Bother these rebels," muttered Discord. That was not a good sign, either - Discord had even lost the drive to be witty, succumbing to mere complaining. You're over-thinking things. Caughlin approached, and gave her customary greetings.

"Ah, Caughlin. What do I do, I ask you? Confound these ponies, they drive me to... to..." Discord shook his head. "To do everything short of Armageddon! I can't even muster up the energy to rant. Look at me!" sighed Discord. A bag of ice plopped on to his head with a soft crunch. "Why, the way these ponies have been treating me, it's just annoying! Won't they just give up?"

"What is it about them that's making it so hard?" asked Caughlin, putting on her best sympathetic voice. If she kept him engaged in a line of conversation, she could keep him from moving to the far end of the den where the guise spell hung.

"Hard? Oh, puh-lease," said Discord, sitting up suddenly. He frowned and held Caughlin up to his eyes with a rough grip. She felt a chill fill her belly. "They're absolutely pathetic. Don't go around getting the wrong ideas, miss Caughlin, these ponies pose no problem at all to me."

"But I, well, thought that..."

"Ah, come on. I'm just playing with them. But it's becoming an extremely boring game." Discord put her down and summoned up a bag with "Peanuts" labelled in large, balloon-y letters. "Do you know what they do, Caughlin? They find me and launch spells. It's aggravation, that's what it is. So I think, 'Well, I'll amuse them', and so I give chase. They try to run through crowds, hide in villages and the like. I destroy everything. Everything, mind you, except for the debris, because that would be pointless. And they teleport here and there, and leave little changes in the thaumical flux. As if it bothers me at all! Pah! I gain on them slowly until I've got them. Then I eat them."

Caughlin froze in a stare.

"Oh, yes, Caughlin," continued Discord, munching on peanuts by the handful now. "But not raw, mind you. This one time I made muffins out of them." He began to hum as if it were the most regular thing in the world. "You know, all you have to do is take a cup of flour. Add it to the mix. Then take a little something sweet and sour. A little bit, perhaps a pinch. Not that you ponies can pinch with hooves, of course, but still. A little salt, and then the pony. It's a cinch, really, though you can never get your fill with desserts. Never stays in your belly, always goes to your thighs... Or was that cupcakes? I can't tell for the life of me what the difference is." He stopped and glanced at Caughlin, who had blanked out her expression completely. He snorted and laughed, spraying bits of peanut shell all over her. He rolled his eyes and dusted her off with a featherduster, pulled out from nowhere.

"I'm just kidding, Caughlin. You silly mare. Ponies taste horrible, nor do they go well with my digestive system. No, I just kill them. Simple as that." He ran a talon slowly along her throat. "Sometimes I do it fast, sometimes slow. Not that it matters, since they can't hurt me. Just depends on my mood. Which, come to think of it, has lightened considerably since coming back here." A wide, toothy grin stretched across his face. "The wonderful feeling of being in total control is so cathartic. You should give it a try. Probably have, I'm sure, you rascal." He gave a tired stretch. "If I go on at this rate you'll be the only ponies left in Equestria. I'd better lay off the hunting for a few days. Maybe make time spin a little faster so that they can re-populate. Appreciating chaos is not as fun when you're alone, after all." With a flick of his tail, peanuts, couch and Discord disappeared, and she plopped down to the ground hard.

"Whooves?" she asked quietly, not moving from her spot.

"Yes, Caughlin," replied the stallion anxiously. "What is it?"

"Where is Luna?"

"I hid her as soon as he popped in. She didn't hear a word of it."

"Good. Good." Caughlin then turned to Furhich, who had been silently watching. She trotted up to him, eyes cold. "Those were your men, Furhich, acting under your orders. I'm curious as to what you thought of that exchange."

"That they died as heroes, for you, for us, for Equestria," replied Furhich, matching her glare. "For Celestia. Nor do you have any authority over them - as much as you are chairpony of the R&D, I am the leader of the Order. I appreciate your concern. The deaths of our comrades was certain, and we do our best to get over it, but hearing it from the killer himself is not easy, I assure you." He faltered, an uncertainty in his voice. "We feel it for sure. The loss is painful. But it isn't unexpected - they knew what they were to do, and the result of it. Everypony in the Order is ready to throw themselves into the fires of hell for freedom. We need to remove Discord. And the only way we can do it is through Project ALICORN."

"Do you really think that more power is the only way?" asked Caughlin.

"What else can we obtain to defeat such a being?" answered Furhich simply.

Due to Celestia's rapid maturation, within a week she could see, hear and recognize shapes. They took her out of the chamber for a tentative physiological trial; in two days, she had learnt to stand, and in another two days, walk. Measurements showed a triple increase in weight, and quadruple in height within the week. It was unnatural. But for Caughlin, who had a supervising role, it was a source of pride all the same - the foal was alive and growing and learning. She was not sure whether the term "healthy" applied in this context, though.

That was when the scientists took her away.

Caughlin knew that it was for the best. They had the necessary painkillers - the R&D's own drugs were far too weak to have the required effect - and the staff to deliver it regularly. Despite the various hazards overhead, the Order possessed a few precious pieces of equipment to perform their own monitoring work vital to keeping Celestia's experimental rates safe. Most importantly, Celestia would be safe from Discord. Even so, it was not without pain that Caughlin said goodbye to Celestia. It had been only month, a month and a half. Who knew when she might see her again?

"Take care, Celestia. I'm going to miss you," said Caughlin, hugging the foal gently. "Luna, say bye to your sister."

"Why?" asked Luna. "Why can't Celestia stay?"

"Because she... needs to be somewhere else, Luna. This place isn't right for her," said Caughlin, carefully choosing her words. If I said that it was for her safety Luna might feel scared and want to leave too... I don't know what I'd do if that happened.

"Then how will she see Mommy and Whooves and me?" persisted Luna, pulling at Caughlin's mane.

"She won't," said Caughlin, biting her lip. She felt her eyes water. Get a grip on yourself, Caughlin. Not in front of the foals. And Furhich.

"Mommy," said Celestia, looking up expressionless, to everyone's shock.

"Yes," stammered Caughlin, nuzzling the white alicorn for the last time. "That's me all right. Now you be good, Celestia. Be good. And don't forget us."

"What she said," said Whooves, giving Caughlin a sideways hug. She felt him tremble slightly. "Take care, Celestia. I don't know you very well. But I wish I did. If I get the chance then I will, okay? Uhh. Dang. Forget the 'uhh' part, will you?" Caughlin drew him closer and gave him a squeeze across the shoulders. The Order's transport ponies gave them a terse nod, held Celestia's hooves and vanished into the world above.

Caughlin had spent the subsequent week in a slump. She was worried for Celestia and frustrated at herself for many things. Somehow, it was in the settling of the moment that she remembered how un-hexed she must have sounded over the past few days. The intelligence, the snarky replies, the bold challenge...

I really hope Furhich attributes all of that to my vibrant, dynamic personality, thought Caughlin, rolling her eyes inwardly. She would have to stay in-character from now on.

There were also her extended absences from the rest of the R&D team. Phase two of Project ALICORN involved decidedly less of them, so they had returned to their original work for the most part. Caughlin had been left remaining on the roster. They didn't blame her or think any less of her for it, as if she had betrayed them to work on the far more glamorous project. It would be an insult, she felt, to think any less of her team's empathy. That didn't stop the guilt. She could see them glance through the guise during that month every so often with mixed looks - never hurtful, but quite often hurt, or so it looked - well, there would be no more of that, because Celestia was gone from their lives until further notice.

The Order had scrapped the nutrient chamber within a day, and had dismounted the guise spell on the next. She spent a couple of afternoons showing Luna her reality bubbles, and attempted to explain to her the thaumatical principles behind it.

One day, Luna took Gummy out for a walk around the den - or rather, Luna took a walk around the den while Gummy watched. They had no leash for her to use, so Luna's only coax was verbal. Fed up with the lack of response, the alicorn huffily gave Gummy a poke in the eyes, as she had seen Caughlin do a few times before. To her shock, Gummy reared up and let loose a column of fire, and from it came a scroll. Caughlin picked up Luna's squeals across the den and quickly took the letter up.

"Oh, Luna!" exclaimed Caughlin, lifting her in a hug. "This is great news! Whooves, go and get me some paper and a pen! Your sister's coming back to visit in two days!"

The letter read:

To: Caughlin Mare of the R&D Department

Greetings.

We request that preparations be made for the second alicorn Celestia's visit to the Laboratory. After one week of dwelling in Order conditions, she has stated firmly her desire to return to your place. We know that this is extremely risky, however, for the sake of her emotional health we are willing to discuss a compromise. Previous measures remain, most important being Celestia's confinement to a private room. Further discussions regarding this will be held in good time.

We will arrive in two days of your reply. On the day itself, please send another signal (blank) message via dragonfire, and we will take it as a safe indicator to enter. Expect us within five minutes of your signal.

That had been six years ago. From then on, their routine had been the same - Celestia dropped in every alternate week, spending one above and one below. She simply wasn't happy living with the Order to the point that she had refused meals for days. She didn't want to think that it was family instincts or her love winning over. There was no scientific basis for that. Even Furhich could not change her insistence on returning, such stubbornness she showed.

But she felt as if it were. Something finally turning her way for a change.

Caughlin wasn't going to question it - she was just glad that they got to see her again. Luna had taken a great liking to her sister, thankfully, and it warmed her heart to watch them play and study together.

Even so, there were parts of the arrangement that she could not stand, and one of those parts was the things the Order were teaching Celestia - things, Caughlin suspected, straight out of Furhich's book.

"What does my name mean?" asked Celestia one night, as they settled in after a long day of levitation practice. The days of snuggling together in the same bed had long past - three beds along with the alicorns' study materials meant that the room was more cramped than before - but the usual bedtime stories still remained. Caughlin had a repertoire of these from PEEP books, many of which came with morals, something she was intent on passing on to the alicorns.

"It's Old Pony for the sun. And Luna is Old Pony for the moon," answered Caughlin, searching her memory for a story that the alicorns hadn't heard a million times already, as she had done for the past year.

"That's nice. It also fits funnily, 'cos I'm a midnight blue and you're bright white, sis. And what's your name mean, Mommy?" chipped in Luna.

"I... honestly have no idea," admitted Caughlin. "I never got the chance to ask them. Caughlin Mare. Hmm. Well at least we know what 'mare' means, though I suppose it'd be awkward for everypony if I had turned out a stallion."

"While we're at it, what about Whooves' name? I doubt that it refers to his, well, hooves," noted Celestia. "It's odd, really. From most of your stories, ponies have names like Butter Cup, Blossom, that other blue pony with the blond mane whose name I can't remember. Blue Grass the travelling musician. I've also gathered that most conventional surnames stem from a characteristic of the family in ancient times - something-Apple, something-Silver, adjective-noun. I mean no disrespect, Mother, but everypony in this room seems to have unconventional names. Not that I don't like them, of course, I think Luna has a nice touch to it. And mine sounds regal, which is nice too," she added hastily.

Caughlin frowned. Fair point. "I think it's because back then, in the ancient days, ponies lived in peace, or at least without chaos. So they could call each other nice names like flowers and, er, bugs and things. These days - Luna, you wouldn't know, but Celestia knows what I'm talking about - cheery names don't really fit into the world we live in, don't you agree? It's almost ironic if you were a, say, Willow Tree living in the barren lands of Stalliongrad. Names like mine and Whooves just fit in today's twisted world, I guess."

"How was it like in days of peace?" asked Luna. "Was it really like in the books? Where plants grew normally and the skies were blue, and sometimes there weren't even clouds?"

"I wouldn't know." Since when did they become so interested in ancient history? "I can tell you, though, that peace and order did, and still do exist. The world has the potential to live in harmony." With your aid, thought Caughlin quietly.

"Harmony must be very nice then. What's harmony?" continued Luna.

"Well..." This was a difficult question. Caughlin gave it some thought, and considered whether to conveniently call it a night. Then inspiration struck her.

"Harmony is an abstract thing, sister," said Celestia. "It's an absence of chaos. You can't describe something like that."

"No, that's not quite right." Caughlin felt confident of her answer as she continued. "Harmony is something more. You could say it's made of... of elements, yes. Just like pyridine and hexane. There's, mmm, honesty, for example. If ponies were lying to each other there wouldn't be harmony, would there? And then there's loyalty, because when you trust somepony you feel much better doing things with them. Maybe laughter - " She suddenly remembered what Whooves had said back then about her laugh, and felt her ears warm - "because it's a sign of happiness. Generosity, being willing to share with others who need it. You've probably seen that at work in the Order, Celly." I hope. "And kindness, because it's amazing what a little bit of care can do to somepony." Like what the R&D team and old Macquarie Pie did for me. Caughlin counted them up. "Yep, five elements. The elements of harmony."

Celestia did not seem satisfied with it. "How about magic? The Order ponies say that power is the most important thing to bring peace to Equestria, and magic is power."

"Magic is magic," dismissed Caughlin sternly. "You can have harmony without magic - it isn't a matter of thaumics, it's a matter of your personality, who you are."

"But they argue that magic is necessary to defeat Discord!"

"That's true," relented Caughlin. "But again, harmony isn't an absence of chaos. Defeating Discord isn't enough for harmony, though it would certainly bring it a lot closer. But we have a bit of it here, don't we? It's when ponies get along, and live together in peace. Simply taking away chaos doesn't mean that they'll get along. Besides, if magic is so important, where does that leave Earth ponies and Pegasi?"

"They say that uncle Furhich's an advocate of 'unicorn supremacy'," confessed Celestia, shrinking under the covers. "He's even written a book on it. It's a theoretical governing model with unicorn nobles and an enriched farming class. I mean, I may have read some of it..."

"Celestia." Caughlin sat up, biting her lip. "Listen to me, Celestia Mare. Uncle Furhich can believe what he likes. But you're my foal, and you do what I tell you to - you get that junk out of your head. Unicorn supremacy is corrupt and selfish and has no place in Equestria." She sighed. "Celly... you haven't done anything wrong. But I want you to focus - Luna, you too - and remember now that all ponies are equal. Everypony is to be treated fairly, regardless of how they look or what characteristics they bear, because each have their special gifts and talents. We have to rely on each other to make the best progress. How would you like it if ponies bullied you for being different? And you're not allowed to hex or harm them in retaliation."

"I wouldn't like it," mumbled Celestia.

"And would you look at me any differently, or love me less if I somehow became an Earth pony, or a pegasus?"

"No, Mother, no!" cried the alicorn fervently. There were tears forming in her eyes. "Never!"

"Mmm," soothed Caughlin, magicking a handkerchief over to wipe her face. "It's okay, Celly. It's not your fault. I just want to be firm on that, because it's so important. Come on, stop crying. Luna, turn off the light please. We all need sleep. Tomorrow we're going to try out a triune, isn't that exciting? Us three, one spell! But you have to rest up, now..."

She sat up, her thoughts waking her up once more. She could hear Luna's soft breathing, and Celestia's tighter gasps that she had almost learnt to get used to.

These were more than projects. These were her foals, and even though they were growing up fast - in the latter's case, literally so - they would probably still be that in her heart regardless of what happened from then on.

They had enjoyed around six years of harmony. But she could feel a nagging sense that it was about to come to an end. Like her bubbles, the dream would pop, and all that would be left was hard reality.

12: Enter Project ALICORN, Part II

A soft whirring filled the air as Team 4 switched on the new device, a sleek metal box connected to the test chamber via donor-recipient rune pairs that circled both volumes, throbbing in sync. It was a no-cables affair - admirable, much-needed neatness in the absence of expandable floor space. Lightwise, their demonstrator for the day, stepped in, and once it was safely sealed, she raised her head high and let off a spark. Caughlin nodded appreciatively as the monitors on the device flickered, yielding numbers. She proceeded to let off two more sparks, one much weaker and another much stronger, before stepping back out. The device listed the new readings accordingly.

The machine was the first magic-measuring instrument to ever exist, or at least as far as they knew. It was still a prototype, but Team 4 boasted that it gave an estimated error of only five units for large sources, or a range within two to nine percent. Mediocre rates by any other standard, but given that they had worked at the concept from scratch, using cross-measurements, predictions and controlled experiments to define a unit and its nature - as well as a measurement system that was sensitive enough to "significant" change (anypony could tell you that fire was hot and ice was cold, but the degree system gave one everything in between) it was nothing short of impressive.

Calculations regarding magical energy had been only theoretical until now. Even during the planning of the alicornifications, the amounts of magic to be used in the union and implantation stages were not specified. "As necessary" was almost infamous; Caughlin knew first-hand that it was really trial-and-error when it came to the strength of the magic required. Rather than using a dedicated unit, they used thaumic masses, derived from physical mass using the Demetritic constant - an approximation at best - but now with the device, the fields of magical resistivity and conductivity were open to them - "Would a rock retain more magic if zapped than say, a stack of paper of the same mass?" "Do all objects emit magic?" - it was a historic day for the R&D department.

The only thing that could ruin it was the return of the Order scientists to act as fellow witnesses. It had been a good few years since there had been this many of them down here; now that Celestia no longer needed monitoring, they no longer needed to stay.

Of course, its immediate use would be to record the alicorns' current power levels. That was why it had been commissioned, after all. Team 4 were reluctant - they did not like the idea of losing their only prototype in the event of an overload - but Furhich had somehow managed to "convince" them after a "chat". So here they were - now that the functionality of the machine had been proven to the rest of the department, they were to give it its first real task.

Caughlin glanced at the leader of the Order, standing some ways behind her. How long had it been! She was almost used to it by now, stealing looks at him to ease the tightening in her throat she got whenever she sensed him hovering where she could not see. Six years of laying low and doing apparently almost nothing during the alicorns' growth, save for maintaining the memory hex on her team. Six years of careful tending of her demeanour, so much so that it was second nature when talking with him. He had become thinner despite his lack of activity, and he had picked up a lethargic attitude to life, staying in his room for days sometimes and moping around, pawing the floor when he did come out. Not that she cared, of course; all the better for them if the hex on her colleagues wore off at last due to Furhich's own negligence.

He looked up as she turned her glance into a stride over. "I have to ask you," said Caughlin, "How will we know when the alicorns are ready to defeat Discord?"

"This device should tell us fine," replied Furhich. Even his voice had become shorter in breath. Coupled with his solmenness it gave him a pinched, annoyed tone. "We shall get one of my stallions down here to fire off a damaging spell at full blast, and we can compare it to the alicorn readings. We need enough power to counter-act Discord's own thaumic field. He's a Draconequus, and virtually half-magic; if we can neutralize those vital energies with a big spell, fast enough to stop him from regenerating, he's as good as dead."

Shrugging, Caughlin then nodded for Luna, now her height, to step in. She briefed her on what to do - she simply had to build up as strong a magical pulse as possible, and release it when she couldn't safely contain it anymore. Luna nodded with an eager glint in her eyes, receiving the same from Celestia, standing further away.

"Sealing runes, check. Clear radius. Reinforcement spells, check. Heat dissipation, check."

"Let 'er rip," grinned Caughlin, giving Luna a little push on the side.

Luna stood perfectly still in the chamber as everypony else put on a pair of shades and earmuffs and a cautionary barrier was erected around them. She took a deep breath, and began to channel power into her horn. Her eyes and mane began to glow with power. Suddenly she roared, and let loose the pulse with a deafening crackle. The recipient runes flared as they tried to convey the full amount of magic. The device shuddered, and out came a number.

"Eight thousand seven hundred and thirteen," read Caughlin, as Luna stepped out. There was a round of polite applause. Nopony knew what those numbers actually meant, but even so, she felt a surge of pride. "Well done, Luna."

"That was amazing, Mommy," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm still giddy from the shock. So much magic, like I've never felt before... You need to let me do that more often."

"I'm not setting up all the safety procedures to let you blast my test chamber," mock-frowned Caughlin, rubbing Luna's mane.

"Can I not do this?" asked Celestia, pawing the ground nervously. "It seems overwhelming."

"You'll be alright, little sis," said Luna happily. "It's fun! Just do your best."

Unwillingly, the white alicorn went in. Once again the safety procedures were repeated, and when all was safe, her horn flared up, and the chamber was once again filled with light. It did not help that her coat was pure white, either; soon she became painful to even look at.

The room exploded with sound. Caughlin flinched as the walls of the chamber rattled and the runes whined, flaring up prismatically with excess magic, as the barrier, curiously, moaned with the strain. When the ringing in their ears had finally stopped, Caughlin steadied herself to read the numbers. She heard the sound of somepony's goggles breaking into pieces - her own pair sported stress fractures at the edges.

"Ten thousand and seven," said Caughlin breathlessly. "That's - that's over -" The rest of the sentence was quickly lost under the barrage of cheers.

"See? I told you it would be great!" exclaimed Luna, meeting her sister as she staggered into an embrace, slightly smoking. "That was like, bang, and boom, and there was that ringing sound and everything!"

"I... thank you?" stammered Celestia. Her wingtips twitched erratically. "That wasn't very pleasant. I feel ill."

Caughlin approached the two and gave Celestia a nominal dusting off. "Take your sister somewhere to have a sit down." The two left, chattering excitedly. She turned to the silent shadow. "Well, Furhich, what do you think?"

"Powerful, yes. But not enough."

"She stared at him disbelievingly. "What?"

"I won't know until we get a regular spell measured, but it just doesn't... feel adequate. Flashy and admittedly awesome as it was. It's better to be safe than sorry," said Furhich. He turned around, looking at nothing in particular. Blank, disinterested. "Can Celestia grow any more?"

"She's past her peak growth stage," replied Caughlin, keeping her tone an even recital. "Sure she can, but it'll take another year at least for any significant growth." What's with that look, huh? Even that's not good enough for you? "Just like any regular pony after their formative years," she added.

"I see." Furhich frowned, and bit his lip. "Then it's about time we reveal to you Project ALICORN's Phase 2." He perked up disconcertingly, and shouted, "Attention!" He lifted his head, and three guards swooped down through the ceiling, one of them carrying a bag of scrolls. "You, go fire your strongest spell inside that chamber. Have it measured. You two, give her a brief overview of the plans of Phase 2."

Did they... did they actually rehearse for that? I can't tell if that's just drama-whorsing or full-blown senility... "Wait, wait, hold on. Phase 2?" asked Caughlin sharply. "You never mentioned Phase 2. What's this all about?"

"The guard here will explain it to you," said Furhich, waving a hoof at the black-clad guard, dissipating with it the brightness as quickly as it had come.. "I would love to do so myself, but you know that I am not the best when it comes to matters of terminology, and all this excitement has tired me out. Age is a cruel mistress, Caughlin... My apologies."

The Alicorn-Decageas Cannon, or ADC, is a system that harnesses the unique strain of alicorn magic and amplifies it. It is a modification of the classical Decageas, or union of ten.

In a decageas, five groups of two, of equal power levels, join together to perform a spell significantly stronger than the sum of their components. In practicality the risk is much higher than any considerable return, as it involves not only a balance within and between each group during the duration of casting, but also the difficulty in obtaining participants of sufficient skill - controlling the often-large amounts of magic and keeping them in tandem with the other parties is a severe test of durability.

In the ADC, there is a main pair that provides the bulk of the spell, or payload. Three of the five pairs establish a magnifying hex, while the one remaining pair channel and aim the spell through the hex, resulting in an extremely powerful spell. The main pair will obviously be manned by the two original alicorns. However, due to the intensity and previously-unforeseen alicornic nature of the payload, only other alicorns can participate in the ADC - regular unicorns lack the additional control of matter provided by the other two characteristics to properly handle it, and pegasi and Earth ponies cannot harness magic outside of their own bodies.

The arrangement of the ADC presented minimizes the involvement of these second-generation alicorns, or G2s, for efficiency, but still requires them - the magic used in the magnifying hex has to be of the same substance as the payload, lest the payload disrupt it due to thaumic density differences. The need for alicorns to man the channeling pair is self-evident.

For the ADC to function, therefore, 8 more alicorns are needed. We suggest using fully-grown unicorns who know the fundamentals of magic. After the adaption period, their magic and control thereof will naturally take on the desired alicornic form. Alicornification processes for the G2s are different given the subjects have a developed Horn; attached with this overview are the schematics, calculations etc. covering the process and methods to overcome the forementioned problem with others.

Caughlin went to bed biting her lip, clutching furiously at her pillow. She had spent the rest of the day poring over the notes with her team to run through the technicals - the Order's work was complete, without any need for further input, so that the surprise would spring unopposed - but she could not stop thinking instead about the implications of the scale of alicorn engineering being proposed.

Furhich wanted power. That much was obvious. So was the fact that he wasn't willing to wait for it. He never intended for there to be only one phase. That has to be it.

The idea was actually sound - to get rid of Discord, they had to do it in a single blow. Any less, and he would use the opportunity to wreck the world in an outrage, or worse, escape and recuperate before hunting them down. The magnifying hex plan made sense - it was the fastest way of achieving the desired results, and there was little way that Discord would survive after being dealt a shot from the proposed ADC - it was more than enough to unearth and annihilate the entire laboratory by Caughlin's estimate. But there was the issue of adaption, and while she had no sympathy for Furhich, she wondered about the other ponies under his command. They were willing to die, supposedly. Are they also under a hex? Furhich couldn't possibly keep maintenance on those, since he's stuck firmly down here. Or maybe his hex is remote... She frowned and squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

Perhaps they were just devoted to his cause, or brainwashed with his philosophies. Celestia had come close to that.

No doubt, she would be the director for the processes. Where else could they hold it? Most possibly down in the laboratory. And who else but the most experienced of them all? But surely by now the R&D team would at least suspect something. A whole new phase, unannounced? That's got to trip a few nerves, thought Caughlin. Memory hex or no. After all, he never tampered with their personalities, and they even grumble and complain when they think nopony's listening. It's frightful how mild the hex seems to be...

There was a knocking at her door. She shot up nervously. "Who is it?" she demanded, as softly as possible.

"It's me," said Whooves. Caughlin sighed in relief and got up to open the door, and couldn't help but smile at that all-too-familiar figure.

"Can we talk about the cannon?"

"Not here, Doc. They're sleeping. You'll wake them."

"Oh. Right. The hall, then?"

"Too risky, Furhich's spies are on their rounds. Your place?"

Whooves' room was slighter smaller and a lot messier than hers. There were notes and books littered across his bed, and Caughlin mused on how he could sleep in such limited space - perhaps in that vaguely pony-shaped clearing to the side? Hurriedly, he made space and bade her to sit down.

"You know, I enjoyed not having the Order around," said Whooves, smiling tightly.

"You and me both," said Caughlin, sighing. "Peace is but a fleeting candle, or something. But this is it, Doctor. The moment of their lives, the reason for their existence. The freeing of Equestria." The words did not roll off her tongue well. Far too much bitterness had been swallowed for the sake of those words.

"Celestia's power level is a hundred or so times more than the Order's demo fighter," said Whooves. "I hung around to watch. The Order pony's blast was pretty strong. It would have broken a few ribs if it had hit somepony, but it only registered nine hundred-something units. You should have seen the looks on their faces when Furhich asked him if he was actually trying." He indulged himself in a chuckle before continuing. "I mean, I'm still having trouble believing it, but our little alicorns are way wacked-out powerful. With Luna and Celestia combined, I can't see why Fuhrich would think that we'd lose."

"Ten thousand is only around eleven times stronger than nine hundred," frowned Caughlin. "Which does sound a lot less than a hundred, but even on its own that's no mean feat. He's taking precautions." She let her eyes drop to a random sheaf of paper covered in scrawls, too dim to read. "We may be able to deal damage, but we can't take much of it. That's why it has to be in one go. Killing Discord, I mean." She remembered Discord's description of the chase, as if he had merely drifted along to catch up to those trained fighters, obliterating everything else on the way. Then she remembered how she would have never imagined herself saying those two words. Killing Discord. "Besides, if we take any longer than a moment, he'll take the fight elsewhere, and innocent ponies will be hurt as collateral. A single shot, taken somewhere preferably far away from other groups of ponies - that's what Furhich wants. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Isn't there an aftershock, though?" asked Whooves doubtfully. "Like just now. Big blast go boom, so much bigger blast might end up wiping out everything anyways..."

"The ADC fires a focused destructive spell, not an explosive one," said Caughlin. She had been impressed by this. "Destructive, meaning it destroys, focused, meaning it's contained to within the target aim. It won't harm anything that isn't in its way. So it's like a laser." She gave him a poke with feigned disappointment. "Didn't you read the memo? It was one of the first footnotes, I think. Somewhere around Appendix A."

"Who reads the appendices? Anypony could have missed that," pouted Whooves. "Anyhow, I still think something's wrong with the whole idea. There has to be another way." His expression turned dark. "Didn't you notice anything odd about the runes on the director's circle in the blueprints?"

"No, I didn't." Was there something that she had missed that Whooves had picked up, for once? "There weren't any, were there?"

"That's right. Isn't it weird? The runes are pretty important, so why would they not list it in?"

"The letter was a rushed one, just before they packed up to another hiding place," said Caughlin, recalling the words on the "Supplementary" section. "And it was a blueprint diagram. You know how those are the devil to draw."

Whooves frowned. "Something doesn't feel right," he repeated.

"It's part of Furhich's plan. Of course it doesn't feel right." Caughlin ran a hoof through his mane. "But..."

"But?"

"There's not really much else, is there?" She could not look at him; she could see his widened eyes. "We either have Luna and Celly fight him with their current level and possibly lose. We could wait for a year, years maybe for them to train more, which isn't an option any longer, or we go through with the ADC."

"Don't you have any faith in their abilities?" asked Whooves ruefully.

That unexpectedly disturbed her. She thought back to the times when the two had moved on from fundamentals to advanced training, developing reflexes and stamina. The Order had sent guidebooks on combat skills and spells, revising their editions to include unique, fusioned alicorn techniques, and the sisters tried to make the best of them. Celestia had the double benefit of actually being with Order trainers half the time, as well as possessing the Accelerat; Luna was, however, by no means weak, for she had put in a lot of effort to grasp and practice the concept of utilizing all her characteristics in battle, with help from Celestia. She had never seen them fight before, and part of her still did not want to.

"It's not that," said Caughlin, shaking her head. "It's just, what if Discord pulls some new trick, something we've never seen before? Or one of them has an accident? There's just so many things that could go wrong in a head-on fight."

"So you're doubting them."

"No! Ugh, Whooves, I've known you for so long now. You know me. You're frightfully dense at times. Don't you get it?"

"I'm just trying to help you see," replied Whooves bashfully. He stacked a few surrounding books as he continued. "I think... I think it's all right to not have one hundred percent confidence in them. It's only natural to be unsure of the possible. Sounds like what you'd say, hey? But sometimes... it's okay to trust them, if you can trust them. If that makes sense." He scratched his head. "Of course we help them as much as we can, but it's all about putting the matter into their hooves. I mean... I never told you about this, but I had a friend in Manehatten." The tower of books stopped growing. "Amazing luck at finding shelters. Had a knack for knowing which ones wouldn't collapse. I asked him about it, and he'd just happily say that he got lucky. Most even had food lying around."

Caughlin made no response, not knowing what to say. Whooves looked up and quickly spoke on:

"Long story short... he saved me more times than I can count. By that time I trusted him wholeheartedly... had faith in him, you could say. Now Furhich, I'm not going to put my faith in him, because, well, Furhich. But Luna and Celly? It's a risk, but I'd choose them any time over some supercannon baloney."

"Except it's not supercannon baloney, it's grounded science. I'm not saying I agree with Furhich's methods, but... what's wrong with going a few extra steps to be sure?" She blinked rapidly, trying to walk the thin line of argument between for and against. "Ignoring the dangers of Discord coming in on us mid-alicornification and gutting us clean, but we've managed two so far, right?" Some part of her did not like being lectured by Whooves, as much as she knew it was good-intentioned; it was late, she was cranky, and she would have to attend to Celestia in a couple of hours.

"Well, the idea of the cannon seems wrong," said Whooves. "Where are we going to set it up? What are the Gen-2 alicorns going to do after we beat Discord? And there's the runes, and the obvious dangers of handling this sort of spell. I mean, I can't even use magic. I'm not a professional, despite everything you've taught me. I wish I could be, but I don't have your smarts, Caughlin." He gave her a grin, which failed to appease her irritation. "But to me, it just feels off for the Order, so many questions left unanswered. Furhich isn't one who takes risks. He plans everything. So there's bound to be something amiss, because there's still stuff missing from the picture."

"What do you suggest we do about it then?" asked Caughlin.

"Why don't we try a vote of no confidence? Nopony's actually decided whether to agree with this or not. It's a separate project, and it's really dangerous. Even if they're hexed, I'm sure they'll realize that there's a lot that could go wrong with it if we point it out." He seemed pleased with his solution. Caughlin had to admit it was a good idea - it was the only way they could oppose the ADC without sounding un-hexed. She was the Chairpony of the R&D department, faithful to protocol and the safety of her team. It would be perfectly all right to do so.

Still, the plan hinged on the decisions of a group of compromised ponies. There were ten of them, and Furhich made eleven. Whooves' and her own vote made two in opposition, and Furhich's made one in favour. That left eight votes which could swing either side, depending on the severity of Furhich's hex - which, she was willing to bet, was not strong enough to overpower their individual thought.

"Fuhrich wants work on the ADC started as soon as possible. So, given that we're under a hex and inclined to co-operate with him, it only makes sense if we raise the voting issue tomorrow night, no later, so that we can 'get it over with'. That gives us not much time to persuade the others - but it also means Furhich can't modify his hex," Caughlin muttered to herself. "It's the only window of opportunity we have." She gave him a lopsided smile. "So, this faith of yours. How does it work again?"

She carried out her routine the next day distracted by her thoughts. She ran through her side of the debate, how there were too many uncertainties involved, how the ADC was, with all due respect, a waste of space - it was unnecessary, it brought about too many risks, the cons outweighed the pros. She pondered on the Gen-2 alicorns, of all the problems that could arise from them. Where would they store them? What if Discord came in in the middle of the process? The chance of him discovering this time round was ten times higher than any previous alicornification. She tried to build a strong argument on the toll and stress such a task would put on everypony, from the subjects to herself. She crossed out lines, replaced them, double-crossed them. By the time it was dinner, her weariness was so much that it showed through her eyes, earning a couple of sympathetic queries from colleagues.

They finished eating, and Caughlin stood up. With a flick of magic, she tapped a conical drinking flask and gathered their attention.

"Everypony, as you know, the Order has requested to carry out the second phase of Project ALICORN. As chairpony, I view this as a weighty, new event, something needing collective agreement before carrying on. Therefore, for urgency's sake, we will hold the vote now." She scanned her audience for tell-tale signs across their faces. Nothing wrong so far. "Before we vote, I will hold a debate, that our decisions may be informed and for the best. I will represent the side opposing the ADC." There was a ripple of surprised murmurs across the table. "Shall we invite Furhich to defend it?"

A raised eyebrow, but nothing more. "By all means," replied Furhich gravely.

She took a deep breath, and began to speak.

Experience and self-review had honed her public-speaking skills. For all her tiredness and tension, she portrayed a picture of level-headed confidence as she went through each point, keeping eye contact with everypony in turn. At last she finished, and she could see quite a few ponies nodding their heads to themselves. She motioned to Furhich, and he took over - unfazed, it seemed, by the spontaneity of it. He did not mention anything new from the set of memos, and most of his defense was based on reassurances and pleas to "take the leap of faith".

"We will now hold the vote," Caughlin said. "Those who oppose the ADC, raise a hoof." She lifted hers defiantly, and saw a few old-timers' rise as well. Her heart jumped. We're going to make it-

Her eyes rested on Whooves. He was looking down, as if afraid to meet her glare. His hooves were firmly on the table. She wanted to go over and scream at him: What are you doing? But this was a democratic process, and everypony was entitled to use his or her vote in the way they wanted to - she could not take action to shake him out of it, at least not in front of the team and Fuhrich. But what the HELL is he doing? Whooves, wake up already! Wake up! We're taking the vote!

She waited until her foreleg began to ache. There was no sign of him responding. "Five votes," said Caughlin, keeping her voice even with difficulty. "Those in favour?"

Six hooves raised. One of them was Whooves'. She felt herself plunge into confusion, and barely heard the words as she concluded:

"Then it's decided. Project ALICORN, Phase 2, will continue as planned. Thank you, everypony, and have a good night."

"Hold on," said Furhich, lifting a hoof. "While we are on the subject, I must ask you all of one more thing. I have received word today that Discord has struck hard on one of our major bases. If he finds leads that would lead him to the others, the Order and the project will collapse. I beg of you that we initiate Phase 2 now." To everypony's surprise, Furhich bowed his head and fell on his hooves. "I accept your vote of support with gratitude, and - as Caughlin has said - this is very demanding of us, and you have every right to refuse. The original plan was that we do it according to the schedule. I know these things cannot be rushed. But my ponies are out there, chaos is wrecking out everywhere, and the sooner we have this complete, the more that will survive. We are literally two steps away from ending this, and I cannot think why we should delay this time of salvation!"

"Hear, hear!" cried a pony. He was cheered by a few others, and even those that had voted against the ADC were biting their lips in cautious support. Some of them looked at Caughlin expectantly. As for herself, her heart had sunk to new depths, to the point that she could no longer feel anything. Whooves had just opposed her out of the blue. The Order base failure was surprising, and that might have changed her views, but for now, all she could feel was shock. We just talked about it last night! It was supposed to work! It almost had! Stupid, stupid Whooves! It was outmatched only by her surprise at it - only now did she realize that she had expected Whooves to follow her all the way without a doubt. And he had faithfully done so, But why not today?

Whooves...actually betrayed me. "You do as you please," said Caughlin, sounding hollow as she met the eyes of her team.

"Then let's do it!"

"My sincerest gratitude, everypony," said Furhich, his voice shaking. "Yes, please, let us." He got up and trotted to Caughlin. "Miss Caughlin, I must thank you personally. You are not only virtuous and intelligent, but you are also a good sport, and so willing to join us for the greater good."

"You want me to play director again," said Caughlin flatly. She didn't care that she was blurting out her unveiled thoughts. She just didn't feel up to fighting anymore. "But I'm tired. It's been a long day, and I don't think I can take up this honour, Furhich."

"Then please rest up. We will await your return with baited breath."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." She turned and left for her room quickly, before anypony could notice the tears forming at her eyes.

A few hours of uneasy sleep later, Caughlin walked back into the hall feeling no less depressed. She was met with anxious expectation.

"Are you ready now, Caughlin?" "You alright?" "Caughlin, are you up to it? You don't look so good..."

She waved these off with a hoof. She was trapped once more, this time by her own team. She put on a weak smile. "Of course I'm ready. Let's do this. For Equestria." She did not even need direction as she walked up to the chamber, noticing Dr. Klipit amongst the rest of the Order ponies around. A scientist passed her a memo. It was a hastily-written thing, with an apology beforehand - due to Discord's direct hit, they had to work overtime non-stop to solve the remaining issues with Phase 2, hence the scrawling. There was an explanation of the modifications done to the chamber, union processes and implementation to-dos. There was even a warning on the addition of the conditional barrier clause this time, meaning she was well and truly stuck with going through with this.

"Alright, fine. Let's go. So all of these are unicorns, right?" she asked, stepping into the circle, the feeling of defeat overriding any other emotion.

"Yes," replied Dr. Klipit. "You simply have to slot in the Wings and Potential, and have them join within the subject's own Horn thaumatics. Any more questions?"

"No." She closed her eyes as Dr. Klipit nodded and began the countdown. There went the familiar shift of essence - that shift of her organs -

and she was back once again in the thaumical realm. Before her lay the two characteristics. They seemed much larger than the ones they had used before, though. She tried not to think about it as she half-heartedly pieced the two together. As expected, they resisted strongly - the lack of the third characteristic caused an imbalance.

She sighed. The answer was simple enough - take the two into herself, rush back into the director's circle and re-enter the subject's field, then perform the implementation. Just as she had done with Celestia. She lifted the masses to herself and ingested them. She felt the two wild energies struggle, and she had to focus hard to keep them under the control of her Horn within herself. It was queasy business - like taming fish in her stomach - but the urgency of the matter triumphed. They throbbed and clutched uneasily at each other, bound by her focus and her Horn. Now to exit and re-enter.

She felt herself drop back into the physical realm. Blinded by the light of her own energy, she kept her eyes closed and fumbled about in the darkness of her conscience to find the thread to the next circle. It was a thin, frail line of direction magic - poorly-drawn, most likely - probably because of the rushed rate things were going at. She reached out to it and sent the characteristics through before her...

Then she was hit with a huge retaliation force, striking her from the inside out. Her eyes widened, only to squeeze shut as they drowned in painful white void. She gagged just before an immense pain racked her whole body. She screamed until her throat failed as something bubbled inside of her, meddling with her essence. She had no idea what was going on, but it felt like her very being was being restructured, ripped apart and pieced together. Simply the physical pain was on a whole new level. She thought she could feel her backbone breaking as unknown things emerged from it. Her skin stretched and pulled, triggering every nerve. The pain behind her eyes was much, much worse than Discord's image implement, as if her brain was threatening to blow up. Her gut felt as if it was expanding, raw energy lashing out through her stomach to her legs and back. To say that it was discomforting would be the understatement of the century.

She was not sure how long it lasted before she finally passed out.

When she finally came to, the first thing she saw was the ceiling of her room.

She felt that she could cry for joy at the familiar sight. That dull, rocky, blandly-painted ceiling of hers.

The next moment, she felt her throat sear as she tried to swallow. There was a soreness all over her body, but it was nothing compared to those... moments not so long ago. She lay there, content to think about nothing, just feeling, and soon noticed that she was lying on something hard. She shifted to one side and gave the object a tug with her magic, and yelped.

Promptly, she learnt two things - firstly, her magic had somehow strengthened in multiples. Telekinesis was as easy as breathing now - the little activity required mere will, and it had been done, with a good deal of force, too. The second was that this object was attached to her back. It was a part of her that had never been there before. And the tug hurt.

She was suddenly aware of the delicate sensations on her back as she moved against the covers. She gave an experimental pull of her muscles, and the object - objects - shot out from under the blankets, rigid, yet light. She could even feel the draft from these things. From the corners of her sight, she could see wing tips...

I have wings and stronger magic, she wondered. I have wings.

Something in her went cold. These are... mine?

All further thoughts were drowned out by a sudden squeal and the relieved sobs of Celestia as she threw herself onto Caughlin, shocking her perception of the world back into gear.

"Mother, Mother, you're alive! You're awake, and you're... you're alive!"

13. Enter the Decageas

The next thing she knew, Caughlin found herself surrounded by R&D ponies, clamoring around the bed. Her room had never been this full before, and it was suffocating - a weird experience, since, trapped as they were, they had learned to make do with the space they had. And this was much less. Their shadows fell across her sight, and her lungs strained to filter the little oxygen left.

"I feel faint," groaned Caughlin. "Everypony, go away."

That killed the noise. In seconds flat a radius of blessed space had materialized around her, walled by worried looks and dull-coated bodies.

She swallowed hard and choked as her dry throat burned. She reached out hastily to her bedside table - thankfully the bottle of water she kept there was present, and she took a drink. "Uh, just kidding? No, seriously, I'm okay now." She put on a smile. Her jaw hurt for some reason. "Come on, nothing more to see. I'll be out in a bit once I get my bearings."

Neither Furhich nor Whooves were there in the crowd. She couldn't think like this; she needed to recollect herself. With an insistent wave, she watched as her team shuffled out, the two alicorns lingering behind. Luna blinked a few times.

"Fine, you two can stay," relented Caughlin, reaching out to hug them both. As she let herself get sucked into the embrace, holding back the urge to scratch as two heads full of mane rustled against her cheeks, she noticed that Celestia was actually taller than Luna. Her legs were longer, and so was her pink mane. She had surpassed Caughlin's own height a long time ago, she knew - tall and proud for a while now - but since when had she outgrown her older sister? Of course, reasoned her brain, the modifications in her planning. Bluntly put, the younger one was designed to be an improvement of the older. They were in direct competition, even if neither of them knew. She wondered whether Luna resented the fact that Celestia was learning so much quicker than herself; she did not know of the Accelerat, at least, nor of "sibling rivalry". Few foals managed to have siblings in the overworld.

"So. How long have I been out for?"

"A week and three days," said Celestia. "Nothing much has happened since then."

"Celly had a fight with Furhich," said Luna gleefully.

"We had promised never to speak of that again!" snarled Celestia, but Caughlin waved it off.

"Go on. What's all this about a fight?"

"Celly wanted to stay and wait for you to get better after you blacked out," said Luna quickly, despite Celestia's attempts to push her out of the way cheek-first. "But her time to go back up came, and she wouldn't go with them. There was a big argument but Celly finally won." Caughlin thought she could hear Celestia mutter the word "tattle-tale" as she gave Luna a final shove and knocked her down. Luna got back up all too soon and gave Celestia a hard poke in the chest.

"Oi, oi, stop it," said Caughlin, telekinetically grabbing hold of the nearest book and sending it down between them - the book fell too fast and ended up rapping them both on the head. "Oops. So you mean Celestia's been down here all this while?"

"Yeah," repleid Celestia, shooting dirty glares at Luna. "We were the only ones watching over you because the other Order ponies had to complete the work. Furhich said it was urgent, so he gave us the task." There was a tinge of pride in her voice. "We wanted to ask Whooves, since, y'know... he's, er, free, but he's been acting all weird. You were..." She bit her lip. "You were flailing around and screaming when whatever it was went wrong in the director's circle for several minutes. But nobody could break in because of the runes."

"She tried to," said Luna.

"Shut up!"

"Whooves, you were saying," said Caughlin, frowning.

"Well, I caught him looking mortified. He was whispering to himself, 'It's all my fault'. Which I found weird. Ah, and he was frightfully pale. Bluebell and a few of the other mares said that Whooves likes you really, really much, and your spell backfire caused him to fall into depression." Celestia dodged Caughlin's gaze with odd embarrassment. "He's cooped up in his room, eats little and doesn't talk. I hope somepony's told him you're back, I think he could do with cheering up."

Right. Whooves. She closed her eyes and felt her head throb. Right. He... he voted against me.. He had blown their only opportunity, and she had suffered because of it. She bit her lip. Of course there would be explanations. Whooves had to have a reason for ruining their plan... whatever those reasons could possibly be. But was she in the mood to hear them?

"Umm... Mother, can you get up?" asked Celestia, breaking the silence.

"I don't see why not." Caughlin gave her legs an experimental stretch. Somehow, it seemed a bit heavier, as if there were... more of her legs... Pins and needles ripped up her veins and she gasped as her legs retracted like springs. Before she could give them a proper, careful easing, a strange warmth filled her stomach, and a strength that had not been there before flowed into her four limbs, clearing the pain. She cautiously stuck out a leg, then two. They peeked out under the sheets. Something, somehow, was off...

She hit the floor next on fours, blankets and neatness abandoned, and realized what was wrong.

"Woah," she muttered, testing a few steps forward.

"Woah?" asked Celestia.

"I was happy with my old height," she said, grinning wryly. She turned around and looked at her table, her bed, her foals. She had grown a couple of inches taller. Not much, but enough to make everything seem newer.

Luna beamed and stretched out her wings. "Ooh, ooh, can you fly?"

That's right, I have these... Anticipation danced across her nerves. For a while, Caughlin daydreamed about soaring in the sky with her foals, imagining the sensation of flight and doing tricks as she watched them practice flight. There was no romance in teleportation, but to feel the air through one's feathers, to harness the currents and tides of the great winds would be a real treat.

She tried stretching her wings, and gave a couple of feeble flaps. She focused and closed her eyes, holding her breath - "shut off your senses", just like Bluebell had said when Luna first took to flying lessons. Gradually she discovered the minute currents of air flowing around her - tiny breezes dancing across her wingspan. With every movement, step, even speech, the air changed. It was amazing. She tried to catch the upswings around her to fuel at least a bounce upward, but it was literally grasping for the wind.

Caughlin shook her head. "No. Not yet."

"We could teach you," grinned Luna. "One hour a day after magic lessons. You have to, Mommy, and then we can fly together!" Luna gave a twirl mid-air to accentuate the point. "You almost never want to walk again."

"We'll see about that," said Caughlin, giving her a quick nuzzle. She turned and magicked a full-sized mirror before her, examining herself from different angles. She was still gray, and her eyes were still yellow. Her body was simply that of an alicorn, winged and taller, imbued with greater magic...

A knock at her door broke her muse, followed by: "Caughlin? Caughlin, it's me, Whooves."

It was thin, both desperate and relieved at the same time. It reminded her a little of when they had first met. Timid. "I know everything seems wrong, and I was a bloody idiot for doing what I did, but you have to let me explain-"

The sound of splitting, crashing rock drowned him out. An enraged bellow burst forth.

"Caughlin Mare, show yourself this instant!" roared Discord, as a bolt crackled and demolished the wall of her room, allowing light from the main hall to flood in. She didn't even have time to feel as she took in the clear path between himself and her, paved with rubble and smoke. A talon stretched out and grabbed her, dragging her out into the main hall. Her eyes stung, her heart leaped as she finally realized: It's Discord-

The lighting was flaring brightly with the overcharge of magic in the air, and she could see wreckage everywhere. Tables were smashed, papers and equipment lay scattered and destroyed, and there were glass shards all over the floor. Ponies were either unconscious or running for cover. She could not see Furhich as Discord lifted her up face-to-face.

"You're an alicorn," he hissed, sounding more surprised than angry. He paused and examined her, pulling hard on one of her wings, making her yelp. "You're an alicorn yourself. My word, I've never seen anything like it. Look at your essence and thaumical field, it's a downright mess - so the spy was telling the truth after all, as ridiculous as it sounded."

Spy? What the hay is going on here? She could feel a scream building up in her chest, but fright had left her numb and immobile. This was the first time he had handled her with force, and common sense told her that anypony who received such treatment did not last for long. She could not even think; all she could do was stare into those evil, yellow eyes.

"You've been naughty, Caughlin. You've been running experiments behind my back," continued Discord, the displeasure creeping back into his voice. He looked up. "And what is this we have over here? A second alicorn, but this one's white. How...boring. What's your name? Not that I care, but it adds personality to that extra stain I'll be getting on my hide." She strained to turn, and managed to see the two sisters staring in horror at the scene, yet walking up to them...

"Run!" choked Caughlin. "Run, now!"

"Oh, be quiet, and let me have some fun," said Discord. He flung her to one side as if she were a doll, and she hit the ground hard. "Since I'm going to utterly destroy all of you, I might as well enjoy the last moments of chaos I can glean from this place. You were wrong to defy me, Caughlin! Aiding the rebels? Making alicorns? What do you think you could possibly achieve?"

"Celestia, now is the time!" shouted a third voice. Caughlin picked herself up and saw Furhich, standing at the far end of the den behind a pile of boxes. "This is what you've been training for! Go!"

"Wait, no! Furhich, what are you trying to do? We have to run!" yelled Caughlin, but she was largely ignored. Celestia's face steeled with anger and she held her ground.

"Were you going to kill Mother?" seethed Celestia.

"Is that even a question?" sneered Discord. "Of course! Not just her, but you and everypony here will die, not a matter of 'will', but 'how.'"

"Stay out of this, Celestia!" screamed Caughlin. Her blood was pumping, and her senses were becoming sharp from the adrenaline rush. She concentrated her energy and fired a raw blast at him. The spell glanced off his scales and exploded in a corner of the ceiling. "Your fight is with me, Discord! Leave them out of it!"

"Oh, you silly little things. So that makes, you, the white one, that noisy one hiding behind and you, the first alicorn. Very well. Four on one. This should be fun." Discord snapped his fingers and cackled as blackness began to swirl around him. Caughlin suddenly felt cold as the void expanded rapidly, engulfing the entire den. She closed her eyes and braced herself. She felt a chill pass over her, but that was all.

"Open your eyes, chairpony Caughlin. Nothing to fear except your certain death."

They were in empty space. There was nothing around them, just endless black. They immediately locked their sights on Discord, watching him warily. The Draconequus took long glares at each of them and yawned mockingly.

"So, you want a fight? You're going to get one." He flickered forward and grabbed Caughlin, taking to the skies above. Celestia gave a shout, and the two alicorns broke into flight to give chase.

She grit her teeth as the winds chopped up around her. I'm hurtling into the air, carried by the most powerful being in all of Equestria. He is definitely going to kill me. What do I do?

Plan number 1. Of course.

Caughlin felt an insane grin grip her face as she took a deep breath. This might just work - no, this is very likely to work! She reached within her, and from the depths of her magic she grasped for the one spell that came naturally to her. It made sense, after all - its property was to reverse the effect of Discordian influence on reality. It was the bane of chaos itself, and her enemy was the very embodiment of this. She felt her horn power up with magic, and yet somehow it felt... hollow?

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

My reality bubble. It's gone. I can't use it anymore?

"Get back here, Discord!" shouted Celestia, wings flapping furiously in pursuit. "Give us our Mother back, and fight us properly!"

Wait, that can't be right. That's my talent, isn't it? And it has to work against Discord, there's no reason why it wouldn't-

"You can have her," said Discord, and stopped abruptly, flinging Caughlin downwards.

That scream finally burst through as gravity gripped her. She had never been up any higher than the director's stand in the span of her life, but now, now that she was actually falling... She felt the pressure build up in her ears as Furhich's helpless figure on the ground grew closer and closer. Suddenly she stopped mid-air, yielding a small pop in her neck, yanked back by a force. She was surrounded with a dark blue aura, which she recognized as levitation magic.

"Good job, Luna," came Celestia's distant voice. "I'll handle Discord! You get her and Uncle Furhich somewhere safe!"

"Sister, no! I'm coming after you!" pleaded Luna, but her cries were washed under the subsequent series of explosions. Caughlin got to her hooves, only to stumble as Luna landed unsteadily.

"Mommy, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Caughlin turned away and gagged uncomfortably. Her insides felt like they had been turned inside out. At least her stomach was empty. She was actually hungry - but if there was ever a more inappropriate time to think about it, it would be now. "I'm... fine," said Caughlin. "You need to help Celly. She can't do it on her own."

"But she told me to take you somewhere-"

"Where else is there?" asked Caughlin desperately. She slumped to the ground, not even bothering to stay upright. Once she recovered from her dizziness, she had to find some way to help. Even if she couldn't fly nor attack.

"Discord took us to a new area. This is... ugh... probably a closed control sample, something like an alternate segment of time-space," she said, thinking aloud. "It can't be anything else. So if it is a pocket, he needs to maintain it, or else it will collapse. We were yanked out of our original segment - the Laboratory - most possibly via physical shift, since we're not ethereal." Her stomach growled. "That means there's a gap in our segment, and therefore a tendency for us to return to fill that gap..."

"So we defeat him and then we can go home?" asked Luna, trying to follow.

"We most probably will go home. And we only have to weaken him, so that he doesn't have the energy to sustain this place." Caughlin looked up above, where their spells flashed and clashed in sparks of light. "Think of it like magnets. Two are stuck together. You pull one apart slightly. If you let go, then the magnet will return. It's basically like that. We're banking on physics pulling us back to where we belong."

Any sight of either Celestia or Discord was gone; they were simply blurs amongst a fireworks display now, flying and maneuvering faster than anything she had seen before. Spells of spectral colours lit up the black above, trailing paths of excess magic and imploding in spheres of light. It was the first time too, Caughlin realized, that she had seen a magic battle before, one that lasted so long against Discord no less. For all Discord's bragging, he had never shown anything like it to them - certainly more favourable than the alternative. Judging from the dominance of colour and sizes, however, Caughlin could tell that one side was favouring well above the other, and it wasn't theirs. There had been several near misses. She did not want to stay around to watch one finally hit. They needed a guaranteed win.

"I have an idea. Luna, cover Celestia and get her down here. We need to be on the ground before Discord reaches us. Furhich," she said, turning now to the stallion as Luna took off, "I need your help. I know you're a powerful unicorn, and I can't do this alone."

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice infuriatingly calm.

Caughlin gave him a wry smile. "The four of us going to set up a decageas. And you and I, we're going to be erecting the magnifying hex."

"But our magic is incompatible," he frowned. "Are you sure it will hold?"

"Shut up and just do it for Equestria," snapped Caughlin. She lowered her horn and drew from the essence inside of her. A hex is three pairs of two...but can it be two sets of three? "I'll do a set of three magic threads, and you do the other set. Two and three make six. You can handle three threads. You're not a weak unicorn." Each of those memory hexes is one. "That's what I expect from you. Got it?"

Furhich made an apprehensive snort but complied, the sound of his horn flaring up and joining hers. As a unicorn, she had an idea of what spells were shaped like if they were physical; it was just a unicorn thing. Her mind's eye, as she liked to think of it. As an alicorn, this sense was heightened, and she could almost imagine the structure of Furhich's pairs as if it was a jigsaw puzzle, glowing vibrant golden. In her mind's eye, the hex was a regular hexagon with a hollow centre, and each of them had one half. She struggled to establish a balance within her own trio of threads, and molded it at the edges until it fit with Furhich's. Once their sets matched, she toned her energy output to reach a balance with the unicorn's lower power level, lastly enveloping the entire setup with her own magic.

"Wait, what are you doing?" choked Furhich.

"Alicorn magic carries alicorn magic. The hex will breach on your side when the main spell passes through due to difference in sustainable pressure, unless I layer it with my own magic. Think of it as... as a flute, half made of paper and half of plastic. You're the paper. It needs a patch-up, or else when we blow through it it'll burst. It's not the best, but it's better than nothing."

"Mother, what are you planning?" asked Celestia, landing wearily with Luna. Eyes still shut and full of glow, Caughlin could only hear her gasping for air, smell the smoke off her. Her heart tightened.

"I need you two to charge up the largest spell possible. Just like in the testing chamber. Fire it through the hex when you see Discord. Now!"

They did not say another word as they nodded, and brought their own energies together. Mere moments later, the spell was fired - the roar of magic fire was deafening - and Caughlin felt the hex bulge under the strain. She pressed down on her half of the hex, containing the blast and forcing it through the mechanism. There was a loud shriek as the charged spell erupted from the hex, shooting upwards in a blinding beam of light, so hot that she felt her closed eyelids burn. The burden finally lightened, and she tumbled to the ground, exhausted, looking up.

It was not a pretty sight. The sisters had timed their shot well; Discord had taken the spell head-on. The disruptive effect of a destruction spell on his being was nothing she could have imagined. He was collapsed right next to her, his facial features a mess, looking like melted ice-cream. His scales, fur, feathers were blurring into each other, trying to maintain individual form like crystallizing salt, only to disintegrate. She could not bear to look at the rest of him, and turned her gaze away. She felt a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach as he tried to pick himself up.

"Looks like we're going home," she said, as the laws of reality kicked in and pulled them back into the Laboratory.

The process was more painful than expected; instead of a tempered ushering by a creature completely in control of the shift, they were now being recalled by the unfeeling forces of tapestry physics. The pony-shaped holes in the flow of everything needed filling fast, and fast it was filled. She was simply thankful that they managed to make it back on the floor of the Laboratory in one piece... well, one piece sans their last meal, as the stench of acid filled her snout. A fleck of dust tickled her face. She tried to reach for it, but keeping the hex up had taken more out of her than thought - she could not move her limbs at all.

"...that's it. It's over," she sighed.

A mirthless laugh rang out from behind her.

It's all over. This can't be happening.

"That was surprising, I have to say. That actually hurt. And you confuse me, so, so much now." She heard exaggerated patting and dusting coming from Discord's direction. My body can't move. Why not? Get up, Caughlin, get up now! For the third time that day, she felt the talons grip her sides, digging cruelly into her ribs.

"Oh, Caughlin, I knew you were intelligent, but to come up with such a setup and plan in such short notice? That was an impressive show indeed." He dangled her at arm's length as if she were a piece of trash, and looked at her critically. She watched as Discord's face, a pool of melted wax, slowly rearranged itself into its original form. "Your energy pool is sadly limited though. Using such a higher form of magic - learning it solely on the power of desperation - must have drained you dry. Neither have you tapped into the full potential of your newly-acquired triune nature, since you haven't even had the time to get it sorted out, I see."

The sounds of groaning and a lot of scrabbling drifted from behind. Discord spun slowly to see the alicorns struggling to stand up, staring at him with glares that wished death as sincerely as possible. "You two," he continued, "are more boring than I thought. Stay put until I'm done gloating and rubbing my victory into your overpowered but inadequate snouts." With a swipe of his paw, the two collapsed as thick stakes shot out of thin air and pinned themselves into their backs. There were squelches and cracks. Caughlin tried to scream, but her throat had long failed. She tried to muster up a spell, any spell that would hurt, would annihilate, but she lacked the strength. She was at her limits. That was the simple truth.

And now they were really going to die.

"Trigger two-oh-five. Accelerat," whispered Furhich's trembling voice from further behind. It was the only sound in the now-silent facility. Everypony who was still alive heard it loud and clear.

Light burst forth from Celestia's eyes and mane. She whimpered as the stakes dissolved in the burst of magic. Both Discord and Caughlin watched, dumbstruck as her wounds closed up. Her thinned mane grew back to its old, flowing state, and she grew strong as she hoisted herself upright. Her horn flared up once more, filled with fresh magic.

With a roar charged with murder, Celestia charged forward and slammed into Discord, catching him squarely on the chest. He gripped Caughlin tighter as another pulse of light burst forth from her horn, ripping away a chunk of his front that painted the ground red. Bathed in her aura of power, Celestia began jabbing him with her horn, pushing forward inch by inch, each stab accompanied with uncontrolled blasts that barely missed until she had pushed him up against a wall. Despite suffering partial blindness by the brilliance, Caughlin could make out in the corner of her sight something she thought she would never see.

Discord was scared. The wideness of his eyes and his careless dodges, whipping her about with it, told her that much. Whatever Furhich had done, it had given Celestia even more power, and the supreme ruler of Equestria had never seen anything like it before. Something was genuinely threatening his safety. His claws began to shake as he swung her up and held her between them. Caughlin found herself staring into pure white, and shut her eyes in pain. Celestia gave a startled grunt.

"What are you waiting for? Finish him off!" shouted Furhich. "Go, Celestia! Take revenge for your family, your sister, your mother! Deliver the final blow!"

"I have your precious mommy," wheezed Discord. "You may have got one over me, but there's enough in me to take her out, and then we'll see who gets the last laugh. Do you want proof?"

"No," breathed Caughlin, trembling. "Whatever you're doing, no..."

"Watch this, Celestia." He flipped her over so that her belly was exposed, and passed his paw slowly across it. Caughlin squirmed and grimaced as she felt her characteristics entwine and topple against each other within her being. It was unlike anything; it was like her guts were knotting themselves. She felt the strands of her soul twinge and strain. Her body had become numb to pain, but this was new - a collapse of something within her bones and guts. Not even the numbness of her body could stop the pain. She bit her tongue hard to stop herself from showing it, tasted blood. She could not speak, but wished with all her heart that her thoughts would reach her: Just kill me. Celestia. Do it now and take both of us out. Just end this once and for all.

"I..."

"You don't believe me? I'm enraged right now, yes! I hate Caughlin! Do you think that it could get any worse, because I'm just getting started! I'm bloody imaginative, after all!" shouted Discord, brandishing his hostage like a ragdoll. "Step back now if you don't want your mother to suffer anymore!"

"Stand your ground!" retorted Furhich. "You have him cornered! Don't listen to his lies, he's only trying to distract you!"

"I am not cornered! Your mommy is just a toy to me, and I will break her! I am in control!" yelled Discord.

Caughlin tensed as he made another swipe. He might as well have been tugging at her innards. As far as she was concerned, both would feel the same. I could really use a good sleep, she mused. Just let go, lose the pain, lose everything. I just need sleep, a little bit will do. I won't mind if I wake up. And yet part of her wanted to stay awake, to see Discord finally fall...

There's still Celly and Luna. They're waiting for me so that we can be a family again.

And there's Whooves. I... guess I forgive him. Yes, I should really forgive him before I go.

She felt soft fur rub against her horn. "Eh?" she burbled.

"Wait, Discord, what are you-" That's Celly's voice. Oh my.

"I'll show you all, I will!" And that's Discord's. What's happening?

"No, don't do it, I order you, don't-" Celly's yelling. Don't do that, it's bad manners-

She was suddenly fully conscious, a sickening, crunching sound ripping through the air. It took milliseconds before it came crashing through her system, followed by the inner turmoil and agony of an unbalanced, collapsing thaumic field. In that moment of clarity, she knew. She felt her throat break as she uttered a final cry, and her eyeballs spun wildly in their sockets. The last things she heard was a cacophony of wailing, yelling and deranged laughter...

14: Enter the World Above

I could have sworn that it worked.

The Decageas was supposed to be a surefire shot. It only had one weakness - the aiming. Such a powerful spell would not be subjected to steering. It would propagate in the direction it was fired at, and that was straight.

Discord is a being that teleports at free will. This would pose a problem for such an unwieldy method - but he is a schemer, more cautious than he lets on. He doesn't like the idea of running on near-empty; he conserves his energies as much as possible, unless fury overtakes his better senses. He wouldn't burn through his energies so flippantly.

Not to mention teleportation is a ridiculously complex thing. Takes considerable effort, regardless of the magnitude of displacement - "simply" shifting your being from point A to point B does involve, after all, skipping the millions of points in between instantaneously. Put under pressure, perhaps Discord would not think of rapid teleportation to aid his fight. Then again it is Discord...

He didn't teleport when he was fighting Celestia, though. He opted instead to fly. He cannot fly faster than her - their speeds were almost equal - and he would have figured that out.

So my assumptions were right. The Decageas was applicable. It should have worked. It had. Should have...

Celly and Luna are not to blame. They are powerful, amazing creatures. They showed bravery, grit and resilience, far more than I give them credit for. I realize that now. No, the failure wasn't because of their weakness.

That leaves just me and Furhich.

I can't blame Furhich either. He's a unicorn. Sure, he can erect a whole hex by himself on a whole team, but...

Why couldn't he have undergone the alicornification instead?

The payload was strong. It simply wasn't magnified enough. That's the only possibility left. It almost killed Discord, and if it had been stronger... And the magnifying hex was largely my creation.

I came up with this plan, and it failed.

It's my fault.

Caughlin could hear noises, but she could not see. She felt a soft lump lying on her tummy, a gravity across every inch of her body. She could hear muffled rattling of trolleys some distance away, and a slow but steady beeping much closer. Her head felt oddly light, and her stomach was in knots.

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a barely audible croak. She felt her throat sting.

So if I'm not surrounded in golden fields of wheat and daffodils, I must be in... Tartarus... It's much less warm than I expected.

A door creaked open, and next to her curtains - Discord knew why Whooves kept them in his room, but that rattling couldn't be anything but - were pulled back. There was the familiar sound of scribbling, and then a rustling of what seemed to be plastic.

"Doctor, you've arrived just in time," said a pleasant mare's voice. "The patient seems to have awakened."

"All right then," replied a gruff baritone. "I'll dim the lights. You unwrap her bandages." There was a small click. He approached her and murmured, "Now I want you to stay perfectly still. Don't panic. We're medical experts, and we know what we're doing. Right now, your eyes are wrapped up. We're going to take the bandages off. I want you to keep your eyes closed until I tell you to, okay? And when we do, I'll take some measurements and see whether you can, well, see. Most likely you're going to have to stay blinded for a few more days, but we'll have you back to all senses in at most a week. Nod if you understand."

Caughlin nodded. It hurt her neck to do so.

"Nurse, if you would be so kind."

Sturdy hooves propped her head up. She waited as she felt the tug of of the gauze wind around and around, and tried to envision the scene from the doctor's eyes. She thought back to the medical bay of the Laboratory - under-staffed and under-stocked because it was under-used. Discord had actually never harmed anypony seriously with the exception of Macquaire and herself, and experiment-related injuries had been rare up till now. A year of firsts, she thought grimly.

She cringed as, despite the nurse's best efforts, the last strip pulled out several strands of her mane. She felt a wet cloth rub against her eyes, followed by some much harder, a painful prod. There was the inexplicable sound of burning paper, and then the doctor called:

"Now, please open your left eye."

She did so slowly. As if expecting it, the nurse held Caughlin's hooves down firmly to stop her from rubbing away the eyecrust - the itch burned - dabbing away the nuisance herself with cloth humming with magic. So my nurse is a unicorn. Doctor too, probably.

"What do you see?" asked the doctor.

"Blurry," muttered Caughlin. Her throat still hurt, and she was dying for a drink. "Water?" She made out the shape of a glass hovering in front of her. It dipped down to her mouth level and, after a cautionary nudge, tipped its contents gently. Caughlin opened her lips readily; the sip that the nurse had given her before whipping the cup away wasn't enough. Keeping one eye open was frustrating, and she felt the muscles relax.

"More?"

"What do you see?" repeated the doctor patiently.

She opened the eye again, trying to muster a glare that was half-pleading and half-enraged. She didn't have enough strength to prop herself up, though, so it was wasted. "Blurry, and really dark. Ceiling."

"Please work with us, miss Mare. We're only trying to help," said the nurse. Caughlin nodded and mumbled an apology.

"Now please close that eye and open the other one. Tell us what you see then."

She obeyed, and the trusty wet cloth was back to partially relieve her discomfort, followed by a much more generous allowance of water.

"Blurry as usual. I see... legs pinning me down, at the edge of my vision. I guess they're green?"

"Anything else?"

"I see the sheets of my bed. Nothing else."

"Thank you. Now in either instance, could you see your snout?"

"I... couldn't."

That was when it struck her. She had lived all her life, as everypony did, seeing with her snout just peeking under her range of vision. The sudden lack of this detail immediately drove itself into her mind. Her eyes were about to shoot open, if not for the nurse's gentle but decided touch on them.

"I see," said the doctor. There was more scribbling.

Caughlin waited, but nothing more came. Wow. So informative. Very reassuring. Was that it? Was that some kind of... of punchline? Cruel and unusual - this must be Tartarus. "Is anything the problem, doctor?" she asked aloud.

"It seems that the... incident has caused your eyes to swivel out of position. For now, it is sufficient for you to just imagine it: one eye looking up, one eye looking down. I believe they call it 'wall-eyed'."

"Incident? Wall-eyed?"

"If I might be frank, miss Mare... it's a wonder you're still alive." She could see the scowl in his tone: some kind of post-amazement resignation. "Back to the matter, we'll be able to rectify your sight. That brief flare you heard was me imprinting your focal pathways onto magicked paper. When your condition stabilizes and the maps develop, surgery will restore the connections between the eyeballs and the vital nerves. The wall-eyed condition, though, is a bit harder - we will not be able to do anything about it." There was no hesitation as he continued. He had practiced this.

"You see, your eyes have literally swiveled out of position. This, we received, was an involuntary action caused by immense pain, as well as ah, unique head injuries. The nerves and blood vessels behind your eyes have twisted into the new shape leading to your condition. We can fix up your sight using magic by running streams through the necessary channels, but we cannot physically untangle the nerves. It's too risky. One wrong move, and you're blind in that eye. And there's the blood vessels to consider too..." He sighed. "But I doubt that your appearance would matter much in light of your other causality. As the doctor assigned to you, I have a responsibility to tell you what you should know. And-"

She barely noticed the door slide open. She tensed at Furhich's voice: "That's enough, doctor. How is she?"

She wasn't the only one put on edge by him, it seemed. The doctor's voice roughened even further: "Eyes functional, but they need delicate readjustment. As for vital signs, she seems fine, though I insist that you let her stay on longer! Who knows what could happen?"

"I doubt that miss Caughlin would appreciate laying in bed for another month," replied Furhich. Another? "Please leave for a moment. Let me do the telling."

"Who are all the ponies behind you?" asked the doctor warily. "You know that the patient needs rest. Crowds tend to disrupt that..."

"They are her colleagues, and what I have to announce concerns them all. It is for the best. Now please, doctor, if you would be so kind."

When they had left, the door was slid shut and the crowd surrounded her - carefully, as if afraid to draw near. She could make out familiar figures and voices, but no more. Furhich cleared his throat and silence fell across the room.

"I know that this is sudden. Most are still recuperating, and not everypony remembers what happened. I shall give you a recap." His voice was low, and it lacked the stiff authority from before. He almost sounded not unlikeable. "After the fight with Discord and our failure to defeat him, he proceeded to injure Caughlin greatly. You all know for yourselves the extent of this; miss Caughlin, you have been out for four and a half weeks. Following that, Celestia lost all morale and will to fight, and Discord tortured her."

He seemed unwilling to continue. "He put her under some sort of illusion. From her recollections afterwards, it was as if he had tortured her for days even though it was a matter of ten or so minutes in real time. We believe that it was another closed control sample, just him and her. She was crushed when they finally re-emerged. Her will to fight was gone."

"How did we get out then?" whispered Caughlin, forcing the words out. Her mind was rebooting, and already questions were brimming. "How?"

"I ordered my stallions to take us out," Furhich murmured in reply.

"You what?"

"I had them take us out!" His tone was soaked in guilt. "I lied to you. My ponies were perfectly capable of carrying additional weight with them during phasing and teleporting. The whole idea of them only being able to transport their own bodies was just a story to keep you in the Laboratory, where it was safe to develop the alicorns. We could not win; to save what we had left, I ordered them to execute our fail-safe backup plan.

"One team of ponies would phase in and take us out. Another team of phasers from the surface, carrying teleporters, would meet them mid-way, in the ground itself. Upon receiving their charges - you ponies - the teleporters were to focus energies and bring you here. Discord had no way of following us - not only were we embedded in the ground, we were utilizing multiple reality complication fields. Not even he could maintain the fields we had set up by himself.

"Of course this overlapping of Discordian influence does not come without cost; almost all of our surface-to-midground phasers lost body parts and even lives with the uncontrolled teleportation. But it was a necessary sacrifice. Because this team and the alicorns are the key to winning this war."

The following void was broken only by the beeps of the machine next to her. After what seemed like hours, Caughlin finally spoke.

"Water," she murmured. There was a scuffle and a glass was soon raised to her lips. Annoyed, she muttered, "I can do it myself, can't I?"

"Caughlin... I don't think you can." She recognized the voice as Fritters', Team 4's youngest member. Her usually mild voice sounded like she was about to burst into tears. "You can't, Caughlin, you... you can't!"

Fritters did cry, her sobs soon joined by a handful of others. And soon, Caughlin realized why.

She couldn't grasp the cup. She knew where it was, but she could not reach out to it. She couldn't reach out to anything. It was like she had lost her legs; she felt crippled, having lost her main means of carrying out basic activities. She tried to focus. There was nothing where the familiar energy was supposed to build up. It was as if something had stoppered the canal-like veins of her essence, and she was ramming her mind's power against it...

Immediately her stomach began to churn. She tried to piece together her last memories before fainting in the Laboratory. Discord's paws on my horn. Blood everywhere, and this horrible headache. It only made sense to conclude that he had torn off her horn. It was the only explanation. Yet somehow, she refused to believe it. It couldn't be. It just isn't possible... I've lost my magic?

"We spent the first two weeks trying to re-establish an equilibrium within your thaumic field," said Furhich, sounding as if he were grovelling on the floor. "We tried to have you undergo a second alicornification to replace the Horn, but the Wings and Potential were embedded too deeply within your essence. They repelled any and all attempts to introduce the new element. To keep you alive, we had to supplant your being with magic to balance out the two. Then we slowly decreased the amount until the system worked itself out. Please, your aggravation will only make your condition worse-"

The door opened with a bang. The beeping had turned harsh and frequent.

"Dang it all!" roared the doctor, shoving his way through and eliciting a lot of shuffles and protests. "Furhich, get them out of here! I told you, didn't I? She's not ready for this sort of news!" The sound of unicorn magic added to the clutter, followed by the tossing of paper. "It was hard enough controlling her when she didn't know; now that she does, her essence is going to freak!"

"What is going on here?" demanded Bluebell's voice.

"Look, miss mare, I don't have time for this," said the doctor.

"We won't leave until you tell us what's wrong," sniffed Fritters.

The doctor was almost yelling with exasperation. "Okay, fine. Look, these characteristics are part of who we are are ponies, right? It's how we identify ourselves. We see ourselves as pegasi, unicorns or Earth ponies. It's in our very being. At the same time the characteristics have their own characteristics, almost like personalities, and these further influence who we are. Pegasi are more flighty in spirit and less practical than Earth ponies for deeper reasons than 'just because'. A union - triune - works because each characteristic keeps the others in check, and the typical alicorn knows full well what she is. She's at peace with herself after overcoming the initial adaption stage.

"Now, when Discord ripped her horn off the remaining two struggled for power." Caughlin felt the sheets and the lump on her tummy being replaced with paper. "So we introduced our own magic to 'calm down' the two. That's considering the characteristics alone. Now that she knows what's happened, the inevitable distress channels through her essence, aggravating the Potential and Wings in her once more. You could say that they're having the thaumic equivalent of a hissy fit after barely making up." She felt a queer sensation flow from the papers, past her skin and into her bones. It felt both cold and hot and washed over the pain.

"We understand that you're all worried." That was the nurse. "She's in capable hands. We know what we're doing. Even if you don't want to trust us, have faith in her - like the doctor said, whether or not she makes it through comes down to how she deals with the situation. And I'm sure that she will." Caughlin imagined the mare scanning the room with a serene gaze. "Judging by all of you here, she has a lot to live for. She's not going to give up that easily."

Am I alone?

Depends on how you describe alone, I suppose. Right now there's nopony but me in here. Even if there was somepony I won't be able to see them. But then again I have my team, or what's left of them.

I really hope Whooves is okay. I wish he was here. Surely he'd have said something if he was, right? It can't be that he was left behind. Why would they leave him behind?

Did Discord... kill him?

We've definitely lost the Laboratory and everything in it, and that includes the magic-measuring machine. Such a pity. At least we have our knowledge, and the Order's HQ seems well-equipped. We could pick up where we left off.

Not that I feel like doing science. I don't feel like doing anything. Not that I can, of course. I'm atrophied. That's what happens to ponies in comas. Muscles wasted away like the gradient of a natural logarithm.

A blind, horn-less alicorn. Hah. What a thing to be. What am I, anyhow? I'm not an alicorn anymore. I'm not an Earth pony - I have wings - but I can't honestly call myself a pegasus. How about "ex-unicorn"? That's truthful enough.

No, silly Caughlin, that's not important. You're first and foremost... you. Caughlin Mare, chairpony of the R&D department.

Former.

You're a mother, too. Somehow.

A friend.

A... not-quite lover. Former.

I would roll my eyes if I still had them.

But just think about it. Everypony still trusts you. They believe in you. They want you back. And there's Celly and Luna who still need you. You're not going to just leave them behind, are you? You need to protect them, from Fuhrich. You still haven't lifted the hex.

But I can't! I don't have my magic anymore!

Maybe there's a way. I mean, you've spent your life in a hole all these years, and look at what you've achieved. How much more there is waiting for you now that you're outside!

Discord, that's what. Bucking invulnerable Discord.

He's not invulnerable. He feels, he hurts. He fears. That's all we need, a chance. So the makeshift Decageas didn't work. They weren't using their full potential. If they did he wouldn't have stood a chance. We can still win. But you need to get up and get going. You need to help your foals come back. They're still foals, after all, Caughlin. Nopony should have to undergo what they have. The least you can do is be there for them.

I...

You need to rest. Oh, and don't worry, you're not going crazy. You're perfectly sane, yes? Crippled and immobile, but still sane. You can make it, for everypony.

For Equestria.

...ye gods, you are really tempting me with the eye roll here.

When she next woke up, it was to the sound of Luna's voice.

"Hello, mummy," she said. "We're here to visit you."

"You and Celly?"

"Who else?" Caughlin was suddenly swamped in mane as the two alicorns leaned in a tight embrace. She gasped for air and buried her snout into their necks.

"I'm so glad you're alright," said Caughlin, swallowing a lump. "I'm... so glad."

"It's okay, Mother. It's all going to be okay," murmured Celestia, her tone distant. "I'm stronger now. And I'm going to get revenge for what he's done."

"Celly?" started Caughlin. "Are you okay?"

"It's simple. We - I wasn't strong enough. We could have won, but I failed. I caved in. So I've been training since we escaped." Caughlin tried to reach for her as she drew back. "I'm not ready yet, but when the time comes... I will be. And we're going to bring peace and harmony to the world. We can settle down. Explore the surface that we've been dreaming of, and gaze at the sky in its entirety, not just through a glass."

"Celly, you don't have to do this," said Caughlin. "It's not your fault, do you hear me?"

"But if not mine, then whose?" She impatiently tapped a hoof. "You relied on me to deliver something strong. It wasn't enough. Even when Furhich did whatever that was - he called it a 'release command' - even with that second chance, I couldn't finish him off. I can't fail you anymore!"

"You haven't failed me, Celly. Neither of you have-"

"Then why are you in here?" burst Celestia, biting back a sob. "What are you doing without your horn and your eyes, lying in a cold bed alone? Why did this happen to you?"

"I..." The beeping began to quicken once more. "I have no idea, Celly. But come here. Come on down here." She waited and breathed deeply until she picked up Celestia's scent. "Whatever the reason, it's not you. Don't blame yourself. It only hurts me when you do that. Just... live. Live, and appreciate each tomorrow. You're not alone, Celly. You have us."

"Yes, Mother," replied Celestia, sounding dissatisfied. "Look, I... have to continue training now. Luna, are you coming?"

"Just a moment, sis. I'll catch up." Luna waited until Celestia had left before speaking. When she did so, it was in a soft voice that she said: "Mommy, can I ask you something?"

"What is it, dear?"

"Do you love Celly more than me? I mean," she added quickly, "I'm sorry for asking you this, now, but I just needed to... no, it's okay, forget it!"

Caughlin stopped and stared in her general direction. This was the scenario that she had been tossing to the back of her head every other night, in happier days. She had not given this any pre-meditation. All she had was the truth.

"Of course I don't love Celly more than you. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Celly's... strong. She's smarter, bigger and just better than m-me. She can learn stuff really quickly, and she flies faster, a... and-"

"Stop. Luna, come here." Caughlin strained as she lifted her forelegs up to hold Luna close. Her nerves were screaming. She bit her lip. "Luna, all those things don't affect how much I love you two. You're you. You're special in your own way, just like she is in hers. She could never replace you. You're sisters, and I'm your mommy. That's all it comes down to."

"I'm... I'm so sorry," stammered Luna, beginning to weep, shuddering against her grip. "I couldn't do an-anything. I just sat there, looking. Too sc-sc-scared. Celly was fighting alone. And I just s-sat there, like some foal. I watched her. That's all I did. She almost got hit so many times, in the closed-whatever. I wanted to go, but I was frozen stiff, thinking about what would happen if I got hit instead. I was almost happy when Fuhrich used the release, because it meant that I didn't have to deal with him. It's not Celly's fault, it's mine. I'm useless. I'm so sorry, mommy..."

"It's okay, Luna. It's okay," soothed Caughlin, trying hard not to cry. She felt her eyes flare up in pain. "It's not you. It's neither of you." Her forelegs flopped down, too weary to stay up. "Trust me. I'll always love you, no matter what happens or what you do. I promise you. Calm down now. There, there. It'll be fine."

Now I know what I have to do. No, wait - now I remember what I have to do. It hasn't changed since day one. I've just forgotten. I have to live, and I have to make it out of this ward. I have to be back at their sides, to care for them and support them as much as possible...

"You know, it's funny," sniffled Luna. "Since Whooves disappeared, it's just been us, me and Celly. The doctor wouldn't let us in at first. We're not supposed to be here, really, we just snuck in. And the first thing we see is Gummy, the lucky thing."

"Gummy?"

"You didn't know?" Luna lifted up the weight on her belly. "He's been here all this while. Apparently he refused to exit this room. They've tried removing him on a couple of occasions, but he keeps finding his way back in. They've given up trying."

"That's loyalty for you," chuckled Caughlin. "Who knows? He could be an embodiment of an element of harmony." Then she thought back, and her head snapped back up. "Whooves disappeared?"

"He... yes," admitted Luna. "He didn't make it out. Nopony's gone back to check, but since he's not here, he has to be still down there."

"I... oh." So I couldn't apologize to him after all. I... Before she could wallow any further, she was caught off-guard with another faceful of mane. "Eh?"

"It's a hug," said Luna, gripping her tightly. "I... you need it, don't you?"

"Yes," relented Caughlin, letting the tears fall at last. They soaked through the gauze and stung her eyes, but she didn't care, simply letting herself be lost in the sensation of Luna's silky mane. "You're right, Luna. I need it a lot."

15: Enter the Physiotherapist

Caughlin flinched as a noise rattled above her. It was late afternoon and she was feeling sick with inactivity. All she could see, as it had been since the bandages had been re-applied, was the empty black of blindness, though she could at least feel the warmth of the sun outside on her hooves. That was something she had developed quickly, was quite fond of - the only avenue she could pursue - her other senses were heightened from the complete shutdown of her sight. Compounded with her characteristics giving her access to sensations she had never noticed as a unicorn, the world was clearer in ways she busied herself with. The shift of air currents as the ventilation chambers switched on and off. The vibrations of movement from steps dangerously close to her door. Birds and insects that buzzed outside her window - somepony had left it open, it seemed, judging from the gentle breeze and the harsh heat pouring through from her right.

The rattling grew. The nurse was not due for another two hours - not that the nurse came in from the ceiling - so who was this?

A hinge creaked open - that of the ventilation unit. She felt the sudden shift of air just as a bubbly, high-pitched voice called out:

"Hi there! You must be one of the new ponies that needs to learn how to move again! I mean, I heard that there were a bunch of new ponies but there's only one of you here, and speaking of hear, heeello, can you hear me? Because you have funny wrapping around your head, and I'm not sure whether that's blocked your ears, hey you look like can-"

"What do you want?" managed Caughlin, unsure of what to feel. "I - buh?"

"I'm your new physiotherapist, Surprise!" said the voice.

At least Caughlin had been expecting that. The doctor had informed her that she was scheduled for a rehabilitation program to regain the use of her limbs; he had admitted that the pony in charge was a tad unpredictable, and so he was right.

"Oh. You had me scared for a minute. Color me surprised, all right." Caughlin tried to grin, or at least wobble her lips left unwrapped by gauze.. "I'm Caughlin Mare, your new patient. What's your name?"

"Ooh, what colour would that be? Maybe it could be white because that's what I am, since I'm Surprise - which is what I said, silly!" said the voice, giggling.

"Wait, your name is Surprise? I can get used to that." Caughlin attempted to prop herself up and face her. "I'd give you a hoofshake but, well, I'm crippled and all. You know that already."

"Of course I do! That's why I'm here!"

"Right." Assertive and friendly. Pretty good start. "So, what's first on the list?"

"We get to know each other better," said Surprise. "I'm Surprise!"

"And I'm Caughlin Mare," replied Caughlin, wondering where this was going.

"So, are you single?"

Maybe too assertive. No, that's not the right word. Too... unorthodox? "Uh, yes," tried Caughlin.

"The pretty alicorn who were in here moments ago called you 'Mother', though," said Surprise. "So is that your final answer?"

"Alicorn? Wait, somepony was in here before?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, it was sort of weird. She opened the door really quietly and stood there, looking at you. She whispered something to herself and then left. And then I came in! But back to the topic: you have foals?" Surprise's voice had moved next to her, to the chair most visitors sat on at her left. Caughlin let her head sink back, and decided to play along.

"I do. Two of them, Luna and Celestia. You've probably heard of them."

"Who's the daddy then? Don't tell me they don't have a daddy," chided Surprise.

"They don't," said Caughlin, feeling her voice tighten. She inhaled. "They were engineered in a complex thaumic setup. Engineered. Not born by, er, copulation." If her head had not been wrapped up, she would have looked away in embarrassment.

"So... they're not yours?"

"Oh, they are mine. I just didn't give birth to them."

The idea of her settling down with somepony and mating, while not new - she was a mare, after all - was left just that. An unexplored, vague idea. Her work had taken precedence; not only did she not have much to say about it, the little she knew was far from she wanted to discuss with strangers - anypony, really.

Wait, am I supposed to give those two... the talk? Caughlin frantically pushed the thought out of her mind.

"But if you didn't, who did? Everypony has to be born from somepony! I know that because I'm a physiotherapist!"

You know... she's actually right. Both of them were newborns before undergoing the alicornfication. Caughlin tried to nod. "I don't know their real parents. I'm their... adoptive mother. Yes, that sounds right."

"Ooooooh." The air currents around Surprise did a small loop-de-loop. "I see. That happens a lot here. Adoption I mean. It's both sad and happy, you know, that there are these foals about without parents but then they find new ones and they sometimes fight and all but it's all good and-"

"Miss Surprise-"

"Oh, you don't need to do that. Just call me Surprise!"

"Surprise. I love a good conversation and all, but I can't help but ask if you had something you, ah, needed to tell me?"

"Whoops. Sorry." Surprise laughed again, bashfully this time. "I tend to do that a lot. Many ponies say I'm easily excited. But, yeah. So you're a single mother of two. That must be tough."

Surprise had shrugged the point off, but Caughlin decided to not let it bother her. It wasn't as if she had more important things to do, and it had been a bit lonely lately. Not to mention that this was, come to think of it, the first proper conversation she was having with a new acquaintance from the overworld, Furhich and medical staff excluded. The conversation would be educational, at least.

"It's not that hard," said Caughlin off-handedly - the darkness all too quick to remind her of the error of her statement. "I mean, there's pretty much grown up now, and they're good at taking care of themselves." The best there is, in fact. "How about you, miss Surprise?" she added.

"Well... there is this stallion." Caughlin could almost imagine the blush on Surprise's face, and began to regret the initiative. "I mean, we've known each other for a few months. He was good to my family when we settled down. We were refugees from the north, and we moved down to Ponyville, and he basically helped us get set up. I'm not sure what he thinks of me though. I mean, he's actually pretty old, older than me, and I'm not sure what the norm is-"

"Ponyville?" The name forced recollections faster than she could banish them. "There are ponies living there?"

"Um, yeah? The ground was an Order mining spot before, or so they said. When they removed the abnormally high amounts of metal from the ground, they found it to be fertile, and ponies have been growing things there as best as they could. They're trying to grow apples on the hilly areas, since it's less prone to flooding. Food is the main concern, but they're experimenting with other things as well - rocks and sand for construction and glass and equipment, and cotton, and sugar cane... not that I'd know how to grow rocks, I mean, can you imagine that? Little rock plants from the soil... um, Caughlin? Caughlin?"

Her breath had caught in her throat. Taking loud, deliberate gasps, she tried to calm down the odd turbulence in her breathing. "That's... that's great, Surprise. I... didn't know that the area was being put to use again. It's good, it's really good, isn't it?"

"You don't sound all right, Caughlin. But the monitors would've sounded if you really weren't... do you need something?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just re-relieved."

"That's good then! Being relieved is almost as good as being happy!" The voice had switched sides. "And being happy is almost as hard as being recovered, because there's so many ponies who are recovered but aren't happy... Which reminds me, what do you do? Wait, I know the answer. The Order's made you top priority which means you must be one super-special pony. Are you a... spy?" Caughlin felt a wave of minty breath waft over her nose briefly. "No, wait, you don't look like one. A sciencepony, yeah! Oh, and now I get it, with the alicorn who called you 'Mother' and all!"

"You're surprisingly quick," said Caughlin, feeling slightly lost. "Yeah, you're right. I'm a scientist. I worked on Project ALICORN, but before that I worked on other things. Accele-growth grass? Deep-root potatoes?" A tinge of warmth spread across her numbed cheeks. It was a queer sensation. "Maybe you might have seen some of the work we've done."

"I'm not a farmer, so I wouldn't know. But those sound super cool," said Surprise in awe. "And useful, too. I wish I could do something like that."

"You're a physiotherapist, Surprise," said Caughlin kindly. "I'm sure you're good at that. What's your cutie mark like?"

"I don't have one," came the reply.

"Wait... what?" Beneath the wrappings, a frown creased itself across her eyes.

"Well, yeah, silly. It's not like it's my one true talent or anything, it's just something I do for a living." Her voice was softer now. There was a light thump of hooves descending on the ground. "You're really lucky if you have the time to discover your cutie mark, what with Discord wrecking everything every so often. A pony's gotta do what a pony's gotta do, right? You grab every opportunity you get." Surprise then hastily added: "It's not that I don't enjoy it, no. I just... don't feel that it's it, that special thing I'm meant to do."

Caughlin shifted uncomfortably, her rump pressed reassuringly against the beddings. "I... see. Yes, it would be hard, with Discord around. I can't imagine what it must be like if your special talent was - um - baking, maybe? Probably good for you if your special talent is farming or building, though. That must make you really popular with other residents."

"Oh, yes. Mister Stallion has a cutie mark of a pointy rock, and so the townsfolk keep him around even though he has weird moments," said Surprise, cheering up. "He says it's a rare sort of thingummy-jig, but it just looks like a piece of flint to me. Hey, if you had a cutie mark, what sort would you want?"

"Er. Um." Caughlin bit her lip. I'm not going to lie to her, am I? Would she resent me if she knew? "I haven't really thought about that." And that's the truth, since I got mine at an early age, never thinking about it after that.

Po-tay-to, po-tah-to, whispered herself in reply.

"Hmm, good point. I've never thought about what I'd like, either. Too busy with stuff. But I know baking sure isn't one of them," giggled Surprise. "It seems so easy, but it's harder than I thought! I even tried to make up a little ditty to help me:

Things may seem a little down, what with Discord liiiiiiving
But you'll see that there's a spot of light right even in the daaaark

Caughlin's ears pricked. She wasn't expecting this. She was thankful for the gauze that covered most of her expression; she wasn't sure what kind to make.

Use a cup of flour, add a touch of flower
A pinch of salt and sugar, a shot of milk like Kruger
Crack an egg or twoooo, whip 'em up with a screwww
Crumble in bread and spices, mixing in vitami-ins

Aaaand

"-that's all I've got. But it never turns out the way I want it to. Always burns or comes out of the oven undercooked."

"Um. Bravo? Catchy, I think. I mean, it is. Heh heh."

"It's a work in progress," said Surprise, with the tonal equivalent of a shrug. "I think I have to get a new melody, though I'm keeping the old one for reserve. There's even more recipes to remember, and that's just the simplest!" The buzz of wings as she shot up accented her pitchy voice. "But I still do it anyways. It's fun to bake, even if eating your results, well, isn't." She snorted at the thought, barely stopping a giggle. "You just try your best, right? And that's the most important. And that, missy," she said, now turning directly to Caughlin, "is what we're gonna do with you. I mean, you're smart, and you've got a lot of friends. They drop by really often, and I'm sure they're hoping to get you back on your hooves. So as long as you don't give up on getting better, neither will I!"

"I..." That's right, Caughlin remembered. I'm bedridden. But for the past few moments, this mare had made me forget.

"Oh, you don't have to say anything." Before she could respond, she felt two forelegs reach out, wrapping gently over her shoulders in a hug. "Your face says it all."

"You can't see my face, Surprise," murmured Caughlin, swallowing as heat spread out from her chest through her arms.

"How do you know? Ooh, you're good."

When Surprise left, Caughlin found herself looking forward to their next meeting.

15b: Enter the Physiotherapist, 2

Caughlin felt her eyes itch. Her forelegs trembled with irritation as she dug into the bedsheets. The doctor had expressly forbidden her not to let her hooves near the gauze. After the first couple of days, she had asked for hoofcuffs, chains, anything to bind herself down - to which he had not complied. Countless days - she was in no mood to keep track - had passed since then. Now the gauze was off for good, though it was ever dim at best in the room - nominal sight, however nominal, was better than none, she guessed. But it meant exposure to the air, and on nights such as this, when the air was dry, it only aggravated her condition more and more.

"You're going to go blind if you give in," she muttered to herself. "You're going to go blind, you're going to... oh. Hello, Gummy. Sorry to wake you up."

The artificial dragon stared at her, its luminescent eyes actually glowing faintly in the dark. It blinked once before settling down once more on her tummy.

"Lucky thing," she sighed. She flopped back down and blinked furiously. The doctor had said that the reason why she got movement privileges was because he trusted that she could handle it. Caughlin inferred that patients that couldn't got the bondage treatment... perhaps the doctor had ran out of restraints to spare.

She stared at the ceiling. The image of her trainer floated into her mind.

Surprise. A smile eased itself across her face. She remembered when she finally laid eyes on her, when her eyes were deemed functional by the doctors - an inordinately poofy yellow mane and tail, white coat, blank flank. Surprise had even baked a batch of rock cakes for the occasion, with real rocks, and while the main ingredient was inedible to say the least, the cake itself was not too bad.

From the first day onwards, Surprise had visited her six times a week for five weeks. For two hours a day, they did nothing but the most basic of movements - stretches, lifting, bending - and riding on the ever-rising tide that was Surprise's enthusiasm, they made their way down the to-do charts. Slowly, painfully but surely, she regained the use of her forelegs, then her hind legs, and at the end of the program she was walking around her room unassisted.

It had not been easy. Every so often steps still felt like blessings rather than natural courses, but Surprise had warned her of it. The words were foreign coming from her mouth: "Sometimes, you just gotta accept little things as the little things they are, or you'll stop seeing the big things. You can't appreciate the things worth appreciating if you don't take some things for granted."

But Surprise was not one of those little things.

I have to get her something. Her birthday's coming up. She sat up and reached for her notebook on the table beside her head. She had yet to master writing with hooves. She had experimented with mouthwriting, like most non-unicorns did, but she did not like the thought nor taste of erasing gum on her tongue. At least her words were legible (to herself). She fumbled for a pencil in the dark, and with great difficulty scribbled the reminder: Think of Surprise's gift. Get R&D to help.

If there was one thing that Caughlin wanted to change about Surprise, it was her habit of not knocking. On this particular day one of her colleagues had dropped in with an update of their status, as usual; assimilation into the Order's ranks had been relatively smooth, depending on how one defined "smooth". They had been put to work on proofreading and design, which they were happy to do, and while they had been met with suspicious gazes by the rest of the Order - the guards, the officers and even the janitor, an old pony blind in one eye - they were content with sticking in their small group. It wasn't ostracization, she meekly said, if they didn't care - Caughlin hadn't the heart to argue with that. She had figured just as much, really - the R&D were not exactly sociable, and probably planned on living in the workrooms until further notice. Caughlin was content to lie in bed while Pickedum stood next to her.

"So I heard you like-" began the mare before a violent shuddering of Caughlin's bed caused her to jump back in fright.

"Surprise!" A white blur flew out from under the bed, landing itself on a chair in the corner. "Bet you didn't expect that!"

Caughlin regained her bearings and took a glance at her colleague's shocked gaze across the room. Pickedum had backed up against the wall, holding her clipboard in front of her as if it were a shield.

"Ah, Surprise. Meet a friend of mine. Surprise, Pickedum, Pickedum, Surpise."

"You have a funny name," said Surprise, raising an eyebrow.

"I... eh?" stammered Pickedum.

"Discord found her when she was just a foal a year before he found me. She didn't have a name, so the R&D ponies gave her one. It's a substance that catalyses the artificial production of greenstone or jade, which has interesting thaumical properties with regards to the triangle-based arrangement of-"

Surprise cut her off, turning to Pickdeum and flying up so close that their snouts touched briefly. "You have interesting eyes. Ooh, purple."

"Please don't hurt me," whimpered Pickedum.

"She won't. She's a physiotherapist," remarked Caughlin dryly. "Anyhow, as pleasant as she is to meet, she's not the reason why I called for you." She waited until she had Surprise's full attention. "Happy birthday, Surprise," she said, smiling. With both hooves, she offered her a shiny metal cylinder the size of a wine bottle with a bow wrapped around it.

"A present? For me? You shouldn't have, Caughlin!" squealed Surprise, dashing up to hug her.

"It's a thank you for all you've done for me," replied Caughlin, hugging back. "Do you like it?"

Surprise took the cylinder and gave it a stern look.

"It's all metally," she said at last.

"Ah, derp. Sorry, I should have told you what's inside," Caughlin said. "You told me you came from Stalliongrad, where it snowed all the time. Wherever it is we're at, it doesn't snow, and as far as I know neither does Ponyville. So, this is for when you feel like home. It's snow seed - you just scoop a capful into the clouds, no Surprise don't open it now - yes, you unscrew the cap, fill it, then sprinkle it across a cloud. In a matter of minutes the seeds should activate, and it'll snow."

"Wow! That's... that's the sweetest somepony's ever thought of me! How does it work?" exclaimed Surprise, lip trembling with joy.

"It's magic," said Caughlin with a wink. "No, seriously, there's a spell in the seeds that proceed to suck up moisture in their surroundings and freeze them up. It's, eh, complicated."

"It's amazing, and so are you. Thank you Caughlin... I-I don't know what to say," sniffed Surprise. "This is the best gift ever. Not even Mister Stallion could top this off."

"Aw, and you haven't even seen what we've prepared," managed Pickedum at last, panicked laughter trailing the forced sentence.

"The R&D team decided to throw you a party," explained Caughlin, laughing as she got up. "They thought it was nice of you to fix me up, and thought that they should thank you too. Bring in the cake, guys."

That afternoon, the eleven of them crammed into Caughlin's ward and filled it with cheer until the nurses ordered them to stop at last. The bed and tables were pushed to one side and a cart of food was wheeled in. They talked, ate and drank, and in those moments, for the first time in a long while, did not even think once of the world and its woes outside.

16: Enter the Deal

Caughlin blinked furiously as she paced the cold, tiled ground, opening and closing her wings in agitation, though her hooves were planted firmly on the ground. Surprise had been re-assigned to another patient before they could cover flying lessons, to her dismay, though she knew it was inevitable. In a world of daily violence and injury, there were never enough medical staff, never a shortage of broken limbs and spirits. Surprise was an angel, and that was why she had to leave - besides, Caughlin had lasted for so long on her legs. There was no rush to switch to flight. Not to mention the sense in flying everywhere when one could walk just fine - especially in cramped areas like the hospital - eluded her. Perhaps it was just a pegasus thing, an effect of the Wings on the essence and personality.

For the thousandth time she looked around her ward for something interesting, finding nothing but the same. First was the table next to her bed on which a stack of papers lay - memos, sketches and diagrams - and on those, a black eyepatch. The former she had read many times simply out of boredom, since nothing else had been provided; aside from the occasional gadget blueprint, they were designs for the revolutionary construction of an aerial fort, built on clouds enhanced by complicated triunes.

Not openly stated was the concern that drove this project forward so aggressively. Who else but Furhich? - Furhich's unicorn bias in all things administration hung like a guillotine above the minds of the intellectual pegasi, and they wanted a safeguard from it. Something pegasi-exclusive, to appease their insecurities. So it seemed that Furhich, while easily the most powerful pony around, did not have total control over the Order.

The result was the aerial fort. City would have been a better term if not for the concealed but heavy "self-defense" utilities in place. The rainbow-making machine, for instance - Caughlin couldn't imagine any use for it other than for shaving off select wavelengths to power light cannons. Which happened to be available within the bowels of the construct, and had settings for brute heatwaves from the low frequencies, or penetrating beams from the high ones. Which, Caughlin admitted, was fair enough in this day and age. Additional notes scrounged by her colleagues gave insight into how the cannons worked; perhaps she was biased with fascination at the innovation evident in the design.

There was also a sewage system, which, thankfully, did not involve opening holes at the bottom of the cloud floor and letting it rain.

Upon completion, tens of thousands of pegasi were to migrate, and apparently this was the reason why it was approved in the first place - it helped to ease the space problems the Order was facing, and subsequently others such as hygiene and discipline. Those were, after all, very real problems - with refugees flocking to flee increasingly maddened chaos and stretching every ounce of resource, it was a wonder the Order still had structure. True, that meant that Furhich would effectively lose direct control over the pegasi. But maybe he was content to trade it off for greater security of his grip on the Earth ponies and unicorns instead.

The project name? "Cloudsdale". The innocuousness of the name was only to be expected from a snub against the bureaucracy as big as this.

The Order was turning out to be more than just a distant organization, so much more complex than "the ponies who hired us to make alicorns". Her visitors, be it colleagues or gossipy nurses, told her as much with every new tale of quarrels, demotions, promotions, gossip, and the ilk, and the cloud fort issue was but one of many struggles going on under the surface of Furhich's leadership. After collecting sufficient data, she decided to settle on the word "politics" and did not want anything to do with it. Even if the grand move left the Earth ponies - the most abused of the races - alone to fend for themselves against the oppression, what could she do about it?

I know it's mean-spirited, but... I'm sure I've earned the right to gripe a little, surely?

She pawed at the ground. It was so much easier to not rub her eyes if she could keep her hooves busy. Yet Furhich's latest order regarding her stopped just that - the first thing she was to do upon being certified as "recovered" was to meet up with him. So now here she was, certified as recovered. Waiting to meet up with him.

The least he could do is show up on time. A mirthless smile stretched itself across her face as she tried to imagine what Whooves' reaction would be like.

"You can't go, Caughlin! He'll wipe your memory like last time," she mouthed to herself. The idle mind was - was something-or-other, so went the saying - she couldn't remember - but whatever the case her idle mind had taken to thinking of Whooves. She could still recall the details of records and analysis of his powers. They were details that, up till that massive fight, she had charted consistently. "A peak of three point nine seconds, average effect of three point five, with a varying radius of twenty to thirty feet," recited Caughlin softly. More than enough to fix burnt toast, she used to joke. For a Discordian ability, Whooves had surprising ease when using it. Even her own, with her years of honing, had required more effort to use than simply willing it to happen as he did. I guess every pony has their talents. Whooves' is bending time and space. She couldn't help but grimace a little. I've seen worse.

Her wings itched a little. I've been worse.

She walked over to the table and blew the dust off the eyepatch. Her team said that wearing it disguised her wall-eyed appearance - a well-meaning enough gift, but it stung nevertheless, and she grudgingly admitted that the claim was true. They called it their "little experiment on perception" and were pleased with the results, though Caughlin had yet to decide whether she deemed her condition something to hide. The idea did not sit well with her - since when had she resorted to denial and concealment? So she was wall-eyed; she had almost died for it, and -

The door slid open at last with the soft hum of magic.

"Miss Caughlin."

"Furhich." She turned slowly and looked once more at the old stallion's figure. The sunken ribs underneath his brown coat were now hidden by a healthy layer of flesh, and his old eyes were brighter. His mane was cropped short. He certainly did not seem any younger, but there was no doubting the air of confidence he radiated, probably from being back home. It had been that long since she had last saw him - she realized, as something in her mind tensed into gear, how relaxed that time had been. All good things must come to an end, eh?

"Your recovery is the best news I have heard in weeks," said Furhich. "Your resilience is inspiring."

"Is that a compliment? Oh, how you flatter me," replied Caughlin, biting her lip. "You wanted to meet me. What do you have planned?"

"Always to the chase, you are. Very well. This way," said Furhich with a smile. She kept her scowl and hid her accelerating heartbeat as she made her first steps out of the ward.

They walked past galvanized doors, each different to the next only in ways Caughlin could not see, and the occasional nurse, who gave a little bow to Furhich before hurrying along. The air smelt of disinfectant, and the floor and walls were whitewashed and spotless. Above them, lightbulbs cast their glow, leaving thick shadows beneath their hooves.

From the stories she had heard, life as a refugee involved lots of cramping in tents and bad sewerage. The hospital, soulless and lonely as it was, was probably heaven by standards.

She looked at Furhich, and wondered what he thought of the matter.

They made a few turns through the hospital wing until they reached what seems to be the reception area - a hall with a counter on one side, a row of circles etched into the ground on the other, and the door to the outside before them, with guards on both sides. From behind the counter, a cream-coloured unicorn attendant dressed in a white apron trotted up, her mane tied up in a bun so tightly that it did not even bob. Caughlin tried to smile. The attendant did not.

"To the tower," said Furhich, guiding Caughlin into the second-last circle to the left. The attendant simply nodded.

Caughlin saw that the etchings were actually arcane - the edges, jagged, as if somepony had taken a stick and drew in it while the concrete was setting - and she briefly panicked - but Furhich was there with her, so unless he had some kind of barrier whatever would affect her would affect him, too.

As Caughlin tried to guess the mechanism, the assistant checked that they were completely inside the circle. Satisfied, she lowered her horn and shot a pulse of magic. The grooves glowed, a set of runes flashed briefly along the lines, and a familiar sensation washed over Caughlin. She gulped and tried to hide her nervousness as the area faded before their eyes, giving one last wistful glance at the door before it faded into white.

Moments passed, and there was still nothing but the white of transportation magic about them. Nothing else in sight, neither Furhich nor herself. Caughlin kept silent and tried to hide her anxiousness. Earth ponies are supposed to kick with impressive strength, right? Let's see. If he tries anything funny, it's a buck to the neck, then the head. I can't see anything, though, so I guess I'll have to settle for "wherever". Yep, that's the contingency plan alright. Great.

"You are taking to this very calmly. I'm impressed," drifted Furhich's voice. "Have you been in a converter-type teleporter before?"

"Converter? You mean..."

"Thaumic. We're currently travelling through silver rods underground in the form of, for the lack of a better term, magical energy, guided across by directional runes. The destination is rather far-off, so the journey will take a while. I apologize for the delay."

She had studied converters before. It followed the same principles Discord used to travel. Silver, while not the best, was on the high end of conductors. Perhaps the Order was not as poor as they had let on when they first met.

Even when I'm finally a free mare, the first place you take me is back underground, thought Caughlin. Aloud, she tried to speak, and found that her words rang out clearly. "I see. So you've established this teleportation system all over your base of operations?"

"I suppose this is so. There is a teleportation hub for each region, linked to the major areas - food distribution, recreational areas, medical facilities - and while our ponies still have to walk or travel physically within the region, inter-regional movement may be aided by teleporter."

"That's rather impressive," admitted Caughlin. "How much traffic do you get?"

"What a hard question to answer." Caughlin did not need to see Furhich's smile to know that it was there. "Peak times are eight in the morning, when most of the residents go to work, and five in the evening, though every three days when food distribution is done the traffic surges. We have many, many ponies to mobilize and feed. The Order grounds span approximately thirty square miles, and we have a registered population of just under fifty thousand. It shouldn't be crowded, according to the numbers, but with everypony going to the same place at the same time..."

Population was a new field to her. She did not bother to do the math, opting instead to try and pass silence off as an answer. Just as well; the next moment, colour began to return to her vision, clarifying and changing into the scene of, disappointingly, yet another reception area. The only greenery was the potted plants in the corners, though it was more brightly lit and the walls were a tasteful orange. Instead of the door to the wards, there was instead a wide, walled cylinder, going through the roof - almost like her test chamber, but polished, without the scratches and pale spots of collisions past.

They stepped out of the circle, and Furhich led her across a glossy floor to the cylinder. Next to the opening was a black square, on which he laid a hoof. The square flashed green and a low humming began to fill the air, accompanied with a row of blue lights around the cylinder, flaring up slowly. At his beckon, Caughlin stepped in and the platform wobbled under her hooves. She checked herself - no magical aura, no pulleys or levers.

"How does this work?" asked Caughlin in spite of herself.

"Magnets," replied Furhich. "This is a lift charged by magnets. Through the use of circuitry and harnessed lightning, the platform - a magnet in itself - is repelled by either the bottom magnet or the top magnet, above -" Here, he pointed to the roof, where circles of the same blue lights were dimming down - "and thus, lift or descent is achieved."

This was turning out to be an interesting trip. Trivial as the technology was, surely, to the main point Furhich wanted to discuss, it was a guilty pleasure, to witness such feats of engineering as casually as this. "Magnets instead of raw magic. Interesting change of pace," said Caughlin as the platform began to rise. "That would make maintenance more open... unless all of your technicians are unicorns?"

"We can't afford that kind of luxury," chuckled Furhich, to her surprise. "No, most of the physical science technicians are Earth ponies. The lightning, though, comes solely from unicorns. It's taken a major load off energy costs, truth be told. Every unicorn in the Order, you see, has an assigned period of time in which they must contribute to the grid. The hubs are... Oh, we're here. Come over. I am sure that this is worth the wait."

They stepped out of the cylinder onto a wide, open space.

Somewhere in her lungs, her breath faded.

It was just floor with safety rails on the edges - no wall, and, most significantly, no roof. Above them, the cloudy afternoon sky stretched for miles and miles, a a rare shade of normal bright blue; on the floor itself, which Caughlin assumed to be the roof, there was nothing else. It was the outside. Uncluttered, vast, there.

"This is your first time above ground," said Furhich. "I wanted to give you the best vantage point possible, and there is nowhere better to see the world than on the top of the observational tower..."

Caughlin had already left his side, trotting forward slowly. She stopped well away from the rails, as if afraid of them - no, she was afraid of them. That they wouldn't be able to hold her back. They looked so flimsy. And with her Potential, she was a good deal heavier...

At last she stretched out a hoof tentatively, taking a deep breath, almost audible in the quiet of their surroundings. Her eyes stung from the intensity of sunlight; her eyes were too used to artificial, fluorescent lighting, but at this point she could hardly care. She took another deep breath. Her wings were itching furiously now, and her throat was on fire - the air, the air! - she wanted to jump off and melt into the ground at the same time.

Ignoring the growing dizziness, she raised her neck and took in the scene.

The tower was very tall - from this height, the only other pony she could see clearly was Furhich, and she had no intention of facing him any longer than necessary. In the distance before her stood a range of mountains, tall and covered in greenery she barely recognized as treetops. At the foot of the closest mountain was a stretch of rolling plains, the wind causing ripples across the tall grass. That's where the food is grown, she guessed.

To her sides, the plains continued, the hills flattening out gradually and the green yielding to stony ground, over which a light fog hovered. Within the fog, she could make out the shapes of large machinery.

She steadied herself and took a few more steps forward, so that her face was in line with the railings. Below them lay, unmistakably, the Order grounds. To the left were clumps of tall, thin gray buildings. Offices. They lined up to form semi-circles, about five or six per, with each curving around a large marked circle on the ground that she guessed were the "teleportation hubs" - she could almost sense the crackling of energy in the general direction. At the centre of the semi-and-circles was what seemed to be a city - densely covered with more buildings that grew taller as they approached the middle, the tallest falling short of her eye level by only several degrees. It could be a few thousand feet or a few hundred for all she knew - the realization of the massive height they were at only just struck her, and she froze mid-turn to make sure Furhich was not about to push her off.

At the edge of her vision, she saw his unmoving figure standing far off. All was good.

She focused, and forced herself to at least sweep over the rest of the grounds - a wide, flat-roofed hall, roads twisting between everything and tiny dots inching along, and bulky vehicles looking like ants going to and fro. Beyond the hall, on the outskirts of the grounds - even the grass seemed to thin out around the borders - was a field of uniform, gray triangles. Tents.

That must be the refugee camp, cut off from the rest of the Order. It looks so... desolate. A nasty thought entered her head: Surprise did say she had been a refugee... did she and her family live there at one point?

No, no, she's in Ponyville now. She's happy where she is. That's what matters.

She closed her eyes and backed up. Behind her, she could hear the sound of hooves; she turned to face Furhich.

"Behold, the Order of Order," said Furhich with his little smile. "We live, and we thrive, despite Discord's best attempts. None of this is any one pony's job; we are here because we are. I wanted to show you this before we moved."

"Moved?"

"Yes. In eight days' time, we will re-locate to another area. All that you have seen will be packed up, and we will disappear from this area without a trace. I am sure that the mechanics of architectural folding will fascinate you, but we have not the time for that." Furhich gazed into the distance. "I brought you here so that we may have a talk, one we have needed since..."

"Since Discord nearly killed me?" asked Caughlin evenly. Her mind was back in action now. The tension only fed the buzz of determination. Analyze every word. Tell nothing, especially not about the memory hex. You're alone now, Caughlin. Remember, aim for the neck.

"Perhaps earlier than that. You see, miss Caughlin," Fuhrich said, looking right at her now, "I need your cooperation and your help if we are to win this war, and I know I cannot get these without giving you the truth." His expression was one of regret, and his voice soft. "I know that you know things, things I've been hiding behind your back. Either way, I am determined to have you on the side of order by the time we leave this place. I cannot face my ponies otherwise."

Did he just... "I know you know things"? She kept her expression blank. "You flatter me. I'm nopony special, am I?" asked Caughlin. "You have plenty of ponies here, and I'm sure your scientists are no less brilliant to have developed such technology."

"You are the mother of the alicorns. You are what spurs them on, drives them to new heights. You are their motivation for this war, and to think any less is an undermining of your love for them," Furhich replied. "I have two things to tell you. The first is about you. Do bear with me for a while...

"After extensive simulations in our laboratories, we believe that the loss of your Discordian ability is because of the alicornification. As you know, unicorn magic, just like the raw strength of the Earth ponies and flight of the pegasi, is an 'approach' to controlling matter. The way you controlled - reverted, rather - reality is one such example. The union altered your approach to reality, and that's why you lost the 'connection' you had with your reality bubbles. Whether or not you can re-establish this connection with your current abilities, only time can tell. The second is about Celestia."

He stopped for breath. Caughlin was careful to keep a blank face, but the news troubled her in no small way. She fought to keep her brain from running headlong into the science of the matter, but more importantly, the possibility of her regaining her ability. She stifled her memories of the memory hex, no doubt still keeping a strong grip over her colleagues.

"You know that Celestia has the Accelerat spell embedded within her, and with that spell there is also something called a 'release'. Basically, Celestia is programmed to store reserves of power within the Potential component of her body. This... was omitted from the plans we gave to you."

He ignored the wide-eyed look she gave him and continued quickly: "When given the command, a simple speech tag, her body will involuntarily tap into the reserves. You have seen the first release, trigger two-oh-five, used as a last resort. It takes twelve months to replenish. There are three releases in total: two-oh-five, three-nine-oh, and nine-nine-nine. Each number denotes the degree of power increase after use, with, ah, proportionately adverse effects on Celestia's stability. You know how it is - channeling of greater power invariably comes with corrupt-"

Pain had never felt so good. Caughlin felt that after all she had been through, she was a pretty good judge of that. She didn't even know she could dole one out as fast as that...

As the old unicorn collapsed, she felt a shoulder muscle tug, and took a sharp breath despite herself. Apparently, her body had not yet gotten used to sudden movements, especially not ones as violent as punches. She stretched her neck, trying to hide the cramp.

"I'm not going to apologize for that," seethed Caughlin.

"You have no need to," panted Furhich, sitting up. "This is my confession, not yours."

"There are three releases. Go on."

"Yes." Fuhrich got up, head still tilted from the shock. "These releases were our backup plan to make Celestia a fail-safe weapon. All that was required was that somepony who knew the codes be present during the critical moments of the fight."

"That somepony was you."

"Correct. I came to the R&D department not just to oversee Project ALICORN; I was there to ensure it. I did not take into account how important you are to Celestia, and it almost cost us everything."

She let the words stew. Me this, me that, motherhood yadda yadda... so your story's still the same. You're trying to manipulate everypony into achieving goals for you. "What do you mean?" she asked aloud.

"Celestia was distraught upon seeing you injured, so distraught that it overrode everything else - loyalty, purpose, even vengeance." Furhich shook his head. "A distracted warrior is as good as dead. Today, Celestia is putting in hours and hours each day down in the training centre, rapidly pushing her potential past our expectations. The Accelerat only compounds this increase, and many is the time that we've had to stop her for fear of union burnout. Even the head general is at a loss about what to do with her, and he's the lone survivor of a direct attack by Discord." He sighed, and got up, eyes level with Caughlin's. "Everything she is doing, she's doing with you in mind. It's not just revenge she wants, I think. She wants... harmony. Stability. For you to be safe."

Caughlin made no reply, so Furhich continued.

"In addition - you may have thought of this - there is the matter of maturity. Mental maturity. The Accelerat affects that, too - Celestia now has the mentality of an adult, despite her actual age, and the war has not helped this situation. Celestia's trying to discover who she is, and she wants to be treated as somepony who can make her own decisions. She needs respect and recognition as a mare."

"I... know." Caughlin turned away. "I haven't seen her much since we got here, nor Luna, come to think of it."

"I wouldn't know about Luna, but I can hazard a guess," said Furhich. "They wanted you to rest up fully. I'm afraid that, as skilled as he is, Doctor Stains has difficulty being eloquent. After their first visit, your systems crashed, if you can recall. It took him about an hour or so to stabilize your thaumics. When he walked out to find them waiting outside, he gave them a, ah, regrettably harsh scolding. I think that pretty much scared them into submission. As for Celestia, you know already - she's signed herself up for the most gruelling routine we've ever seen, and follows it with amazing strictness. Speaking of which..." Furhich's eyes trailed to the floor.

"What? What is it?" Caughlin spat.

"There is no other way to tell you this. I would have had her do this by herself, but she said-"

"Cut to the chase, Furhich."

Furhich returned her stare. "Celestia has made the decision to be a member of the Order. She signed the pledge of allegiance two weeks ago, and is now the first and only pony to bear the title of 'Special Unit'. When Discord has fallen, she will be promoted to 'chief-in-command', under nopony but me; when order is established and we have a working system, Celestia will be crowned ruler of Equestria."

Celestia's part of the Order, and Furhich has it all planned out.

He's... This has to be some kind of grooming, for Celestia to take a position of power... but why her? Her mind raced, trying to chase down every thought. Her mouth turned dry, and she finally managed: "So you're going to make Celestia queen."

"Perhaps. You see, Caughlin, I've had a long while to think over this - who to lead Equestria? Not this war-ravaged land before you, but Equestria?" Furhich trotted slowly to the side, drinking in the scene beyond. "A land flowing with food and water. Peace, harmony, happiness. Nopony will have to fear for natural disasters, no more running, no more fighting sleep in case of earthquakes... The land needs an equally benevolent ruler." He let it hang in the air and coughed briefly.

"Due to the union, the three of you have significantly increased vitality. It's without a doubt that you three will live to a very ripe old age, if Discord doesn't find us first." A small chuckle. "In your case, your lifespan may be shorter than the alicorns'. Celestia's Accelerat also means that her body will age faster, though whether or not it cancels out the power of the union remains to be seen. But Luna, on the other hand... Luna may very well be immortal, because of how naturally she's been allowed to develop. There's nopony better to lead a country than one with limitless experience, one who's weathered eons and gained according wisdom -"

"Immortality? You can't be serious," scoffed Caughlin. "Everypony dies eventually. That's what being a pony is. Yes, the union would bring increased vitality, but vitality itself as a deterioration curve. All living things do. Unless, of course," she added, narrowing her eyes, "she ceases to be a living thing."

"What, pray, is a pony? You and I both know that there's no answer to that, be your disposition scientific or philosophical," chuckled Furhich. "Perhaps it would be better for Luna to not think of herself as a pony, if she were to rule."

"What, then? Would you rather have her be a weapon?" snarled Caughlin.

"I did not mean it like that," said Furhich. "I'm just telling you the truth - I'm actually considering whether Luna should take the throne, rather than Celestia. Not to mention she is the elder sister, and the ponies of Equestria would take to that better. Age, after all, is a proof of survival in this time and age, and it wins respect."

Caughlin could not argue with that. "You seem confident about the future."

"Oh, yes. Take a look at the skies, miss Caughlin. Tell me - what do you see?"

She raised her neck. "Well, the sky's blue. The sun is low, meaning it's almost evening, and it's pretty cloudy. Clouds are thick and fluffy, but no signs of rain as they're light. No pegasi above. Is that what you wanted?"

"Not quite." Furhich stepped next to her and looked to the sky as well. "No, what I wanted to point out was that the weather has been pleasant and constant for a considerable while. You don't know this, seeing as you've just left your room an hour or so before, but the day has been beautiful from sunrise until now."

"Wait..." Caughlin frowned. "The weather's been constant?"

"We believe that Discord has been - what's the word? - bluffing, when he threatened swift vengeance. He took a combined blast head on, and suffered several essence-hurting blows. He may be powerful, but there's no doubting the degree of pain we must have caused." Furhich pointed in the direction of the mountains. "If that isn't enough to convince you, reports of normality are coming in from all over. Of course, there are still the small things - inanimate object becoming animate, periodical earthquakes as a result of Discord's previous meddling, but nothing that can be called 'an active decision by Discord'. Even the rain's stopped. Why would he do that? He of all ponies would know the importance of keeping up appearances. There's a strong possibility that he's trying to conserve his energies and recover, biding his time instead of tearing up the world. We've got him on the defensive."

Caughlin felt a rush through her senses. Discord, not on the offensive - that was certainly a change. Discord, not hunting after them. Discord, not hurting other ponies. They had done this. Something good, for a change... it felt... redeeming.

"Anyhow, we're not going to wait for Discord to come to us. We're working on a spell that traces Discord's signature chaotic energies. It's scattered all over Equestria and within ourselves, but if all goes well, he'll stick out like an evergreen in a quarry, seeing as he's the source of it."

"You still haven't told me what you want with me."

"Ah, yes. What I - what we need is something simple, something I don't even need to tell you to do." Furhich rested a hoof on her shoulder. She brushed it off. "Please, be there for Celestia and Luna. Help them through this deadlocked time, spend a few more moments with them, perhaps? They want to discover who they are, and they want to know what you think of them. Guide them, encourage them, give them your support. It really matters to them, you know."

There was nothing wrong with those words, she had to admit.

"I'll do what I believe is right," said Caughlin at last. Just one last thing I have to solve. She swallowed the lump in her throat. After all the years of holding it in, of feigning ignorance, now that she was confronting him... it wasn't the rush of triumphant cornering she had imagined it to be. It was dull, sick, underwhelming.

"Before we leave, are you sure there isn't anything that you want to tell me? No more secrets? Like, I dunno, another release, or maybe... something to do with their minds or brains?"

Furhich's smile, that horrible, perfect curve, told her the answer before his lips did.

"I'm sure. No more secrets, Caughlin."

That night was her last night in the ward. She would have the whole morning to pack the day after; just after lunch, some sort of fueled vehicle called a "car" would come and send her to her new home, a unit in the residential area.

She shifted restlessly, so much so that even Gummy, in a rare instance of initiave, had crawled to the foot of the bed where he would no longer be bothered. It was too warm to hide under the blanket, but she felt exposed without it.

Of course you wouldn't come clean to me. You're planning something. Whatever it is... you've got Celestia in it already, whether she knows it or not.

You don't need my help. You're just waving your power in my face, because there's nothing left that I can do but follow through.

Caughlin let her thoughts drift, too tired to make the effort of clearing her mind. It did not work very well, anyhow, and the echoes of her thoughts in her own voice helped to drench the one prevailing feeling that had taken over her heart:

I'm so alone. Celly, Luna... Whooves... I wish you were here.

17: Enter The Hunt

As with any large organization, the Order's needs were many. Even though it was for only eight days, Caughlin was spoilt for choice for potential projects begging for more draftsponies and designers: piping systems, agricultural spells, even bedding production. She had been sedentary long enough, but returning to work - especially work where she wasn't the head of the team - was as much of a shock as she hadn't expected. This wasn't the R&D - this was limited budget, cramped work spaces - and coming from her, a captive underground all her life, that was saying something - griping about aforementioned budget and spaces. Her new colleagues were jaded and old, and whatever enthusiasm they once had was absent. Hours went by scribbling on wide sheets, sharpening pencils, asking for suggestions and getting grunts in reply. There was no love, though it was science, and it occured to Caughlin one day that this was work.

Not all ponies are lucky enough to find the one true thing they're meant to do...

It wasn't terrible, of course. This wasn't the R&D. There was no Discord, soon would be no Discord, and the work she was doing was undoubtedly important. The systems at work in the refugee camps were rudimentary at best, and it seemed that magitechnicians were not as plentiful as they seemed during the alicorn development days. Some didn't even know how runes worked.

These are the ponies that need the most help, Caughlin had repeated to herself. That's why you're here.

But why isn't anypony else?

Her old colleagues had been reintegrated into the upper echelons of the Order's Department of Development very early on, she realized - snapped up, at it were, to work on infrastructure and power supply. Still important, of course, but much more glamorous than freshwater delivery -

No, no. Stop it.

She sighed and returned to the task at hoof - drawing up a rune set that acted as a pressure control. The completed set would be stenciled on to a sticker, and that sticker would be placed on whichever point that required it, functioning as a valve. As with all rune sets, it was triggered by unicorn magic, and Caughlin was going for a design that was easy to use - left rune for tight, and right rune for loose, with a bunch of complicated crossings in the middle to make it work. What she was unsure of her trusty guidebook supplied, and she was pretty sure that she spent as much time skimming through the pages as she did actually drawing - her memory was not the best lately.

"Um..." she started, waving a hoof at the pale yellow stallion on the left.

"Tracker," replied the stallion, in a tone that was amazingly neutral.

"Sorry," said Caughlin, smiling a bit. "Just wanted to ask if the surface of the valve would be large enough to hold these."

She knew the answer to that - it was, else she would've broken the set into two a long time ago. But conversation was vital to foster team relationships, and even if it was temporary, she wanted to help the team gel as well.

Tracker glanced at the runes. "I haven't the slightest clue."

"Ah," replied Caughlin. "Thanks anyways."

She looked at the other pony in the room - a dark blue stallion named Tassel Lock - who was chewing absent-mindedly on his pencil as he stared at the flow diagram of the pipes running through the west field of the refugee camp. He was the head of the team, which meant he did the most talking and the least writing. "Leave asking for the budget to me" was his mantra, and her biggest bane. What good was a system if he couldn't win the wages for its operators?

If only... She tried to stop the words before they formed. If only I still had my magic.

Would that have changed anything? Perhaps. Perhaps she'd have more influencing power, be more of an inspiration. Carry the team, and all. Or perhaps she would have been snapped up by other, more enthusiastic team leaders, who actually wanted to see their work come to fruition -

Nothing good ever came out of that path of thought, but neither did anything bad. So she drifted down it, and found Celestia there. It was the only time she could find her. How long had it been since they had last spoken? "Be a mother to them" indeed...

It's not that you haven't tried, Caughlin told herself. You did make an effort to go down and look for her. She was just... too busy, and it looks like she will always be.

It was odd, now that she thought of it. She had never had to wait to spend time with Celestia, though then again they had spent a good chunk of their lives less than a hundred metres away from each other. The idea of her foal being too occupied to talk with her was unsavoury, and it was becoming a problem. It distracted her, and the worst part was that she had no idea where to start. In a rare turn of mood, Caughlin had decided to simply ignore it. Maybe it was just a matter of bad coincidence.

I'll go and check on her again after my shift. Maybe I can catch her for lunch together this time.

Caughlin looked up across the worktables. She remembered when she visited the R&D, whose office was three times larger than the room she was in now. Amidst the rest of the ponies, Luna, who towered readily above them, had been scribbling something, body crouching over the low table uncomfortably, hooves on the surface even though she was using her magic.

She had time to visit, thank heavens - while the older alicorn attended training sessions too, they were nowhere as frequent nor long as Celestia's. She had initially spent her free time roaming the area called "Central", but the scrutinizing looks and hushed whispers behind her back grew unbearable. She had also spent a short while helping out in the refugee camps, distributing things and testing the healing aspects of alicorn magic on those desperate for a quick fix. Thankfully, nopony had left for the worse, but the Order administration had asked her to cease in case of side effects. Caughlin suspected it was more than that, but she could not say she wasn't glad Luna was around.

At least there's a foal of mine who isn't too caught up in work to spend time with me, she sniffed, more bitterly than she expected. No, no. It isn't like that. Celestia's just determined, disciplined, lost in the moment, even. It's not like she doesn't want you or anything, not like that at all. She's just... busy. Hard at work.

Caughlin stifled a yawn, dropping the pencil that she had been holding, and caught Tracker staring.

"Can I help you?" she asked, keeping the impulsive terseness out of her voice.

"No," replied Tracker, looking away.

She picked up the pencil again, careful to keep herself from frowning visibly as she went back to where she had left off. She could have sworn that she had drawn the secondary links up right, but the lines did not match up. No matter. Nothing a little erasing could not fix.

"Could you pass me the eraser, please?"

It arrived without so much as a nod. Caughlin was about to say her thanks when her lips pursed together, and she gave him a nod instead.

A few more tries later, she managed to finish it off. She let herself relax. Gently, she dusted off the eraser bits and gave it a final glance before handing it to Tassel Lock. He looked at it and nodded happily.

"Great work, Caughlin. Looks good. I'll submit this first thing come the team leader's meeting. Just leave the budgeting for this to me."

"Oh, hello, Mommy," Luna said, looking up, as Caughlin entered the office and stepped next to her. Today was the big day - work had ended early, and Caughlin found herself with plenty of time to look up her foals before things went crazy. Already the hallways, the ponies at the water cooler were buzzing - with apprehension, excitement, and tangible annoyance at the massive jams that would occur.

Luna shrugged and motioned to the paper in front of her. "Just working on the weekly report. You're done on your end? How did it go?"

"The usual. Same old, same old. Just dropped by to ask: would you like to have lunch with me and your sister?" asked Caughlin.

"I thought the big move was today," frowned Luna.

"Isn't the move after lunch?"

"The administration suggested that I help with coordination, so I'm supposed to be at a station somewhere for briefing," Luna explained. "Then again, I don't think I like the idea of yelling to crowds on an empty stomach..." Her grin said it all. "But won't Celly be busy as usual?"

"We can at least try," shrugged Caughlin. "It's not like alicorns don't need to eat." She gave Luna a quick hug as they left the room. "If we move fast enough, we can make it before rush hour."

"You sound as if it makes any difference. Don't we all break for lunch at the same time?" asked Luna, keeping up effortlessly with Caughlin's brisk trot.

"You're the first alicorn in history, and I'm, well, here," laughed Caughlin. "I think we've got enough leeway to make it."

The office was part of the Order's own R&D building, which housed all the project rooms and work spaces. The building, in turn, was placed close to the centre of Central - magitech was power, after all. Merely a short walk and a lift ride later, the two stepped into the bustling streets of what was possibly the only city in Equestria.

The first thing that struck Caughlin when she first saw the city view was the crowd of ponies walking about at any time of the day. She had tried to stop one to ask about it, but was roughly brushed aside. A bystander had turned by and proceeded to tell her that half of them were "couriers", carrying packages and messages from one building to another, and upon observation she found this to be true. To save on magical energy, he explained, the Order placed a limit on the amount of magic a certain building could use, measured by thaumic radiation, so the first thing to revert to manual labour was logistics. The other half were probably office ponies changing shifts. In his humble opinion, he continued, it was good - it created jobs primarily for the refugees, "the poor sods". He then went on to invite Caughlin for a drink, which she refused very firmly.

The second thing was the perpetual shadow everypony lived under. Caughlin had always walked around with her shoulders straight and her head high, as a result of her leadership role; now that she was no longer in one and surrounded by skyscrapers, she found it harder and harder to do so. It felt pretentious, when everypony else's necks were bent low - be it from cubicle work or otherwise.

The sidewalk was dusty but mostly litter-free, thanks to the many sweepers that plodded along, picking up the occasional eyesore with tongs and throwing them in the trash bags they carried. Vehicles were a luxury and mostly in service of the Order administration, so the roads themselves were never very busy. Yet the swarm rarely overflowed - the few vehicles that travelled across the white-dashed asphalt moved very fast, very indiscriminately.

Together Caughlin and Luna made their way to the closest teleporter hub, a comparatively diminutive one-storey building with polished walls and floor. Above through the speakers, a mare's voice read in ingratiating tones assorted tidbits of information: the weather, traffic delays, the countdown to the next teleport. Already a queue was forming; they got in line before it could build up further.

"Where to?" asked the attendant at the counter when they finally reached..

"The training centre," replied Luna.

"The military one, right?" The attendant's eyes flickered involuntarily from her horn to her wings. "Gotcha. Okay, snouts up." The two obeyed as the attendant's horn flared. The recognition device in front of her beeped twice, and she nodded. "Gate six, though you probably know that already."

"You know," said Luna as they walked down the wide aisle, past the lined throngs, "you'd think they'd remember us after the number of times we've been down here."

"They see hundreds, maybe thousands of ponies every day," said Caughlin. "It's not part of their job to remember faces. To them, we might all just be clones or recolourings of one another. Ha, wouldn't that be interesting."

"But we're dead ringers, one-of-a-kind," snorted Luna. "I'm an alicorn - that says it all - and your eyes..." She suddenly stopped, biting her lip. "Nevermind."

"I don't think that's how you use the term 'dead ringer'," said Caughlin gently, "and it's okay." She giggled a little. "Shall I wear my eyepatch next time?"

"Mommy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't, Luna. It's okay. Really."

The teleporter circle was a lot wider than that of the hospital's, and a lot brighter, though the runes along the side were the same. The hum of magic was a good deal louder, too. Mother and daughter took their places in boxes chalked within the borders and waited. When the circle was adequately filled - and as rush hour was dawning, that meant crammed up shoulder to shoulder - the guards activated the teleporter, and they zoomed off as streams of energy through the ground.

"I'm sorry, miss Mare, but Special Unit Celestia is occupied at the moment."

"That's okay then. When will she be free?"

"Um." The receptionist drew out a file with the air of somepony who could guess the contents accurately, but was doing it anyway for protocol's sake. "Let's put it this way: not in the foreseeable future, what with the big move and re-settlement."

"Would it help if I told you that I'm her mother?"

"It wouldn't if not for the fact that I'm one myself." The receptionist's gaze softened. "The other girl told me about you. You're the one that's been trying all week, right? The one with the eye - er, I heard, right. The one with the foals, ahaha."

Caughlin let it slip and allowed herself a thin smile. "You have no idea."

"If somepony important asks, tell them you broke in," said the receptionist before handing over a pair of visitor's tags. She cleared her throat and recited: "As usual, you are to to wear these for identification at all times, and any act against you as a result of failure to comply is your responsibility. You have access to Atrium 3 where Special Unit Celestia is, but nowhere else, and failure to comply, so on, so forth." Lastly, she handed over a brochure. "The map should be all you need to find your way."

"Thank you, madam," said Caughlin.

The corridor beyond the receptionist's desk was carpeted, air-conditioned, and not wide enough to fit three ponies side by side. The intense quiet did not help Caughlin's uneasiness - she had discovered that small spaces bothered her, in some weird turn of mental compensation. It was the way her wings itched, and her hooves weren't long enough to scratch, and without her magic...

Either the facility was deserted, or the walls were very well-soundproofed, because the only sounds she could hear was Luna's hoofsteps.

"Do you think Celestia might be someplace else?" she asked in a half-whisper. "Shouldn't there be explosions and, er, things of the sort?"

"The training atria are specially sealed deep in the building, and the walls are soundproofed with recessive spells," said Luna, her wings flittering a little, agitating tiny gusts of air in their wake. "It's so that they don't disrupt the lives of the other ponies living around here, especially if something goes wrong."

"That sounds ominous. Like what?"

"Anything involving high-powered magic. A lot, really."

"Oh."

The rest of the journey was silent, punctuated only by the flapping of the map. They went down stairs and past nondescript, locked doors, turning corners and breathing recycled air in the dead quiet. How much time they had spent walking was something Caughlin could not pinpoint anymore. Time and even action lost meaning in the bowels of this strange, neat place.

"This can't be right," said Luna at last, giving the map a shake much harder than needed. "Where are we again?"

Caughlin read off the sign of the nearest door. "3-G."

"Hmm. Doesn't say where that is, on the map. We didn't pass by the atrium by accident, did we?"

"I was listening for it more than looking," admitted Caughlin. "I mean, you know how small the letters are, and the sessions are loud, so I thought..."

"Loud is definitely the word, and you're right." Luna grinned wryly. "Oh well. Not all hope is lost. All we have to do is re-trace our steps, and worse come to worst, I blow us out of here."

"Don't you think that's a bit too drastic?" snorted Caughlin.

"It's not like anypony actually uses these rooms anymore," reasoned Luna. "In fact, me testing my detonations is more training usage than these rooms will ever see, by the looks of it."

"That doesn't give you the right to smash them open! Besides," said Caughlin, voice softer, "didn't you say they were soundproofed?"

"Doesn't mean they aren't magicproof, nor hoofproof if it calls for it. Why, you can kick just as well as I can, Mommy! I won't have to do all of the work myself then."

The effect was creepy in the absence of all other sounds, but Caughlin giggled anyway. "Come on now. We have to get your sister out of this place before she wears herself to the bone."

"Right. My sister," muttered Luna.

Before they could continue, the crackling of static filled the air, followed by a pleasant jingle. Their heads swung defensively; the source of the sound was nowhere in sight, but the muffle suggested that this was because it was hidden in the ceiling.

"To the citizens of the Order, and to all of Equestria, wherever you may be; to all who are hearing this, greetings. I humbly request your attention. This is a special announcement."

The voice was the sort of calm that came by practice and a few days of fret and preparation. Caughlin knew, because it was the calm she used herself, back when Discord was an inevitable part of her week. The hint of hesitation, the uncertainty between solemn and pompous... and above all, familiar.

"Wait a moment," she blurted. "That voice..."

"I am Special Unit Celestia of the Order of Order, here to announce on our leader Furhich's behalf, a notice regarding today's scheduled move."

The two exchanged looks. The map was unfurled, and a gray hoof poked at the uppermost area labelled "8F: Broadcasting", moments before they broke into full gallop.

"Today's move will be the last of its kind, because today, the Order disbands."

It was all that Caughlin could do to resist stopping in shock and keep going. They took to the stairs unsteadily; neither of them had experience with running up stairs, only the experience of falling down them. Floors - that had taken time to get used to as well.

"For from today onwards, we will march out to hunt Discord down. We will find him wherever he is hiding, we will challenge him, and we will return victorious. The reign of order is at hand, and with our mission complete, we have no further need to move under the guise of a mere rebel group. Our purpose is as good as served. It would be meaningless to maintain this form any longer."

Fear mixed in with the adrenaline rush as she found herself flapping her legs helplessly in mid-air, dragged against her will. Luna's horn was aglow and her wings were making cramped half-flaps, brushing against the walls, chortling up the steps in extended jumps. Amidst her grunts and shouts there had been something resembling an apology. But Caughlin's ears were straining to listen to the announcement, after they had blanked out after the word hunt:

"Today, citizens of Equestria, we run free. Pack up your items, your goods and your household. Plan your journey ahead. Turn toward new horizons, and think of the lands you have always dreamed of. Today, you go forth as free ponies."

"Three more floors to go!" yelled Caughlin.

"Wait, why are we rushing?" retorted Luna. "I don't get-"

"Because we need to! Just trust me, go on!"

"No longer are you bound to curfews and boundaries, set for safety. No longer will you have to line up for rations, due to lack thereof. We have our lives back in our own hooves, and surely only good can come out of the harmony that will ensue."

Caughlin's face swung dangerously close to the corner as they made yet another turn. She tried to propel herself as close to Luna as possible, to no avail. No matter; they were almost there.

"Celestia!" she exclaimed, moments before white barreled into her snout.

"What? Wait, Lun-"

"Perhaps, good comrades, we shall cross paths once more. We can only pray that you will remember us as we will remember you, and on this note, I, on behalf of the Order of Order, wish you this: May your endeavours be fruitful, may your crops grow tall and proud, and may the rest of your lives be peaceful. Goodbye, and may we meet again."

Caughlin untangled herself from the faceful of white feathers and backed up hard against the nearest wall. There was a furious flapping of wings as the alicorns straightened themselves out as dignified as they could.

"Sister," said Luna quietly.

"Luna! And Mother, you're here too!" Celestia sounded genuinely happy to see them, or relieved at least. "Did you hear the announcement?"

"Yes," began Caughlin. "About that-"

"I was so nervous, Mother," exclaimed Celestia. "My first time making a speech! Of course Uncle Furhich wrote that, so I didn't have a say on what to say, excuse my little-" She actually giggled- "play on words. Oh, Mother, did it go well? I hope it did, this is so exciting!"

"I..."

Realization struck fast. She had made a speech to possibly hundreds of thousands of ponies, and was evidently excited - who wouldn't be? Even if she was projected to have the mentality of a middle-aged pony, she didn't have the experience to jade her. She was still so foal-like...

"It was good," replied Caughlin lamely. "You didn't stutter or anything."

"Oh, I'm so jittery now! I'm really glad you two came though." Caughlin found herself swept up in a quick hug. "I was wondering whether I might manage to see you one last time before we left."

"About that," said Caughlin again quickly, when the rest of her brain had caught up, "forgive my language, but what the hell?" Celestia looked rather taken aback. She steeled herself as she continued. "I didn't know about this hunt business. Nopony did. I mean, I know you're busy, and this explains a lot, but you could at least leave a line, couldn't you? I mean, Discord! And you're going after him! And I" - she shouted at the corridor behind them - "I didn't know!"

"I wanted you to come," said Celestia, lower lip curling. "Uncle Furhich didn't. He said that it was putting you unnecessarily at risk, what with..."

"Because I don't have a horn?" snorted Caughlin. She turned away, squeezed her eyes shut and gave the wall a good kick. "Where is he? And you thought that I couldn't, either?"

"Mother! I wouldn't, but... What if, you know... he's right?"

She gazed up into Celestia's eyes, and briefly saw the trembling figure of a filly from what seemed like so long ago. Then the image faded, and it was left with the eyes of today - golden, wide. Hardened.

"Listen, Celestia," said Caughlin, drawing the alicorn into a stiff embrace, "it doesn't matter. I raised you two. This is, well, your destiny, to bring peace to the world. I have to be there for you, to see it through." She felt her wings twitch and goosebumps travelled across her back. She fought off the welling of weight in her throat. "It's what a mother does." She stroked her flowing pink mane, keeping her eyes locked on the ground. "I have full faith that you can do this. I just want to be there, that's all... don't you see..."

"Oh, Mother," answered Celestia, burying her head deep into Caughlin's mane. She felt the alicorn tremble, the steel in her tone vanished. "I'm glad you came."

"You said that already," chipped Luna.

"I did, didn't I?" Celestia withdrew herself and gave her wings a rustle. "Oh, I wanted to stay a bit longer, maybe catch up with you two, but I... have to rush off now. Final preparations and everything. The council's expecting me in five." She began to accelerate to the stairs, only to stop and turn back. "By the way, Luna, uncle Furhich said to tell you that he wanted to make an appointment with you. Before we leave at sundown, if possible. I'll see you then. And Mother..."

"Yes, Celly?"

"Uncle Furhich... he'll be prancing all over the grounds to check up on things, but I think he'll be up on the observational tower just before we set off." She smiled weakly. "Maybe you could convince him that you'd be fine. I tried to, but... I gotta go. Hope to see you!"

With that, she was gone, leaving only the thumping of distant hooves to echo.

"Well," Caughlin said at last.

"Well indeed," replied Luna, her face as blank as the walls.

The door did not swing open. It did, however, burst with a solid bang that ripped it off its hinges. It gave a final screech as it was kicked to one side.

"Furhich!" yelled Caughlin, storming into the setting sun, keeping her eyes as fixed on the dark brown figure as possible. She never thought that she would be back on the rooftop like this; the scenery behind him, if not for the situation, looked amazing - hues of red and orange and even deep purple dressing the horizon... "Explain yourself!"

"All in good time," laughed Furhich, not even turning. It was a strange laugh; it was full of life, possibly even youth, the sort that rang across deserts in a midnight stampede or such brazen activities. Nothing that she had ever heard from him before. "Come, enjoy the scenery."

"You'll be seeing a lot less scenery if I have my way," growled Caughlin, stomping small cracks in the cement.

"Looks like somepony's discovered their potential - literally," said Furhich, nodding to himself. "Good. Good." He finally turned, his eyes full of an air - but of what? "This is about the expedition, yes?"

"What else, you lying cretin? And expedition is a funny way to put it, isn't it?"

"Miss Caughlin, do calm down." The grin on his face taunted her as it moved. "I have my reasons for leaving you behind today. I'm surprised that you don't recall." He stepped forward, deliberately, theatrically. "Celestia is the weapon on which our hopes rest upon. Not only a weapon, but a leader, a figure to rally behind. She is not the only participant; the plan involves a team, and this team needs something to believe in." Accusing glares met. "In turn, her hopes rest on you."

"So?"

"All that 'best defense is strong offence' philosophy is junk when facing a spirit of chaos," Furhich said flatly. "Discord knows Celestia's weakness, and he certainly knows yours. You're but a pony, and heaven knows how strong those are. How much offence do you think Celestia will be able to put in if she has to defend you at every turn? Or do you think that you can defend yourself?" He might as well have spat in her face; his tone suggested as much. All this time, she had been baiting him to be upfront; now that he was, he was up and front all the way to her snout.

"Even better, what do you think will happen if anything happens to you? Don't give me that look, Caughlin - you may not be afraid of what happens to you, but she is. And I'm afraid of what will happen to her, because she's our only hope. She's our only hope."

She would have been surprised if not for the numbness of shock, and that growing, swelling sensation building up in her wing joints. Furhich stepped back and lowered his head, and suddenly looked tired.

"The end is here. It's what we've been waiting for. What we've been dying for. It's selfish of me to do this to you, but I'm hoping that you'll be the bigger pony this time round. Don't be selfish. Let Celestia go and fulfill her destiny," breathed the voice, faint and low.

The last rays of the blood red sun accompanied Caughlin as the stallion made his way down the tower, the echoes of his steps heavy, mocking, pouring into the void in her chest.

The swelling grew as her thoughts blanked, and raw emotion took over. Pain - but not pain, just discomfort - discomfort unlike anything she had felt before. Her insides were sloshing about. Her vision blurred and swayed. She wanted to crawl over and die -

Halfway down the stairs, she could hear the sound of frantic running, rushing up to meet her. Despite the dark, it was clear who the runner was.

"Mommy... you can fly now?" asked Luna, stunned in an awkward sprawl across the first steps before the landing.

"What?" Caughlin shook her head to see herself land roughly on the ground. The swelling had not ceased; she beat her wings again, and felt blessed relief - and surprise - as she hovered uncertainly. The joy snuffed out as fast as it came - she landed, and headed toward the doorway.

"Uhh, Mommy? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to pack," replied Caughlin.

"What? Why?" Luna began an unsteady descent after her. "You look... vacant. Hey! What did uncle Furhich say to you?"

"It's for the best," muttered Caughlin, dropping to the floor in a tumble. She rolled down a couple of steps unceremoniously, and felt the dust tickle her snout. She could see the fuzziness of the carpeting, feel the grime of a thousand hooves across her sprawled figure -

"What are you talking about? Mommy, get up!"

"What is there to get up to?" whispered Caughlin.

Luna shook her head, sending little ripples across her shimmering mane. "Uncle Furhich probably said something bad about you, didn't he? He's just stressed, that's all. He's nervous. He doesn't know what he's saying, and I can bet my left hoof that he doesn't know what we want. He gets too distracted with himself. Even I can see that." She snorted. "Look, you and I are going on that hunt. We're going to tail the party half an hour or so after they leave, and reveal ourselves when it's too late to send us back. I've got it all planned out. I was going to carry you, but since you can fly..."

"Why, Luna?" choked Caughlin. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"

"Because we need you, that's why!" shouted Luna, her shadow filling the hallway. Her tone struck Caughlin like a thump to the head, torn between disdain and exasperation. It was the second time today another pony had been outright rude to her, and it shook her up long enough to hear out the continuation. She half-got up, but didn't dare to go any further than that - Luna's visage from the bottom was terrifying.

"You say you believe in us and all that, but there are dozens of others who don't! They look at us without hope or opinion, like we're exhibits that can't do anything! Heck, even uncle Furhich doesn't trust me half as much as you do, much less the military ponies, and if you saw the hooves they point behind Celestia's back..." Luna's eyes were now a seething pit, as seething as bottomless could be. "Now she's going up with a bunch of ponies who're either scared of her, or hate her, and uncle Furhich who frankly isn't a lot of help, going up to who-knows-where to fight Discord. Alone! And you're just going to stay here? Come on, Mother, what are you thinking?"

The echoes died out spectacularly fast, leaving the sniffling exposed in the open. It was hard to say which one was more pathetic; the fallen gray mare in the dust, or the angry, choked sobs of the rejected prototype.

Caughlin raised a hoof almost dreamily. Luna plunged in at the opening, and an instant warmth spread through her chest.

"I'm sorry, Luna," murmured Caughlin gently, as the tremblings began to course against her forelegs. "I've been a silly pony. Silly, silly indeed."

"I... Celestia... I don't want her to die, Mommy, not alone, and if we were there, I thought... we could at least try..."

"And that's the most important thing, right?" murmured Caughlin through sobs. "That we at least try."

18: Enter Codename NIGHTMARE MOON

Rugged - that, dust, or flies, was the word to describe the lands beyond the Order boundaries. All three - the third most so - were vividly present in the absence of everything else.

Behind them in the distance lay the refugee camp, glowing fires mere specks in the murky dark of the night. To the west was the outline of what Caughlin guessed to be Ponyville, dotted with its own faint lights. Above them, stars filled the vastness, the thinnest sickle of the moon amongst them a cruel grin - though a much kinder sight than the poor, dry land they rested on. And poor, dry land was right - the soil was a displeasing yellow tinged red, clay-like. Nature somehow found a way, but it was not pretty - spindly weeds, or waxy beans grew in sparse clumps, their shallow roots like varicose veins, alongside blackened stumps of probably once-tall evergreens. Something - she suspected it was the Earth pony in her - hurt in her heart as she drew a hoof across the surface. She knew of certain ponies who braved the region, and described it as terrible beauty. She agreed with the first half.

At their hooves, a tiny flame thrived on scraps of wood between a wall of stones, fed with the occasional spark of magic.

There was an unusually loud crackling as a bag was passed from daughter to mother. There was rummaging, followed by the slow squelch of munching.

"It's beautiful," whispered Luna.

Caughlin simply swallowed and nodded. The morning had been unusually refreshing. Early, too, a yawn reminded her - though it was soon lost to the oft-parched push forward and the endless batting away of the damn insects, she had felt... awake, alive.

"I've never spent a night under the open sky," continued Luna. "What with the curfew, and sleeping, but if I knew all this was out there, I'd gladly skip the day, every day. The endless sky, all the stars, the cool air, the quiet."

"It's a pity that the moon isn't out tonight," said Caughlin. "You were named after it."

"Oh, I've seen the moon before," dismissed Luna. "But not up in the open sky, not like this - through the window, many times, but here... I would have liked to see it in full, though I suppose it's only a matter of days until then." There are more rummaging. "And besides, isn't that the moon, right over there?"

"That's hardly the moon. It's just a thin crescent."

"Doesn't mean that it isn't the moon."

Caughlin swallowed again. "Pass the water, please."

A flask, metallic surface gleaming in the hot light, pressed into her hooves.

"You know, I hope we don't lose them," said Caughlin after a while. "They're moving awfully fast."

"They're still looking for Discord," shrugged Luna. "I did a bit of asking around before you went to talk with uncle Furhich. They're using a device like the magic measurement machine we built back then, except that it's geared toward the special brand of chaotic, corrupted magic. They've been planning for this quite a while back. Sent search teams before them to cover more ground, too. Of course, what with the supposedly weak state of Discord now, it could take days, even weeks to get a trace."

"A fraction of near-infinite is still pretty big," said Caughlin. "Chaos is still happening across the surface of the earth, right?" As if on cue, a hiss at their hooves yanked their attention briefly. The fire wobbled and turned into a shade of green, almost defiant, before flickering back to orange-red. "See?"

"That's the third time it's done that."

"I know." There was another pause before Caughlin added: "I'm just worried that they might not take him seriously, as ridiculous the idea sounds. You know, getting cocky, with Celestia and whatever master plan Furhich has cooked up."

"You know of the plan?" asked Luna, wide-eyed.

"What plan?"

"I don't know. You said there was a plan."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure there's one." Caughlin waved a hoof. She was, despite her stomach being emptier than she preferred, happy - she hadn't been happy in ages, it seemed, and being away from it all was refreshing in ways she had never even thought of. Still, that didn't stop her eyes from wandering to the bag in Luna's hooves. "Furhich always has one. He..." She remembered his acid tone and words, and spat a breath of warm air. "He always does." The words settled in the dust as they rang back in her head. The question is: what is it?

"You know, Luna... let's try a thought exercise. If you were Furhich, how would you go about killing Discord?" Caughlin asked carefully.

"Easy. Find his location and blast him with a decageas," said Luna.

"No, not surefire enough. Too much left to chance. Details?"

"Er. Wait until he's stationary? Set up the decageas properly? I mean, the decageas is, really, the most powerful spell in Equestria, and what you did with Furhich in the closed space proved that it's possible to work the spell without ten alicorns, and now that we can properly magnify the power - "

"Furhich isn't the sort to use the same tactic twice," frowned Caughlin, shifting her gaze to the bright yellow peak of the flame. "I don't know why, but that's what I think. He doesn't shelve ideas that failed as much as incinerate them and start over." You're proof, she silently added. "What other ways are there?"

Luna huffed. "Apart from blasting him with magic? I have no idea."

"Maybe a close-range blast? But then there's the risk of Discord running away, which none of us can afford."

"Look, Mommy, I'm sure it'll be fine." Luna stretched her legs and yawned. "What we should be doing now is resting. You've carried half of our rations on fresh wings even though I told you you're going to feel sore, and I'm most likely going to have to carry you as well as the rations tomorrow. I don't mind, but I'd like to do it after a bout of beauty sleep." The wry grin that followed put Caughlin at ease.

She lifted another bag and withdrew a glass cylinder, it ends sheathed in glossy metal, as long as her horn. A spark of magic danced across the metal caps and tiny runes flared up along the sides before fading into transparency. She set the cylinder down and laid her head on the bag. "Good night, Mommy. Promise me you'll sleep at least a bit."

"What do you mean by that?" said Caughlin.

"Somepony told me that back then, in the ward, at night, you would - well, nevermind."

Caughlin sat with her back to the cylinder for a few more moments. Would what? She couldn't think of anything - didn't want to. That dank room, which had been her whole world, had never felt so distant, as if it had all been a dream. Much less her old room in the Laboratory - she tried to remember, but the night sky with its void had filled up her mind already.

The little device was giving off warmth as a steady rate, enough to keep the night's chill off the tips of her wings. It was probably the next best thing they could have brought, second to food and such essentials, as conventional fires betrayed their position and actions to patrolling scouts. She certainly did not enjoy the idea of giving Furhich a chance to pass sentence on them. The only fault she could find with the invention was the problem of fuel - it ran on distilled gas from the reaction of active metals with water and nothing else, and so they had to be conservative. Surprisingly persnickity, she thought, for a can.

She curled up next to Luna and dreamed of the thaumic realm, drifting without care through the tsunami of colour.

There were no newborn foals robbed from their dead families. There were no sickening bits of characteristic lying about. Just her, in the broadest sense of the word, and the realm of untamed magic roiling silently around her.

Caughlin stirred to the warmth of sunlight. She stretched a leg gingerly and winced as the muscles tensed up. The feeling awakened her senses to the host of complaints all over her body: the aching in her wing joints, the soreness of her back, an odd, sick warmth in the pits of her belly...

Her heart began to pound as the noises filtered in through her sleepy conscious: the babble of two or three voices, the thrum of running magic like an open tap. With a sharp sucking of breath, she hauled herself upright to find Luna standing several feet away. The alicorn was so angry - was her mane thrashing? - that it was the first thing that made itself apparent to Caughlin's drifting mind.

"You got off lucky," hissed Luna.

"What? I - " started Caughlin.

"It's all right, Mommy. They have no idea what they've gotten themselves into," said Luna haughtily. "And when I'm done with them, they won't be in any position to know."

"I think that applies to you more," said a frowning pegasus, dressed in Order black from the tip of his mane to the ends of his hooves - like a solid shadow - not winning prizes for most pleasant sight upon waking up any time soon. He stood at what could be called a safe distance away, eyes darting cautiously to the ground every so often. Even further away, another pegasus stood, scanning the horizons for something; next to him or her, it was too far to tell - stood a unicorn, uncovered horn a deep red. It was active.

Caughlin rearranged her legs into a more comfortable position, rubbing at the muscles gently, her eyes quickly looking for answers. In a neat radius of six or seven feet, she found them: red runes glowed faintly under the bright light of day. She was sitting in her own circle, Luna in another. She did not need to search her mental guidebook to guess that the runes worked barrier magic. Luna had, it seemed, tested it out already, if the scorch marks along the sides were anything to go by.

"Um, officer?" tried Caughlin.

"Just Yam Cake, miss," said the first pegasus. Behind the face mask, she could hear a small sigh.

"Why are we locked up in this barrier?" she asked.

"You two have been found trailing our party in a suspicious manner, precisely, by us. We apprehended you. It's just protocol," shrugged Yam. "I don't want any trouble, though I'm afraid you're gonna get some when the escorts arrive. Part and parcel of stalking, you understand."

"Ah," murmured Caughlin. She glanced upwards and asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a couple of things?"

"Sure, why not? Nothing else to do, really," relented Yam.

"Firstly, did that unicorn draw these runes by himself?" asked Caughlin, blinking back the daylight.

"Herself, miss," corrected Yam. "And yes she did. She's the only one authorized to use level four magic and above in our team."

"Level four? I've never heard of a class system for magic." She yawned for effect.

"Oh, it's simple, really. Light, heat canisters, sortta like the ones we found on you, basic portable stuff - that's low-level magic. Actual spells and runes are level four and above." Yam lowered his voice conspiratorially. "It's not like we can use magic anyways. No horn, see? You know what it's like, these unicorns. All these extra rules and classes. If you ask me, it's an ego thing, you know?"

"I think I do," nodded Caughlin, a bit more guiltily than she would have liked. "You know, one more thing." She cleared her throat loudly, making sure she saw that she had Luna's attention - a simple raise of the head, expression blank.

"Do you think these barriers extend upwards? Because if I'm any good with runes, I'd say that these are definitely missing a vertical component."

There was a roar as Luna let out a column of fire from her horn. It rose up, unhindered, followed soon by its caster, who swept back down and grabbed Caughlin in a flash. Before Yam could shout "Hey!", the two had gained considerable altitude. It made Caughlin very ill, but it was worth it. All she had to do was hold on to her guts, and -

"Miss Luna and Caughlin Mare, you will comply with Order procedures and descend to ground level," boomed an authoritative voice, so loud that it echoed across the empty plains. "Failure to obey will result in necessary force."

They turned around slowly to see a platoon, tens of pegasi swarming towards them, steadily growing oblong dots that wobbled in the heat. As they grew closer, it became evident that each pegasus was carrying a unicorn. They were all dressed in Order black, and every horn was glowing in anticipation.

"Luna?" said Caughlin.

"Yes, Mommy?"

"No, you can't take them on."

"How could you tell?"

"You started digging into my ribs with your hooves."

"But I'm sure-"

"No, Luna. We don't want anypony to get hurt," said Caughlin, and she was surprised to find that she meant it. For good measure, she added, "Them, not you. Some of them probably have families. You know how it is."

Dragged slowly, awfully over what should have been mere moments, Luna made her way back to the ground. The air was full of the hum of tense magic, strong wingbeats and the thumping of the alicorn's heart against Caughlin's ears. She managed to clench a hoof on Luna's foreleg. Luna clenched back gently.

"Land yourselves back into the containment circles," rang the voice. "First the pegasus. Then you."

Caughlin waited until everypony was grounded before speaking. "Now, officers, I'm sure that we can negotiate-"

"There is no negotiation," said a unicorn, stepping forward. "We are here on orders of the strictest degree. There is to be no deviation."

"I am not going to stand for unlawful punishment without an appeal!" protested Caughlin.

"There is no punishment," replied the unicorn. "You are part of the calculations. We are simply here to escort you over to the main party."

Caughlin raised an eyebrow. The unicorn somehow managed, despite his headgear, to raise one of his own.

"You are to join the main party," repeated the unicorn. "In submission. This is an order from Leader Furhich himself. Is this clear?"

"Crystal," sighed Caughlin. Deep in her heart, something flickered and hissed: So even this was planned. Amazing.

The camp consisted of eight large tents circled around a pile of smouldering ashes - from the skies, eight white gleaming circles and a black smear. In, out, between and about, ponies with restrained listlessness walked or hovered. It was in the dragging of the hooves, the way their heads were bent low, how their tails swished irritably at random intervals; if there was any anxiety or regret in the ranks at the ardor ahead, it was hidden well under the heavy layer of boredom. They did not even look up as the squadron landed on to the grounds, a few yards away from the edgemost tent.

With as much dignity as her aching muscles could hold, Caughlin held up her head as she walked alongside Luna. There were no binds, gags or hexes on them; a menacing glare from Luna had settled that swiftly. Instead, three pairs of unicorns walked with them out of leg's range, one behind and one on each side. To Caughlin's surprise, one had offered to carry their belongings for them, and she had accepted before Luna could object. She did not want to think that she was nervous. The fact remained, though, that every little jingle or crackle the bags made as they moved made her lips curl, only for the dried cracks to sting. .

"We sort of suck at this, don't we?" murmured Caughlin, forcing a smile. "It's been only the first night and we've been found. Heh."

As they drew closer to the camp, one said: "You two wait here. We will bring - "

"No, no need for that," rang a familiar voice, followed soon by its owner: none other than Furhich, dressed in dusty robes from snout to fetlocks. He trotted over briskly, Celestia appearing a second later - her expression shocked.

"You are now all dismissed until the afternoon. Now." It did not take the guards long to comply. Caughlin could not help but choke as the cloud of dust from the wake of the pegasi's takeoff smothered her snout.

"Uncle Furhich. Celestia," said Luna curtly.

"I suppose it's redundant to say that I was expecting you two," sighed Furhich. "Not that it matters. Rest assured, I have no intention of punishing any of you - your presence may been even a boon." He held up a warning hoof. "There is a time for questions, and that is after I inform you of the whole situation. Come with me."

Between the midday heat and the disconcerting start to the day, Caughlin was surprised that she only felt annoyance at the sight of them. It could have gone worse, but this was certainly not good by any standards.

With a shrug, she followed him.

Celestia glanced back a couple of times, eyes filled with worry - or perhaps the squint was just because of the sun. Luna, Caughlin noticed, was pointedly avoiding these, darting her eyes to the sides at each turn. There was little more of this, thankfully, as they were led to the furthest of the tents. The flap was pulled back, and they were met with a faceful of cool air.

She blinked profusely as her pupils stretched to accommodate the dim lighting. Even so, she noticed straight away a few of the major oddities: the flat map which covered most of the floor center, little black specks moving across its surface; stone totems covered with bright red etchings that lined the circular wall; the not-so-strange sensation that the inside of the tent was larger than the outside. That, she knew, was space manipulation. The runes were probably carved on the poles that propped the tent up. The stone totems were some kind of computational-mechanism housing, given how they throbbed and pulsed in beat with the movement of the black specks.

Furhich waved a hoof at the walls. Celestia levitated a few pillows over to the sides of the map.

"Please, sit," said Furhich. "Your timing could not have been any better. Heaven knows why my team is useless at tactics, save for Celestia, but I find that we cannot bounce ideas off each other very well." His horn glowed and the map began to zoom down toward a point - it wasn't long before this stopped, though, overlooking a patch of gray static.

"We have found Discord. We cannot, however, perform reconnaissance to collect data for two reasons. Firstly, Discord is enveloped in an aura of chaos. Our mapping magic gets distorted and chewed out the moment it tries to home in on him." Furhich looked up. "You've possibly already thought of that, miss Caughlin."

"And the second?" asked Luna, staring intently at the patch.

"None of the scout teams that have gone in have returned," replied Celestia softly.

"They have all gone missing. Thank you, Celestia." There was an edge of agitation in his voice. "We can only assume that Discord has done something to them. The signal trackers they were carrying have not vanished entirely, but the wavelengths they're sending back are augmented beyond recognition. We are sure that our cover has not yet been blown: he hasn't moved an inch. He would have run away if he knew of our forces converging on him."

"Would he now?" asked Caughlin. It was a challenge - are you sure you're powerful enough? It was completely unhelpful, almost spiteful, but Furhich needed to be taken down a few pegs. Such a bold assertion could be the death of them all.

The question lingered in the air, bringing silence with it. It made her feel guilty to savour the tension.

"He fears. What does he have not to fear about?" replied Furhich.

Dodging the question, I see. "I don't know," retorted Caughlin. "He is Discord, after all. What does Discord fear?"

"What indeed?" Furhich tapped a hoof impatiently - probably wasn't in the mood for games, which was rare, thought Caughlin. "We need to design a plan to deal with this situation. It took us well over a year to find Discord after his weakened escape. Now, with his vitality most likely strong, we may never find him again if we lose him."

"How about the decageas?" asked Caughlin. "Fire a beam into the heart of the storm." He would reject it, of course, and the idea was unfeasible - like all energy, the magic would dissipate over a distance far enough to be considered safe. What she wanted to find out was how.

Unexpectedly, he dismissed it outright. "I think I need to show you the aura up front for you to fully appreciate the gravity of the situation," said Fuhrich tersely. "Come with me. Celestia, summon two teleporters to take us. You and Luna will stay here, since you've seen it already and you can fill her in."

"I object-" began Caughlin, but Furhich was quick to cut in.

"My ponies are weary and tense. Believe me, I do not wish for any of them to get close to the site any more than necessary." In his eyes was a glint that said, Don't push it. Coming from Furhich, it was both insulting and unnerving. "Come."

The steel in his eyes, bent like a bad spoon, was what made Caughlin rethink protesting. If it's so bad that it makes even him think twice about sending ponies out...

The procedure was simple. Caughlin was tethered to her teleporter unicorn with a dual harness on the back, a sheathed cable connecting the two. Furhich briefly mentioned the thaumic relations, but she was not in the mood to hear it.

They stepped out of the camp area, checked that nopony else was in radius, and... jumped.

Just like blinking, thought Caughlin later, and finding yourself somewhere else when you open your eyes. In this case, from one nightmare to another.

When they arrived, Caughlin found herself blinking furiously yet again, this time because of the lack of light. Thick, rolling stormclouds filled the sky above, red and green arcs crackling across their underbellies. They trotted forwards for a few minutes - Caughlin kept her head low, fixed on Furhich as he led, because the crackling seemed to sear the back of her eyes - before Furhich stopped and pointed. Before them stretched a huge but shallow trough, spanning the size of the Order grounds and three ponies' depth at most. It wasn't empty; there were distant specks moving about in it. Figures, almost.

The next thing that hit her was the distant wailing and snarling that drifted from beyond.

"Are those...?" trailed Caughlin. Furhich simply handed her a pair of binoculars, which he held steady for her after a bit of fumbling on her part.

At the center of the trough was Discord, swaying wildly as he paced the center as if drunk. His fur was matted and his scales were dull, but he was certainly not fatally wounded, just poorly groomed. His eyes were unusually sullen, yet his grin was stretched so wide that it seemed to cross beyond his face. It hurt her brain to think about it. This was Discord, after all.

Her sight then dropped to his surroundings, and she finally saw what the numerous gray spots were.

Surrounding Discord, arguing and brawling with each other, was a multitude of ponies, all with gray manes, coats and eyes.

She watched, transfixed, as one flung a weak punch at another, only to trip on his own hooves, falling down face-first. Another was yelling at any pony that so much as looked at her, and still another was yelling at any pony she laid her eyes on. On the far left side, a series of elaborate, tall, wooden structures stood. She tasted bile as a pony stepped on to the structure, pulled a lever and released a rope with a curved blade on it, right on to her neck...

"What is going on?" she whispered, swallowing hard.

"Discord," replied Furhich quietly. "Don't look to the left."

"Why?"

"That's where my ponies are. They all committed suicide, from what we can tell, and their bodies are just... there, on the ground."

"But why? How?"

"Discord did something to them. We don't know what." Furhich turned away and stomped a hoof. "This area is seeped in chaos. Anything we throw in here will get warped beyond recognition. That's why long-distance spells won't work. Nopony dares to try a frontal assault." He sneered. "Discord's always been a great, destructive being, but death by his hands used to be quick. Half the time, at least. But this... nopony knows what's going on, and they don't want to find out firsthand. It's the fear of the unknown. You look at it, and you can only see yourself in there..."

Caughlin tried to muster up saliva to wash the sourness away, but her mouth had gone dry. Her throat stung as she said, ater a while: "Why don't we try and capture one? I mean, you still have ponies with Discordian talents... The reality bubble! I'm sure that'll work in restoring them, maybe -"

"They are too close to Discord. We can't sneak in, or he'll discover us. Once he does, he'll run - or come after us, and I'm not sure which of the two I'd prefer. It's a stalemate," said Furhich, shaking his head. "Not only that, they're so focused on killing each other that it'd be impossible to lure them away. Not to mention the chaos that they'd carry out... chaos lingers, Caughlin. I'm not sure if you know of this, but it tends to remain. Like a plague. When we get back we'll need to scrub down."

"At this distance?" frowned Caughlin. "Disgust aside, I don't feel too bad."

"You may not have noticed, but your mane is turning green as we speak," said Furhich with a dry grin.
"That's how powerful the chaos is here. Last time I came over, my right leg turned to jelly." The grin took on a distinct dryness as he continued. "Celestia, by the by, has refused to use the decageas, even if it were feasible. She says that it will no doubt kill the other ponies. She doesn't want collateral damage, and no amount of reasoning will get her to see that they are past redemption."

Caughlin stared uncomfortably into the distance for a moment. I'm going to have to tell her that I'm proud of her for doing that.

Isn't Furhich going to make a pass at me? No? Okay. Aloud, she said, "Then the only option left is frontal combat. We could initiate, and use it as a distraction to get the hostages out of there. Once everypony's safe, we time their exit so that Discord is the only one left when the blast strikes. We could use runes, right? Magnify the reality spell effects across the basin, so that the decageas pierces through, or something..."

"Frontal combat means risking Celestia or Luna, as they're the only two with a chance of surviving entry, let alone initiate," said Furhich tersely. "Nopony else will keep his attention long enough; he'll figure out what we're doing otherwise, and bolt."

Caughlin bit her lip and closed her eyes. The clouds growled, and a fresh chorus of cries rang out. Her thoughts crashed through her mind like waves, and she felt a sudden burden on her chest. She had an idea, so crazy that it might just work, and yet...

"I could do it," she said slowly. "I can show up in front of him. He'll remember me. I can hold his attention long enough for you lot to get them out, and perhaps - "

"Celestia will never agree to it. She'd much sooner fly in than have you go face to face with Discord, and you know very well how that turned out last time." The stallion sighed. Seconds passed, and he added: "Still, I appreciate that. That's very brave and noble of you to say so."

Caughlin allowed herself a mirthless smile. "For Equestria, right?"

"Indeed. For Equestria."

She glanced at him just in time to catch the faintest twinkle in his eyes. He was being open. Circumstances aside, he was almost hard to hate. He's not so bad, she thought, provided he isn't trying to brainwash my family.

"Well, what else do you suggest we do?" asked Caughlin.

Furhich never had a chance to reply.

There was the tinniest poof behind them, and long claws dug into Caughlin's sides, making her shout. She was about to kick when the voice that followed immediately after wiped her mind, clutching straight at her soul. She was turned around slowly, lifted to stare into crazed, swirling pupils.

"It's been a while, Caughlin. I missed you," giggled Discord.

Caughlin screamed and flapped her wings with as much force as she could muster, but to no avail. She furiously twisted, sight searching wildly for help, but Furhich had disappeared into thin air. Or rather it was her that had disappeared - she saw gray ponies, hear the screaming much louder - saw a ledge that hadn't been there moments ago. She was not sure what to think of that; she wasn't sure what to think of at all. A paw gripped the sides of her head and held her still.

"Oh, come on, now. What's the matter? It's been so, so long," sighed Discord. She could only stare at his eyes - his pupils were literally swirling, like somepony stirring a marsh. Where there had been sharp pinpoints, there was now dull nothing, and it was not any more pleasant. "I've been dreaming about you. Come, Caughlin. We have so much to talk about!"

He set her down gently and did a twirling motion with a finger. To her shock, her legs began to move on their own, plodding behind Discord's slithering figure as they climbed down the trough.

"Let me go!"

"If I did, you'd run away." His voice sounded almost sad. "I've missed you so. You and your beautiful, beautiful soul."

"What - what are you talking about?" shouted Caughlin, pulling at every muscle she still had control over, which was not much.

"Chaos."

Her strength suddenly ran dry. It was the way he had said it. The tone was unlike anything that she had heard, soft, yet brimming with warmth.

It was the voice of somepony madly in love. Obsessed, even.

"Don't you see it?" He turned around, gesturing expansively to the great space. "It's amazing. It's unbelievable. I have to give you the grand tour! Would you like some tea?" He stretched a paw upward, and dainty, white teacups began crashing around them. The sound hurt her ears, and she felt a surge of panic at the shrapnel that flew at her legs. She whimpered as a few corners scratched at her, feeling the sickly crunch of china under her hooves as Discord kept her pace unerring.

"What are you playing at?" winced Caughlin. Discord simply giggled.

"Come, come! We're moving too slow. So much to do, so much!" He flew behind her and picked her up, flying dangerously low toward a group of fighting ponies. "Do you see these? They were village leaders in the past. Negotiators of little towns up in the north. And those over there, they were messengers. Look over here!" They teleported to the other side, where the tall wooden mechanisms stood. He let go of her and she fell on her hooves.

"You'd love these," Discord gushed, rubbing the side of the closest one fondly. "My little ponies built these themselves from oak and iron. I daresay that they're better engineers than you are. So determined. So focused."

Despite herself, Caughlin stared with a horrid fascination. The mechanism was supported by a frame of two wooden beams, leaving ample space between them. At the foot was a curved block of wood which formed the base, and above, a large, stained blade, kept suspended by a piece of string tied to the base. It was dreadfully simple in function - cut the rope, and the blade fell down.

Caughlin suddenly tasted bile as she realized what the nook in the base was for. The sour, warm feeling only increased as she watched a pony walk up to it, painstakingly rubbing at the edges with a piece of sandpaper until satisfied. She laid the sheet down, folded neatly, and laid her head carefully in the nook. Caughlin stifled a scream and closed her eyes, only hearing the twang, zip and thud of metal on bone.

"Isn't it beautiful?" burst Discord, laughing hysterically. "That one was the vice-captain!"

"Why?" trembled Caughlin, eyes still shut. "Why?"

"Don't you know?" She felt herself being lifted again, and they drifted to what she assumed was the center of the trough. "Don't you? Tell me you do, Caughlin. You inspired this, after all."

"I have nothing to do with your sick magic!" screamed Caughlin, nausea dizzying her as she tried to break free of the invisible grip once more. "You don't make ponies kill themselves, you just don't!"

"But I didn't!" protested Discord, raising his paw. "I swear! They did it on their own accord! Don't you see, they're acting in the exact opposite of their personalities. It's only to be expected."

She stared at him furiously. He nodded and continued.

"You see, all this while, I've been causing chaos. Storms. Earthquakes. Explosions. Physical outbursts, wrecking physics," he said, waving a claw. "I've been doing that for the past millenium. It's been boring, I have to admit. Frustrating, even. But then, on that day with the alicorn - Celestia - I found something greater, so much greater! It was beautiful. Not even splitting the world in half could come close to what you showed me, dear Caughlin." His eyes narrowed, and his grin stretched wide. "It was you."

"Me?"

"Ripping out your horn, taking out your characteristic, toppling your essence into breaking down," sighed Discord happily. "That was true chaos. Absolutely destroying a pony's thaumics, just taking one part away, and letting the pressure do the rest. The sensation, what I saw that day, has never left me. It was genius, it was art. I fell in love." He straightened up and gave Caughlin a pat on the head. "So, I ran away. I was close to death, but I had also found life. I had found something new to do and I was so happy! Do you know how boring it is, just being hated and being angry in return - but true, true fear like never before!" He wheezed and coughed spittle all over her face. "I escaped, of course, to the distant regions to test my new designs out. These, here, are the fruit of my experiments. But I never managed to get the same effect as I did with you."

The mysterious force lifted Caughlin's head up to face Discord once more, contorted in a thoughtful frown.

"You see, Caughlin," he said, swishing her around like a doll, "not many ponies were like you. They only had one characteristic, and when I took that out, they died awfully quickly. There was no spiraling descent. There was just collapse. Then, I got to thinking - what if 'characteristic' doesn't just mean thaumic signature? What if I could twist about actual characteristics of ponies?

"I searched long and hard, my dear, for good specimens. It took me many tries to find the right frequency, but I managed to - I found how to corrupt ponies, to twist them and bring out the exact opposite of their strongest, defining feature." He pointed to the squabbling side. "Those ponies, their main feature was leadership and unity. They held their tribes and communities together. So I reversed that, and they have become the most disagreeable bunch you can ever find, save Canterlot parliament. On the other side, you have the survivors - ponies whose first and foremost skill is living. The survivors. I thought hard about them, and I can remember a few faces in there. Familiar, almost, but you get the idea. The ponies whose abilities were living became ponies who were adapt at, well, dying. It's beautiful...

"And yet - " Discord stroked Caughlin across the belly, leaving a painful scratch, " - none of them are quite like you. An incomplete being, yet stable, yet not. Have you any idea what you look like in the thaumic realm? It's as if you're a jelly perched on a point on the highest building in Equestria. It's amazing. So much potential for chaos, but still in order. How is that so?"

Caughlin simply spat at him. He wiped it off his snout and laughed.

"Oh, Caughlin. You haven't changed, have you?"

"Neither have you," hissed Caughlin. "When the time comes, I will dance on your grave, I promise you this."

Discord sighed and stretched himself. "And here I thought that we were going to get along so well. You're the perfect embodiment of chaos, exempting yours truly, and I've even dreamed about you. So, so beautiful."

"I can safely say that I don't think the same way about you," retorted Caughlin.

"Perhaps. And now, the question - what to do with you? I could try and tear apart another of your characteristics. Or I could corrupt you into an opposite of yourself. So much to do, however there's only one of you. It's such a pity," lamented Discord, plucking a feather out of each wing. It stung, but she could not even twitch. The binding magic held her rigidly. "I could try to clone you... clone you! That's it!" To her horror, his face lit up with glee. "Why, I could just make copies of you, and we can have all the fun in the world - "

There was an explosion and an angry hiss as something hit Discord from behind. He dropped Caughlin, and she felt the magic suppressing her loosen. She charged forward, taking to the air clumsily, flapping as far away from him as she could.

"Mommy! Mommy, you're safe!" shouted Luna, suddenly filling her sight. Caughlin collided with a mass of midnight blue and tumbled in the air, only to be guided back down to solid ground. She was squeezed tightly as the alicorn breathed down her ears, whispering: "I'm so glad you're safe. I'm so glad. Oh, Mommy, you're safe..."

Caughlin broke away, heart pounding, and turned to see Celestia battling the spirit tooth and nail, or, to be precise, horn and hoof. She was decked in shining, gold armour, and her horn was aglow with a dark red aura she had never seen before. Even her hooves were seeped in an aura, every punch and kick burning with magic. The other thing different about her was the immense pressure Caughlin felt when looking at her. Thaumic pressure, even - looking at her triggered the same burning sensation looking at the skies did.

Even so, as she strained to watch the battle, Celestia had yet to land a single hit on Discord. He dodged, twisted and even segmented his body to avoid the attacks, giggling all the time.

"You're so predictable, my love," cried Discord. "Come on, try something more creative! You'll never get me like this!"

"Go help her," said Caughlin. "She can't do it herself."

"I... have orders on that." Luna's voice was low, her gaze still fixed keenly on the fight.

"Orders? What do you mean?" started Caughlin. "She needs you!"

"I will go when she needs it," said Luna stiffly.

"She does need it! What are you saying?"

Celestia's shriek shot through her ears, and snapped her attention back to the fight. Discord had jabbed a talon just above the chestpiece. Blackness began to ooze out of the point, dripping as she thrusted and kicked. It stood out obviously on Celestia' bright coat, and that Caughlin all the more nervous. She cheered as Celestia fluttered back and sent a blast spell, catching him on the tail. Discord snarled and leapt forward, only to receive a faceful of fire. That did not seem to deter him at all; he leapt into the air and swung his paw giddily. A bolt of blue lightning slammed into Celestia from the skies, and she stumbled, firing off another spell but missing wildly.

"Go on, Luna! Celestia is going to die if he keeps this up!"

"Yes, Mommy."

Caughlin felt her breath catch in her throat as there was a loud flicker of surging magic. She turned hastily to find somepony different altogether standing beside her.

She was pure black, with a strangely ethereal mane and tail that distorted the air around them. She wore dark blue armour and a helmet with hid her eyes, filled with the cool, cold confidence of certain power.

"L-Luna?"

"The project name," said the alicorn levelly, "is Nightmare Moon. It has an edge to it, you gotta admit. But yes, I am Luna. And I will defeat Discord." She turned to the battle and gave her wings a testing flap. "This ends here."

Caughlin stared as the supposedly-Luna flew forth with surprising speed, a black smear that rammed itself into an unsuspecting Discord. She leapt back immediately and started pelting spells at him, streaks of blue and black that contrasted significantly with Celestia's red and white ones. She could see them moving their mouths, but their words were lost under the explosions and the primal roar that shook the earth. Discord raised himself up to his full height and flew up into the clouds.

He was no longer smiling.

Fire and lightning coursed down from the brewing clouds, and Caughlin found herself running uncertainly, caught between chasing the fight and escaping the apocalypse. Luna and Celestia drew together and, after a brief moment, sent a joint spell that spiralled into the heart of the cloud. Deep black and bright white mingled and disappeared into the clouds, followed by a shockwave that cleared the skies with a boom.

Discord hovered above, back to the sun and blue skies, and fired what Caughlin could only describe, in size and sheer power felt, as a decageas, straight at the pair.

The two countered with another joint spell, but it was not enough. The beams slammed into each other, Discord's ray of blue pushing against theirs slowly but surely. Suddenly, it surged forward, engulfing the alicorns, and blew twenty feet of dirt, rocks and debris into the air like a geyser as it struck through the air.

Discord waited for a moment, searching the floor. Behind him, out of the earth, two figures burst out and rammed into him from behind.

Caughlin found herself shouting and trembling as they rebounded and exchanged another wave of spells, diving back and forth. Discord had yet to teleport, she noticed; perhaps, again, he simply had not thought of it, nor was he in the mind to. For the first time, Luna was leading, aggressively firing off spells at a faster rate than Celestia, and her spells were slightly larger, too. The altered form, whatever it was, was supplying her with tremendous power.

"Project name is Nightmare Moon," repeated Caughlin. Project? Wait... project? That means -

Another explosion, and Discord fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Caughlin only now realized that the screams and shouts of the corrupted ponies were absent, and they were the only two left in the trough. The Order must have taken them away.

"Oh, my," giggled Discord. "Will you look at that?" He picked himself up from underneath the rubble and stared at the two above. "It took me a while, because I was just so happy to see your mother, but is that you, Luna? It can't be. You were even more a bore than Celestia. But look at you now. Can you even see yourself?"

"Silence," hissed Luna/Nightmare Moon, but that only elicited a fresh burst of laughter.

"You're the failure, Luna!" shouted Discord gleefully. "That older sister that couldn't! Yet now, that power that flows through your being, it isn't natural! You can't even control half of it!" He grinned, his horrible smile returned, and he shook his head. "You've become so much like your mother. I'm proud of you."

With a beastly roar, Luna/Nightmare Moon waved to Celestia. Their bodies glowed, dark auras on a blue, cloudless plain, and sent a giant beam of magic down. The earth shook and Caughlin took to the air, beating her wings to stay upright. Even from this distance, Caughlin could hear the clatter of wreckage, and somewhere on the sides was the sound of a lot of wood splintering.

The dust settled, and the three remained flying. A thick silence came and covered them. Nothing but the pumping of her heart and the beating of her wings was heard.

"Mother!" called Celestia at last, making her way down tentatively. "Mother, he's not moving! Come on!"

Dodging patches of dark liquid bubbling on the earth, Caughlin made her way across the trough. She could not help but bite her lip as she approached the impact zone; the spell had left a gaping, smoking hole, the stench of hot materials and magic tickling her nose. In the hole, striking a curious pose, was Discord, and yet...

"Stone?" blurted Luna/Nightmare Moon. Her voice had changed too, and it wasn't just the tinnitus. It was sharper, more curt.

Celestia wordlessly levitated the statue out of the hole, rapping a hoof on it. "Feels like stone."

"A stone statue? But where is he then?" asked Luna/Nightmare Moon.

A moment's quiet passed before Caughlin finally spoke up. "Discord had a saying, once. Before you two were born. He used to brag about his exploits, but there was something he used to lament about. He used to say, 'It's a pity you can't kill stone'..."

"Challenge accepted," snorted Luna/Nightmare Moon, rearing around and giving it a buck strong enough to break a wall.

The statue toppled without so much as a scratch.

"Seriously?" Luna/Nightmare Moon flew up and stomped down, giving the other two barely enough time to get away. Her hooves met the statue with a clang, and Luna stumbled back. "Ouch! Damn it all!"

"It's probably not just ordinary stone," mused Celestia.

"Gee, you think?" asked Luna, rolling her eyes.

There's something unpleasant about that form. Caughlin prodded the statue gently. "Luna, can you change back?"

"I... don't know."

"What?" Caughlin stared at her. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, I don't know!" Luna bit back.

"What is this, anyway? Some sort of release?" The words hit her a second later. A release. In Luna. Furhich!

"...yes." Luna/Nightmare Moon lowered his voice, but there was still an inherent arrogance in it. "It's a special kind of release, a lot different from Celly's - "

"Who put this up to you? Furhich? It's definitely him," said Caughlin darkly.

"Mother, it's - " stammered Celestia, but Luna/Nightmare Moon shoved a hoof in front of her.

"It was my choice," said Luna/Nightmare Moon coolly. She held her gaze solidly. "Uncle Furhich suggested to me that I have it installed. It would be a failsafe against Discord. And it was. Mommy, don't you see? I - we - beat him. We did! We've saved Equestria!"

"Can you turn back?" hissed Caughlin. "Can you, Luna?"

"I... I'm sure I can," replied Luna/Nightmare Moon. "I'm sure of it. It's a release, right? It can be switched off."

"You better wish that it can," mumbled Caughlin. Even Luna had a release. Since when? And she agreed to it? Even Luna? Does she even know what it entails?

Her thoughts were cut short by the buzzing of wings, followed by a tsunami of the loudest cheers she had ever heard. Around them, Order ponies appeared as if in awe, whinnying, whistling and stomping their hooves with the gusto of hope. Discord had been defeated, apparently, and they were heroes, but it was with a hollow heart that Caughlin was led back to camp.

First Celestia, now Luna. Both of them bound to the release locked in their bodies forever. All for the sake of this battle. We beat Discord, sure... but it doesn't feel like we're free just yet.

At least Discord is... whatever he is. Trapped in stone? Turned into stone? Just, I have to wonder whether he's the only monster we have to deal with.

At least Discord's defeated. We won.

19: Enter the New Era

Celestia was nothing but a large white light now, too bright to even glance at, and yet Caughlin could not pull herself away. She could feel herself going blind, but yet there she was, her eyelids torn between instinct and will, her pupils shrinking the smallest they had ever been as they tried to pick out the last traces of her foal - or what was left of her, as they stood off on the top of Central Tower.

"Ultima."

The aura that engulfed her distorted Celestia's voice: louder, lower than her already imposing tone, crackling like static electricity.

Caughlin's throat had long been drained of words or the strength to deliver them. Her hooves were rooted in the ground. Her mind was blank. The heat from the spell was searing her face, but she didn't care. She did not even have the spare thought to attempt to will herself to move. She was lost in the flames, in the terrible radiance of the most powerful magic she had ever seen.

Everything had gone wrong, and there was nothing she could do any more but watch.

The burn of spent adrenaline kept Caughlin's mind fogged as they shuffled through the list of post-victory priorities. The first was what to do with Discord. Furhich suggested cautiously that he be carted back, escorted by half of the team, with twenty-four hour supervision maintained at all costs. Nopony opposed. The ponies of a stronger disposition salvaged beams and hinges from the guillotines and crafted a wagon; Caughlin would have appreciated the ingenuity and engineering skills at work, if not for the double whammy of nausea and weariness her body was reeling from. There was something more stirring underneath the sickness, but she was past caring. All she wanted to do was get a drink, a long, hard drink, and pass out. She had never done so before, but if so many ponies were talking about it so eagerly, it must've had some merit.

There had also been discussions about what to do with the survivors. This she tuned out almost flawlessly. Celestia was there, and so was Luna. Doubtless they'd know what to do. Or rather doubt regarding their judgement would have to come later. Even though their bodies were wrecked beyond repair with accursed magic, Caughlin could still hope that they were the same underneath. They would surely oppose taking the easy way and disposing of the corrupted ones, as Furhich would certainly suggest.

Nightmare Moon. Nightmare Moon! Luna had installed something like that in her, something possibly irreversible, and behind her back, too. Since when? Caughlin cursed herself for being so naive. Her coma, her time off, her days spent on basic work, all of it was carelessness, a time for Furhich to act out every whim and fancy of his. Not just Celestia's indoctrination, but now this too. If only - if only she hadn't gotten herself hurt, somehow, if only she had been there...

Luna was pacing about a lot. The aura about her thrummed incessantly along with the irritated flicking of her tail. Irritated, and impatient - it was a side of Luna that Caughlin remembered seeing only during her foalhood. Why that was the case Caughlin didn't know. While she would have loved to be back in her room immediately, everypony was working as fast as they could. But the shortened lease made Caughlin annoyed too, and guilty for feeling annoyed.

Her foals had just saved Equestria. There would be no more death and suffering, no more scalpel showers or barren lands. Discord was sealed away, albeit to an undetermined degree, but a very sturdy rune system would fix that. The potential for the future was unlimited. But the grand opening of the new era wasn't dispelling her worries. It was not a grand beam of light and hope that pierced the heavens. Nor was it the overwhelming river of pride that drowned out her fears.

"Do you mind?"

"What?" Luna virtually snorted the words.

"Stop pacing about. And flicking your tail."

"Well, sorry, Mother."

She felt drained, yes, irked... but most of all she felt alone.

There were plenty of good reasons for that, if she looked hard enough. Discord easily made up half of those. The things he had done to her mental state, the cold touch of his claws, it could all very well add up to her current situation if she wanted it to. But that was turning a blind eye to the truth, a truth that she would figure out when she had the energy to - if she wanted to - a truth that she was not sure she wanted.

It was their choice. Nopony had forced them to do what they did, she knew. Celestia and Luna were all grown up, and had acted accordingly. They had weighed the benefits and disadvantages of their options, surely, before agreeing to - she couldn't think of it any other way - sell their souls, and it wasn't like Furhich of all ponies had strong-armed them, because he couldn't. They were the two most powerful magic powerhouses on the surface of the earth. And his memory hex had no power over them.

They shouldered great power and now great responsibility, no doubt to increase as the days went by, and the world was to be reconstructed. They would go on to spearhead great things. It was their destiny. They were living it here and now. Even if Celestia was now under Furhich's command, and Luna had that... thing inside of her.

There was more bustling. Caughlin let her eyelids droop and close, and felt her legs buckle. It was almost a relief to drop, as the last sounds of surprised shouting faded into peace.

They were flying now. Caughlin had been bundled into a stretcher, supported by two pegasi. Left with her own emptied reserves, she would have fallen out of the sky not five minutes into the journey, so she certainly wasn't complaining. She tried to relax, staring at the gloomy skies above. Bad positioning had left her with a sprained neck muscle. She rubbed it gently, wincing as she breathed deeply.

For the rest of the trip, Caughlin did not leave her airborne hammock. She slept most of the way, for a given value of sleep. Restless lethargy, like - with - a fever tormented her. She would dip in and out of awareness to hear the flapping of her bearers' wings, the gentle hush of wind, the rustle of mane as she curled and straightened her back, and then, after hours, not hear. She would feel cold and shiver, but never sneeze - she did not drink enough water for that, on account of usually not being awake when breaktime rations were handed out. How the rations were given out was a point of mild interest; as far as she could tell, they had never stopped to land. This was true. The small force that carried the party replenished its strength by changing shifts with fluid ease. Caughlin noticed as much without being told. After all, when the bright red mane tickling one's hooves vanished the next day in favour of a sensible aquamarine crew-cut, there wasn't much explanation aside from a change in shift.

The pegasi who carried her spoke little. Caughlin didn't have much to say.

Even so, rest was rest, and Caughlin felt well enough to fly for the last leg as the city outline came into view. She did not fly with the alicorns who led the way, but opted to hover above her stretcher, just in case she were to cramp up or somesuch.

As the deserted city came into view, so did a rippling, murmuring, blinking group of ponies. An entire city of them, in fact, and the noise of their collective muttering engulfed her hearing as it flared up, only to suddenly drop, and she felt her heart catch mid-beat.

There had been a moment of silence as they landed, and Furhich stepped forward, flanked by the alicorns, to receive one of the ponies from the crowd, who had extended a hoof. There had then been cheering, a thunderous storm of whooping, shouting and stomping. There had been flowers. There had been water. There had been hugging and kissing and the stench of sweat. It was, as with almost everything, all a blur when Caughlin tried to recall it.

Later on, via the first newspaper ever to be published in Equestria, Caughlin would read the exchange Furhich had had with the pony: a certain Mooncast who had been Acting Mayor of Central in his absence. The short of the dialogue was that the ponies of the Order had decided to stay and await Furhich's return, and would have no other leadership but him to rebuild the world post-victory. Moonshine passed the reigns graciously, and was awarded the post of Assistant Mayor. The second page was devoted to Furhich's own speech, which he gave not ten minutes after landing. It was everything a returning speech should be. It mourned losses. It highlighted victories. It promised hope, redemption, the future, and called for all ponies to rally in unity.

"The best," Furhich had so emotionally bellowed - she remembered him shouting unintelligibly over the crowd - "is yet to come!"

The cafe was well-aired, possibly due to the gaping hole in the roof or the multiple smaller ones in the windows. Most of the glass, plaster and thatch had been swept away, though the ground was still grainy with sawdust. Amazingly, the electric fan still worked; wobbling dangerously, grimy with black mould, its blades rotated from the ceiling, casting a very localized tornado upon the centre of the space. Between the counter and the rows of ale kegs behind it was the barkeeper, wiping ceramic bowls. He cast an eye toward them every now and then, but was largely ignored.

Caughlin took a deep sip of coffee and sighed. It was the first one she had had today, and she needed it.

"You look pleased," snorted Pickedum, taking a gulp of her own, only to slam the mug back on the table hastily, tongue out. "Argh!"

"Too hot?" smiled Caughlin. Her vision brightened veritably with the drug down her throat, and she took in the streams of sunlight coming from the closest window. It was nothing more than a frame now - Caughlin felt a faint urge to run a hoof across its double edge, where a sheet of glass should have been.

Pickedum nodded and stirred the drink with a vengeance. "Since when did you have a tongue of steel?" she asked. "You used to demand your soup at thirty-five degrees Cel, no more."

"Since a long time ago," said Caughlin, clenching the mug. It was comfortingly warm. "Lost most of my taste some years back." She took another sip and raised an eyebrow. "Village coffee's one of the few things which I actually can taste."

"Oh dear," said Pickedum. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," said Caughlin, waving a hoof. "It was a while ago anyways. Stuff happens. Either way, I've learnt to really appreciate the spirited foods in life. Like chilli, that stuff's great."

"Gosh," said Pickedum. "I'll be sure to ask the cook to put in extra salt for you for dinner."

"What? No. That's not necessary. Extra salt's bad for you. Raises the blood pressure. I'm sure your mayor duties give you enough of that." Caughlin finished the cup and waved at the barkeeper, who nodded. "Although you're doing a fine job. Everypony seems happy."

She turned to look at Pickedum, who was peering through her spectacles in a data-reading kind of face - at her.

"What?" asked Caughlin warily.

"What?"

"No, what?" Caughlin shook her head. Talking with Pickedum was a small art in itself of dodging dead ends and deep ruts, and this small moment was the beginning of one. She waved at the barkeeper again. "But I was saying - the ponies seem to be happy, everypony's got a roof over their heads, got work in the fields. Employment is one of the key criterion in the Administrative Index, I believe."

"But the storm - "

"Ah." Caughlin nodded sagely. "Did anypony get hurt?"

"Well, no," admitted Pickedum, "but they might have! I mean, I should've made precautions for it, an emergency fund, pegasi patrol, or something!" Her eyes were now fixed on the bark-like table surface, and her breaths became sharp. "The Gentles' roof is completely gone, half the cows have ran off, and we don't have enough gold to buy the materials..."

"Pickedum," said Caughlin, reaching over to lay a hoof on her shoulder. It made her uncomfortable, but she tried to swivel both her eyes to meet her watery gaze. "That's all right. You can fix it. That's what you're here for, remember? It's just a matter of time. It's no problem."

There was a napkin next to her refilled cup. The shopkeeper was already back behind the counter.

Caughlin picked it up, examined it quickly, found a passably clean corner and dabbed the mare's eyes with it.

"You've handled worse," soothed Caughlin. "Storms come, but they also go. Organizing things is what you're good at, and your town needs you. So don't worry about it. I know you can do it."

"Caughlin..." sniffed Pickedum. Her shoulders jolted with every sob. "There's... there's families, and f... foals, and winter's coming s-s-soon, and if we don't get the walls patched up, they'll f-freeze..."

"Which is why you need to fix it." There they were again, back in the underground laboratory, after a particularly hairy experience with Discord, or a failed experiment, or a nasty accident; there was the voice, calm, warm, gentle, believing. After all that had happened, even after Pickedum's assignment to mayorship, there were still things that hadn't changed. "You can do it. I know you can."

For a few moments, Caughlin sat there, stretched across the table, rubbing Pickedum's shaking shoulders gently, sniffing the coffee, listening to the dying sniffles. Poor Pickedum, ever both bright and dreary. Wasn't it that one time when she spilt acid over a set of stone samples because the beaker was cracked -

"I'm sorry," murmured Pickedum at last. "You came to visit, and I end up like this..."

"No," said Caughlin. "There's nothing to apologize about." She gave a little pained smile. "What's family for?"

After morning tea, Pickedum rushed off to the office to draw up a set of recovery plans, and Caughlin wandered around, soaking in the sights. Once her eyes adjusted to the glaring light of day, it was easy enough to see everything.

Neighbury was, like its partner initiatives, a strategic town along the Steelbone mountain ranges, fairly young in its establishment as the nation of Equestria expanded its borders. It was a mining town which produced coal and iron ore; its residents were the poor but honest kind, large, burly stallions weighing a hundred stone and their wives and children. The little details of the town fascinated Caughlin: for instance, the doors were taller and wider; the walls were often hewn stone, a byproduct of mining; the air was slightly smoky as lunches were cooked; children played outdoors all day, wrapped in rough cloth. The hail from the storm had melted completely, leaving the ground muddy and pocked with pools, the surface rippling every so often as thin, stick-like insects dipped in and out of them.

It was hard to believe that all of this had once been wild grassy hills, but that was progress.

Pickedum had been the spearhead of said progress, and it warmed Caughlin's heart to see how far she had come. From raising the first houses to digging the first mines, and all of the logistics - disgustingly complicated logistics - in between, Pickedum had the first and final say, and a good deal of the running about between that too. She had done all her work with the assistance of a couple of intern greenhorns, one of which couldn't take it and had herself transferred back to Central, and the other of which was currently in hospital, having sustained a heavy blow to her head in the storm.

Before arriving in Neighbury, Caughlin had already paid visits to Freohead, Hoofington, and Marmalade Cove, all under the mayorship of promoted former R&D members. She still had two more towns left on her list. Six in total, not counting Central. The rest of their family had either retired or passed away, untraceable, scattered across the map.

There was a faint "Wh" at the end of the list, which she had written, remembered, then rubbed off with one of those amazing little blue erasers that removed ink. Rubbing ink off - who knew, though it was more of a grinding action. That was progress.

As her hooves sunk into yet another puddle, and a few more villagers cast yet more glances to her - always to her eyes, which she replied with no more than smiling nods - she let her mind drift. How long had this town been established? Four years, she remembered. Shortly after Caughlin's appointment to the Cabinet, just when she would have made the most of having Pickedum as an assistant. She heaved a sigh and walked on.

It was all but a distant dream, but the short of it was that now she was free.

All those years ago, not one week of returning to Central, by virtue of right, Caughlin was appointed to the administration group simply called "the Committee", chaired by Furhich and staffed by a select few, including Celestia and Luna, but they had never attended a single meeting during Caughlin's two-year tenancy - they were tasked with scouring the soil for any remaining traces of Discord's corruption, and were sent in opposite directions to work, and that was, admittedly, more important. It was the first form of pony government in Equestria, and she did feel honoured to be part of it at first.

The rest of the Committee set to work drawing up plans - plans for infrastructure, plans for growth, plans for farms, plans for laws. The Constitution, the heart of what would be Equestrian law, took two weeks of full-day meetings to prepare, and not one of those days passed without somepony shouting at Caughlin. Quite a few times it was the other way round, too. She did not share the generals' ideals of what Equestria was or should be. Where they saw ponies dying, ponies training, ponies learning military discipline, Caughlin could only see Surprise, huddled with a faceless family in a dirty tent and shifted away every two weeks.

Furhich, surprisingly, was quite passive, until against all odds he voted in favour of Caughlin's propositions. He had done so with that small smile of his. Nopony missed it. The generals fell in line with blank expressions, and their two-against-nine minority morphed into unanimous support at the request of a final confirmation.

That day... Damn, that day. It had been recorded in the history books as a momentous occasion, and rightly so, but Caughlin remembered it for a different reason. That day, watching the generals bend in place with a mere twitch of Furhich's lips, she remembered what had been just a nagging feeling up till then...

As soon as the session adjourned, Caughlin ran to the apartment block she was staying in and knocked frantically on Sky Singer's door - it was the closest - her hooves clapping down the silent hall and her eyes stinging from fatigue. The mare in question walked out, looking drowsy, and received a mouthful of paper for her troubles.

"Caughlin?" mumbled Sky Singer through dry pulp, blinking. Even in her underground days, Sky Singer possessed unusual calm and collection, always easing into events with that sleepy grin of hers. Caughlin had never seen such a consistently well-rested mare in her life.

"Chew," said Caughlin, panting. She noticed how the ink on her hooves, still wet, left a smudge on the doormat, and tried to stand on it as inconspicuously as possible.

"Mmm?" The confusion in her eyes was parting through the haze of fresh consciousness, but she was already obediently munching. "Strawberries?"

"Yeah," said Caughlin. "Thought it might make it better."

"Still tastes of paper," Sky Singer somehow managed to say with clarity.

"Sorry," said Caughlin. There was a brief moment before she added, "I'm, ah, sorry for calling you out so late."

"It's nothing," murmured Sky Singer happily. "But what's all this about?"

"Any moment now," whispered Caughlin.

"Hmm?" Sky Singer asked, before the answer struck her.

There was a small fizz, like an old can of soda being opened, and Sky Singer's eyes widened briefly. She spat out the paper, which had turned blue, and watched the wad, mouth agape, with flat disbelief.

"Uh," said Sky Singer.

"Uh indeed," muttered Caughlin, frowning heavily. She could feel her facial muscles tightening into a grimace, and she shut her eyes to think. Slowly, as the results sank in, she loosened up and slumped on the floor, burying her face in her legs to hide the giggle forming in her throat.

"What?" said Sky Singer warily.

"I'm... I'm fine," said Caughlin. The giggle had turned into an enormous pressure welling in her chest, and she was not sure which she wanted more: to scream or to cry. "And so... so are you."

Furhich's memory hex was unique, as all Discordian talents tended to be. The thaumic energy harnessed its own leyline, and its signature was, as such, definitive - testing for that signature was the only thing required to prove presence, unlike general spells which were powered along the more common leylines and often got jumbled up in one another, making distinguishing difficult and repetitive. With the right adjustments, runes could be programmed to read the presence of Furhich's spell and react in a rudimentary manner, often the changing of colour. Deciphering the code was a project Caughlin had taken to before their fight with Discord - she couldn't remember when, but all of the notes were still there when she finally collapsed into her room.

Blue meant absence. And the paper Sky Singer had spat out was blue.

The memory hex was no longer in place.

The next day, Caughlin organized a quick get-together, and quite a few of the family met up in a cafe for tea. A series of carefully-worded questions, vague enough to avoid suspicion, indicated that they still could not remember much, but by then who could blame them? It was well over ten, fifteen years, possibly even twenty now. Nopony had bothered to keep count. Not when the very existence of tomorrow was as uncertain as the exact number of digits of pi, with Discord around.

But that was then, and this was now. It took Caughlin a while to accept it, but eventually, she did. Her family was free from the mind control, and they were all safe, sound, and happy. That was good enough...

Something hard bumped into her, and she broke out of her reverie, consciousness rushing back to the town road of Neighbury to look up at a burly stallion, light brown coat stained with soot. He had, despite his hardened jawline, bulging muscles and menacing pickaxe across his shoulders, soft eyes, which regarding Caughlin with as much insulted rage as a rabbit might regard a nice little flower.

"Sorry," mumbled Caughlin, and stepped aside, briefly catching an "'skay" as she quickened her pace.

For a while, the tints of budding grass between stones and earth and snow were all she saw, a blur of colour blended with the laughter of children. Time seemed to slow. Her heartbeat grew louder, slower, pumping in her ears with stubborn determination. Then she took a deep breath, and the shapes and borders of tangibility reasserted themselves, and she could feel the cold again.

Her lip curled, and she sucked on it. It was dry and slightly cracked, judging from the sensation on her tongue, but she couldn't feel much of a sting.

She wondered where Celestia and Luna were, and whether it was cold over there, wherever they were. Whether they could feel the cold. It had been the next thing to go after her taste.

Oh, but of course they could. They were stable, thaumically and most other kinds of -ly. And they were not old.

On better days, Caughlin would think wryly to herself that the six years she had spent in government had aged her to who she was today, but she knew that wasn't the case. She was, now, objectively old. Never mind the fact that she could qualify as a collector of old-sounding titles, from (former) Senior Executive to Mayor to - and she had a soft spot for it after all those years - (former) Head of the R&D Department of Equestria. Or the fact that she was a mother of two grown mares, which would make anypony feel old.

Only Sky Singer knew about Caughlin's visitation list, and she had asked: "What are you going to do after you've visited all those places?"

Caughlin had replied honestly, "I don't know." But unspoken was the feeling that it was because, after that, there wouldn't be anything to know.

A week later, they came.

Caughlin was in Pickedum's office, helping her to dust her folders, when a slam rang out from downstairs. She frowned and headed towards it. She was halfway down the stairs when a flurry of scuffles broke out, followed by the creak of floorboards, and then the doorway burst open, filled with white alicorn.

"Celly?" started Caughlin, dropping the duster and stepping back. Her heart leapt. The last time she had seen her was five months ago in Central, just before setting out on her town circuit. Celestia's coat was brushed spotless and her ornamental horseshoes and tiara were gleaming with polish. The sight of her in full height was astounding, especially in the confines of the aged office.

"Caughlin Mare," said Celestia, with lofty eyes and imperious tone, "you are under arrest for high treason against Equestria's government!"

Caughlin's mind went blank. There were no words she could say; she had trouble processing the words she had been given as it was.

"Celestia," she could hear Pickedum squealing from downstairs, "this isn't funny - "

"Silence, citizen!" boomed Celestia, giving her wings a flap. The mound of dust Caughlin had swept up whipped into the air. "Or you will be charged with impeding justice!"

"I don't care!" Pickedum's voice was steadily building up into a scream as armoured pegasai made their way into the office. "Celestia, all of this is nonsense! Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Guards," said Celestia, the moans trailed off amidst heavy scrabbling, a few thuds, and the occasional clink of metal. She focused her gaze on Caughlin once more. "Resist, and force will be applied."

"Celly," managed Caughlin when she found her voice. "What is this?"

"You," repeated Celestia, with definite annoyance in her voice, "are charged with high treason against Equestria's government. You have been found guilty of plotting the murders of Equestria's prime minister, and its princess." At the last word, her voice faltered slightly. "We found the plans in a secret area in your old apartment, as well as correspondences with fellow rebels. You will come quietly to receive your punishment."

In response, Caughlin simply frowned and stepped forward, looking full in Celestia's face. Steps filled the quiet as she made her way down. Celestia looked dead serious, but the way her pupils jolted at the last moment betrayed something underneath. She was as far removed from her old self as possible; it was almost as if she was acting like a stranger.

"What on earth are you talking about, Celly?" she asked quietly.

"Don't call me that!" bellowed Celestia, so loud that Caughlin's ears rang from recoil. "You're supposed to... you're... you..."

"I?" asked Caughlin helpfully.

"Don't lie to me. I saw the letters with my own eyes. The recorded conversations... your voice..." Celestia shut her eyes, as if trying to remember, or perhaps forget. "You... You said I was too dangerous, you said that you wanted the power, that you would have me dead than stay in the government..."

"I said no such thing," said Caughlin sternly, "and you're not why I quit my job. You know that. I told you why."

"No," said Celestia, and despite her swallowing hard, she still couldn't keep the tremble in her voice. "What I know is the truth. And now what you need to know is justice."

Her expression hardened, and it was quickly wiped out by the flash of bright light that followed.

Cold. Biting cold. In her hooves, around her mane, her neck, her belly. All over, she was shivering. Under different circumstances, this would have been a good thing, but now it only served to put her on edge. She next tasted her lips to find it dry and covered in salty, stony grit; she spat it out hurriedly and got to her hooves.

All around her, the colours glazed and swirled, and Caughlin could only breathe deeply and blink until her vision returned to normal.

She was standing on tiled ground, drenched in the orange and shadows of the early sunset. It took her a while to register it, but only one place had been so singularly unique, the way the shadows crawled and how the sun seemed so off-level.

She looked up to see Furhich and Celestia standing some ways away, watching her. She looked behind her to see the civilized world spread out at her hooves, masked in the towering shadow of the building they were on.

A few feet away from the balcony, behind her, was a glass of water.

"We thought you might be thirsty after the trip," said Furhich on cue. "That's for you."

Caughlin walked backwards carefully, her eyes not leaving the pair. She reached for the glass and very deliberately poured the contents on the floor. Furhich shrugged.

"It was clean," said Furhich.

"Which is more than can be said for you," said Caughlin. "You have a minute to explain just what the hell is going on. Celestia!" She moved closer and shifted to the side so that their figures partially blocked the soaking red sun behind them. The glare was definitely not helping. "Explain yourself!"

"No," said Celestia, stomping a hoof.

"No?" Caughlin frowned and looked at Furhich, who was impassive. "What do you mean, no?"

"You heard the charges against you. You know why you're here," said Celestia coldly.

"No, I don't!"

"Oh dear." Furhich finally moved to speak, taking his steps slowly, dramatically. Strutting. "Allow me to enlighten you then." He made a gesture to clear his throat, even though there was probably nothing in there. "We found, Caughlin, a set of plans outlining the means to dispose of Celestia by disrupting her thaumic union during the solar eclipse. It was in your old apartment, and it was signed in your name. Are you aware of this?"

"No," said Caughlin, as the nerves in her brain began to surge with dread. "You know damn well I'm not."

"We also found letters addressed to the former members of the R&D department, asking for their help in executing the plan," continued Furhich. "Are you aware of this?"

"No!" shouted Caughlin. She shook her head furiously. Her blood was boiling. "No, because they don't exist! Celestia Mare, I don't know what you've been hearing, but whatever this rot is, none of it is true!"

"You are correct," whispered Furhich with a smile. "None of it is true. But Celestia believes it to be so. Oh, how long I've waited for this moment." He turned to glance at Celestia, who was standing stock still, expression unreadable in the harsh backlight. When he turned back to face Caughlin, his horn was aglow. "Simply put, dearest Caughlin, I've won."

"What," seethed Caughlin, bracing herself, "do you mean?"

"Oh, don't worry," smirked Furhich, and as he walked closer, she realized that he did not look as if he had aged one bit. True, he still looked senior, but not as ancient as he should have been. But where age would have mellowed his features, there was instead a deep, dark hunger lining his mouth, his nostrils. They flared, burning with dark vitality, but the thing that said it all was that smile. That unchanging smile that she had seen for the past few decades, in so many circumstances, yet always the same. That evil smile. And his eyes seemed to glow yellow...

"Allow me to show you a relic," said Furhich. His horn flashed briefly, and a necklace materialized itself. It was a simple thread-and-pendant affair; the pendant was a small black crystal, its details obscured by his shadow. He lifted it with a hoof wistfully. "Tell me, Caughlin, do Discordian abilities work now that Discord is gone?"

Caughlin rolled her eyes. "I'm not playing along. I'm leaving - "

Pain shot up her wings as a sharp force struck itself down her back, and she fell with a shriek. Furhich's horn was glowing.

"Tell me, Caughlin," he repeated, "will Discordian abilities work now that Discord is gone?"

"Of course not," gasped Caughlin, her eyes squeezing shut. "Now that reality isn't unstable, we can't render it anymore as we please..."

"Not quite true," said Furhich, taking a step forward. "What makes reality unstable? What gives us our extraordinary powers? Discord's essence - discord itself." He hummed to himself, seeming pleased. "For centuries Discord has stretched himself to and fro across the face of the earth, and he leaves a bit of himself wherever he goes. Think of it like skin flakes, or dandruff. Such is the case, and why Discordian abilities are so widely spread. The... the prerequisite, the gateway to our powers is in the very earth itself."

Caughlin strained at the force. It had gripped her very muscles, locking them - she couldn't even flap her wings. "Which is why you had Celestia and Luna go everywhere to temper the magic of the world."

"Also not quite true," grinned Furhich, and now his smile was widening to an extent she had never seen before. "No, I had them do that as part of an experiment. You see, what we discovered is that the ponies themselves are marred with discord." He turned to the balcony and swept across it with a leg. "Even though we swept the land clean, there were still traces of the gateway. While Discordian powers were weakened, they were not removed. And these traces were concentrated highest in Central itself, the most densely populated region in Equestria. You and I are tainted with Discord's essence; you and I and everypony ever in contact with Discord contains his propensity for chaos."

Caughlin bit her lip. He had a point, but what did this have to do with anything? Maybe if he talked long enough, he might forget himself, and Caughlin could barrel him over the edge, if only she could break free...

"You are special," said Furhich, and now he was just a few steps away from her. "You are amazing, Caughlin Mare. You have undergone such amazing transfigurations and evolutions that you stand alone in the hierarchy of ponykind." He looked almost sad, the way his eyes drooped and his voice melted. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and we could have done so much together..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" hissed Caughlin.

"The Discordian essence within you is strong," said Furhich, "and so is your grasp of leylines. I'm not talking about unicorn magic - I'm talking about your understanding. Your natural talent for it." He laid a hoof on his heart. "You contain also the essence of Earth ponies and pegasi, giving you unparalleled control over the elements - and I am certain that somewhere within you is the root of your horn." He stood up straight and raised a leg to the skies. "Given enough time, you could very well recover your powers and gain so much more, and because the alicorns were made, tempered to be pure without inbred chaos... You could surpass them as well, since you have that unlimited potential of chaos. And what would I do if that happened?"

"I don't know," shouted Caughlin. "I don't know what the hell is going on!"

"You do!" Furhich hissed. His horn pulsed with the fluctuations of his voice. "You are brilliant and you've come so close so many times to thwarting me! If you regain your powers, all will be for nought! You will ruin Equestria!"

At that moment, the grip loosened. Caughlin lunged forward, catching him in the neck like a shot. The next moment, she found herself paralyzed in mid-air, surrounded by a golden glow.

He coughed furiously. "No, no, I cannot let you do that," muttered Furhich, getting up and pacing about in circles. "All of this, all of this will come to fruition, it must. Equestria will rise again, and the world will be at peace." He stopped, took a deep breath, and when he spoke, it was in his usual, grave tone again. "Do you know what it takes for peace?"

"I'm certain it doesn't involve you," shot Caughlin. Have to escape. Gotta find some way somehow! Celestia, help me!

"You are wrong," replied Furhich. "I am the only one who can achieve the best for Equestria. I have lost my family, my only son, and so I know loss. I have fought. I have rallied, and failed, and watched countless ponies die. While there are many that understand how to achieve peace, only I have the power to do so."

In the distance, there was a faint rumbling, like heavy machinery moving into action several kilometers away. Aside from the rumbling, the only sounds now were their breathing and the whisper of wind, as the sunset slowly gave way to night.

"Tonight is a full moon," said Furhich quietly. "Now that it is positioned favourably, it will be our anchor for the spell that will free the world. You have designed a decageas before. Now, you will witness the greatest spell in the history of ponykind: Ultima." He trotted forward, each step heavy and even. "Celestia will activate her final release and power up the spell that will scour all ponykind of the Discordian essence. Then, she will fire a spell that revives them with fresh memories, fresh, untainted memories that will allow them to live in harmony."

"You're insane," Caughlin said at last. "Scour? Revive? It almost sounds like you plan to wipe out all life."

"Put crudely, that is what we are going to do," said Furhich, nodding. "We are going to wipe out all life and revive them, but cleansed. This is the only way we can remove Discord's influence for good."

"You're insane," repeated Caughlin.

"No, no," said Furhich. "I am simply doing what must be done. For the good of Equestria."

"Celestia, are you even listening to any of this?!" screamed Caughlin. "He's going to kill everypony! Your family, your friends! And you're just going to go with it!"

"She won't hear you," said Furhich. "She is under my control now."

"Now that one I know is crap. Your powers don't work on her."

He lifted the pendant once more. "This," he said flatly, "is a drop of Discord's blood."

The gears in Caughlin's brain fired up and whirred. "No," she whispered.

"Yes," nodded Furhich gravely. "The sheer strength of essence in this crystal has multiplied my powers a thousandfold, and is the only way I could possibly wish to liberate the whole of Equestria at once. You'd love it," he added. "Instead of endless oppression and death, the ponies of the world will now believe in some wonderful folk tale about pilgrims and ice things called 'windigos', and how the ancestors of ponykind set aside their differences and banded together to escape and live in harmony. With such a beautiful history carved into the culture they think they have, the propensity for harmony will be so much more higher. Don't you get it?" He lunged forward, snout pressing against Caughlin's. "Ponies will never trust each other with this kind of history. History has taught them to fight and to war, not to hope. But by changing history, we change culture, and we change the future. Don't you get it?"

"You're despicable," said Caughlin. She would have spat in his face, but the magic held her tightly. "That's not peace." Inside her, a warm burning was stirring in her belly. She could feel her thaumics acting up - of all the times, of all the bloody times!

"Perhaps not," conceded Furhich, easing up. "But it is the closest we have to it." He looked up at the skies and nodded. "It is soon. Celestia - "

There was another rumbling, this time right underneath them, and then a yell and a heavy thud as Celestia was suddenly knocked down. Her horn flared up, and the light revealed Luna, decked in armour and the form of Nightmare Moon, her horn also ablaze with a dark glow that seemed to warp the space around it.

"Mother," panted Luna. "When I heard from Pickedum I rushed over as fast as I could..."

"Princess Luna," rallied Celestia, getting up into a defensive stance, "you are under arrest for high treason and aiding a public enemy! You are advised to submit, or necessary - "

"What's gotten into her?" snorted Luna, rolling her eyes. "Mother?"

But Caughlin was already across the floor, grappling with Furhich, whose horn was flickering green and black.

It was so simple. All she had to do was pummel Furhich into the ground, and possibly destroy the crystal, and -

"Activate release nine-nine-nine!" wheezed Furhich, aged hooves scrabbling and just barely brushing Caughlin's hooves away from his face. "Celestia, this is a direct order! Activate protocol five-seven-six!"

"Yes, uncle Furhich," murmured Celestia, and the floor lit up with red lines.

With a surge, Furhich heaved Caughlin off himself, and she broke into a tumble. From the corners of her sight, Caughlin saw how the lines curved into circles, how the small squiggles formed signs, symbols, words...

"Activating protocol five-seven-six," rang Celestia's voice, almost robotic in how casual it sounded.

The lines flared up even brighter, blanketing her vision with burning red, and Caughlin could see Luna's face twist into panic as her wings spread out but failed to flap...

"I am sorry, sister," Caughlin somehow heard, as the light swallowed up the last visible corner of her eldest foal.

There was a scream, and the light vanished, taking Luna along with it.

It was just the three of them now.

"What... what did you do?" Caughlin whispered hoarsely. "Where's Luna?"

"She has been banished," said Celestia, head bowed. "Uncle Furhich predicted that Luna might return to commit treachery, so he planned a forced teleportation system in advance. Using the Messinger-Hayley runes, combined with a standard - "

"Shut up, Celestia!" roared Caughlin, charging up to her in a half-run, half-flight that ended with a resounding slap to the alicorn's face. "I'm asking you where is Luna!"

"She has been sent to the target destination," said Celestia quietly, failing to meet her eyes. "The moon."

"The moon?" Caughlin stared at Celestia, who was still looking at the floor. "The moon?" She looked up at the object in question, unveiled and lonesome in the sky. "The moon? What do you mean, the moon?"

"Celestia," coughed Furhich from behind, "release nine-nine-nine!"

"Affirmative," said Celestia softly, and her body glowed pure white.

Before Caughlin could do any more, an immense pressure flattened her to the floor. She heard hoofsteps slowly trot to her side, and then his voice:

"This is it, Caughlin Mare. This is the dawn of the new era, and it will be the last thing you see!"

"Ultima."

As the light engulfed her, Caughlin closed her eyes, and, for the first time in a long while, let go.

There was the sound of a stone plopping in the water, and then a warm, warm sensation, like somepony hugging her, and the next moment, Caughlin was crying.

The light faded. Caughlin's eyelids still burned red and black, the shapes twitching like bacteria.

Luna... Celestia...

It was still unbelievable, even though she had watched it happen. Wiping out the entire race? Ressurecting them with false memories?

And yet she could still feel herself crying, and that tight, almost constricting hug. She couldn't remember the last time somepony had hugged her, but it was comforting, even if it made her cry. She buried herself in it, wrapped her arms around it, immersed herself in that grasp.

There was no thoughts. There were no monologues. There was no imagery, no memories resurfacing, not even tangible emotion. There was simply the urge to cry, and it took over her completely.

When what felt like hours had passed, she opened her eyes, and eased back to see - if she could still see.

"Hi, Caughlin," said Whooves. He began to sniffle, and his eyes watered. "I... I promised myself I wouldn't cry, but..."

The hug tightened.

Caughlin never found out what the end of the sentence was, but that was fine.

There was nothing else to say.

1: Enter Caughlin Mare & Whooves

The Life and Times of Caughlin Mare

Discordian Era, year unknown

The babble of activity rose and fell like the sea - at least, the sea that the books had described.

It was on the director's stand that Caughlin stood, a balcony of sorts that oversaw the large den of operations. Compared to the vastness of the den, her figure was diminutive - unassuming, non-noteworthy blond mane and gray coat nearly blending her into the shadows. The den was cluttered and buzzing with various activities as usual; in one corner, a few ponies were examining a sample of cotton candy clouds, and in another corner, others were prodding at a curious crystalline material. It was a pity, she noted, that they could not afford to split the space into separate rooms - she caught herself wincing too many times in a day whenever somepony carrying something very fragile nearly collided with somepony else doing the same thing.

In the far end she could see her own workplace, a large, cylindrical glass-walled chamber, in which pink trees were growing inexplicably from the stone ground. She tapped a hoof impatiently as she waited for the unpredictable yet certain - was that an oxymoron? - visit of Discord, ruler of Equestria. Handling his visits was part of her job. As lead researcher, she was responsible for taking care of the projects' integrity, and that meant distracting Discord from them. Having near-completed her own project - the examination of reality bubbles, from whence her cutie mark originated - she could afford to spend her time off it.

She rubbed her eyes and magicked a clipboard to her side. The group was small, about ten ponies, crammed together into an underground facility, and as comfortably settled as it sounded. She could faintly remember the above world, but knew nothing of it; everypony in the Laboratory had been taken down here from childhood, and had lived here since. Not that it bothered her; she enjoyed science and research, and the new understandings they unveiled regarding nature despite Discord's permanent mark on it.

She read off the clipboard. Team 4 was to present their results on accelerating grass growth by tomorrow, something she looked forward to. It would definitely help keep Equestria's ponies fed, considering Discord's latest boasts about turning whole fields of soil into worthless sand.

A field of sand. Scorched earth. Flattened forests, or forests driven wild with chaos. So different from her home, and she was always thankful for that. The Laboratory was simply space hollowed out underground, sub-divided into the main hall, where they all were, and bedrooms that branched out from the hall. The walls were smooth and fairly clean; it was reconstituted rock, easier to clean and walk on than rough bedrock or soil. Experimental bulbs lit the place brightly, recharged every time Discord made an entrance. The excess magic that flowed off his body was tapped and harnessed by hidden nodes. Not that Discord didn't know of them, of course, but rather for aesthetics' sake the spindly, ugly things were embedded into the walls, out of sight.

So neat, organized, engineered. Caughlin wondered whether the day would come when Discord would undo all of the work they had done on making the hole livable, just because...

Speaking of the devil, there was a loud crack next to her. Carefully, daintily, she turned and bowed.

"Lord Discord," she murmured. Her heart was pounding; it had begun.

"My dear Caughlin," said Discord, smirking. "Well, well, well. What do you have for me today?"

"Well, as you know, we've been working on the consistency of your cotton candy clouds," said Caughlin, leading him down the steps to the ground floor. She tried to ignore the faint sound of slithering behind her. "We believe we have found the empirical composition of the clouds, and the relation to their retention of the chocolate rain. This in turn lets us delve into finding the rain seed crystals,which is very fascinating." They drew up to the table. The other ponies watched, their expressions blank.

Discord yawned loudly and stared at the sample hard. "And this means...?"

"Well, we should be able to make the clouds under controlled conditions," said Caughlin, her eyes firmly on Discord's floating hooves. She could not bear to look at the rest of him, let alone his face.

"Hmm. So if I were, say, to do this to Canterlot..."

Caughlin looked up in horror as Discord waved his arms. A mirror appeared mid-air, showing the town of Canterlot from afar - shoddily built thatch-and-stone huts, surrounded by patches of tilled soil. A translucent cylinder glimmered around it, locking the residents firmly within its confinement.

"...you would be able to make it rain inside?"

"Y... yes," said Caughlin. "With enough materials and some more research, yes, we could."

"What about raining other things? Like frogs?" Discord waved his arms again, and Caughlin watched on as the heavens opened to shower Canterlot with frogs. The villagers were quick to run, but their houses were flimsy at best. She saw tufts of hay crumble and even walls collapse as the amphibians fell on and through. Even when the ground was nothing more than a vibrating green carpet, the barrage did not stop, as the cylinder began to fill. Even though the den was deathly silent, she could imagine the screams and yells of ponies as they tried to hide, escape, live for another day. She could not see if the frogs were normal or otherwise. She hoped, full of dread, that it was not the latter.

"Yes, like frogs. But we need more research for that, too."

"Ah well." With a click of his fingers, the cylinder disappeared. The frogs, though, did not, though they seemed all too willing to spread out and away. "The prospect of ponies being able to cause chaos is so wonderful, Caughlin, but you make it so boring and methodical. You're not getting the heart of it right at all," said Discord disappointingly. "You hear me? Loosen up. Improvise. Let chaos do the work."

"Yes, lord Discord," said Caughlin, her face set like stone.

"Good. Carry on, then." With another gaze at Canterlot, Discord disappeared in a puff of smoke, and the mirror crashed to the floor.

Caughlin shook her head and swallowed a lump. The other ponies silently tread towards her and gave her a hug.

"I'm okay, everypony," said Caughlin quietly. "Get back to work. Somepony please clean up the glass. I want that out of here." She walked back to her own station, shutting her eyes and letting the images crash freely through her memory - she had stopped trying to forget a long time ago. "Somepony could get hurt."

A few days later, Discord re-appeared. This time, he had brought somepony with him.

"Caughlin? Caughlin!" said Discord, annoyed. "Where is she, that ditzy mare?"

"Yes, lord Discord?" asked Caughlin, trotting up to the stand from her work area. Discord rolled his eyes and poofed both of them in front of her.

"I don't really have time to join you today, I have an uprising to quell," said Discord. "But I thought I'd drop this pony off first. I found him in a corner of Manehatten. I find him interesting. Maybe you want to take him apart or whatever, surprise me. Now I'm off." As abruptly as his entrance, he left, leaving the two to talk. Curious heads turned towards the newcomer, though he was too busy staring at his shaking hooves to return the gazes.

Caughlin considered the newcomer. He was a light brown earth pony with a dark brown mane, blue eyes and an hourglass for a cutie mark, which immediately perked up Caughlin's interest. She stepped towards him, but he shied away.

And then... she hadn't stepped towards him, but he was even further away now, scrambling up the director's stand. Wait... what? Did I just miss something?

"Hey, come back down here! I'm not going to hurt you," said Caughlin, sighing and walking slowly up the stairs. The pony did not respond, opting instead to paw at the solid wall. "Look, if you just stop, we can talk this out reasonably-"

And then she was back at the base of the stairs, with the feeling that she had said something even though she had not. She paused and stared at the pony, frowning.

"Oh, I get it," said Caughlin, and lowered her horn. A shimmering bubble enveloped her and she made her way up the steps again. The pony watched her and squeezed his eyes, as if trying to use magic without a horn. Yet, nothing was happening to her; she advanced almost menacingly. He yelped and hugged the edge of the stand.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," said Caughlin, "but test my patience further and I most certainly will. You have a very unique ability there, by the way. I'm impressed."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" shouted the pony. "Let me out of here!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," she replied grimly. "First off, Discord put you in here. If he comes back and asks for you, and you're gone, he'll wreck hell in here."

"So? I don't care!"

"But we're just trying to help, you idiot!" She lunged at him suddenly and pushed him off the ledge. He screamed, only to be caught in levitating magic just before hitting the ground. Holding him firmly in place, she trotted back then, bubble gone, and dropped him. "There. Yelled enough?" Then, as an afterthought, she raised her head. "Get back to work, everypony. You've had your fun."

"I just want to get back home," whispered the pony.

Caughlin sighed and put a hoof around him, startling him. "There's a second reason I can't get you out. None of us have ever been let out since we entered. This place is tens of feet underground, and only Discord has the ability to come in or out."

"But you're a unicorn, aren't you?" he cried. "Can't you teleport?"

"Discord disabled that particular part of time-space in this area," said Caughlin. The pony's head tilted, or perhaps trembled. It didn't seem like he understood, which was a shame.

"Speaking of which, I know why you're here. You have the talent of time manipulation, don't you?"

"I..."

"Don't deny it, I'm no filly when it comes to these things." She helped him up and extended a hoof. "I'm Caughlin Mare, head of the R&D department of Equestria. And I sincerely swear on my horn that I will not harm you, nor will I let Discord harm you. You're safe in here, safer than above at least."

"How can you be so sure of that?" spat the pony.

"Because Discord likes us," said Caughlin, venom in her voice. "Everything we do, the inventions and the science - he doesn't need them, and he couldn't care less. All he wants is something to do, and we're a product of that. Somehow he finds us amusing. He keeps us here like pets because he gets a kick out of it. Don't ask me how, he just does. We're perfectly sheltered in here to do whatever we like because instead of causing us pain, he wants to watch us scrabble around like ants in a jar." She relented, and sat down, tired from the struggle. "I'll tell you more, but we have to get things straight first. I need you to settle down."

"I'm...Whooves."

"Just Whooves? No first name?" asked Caughlin.

"Yeah," said Whooves, shuffling uncomfortably.

"Well then. Since you're now part of the only circle of educated ponies in the whole of Equestria, sad as that may be, we can call you Dr. Whooves!" joked Caughlin. This drew a chuckle from some of the older ponies who had been around during the inception of the televising machine. It was an invention of the R&D department, used in communication and broadcasting; it had spread quickly, and the many shows and series were a solace for ponies everywhere from the daily chaos that raged around them. Discord had allowed their use until he found out that they were being adapted for rebellion communication, and had destroyed them all in a flash.

Whooves made a face. "But I don't know anything! I didn't even go through Elementary Pony Ed!"

"Don't worry, you'll learn," said Caughlin, giving him a smile and a pat on the head. "But in the meantime, I'll show you to your quarters, get you fed up. The shock of everything must be too much for you. Just relax for today, and we'll talk more tomorrow."

When Caughlin went to fetch Whooves for supper, he was fast asleep. She figured it was the assault on all senses, physical and mental, and decided to just leave him some bread and cheese. The best part about living in an underground facility was that there were no pests to steal unattended food. She met up with the rest of the ponies in the middle of the den, where a large table had been set up. Meals were often cooked on Bunsen burners and served on petri dishes, due to the lack of room for normal tableware. It had taken all of Caughlin's persuading ability to get Discord to make bedrooms for them, each with a functional toilet. Still, she did not mind. From the occasional glimpse of the Discordian world above, she gathered that her life was nothing short of luxury.

When the food was ready - it was amazing how they managed to get the giant corn cobs cooked - Caughlin nodded, and everypony ate. The table was quiet with the absence of talk of ponies who spent nearly every waking moment together, and were possibly spied on by Discord. After dinner, they cleaned up with a combination of magic and experimental chemicals, and proceeded to "recreation" - reading, or less demanding, personal projects, or in Caughlin's case, sky-gazing. Her experiment chamber had a tube that led upward toward the sky; it was through this tube that she learnt about the chaos in the balance of nature, day one moment and night the next. A few times it had been both. She was content to sit there, looking through the tube at the changing scenery, letting her thoughts run free.

"So, what are you doing?"

Caughlin turned to see Whooves. "Looking at the sky."

"What's so interesting about it?"

"Well, it changes a lot."

"Yeah. Yes, it does."

"Did you have a good rest?"

"Yep."

"Did you have something to eat?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Uhh. Okay," said Caughlin. She realized at that moment that she was not good at small talk. Who was? There was no need for small talk in the den, only research and discovery. Science. Yet she felt bad for not being able to entertain Whooves, for there was nothing else she could do.

"Hey, uh, Caugh... miss?" asked Whooves after a while.

"Caughlin."

"Yeah." He was still not looking up. "Thanks for everything. I must've acted like a complete idiot just now, losing my head like that. Can I?"

She followed the point of his hoof and nodded. He sat down, leaving a noticeable gap between them - which she did not object to.

"Nah, it's okay. I think I can understand," said Caughlin. She gave the sky a final glance and turned to look at him porperly. "Mind telling me a bit about yourself? Unless you've got something better to do."

"I don't think I do, miss," said Whooves, smiling for the first time. "So, I'm Whooves, and I was born in Manehatten..."

6: Enter Furhich, Leader of the Order of Order

Every day's schedule was the same as yesterday's, and tomorrow's would follow soon after. Even so, Caughlin woke up a happier mare than most.

With a bit of levitation, she would carry a sleeping Luna to her bubble chamber, modified yet again to become a monitoring area, now that they did not have to feed her through tubes. She was starting to grow fond of her old workspace, and felt... something every time it was re-purposed. There were days when she found it hard to believe that it had been nothing but a simple hollow cylinder a long time ago, looking at all the wiring going to and from it, like the Medusa of glorified cans - she found herself even giving it nods from time to time, and caught herself before the words "Thank you" could leave her lips.

The amateur psychologist of their team, one thirty-something pegasus named Hanselphil - where he had found his theory text on the subject, devoid of author, publisher, and reason was a mystery - had teasingly said that it was "anthropomorphism at work in an increasingly un-objective, trauma-veered mind seeking"-something or other. She had asked him to spell anthro-whatever, and left the more smug of the two.

Even now, she felt herself smirking as she opened the door of the chamber. Intellectuals.

Connecting the probes to Luna was a delicate but well-practiced task. Her vital signs, growth rate and physical details were examined, recorded and cross-examined. Then she was woken up to wash up and eat - the foal slept surprisingly well, and Caughlin supposed that it was because of the higher demands imposed by her augmented body.

While the rest of the team filed in and got to work, Caughlin would take the alicorn to a side for schooling alongside Whooves. Reading, writing, 'rithmetic of suitable levels for the both of them, and it was not always certain which would be the more irritable of the two on the day. Lessons went on until an hour or so before lunchtime, where Luna was to learn to develop her wings and Potential. They were passively used skills, compared to magic; it was agreed that spending the formative years learning them would provide a stronger base for Luna to build her unique magic on.

After lunch, they would run a series of tests, followed by playtime and tea. A bit of light reading before bed, and Luna would be too tuckered out to continue.

It had been nineteen months since Luna's alicornification. She was the demure sort and fit in perfectly with her surroundings - she engrossed herself in new knowledge and asked a lot of questions, but said little of her own accord. Just as well. Caughlin liked that in her.

"Mommy, what's 'field'?" asked Luna, looking up from her sketch book with wide eyes.

"A field is an area around something," answered Caughlin, waking from her reverie. She looked at her own notes, where a careless hoof had smudged out half a page of derivations. She bit her tongue before an unsavory word could roll off it, and added: "Luna, I've said it before, I'm not your mommy, okay."

"Then what are you?" asked Luna.

"I..." That's the golden question, isn't it? She reached down and ruffled her mane. "Well, we're all your family. Everypony here. But I'm not specifically your mommy."

"Why can't you be?"

Because that would be selfish, thought Caughlin, wondering just who had taught her the idea of a mother - could it be that foals had some kind of innate sense of the concept? Perhaps Hanselphil's hobby wasn't completely useless after all, if it brought insignificant yet relieving answers to silly questions like that.

The alicorn was alive and functional - well, for a developing project - thanks to everypony's efforts, even the scientists at the Oh-cube. The unique attention was not hers to hog. It made her feel guilty, especially when the other mares cooed and joked at how jealous they were of her. Just because she was the one taking guardianship over her - and that was just because she had the most free time! - it didn't mean their importance in her life should be diminished. She felt that they should have credit too. And then there was the matter of Whooves... she winced as she thought about that. She was lucky that Luna didn't call him "daddy", or the embarrassment would drive her to resign.

The kiss wasn't even a kiss. It was just a playful peck. That was the story Caughlin was sticking to, and she meant it. And it was in the rush of the moment, at the peak of their euphoria. The period after the party had been the most non-threateningly awkward situation she had ever been in. She was older than him, his tutor and guardian of sorts as well. How could her colleagues think that there was something between them? Maybe for the heck of it, answered Caughlin, sighing inwardly. She remembered the soap operas of the past, and those questionable discs old Macquaire Pie had stashed away back in the days when he was not so old. He had seemed awfully flustered when she had asked him about it during her foalhood...

Professional. Just be professional. Caughlin smiled as Whooves trotted over. "Morning, Doctor."

"Hey," replied Whooves, returning the smile without any trace of subtext - at least, not until she searched harder.

"Good mowning, Wooves," said Luna brightly.

"Morning, Luna." He sidled over and kneeled down. "What's that there?"

"Basic magical field theory," replied Luna proudly. "Mommy's teaching me theory."

"That's awesome, Luna! You'll grow up to be a brilliant pony," said Whooves, letting the foal indulge in attention.

Whooves had responded to Luna surprisingly well. Instead of seeing her as competition, he had taken a great liking to her.

Wait, competition? She tried to restore some of the work while Whooves took over the foal, but the obscure relations were fading in the face of silly thoughts. That's not right. Whooves isn't a kid. Of course he wouldn't see competition for my attention... She stopped and stared hard at the lines of variables, nested in layers and layers of brackets . Not that my attention has anything to do with it. Don't get so full of yourself.

She felt a stare around her ear and turned to face its source smoothly. "And how about you, Doctor? Have you done your reading on individual element control in a time-shift field?"

"Well..." Whooves shuffled uncomfortably. "I can do it, the element control shifty thing. Isn't that good enough? It's not like I need to write it a letter of approval or something..."

"Whooves." Caughlin shook her head, chuckling. One thing had not changed at least. "It isn't enough that you can do it, you have to know what you're doing. You have to understand what the effects are now to determine what'll happen after. Or in your case, what the effects were to the effects today, or... ah, bother. You get the picture."

"I drew a picture," said Luna happily. "It's Mommy and Doctor and me and everypony eating cake."

"That's nice, Luna. Now get back to reading. We'll have a small quiz soon-"

There was a loud crack. Luna, who still hadn't gotten used to it, ducked behind Caughlin, letting out a choked scream. Caughlin half-hugged, half-patted her quickly, motioning for her to stay before trotting up to the new entry.

His visits had been fairly few and far-between, so it was with wariness that she took in the situation: Discord had brought yet another new pony. He was an old unicorn stallion, with greying mane and a dark brown coat. He seemed unfazed by everything, oddly, with an expression of stone. He, she noticed just before Discord spoke, was not staring at the ground, but levelly at her.

"Caughlin," greeted Discord quickly. "Spare the pleasantries. I just want to drop him off here before I forget or lose him. You may find him less fun that that other one - yes, you - that I brought over. He doesn't say much. Found him trying his hand at teleporting, and got stuck halfway through a rock, would you believe it! He was worth at least a laugh, and I know I need those." He gave the pony a nudge with a claw that jolted him a couple of feet forward, to his surprise. "I'll just stick him here. Maybe the next time I return he'll do it again and I can have another. Now excuse me, the ponies in Canterlot are getting restless from the relative lack of chaos in the lives."

"Ah - I'm sorry, relative?" asked Caughlin, thinking quickly. It was always like this - if they could shift Discord's boredom, they could prevent another bout of disaster. It wasn't much on the grand scale of things, but every little bit counted.

"Yes. It's almost sad. I focus my eye on someplace else for two weeks, beyond the Great Sea. They form a committee. Of all things, a form of government!" The top hat that had materialized on his head was thrown away just as fast, hitting a wall and disappearing in a powder-filled poof. "They're trying to organize their agriculture and construction, and already they're plotting how to kill each other. I swear, if I stopped doing anything for a month, when I come back things'll be no different, because you ponies are just so good at destroying things." He was popping up and down in various places as he went on; he was usually restless, but today more so. "But hey, there are you guys, and you seem perfectly whole to me, so there's an exception. Anyhow, I should really get going. I think I can sense a hurricane coming about in those parts." Before Caughlin could say anymore, he left in his usual burst of light and smoke.

All attention focused on the newcomer. He took a short bow, and raised his head.

"Hello everypony. I am honoured to meet you. And you," he said, turning to Caughlin, "must be Caughlin Mare. Grey coat, blond mane. Clearly the authority here, judging by the way you hold yourself. It is a pleasure."

"Same, I'm sure," said Caughlin cautiously. "So, you know my name from what I look like. You seem perfectly at home being here. Might as well settle it: any surprises we should know about you?"

"Only one," replied the stallion gravely. "I am Furhich, leader of the Order of Order, and I am here to oversee the progress of Project ALICORN."

Caughlin paced about in her room, horn aglow. Bubble after bubble grew, popped, grew again, painting and wiping away the shade of pink on her vision. She was fuming. She briefly remembered something about Luna being coaxed to take her nap in Whooves' room instead. It wouldn't have done either of them good for her to see her so angry.

She thought of Furhich again, and let loose another sphere, larger than the previous. It burst with an almost-satisfying bang. How dare he. How dare he!

Furhich had wasted no time with introductions. A brief nod, and he requested to see the alicorn. Luna was brought forward. He did not like what he saw. They began to argue, Caughlin trying to reason with him while he ranted on about resources and opportunity cost.

"It's been over a year!" Fuhrich bellowed, looking like something had snapped inside. The drastic change in demeanor had been stunning, to say the least. "Me and my ponies have been cantering all over Equestria just to stay alive, goading Discord to buy you time, and this is what we've been waiting for? A little blue foal that shies at strangers? This is supposed to be the champion against Discord? I thought the results you gave us were all positive!"

"Aren't they? What sort of rock have you been living under? Don't your scientists tell you anything?" retorted Caughlin, rising to the taunt. "You of all ponies should know that it would take a long time. Twenty, thirty, maybe even forty years for Luna to reach her peak powers! She's just a child, Furhich! She needs to grow like any normal pony!"

"It's not the growing part that disturbs me, it's the ridiculous rate at which it's going! Can't you do something to make her mature faster? She's just an experiment, after all, not even a regular pony, just dose her with something and-"

The rest was a blur. She had "seen red", the most basic instinct of equines when faced with immense rage. Maybe it was the complete buffoon Furhich had been that had triggered it. Maybe it was the fact that he was insensitive enough to say all of that in front of Luna. Maybe it was because he had brought up that one, unpleasant fact that Luna's ultimate purpose was to fight and defeat Discord, not to be a child to play with - the uncomfortable fact that everypony would rather leave at the back of their minds.

One thing was sure. She would not have blown up if she did not care about Luna. There was a little comfort in that.

So now I know what I think of her. All I had to do was let her and all of my team be insulted by some... some schizophrenic old coot!

The next few moments of outrage were only a smudge on her memory. When she returned to sentience she was locked in her room with a note that read: "Just cool off for a while. Luna's okay. Don't worry. -Whooves". And that was exactly what she had been doing. Cooling off. She was just not very good at it.

But even so, said the voice of second thoughts, that hated voice - Even so, to act so callously and violently in front of everypony... Have you no self-restraint? Are you too a child?

There was a knock on the door. "Is it safe?" came Whooves' voice.

"Safe enough," snarled Caughlin, feeling her horn ache. "You can come in now."

The door was unbolted, and her student stepped in. "Gee, Caughlin. I never knew you could kick like that," he said in awe. "You sent him flying, did you know that?"

"No. No, I don't. Can we never speak of this again?" moaned Caughlin, sitting down on her bed. "I feel like an utter meathead, Whooves. I'm a pony of science. I may be boiling furious now, but I shouldn't have resorted to physical violence."

"I think you landed a pretty good blow, there," admitted Whooves. "A bit lacking in speed, though for strength I say-"

"Whooves! How could you?"

"If it wasn't you then it would have been me!" replied Whooves hotly. "Or any other pony who's taken Luna as one of us! There's no way we would have taken that lying down."

"But the thing is, Whooves... he's right, in a way," said Caughlin remorsefully. "Think about it. Put yourself in his horseshoes. They've been on the run for their whole lives, Whooves. And they're depending on us to make a brighter future. " She gulped as she pronounced the words slowly. It was bitter medicine. "That sort of expectation shatters pretty hard, you know."

When he did not respond, Caughlin tried to go on. "Not to mention he's the leader. Everypony looks up to him. Who knows how many ponies are putting their hope in him? And he's put that hope on us."

"Caughlin. Listen to me," said Whooves, trotting up and gripping her shoulders tightly. "He's him, all right. Fine. But you're our leader. Family. And we've put our hopes in you, and I promise you, nopony's going to think any worse of you for doing what you did. Disappointed, maybe, if you didn't, but the fact remains that you did." She could hear, smell his deep breaths as he stared into her eyes pleadingly. Then he looked away. "Even if you could have kicked him a little lower in the belly, that would have been hilarious."

Caughlin blinked, mouth open slightly. Then she managed a tiny, pained smile, and drew him into a hug. But no more than that, she thought quietly. Exercise some self-control, dammit.

They left and checked up on Luna, who had just woken up. Caughlin lifted her tenderly in her hoofs and cuddled her. "Are you okay, Luna?"

"Yes, Mommy," whimpered Luna, trembling. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"What for, sweetie?"

"For making you angry." Luna sounded like she was about to burst into sobs.

"No, no, Luna. It's okay, it's okay," soothed Caughlin. "You didn't make me angry, Luna. It's got nothing to do with you."

"The new pony said my name."

"Fu - ignore whatever the new pony said," said Caughlin, kissing Luna softly on her horn. It felt like she had a cold. There was clamminess in her throat as she continued. To get sick now of all times was just her luck. Because that's what it is, of course. Just sickness. "I... love you, Luna, just the way you are. And don't ever, ever think that I won't. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy." She could feel Luna shift in her arms. "I love you too."

She glanced at Whooves, who bit his lip and smiled.

It's the little things that matter, she recalled herself saying. She just wasn't sure how many of those little things they would have left now.