Daring Do and the Alicorn's Shadow

“I don’t like this.”

Daring took a bite of her sandwich. “Oh, I agree,” she said after swallowing, “I didn’t pay five bits for stale daisies!”

Tabula Rasa gave her an exasperated glare, which Daring ignored as she continued to munch on her lunch. It was late in the afternoon, and Rasa was tired and hungry, so she let it go in favor of eating her own meal.

Daring had shown up in her office just as the clock struck two, and after a brief trip to the cafeteria they sat down on the roof of the Department of Mathematics. Daring seemed to find one of the gargoyles there endearing and always insisted on having lunch under its shade. Rasa had hypothesized long ago that Daring just loved being able to take off her cumbersome dress gown and let the breeze blow through her tan coat. Rasa didn’t mind: it was a cloudy afternoon with minimal wind and almost nopony else was ever around. She had been hoping for a relaxing lunch with conversations revolving around mundane things for once, but Daring seemed to want her around for professional reasons.

“Hey, can I try your soup?” the pegasus suddenly said. Rasa had bought a bowl of very thick, red soup, a new recipe that the cook was experimenting with that had almost sold out. “What’s in it, anyway?”

"You sound like my sister when she was five years old: 'Hey, Tabby, what's that? Ooh, can I try that?'" Rasa said with a smile. As she levitated the spare spoon that she had brought, a rare impulse came to her. Speaking of little sisters…

“Tabby, you do know that pegasi can’t use—” Daring clamped her jaws shut tight when the spoonful of soup hovered a hooflength away from her muzzle. Rasa almost laughed at her friend’s eyes nearly crossed trying to stare it down. Daring said, “You have a weird sense of humour, my friend. This is, what, my tenth time saying it?”

Rasa’s lips twitched in a half-smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just complying with your request.” For good measure she let the spoon fly around like she had seen fussing mothers do. "Say aaahhh."

Daring glanced at the door to the roof, and sighed when nopony burst from it. “I’m so going to get you back.” She snapped her jaws shut around the offending silverware. “Yuck!” she said after getting the spoon out of her mouth, “that’s so not worth it. Darn it, egghead.” She chugged down most of her water. Rasa couldn’t help but laugh at Daring’s antics. The archaeologist pouted, but soon admitted defeat and gave a chuckle or two.

“Is it really that bad? I thought it tastes okay, except with this exotic tangy aftertaste to it.” To prove it to herself, Rasa took a sip. She ignored Daring's exaggerated grimace. “I should really ask the cook what precisely he put in it.”

“Well, one pony’s treasure…” Daring’s eyebrows wriggled, as though they could finish her sentence for her. She took another bite of her sandwich.

“So says the pony who puts salt in her water,” muttered Rasa. Louder, she said, “As I was saying, I don’t like what you just told me.”

“Hmm?” Daring swallowed. “What’s wrong? It sounds straightforward to me.”

Rasa huffed, setting her bowl aside. “Besides the obvious—“

“Actually, nothing’s obvious to me about it.” And she looked and sounded completely serious, too.

“So you don’t think that a forest that is still uncharted in this age, where pegasus magic has no hold, and where unspeakable monsters that make earth pony and unicorn magic look like a child’s trick is not in the least bit obviously dangerous?”

Daring took a full second to parse all that out. “No? I mean,” she added hastily before her friend could launch into a full rant, “yes, it’s dangerous, but so were all my other adventures, and I'm still here.” She pointed at her flank, where the yellow compass rose shone proudly. “That’s my talent and my name, remember?"

Rasa resisted the urge to grind her teeth together. "I will submit that by now you have demonstrated your talent and experience enough to show that you are indeed the best pony for the job. The obvious point that I have mentioned aside, I don't like how little evidence you have in hoof before galloping off."

Daring shrugged. "The mayor of Ponyville swore up and down that if the boy said the sky was falling down then we'd better burrow. The helmet is a little sketchy, true, but I still think that the contradictions are too well crafted for it to be a hoax. Not to mention the fact that Dr. Flash Point apparently found an interesting arcanic behaviour where nopony is supposed to be—aha!" Daring tilted her head, staring at Rasa. "You're making that face. Is Dr. Point your point of contention, then?"

Rasa stared back. She was quite confident none of her facial muscles had moved in the past few seconds. "I think that there's something simply wrong with trying to prove two hypotheses in the same experiment, each of which is dependent on the validity of the other.”

“Really? The Dean made it sound like… here, I’ll tell you what she said and then you can tell me if that’s true.” Daring stood up and physically slid into her veritable perfect lecturer of the capital’s university mode, Rasa realized, and smothered a giggle just in time. Daring cleared her throat and began, “Physicists theorized, and only fairly recently experimentally proved, that there existed particulates smaller than atoms –in fact that they are the building blocks of atoms. In addition, it’s been known for some time that any use of unicorn magic releases a different–quark?–that’s totally detectable but short-lived.” She paused, as though waiting for Rasa’s approval.

“Not the quark, but the boson that forms when the quarks collide, and you’re simplifying a great deal… but do go on.”

“Right. So Dr. Point discovered another boson that is not only very detectable and long-lived, but he also has a thingymagic that can measure the halftime to estimate either the intensity or the age of the spell that generated the boson.” Daring frowned. “I think. Oh, and this thingymagoo detected a spell either very old or very powerful going off in the Everfree Forest at the approximate time the colt was out there. Dr. Point and the Dean thought it would make for a conclusive data for his theory.” She cocked her head to one side, her lecturer persona slouching off. “You’re making that face again.”

“And you keep saying that,” Rasa retorted. “Did the Dean also mentioned to you that absolutely no one else in the scientific community has seen, much less reviewed, so much as a preliminary data report?” She caught herself and slowly rubbed her forehead with her fetlock. She raised a hoof to forestall Daring’s reply. “Wait, let me finish. It’s like…” Her mind worked furiously to find an appropriate analogy – she did not know much about archeology, unfortunately. “Here, how would you feel if someone suddenly announced that Star Swirl the Bearded was just a fictional character created by the unicorns of old to, to intimidate the other tribes? And that someone refused to even hint at his resources until all materials have been edited, reviewed, and deemed ready for publications?”

“Was that what he said, verbatim?” Daring looked thoughtful, rubbing one hoof on her chin. “I don’t know, it’s unusual, but I can totally understand not wanting to have your thunder stolen.” She shrugged. “Or you could just tell me why you hate–‘scuse me, don’t care about–Dr. Point so much.”

Rasa shook her head. “No. What is there to say about not caring for something?” She jumped onto her hooves and stretched. Her joints made wonderful cracking sounds. Before Daring could make a comment about Rasa’s fitness, she wandered to the side of the rooftop that was closest to the physics building. There was a fairly accurate sundial clock etched on its side, and the sun had just come out. She was more than appalled to find that she had overshot her allotted break time yet again. She turned her head aside at the sound of clopping hooves and found Daring pouting at the clock.

Daring sighed loudly. “Oh, no, back to the dungeon with me; the papers my cage, the students my jailers.” Her eyes rolled up to the heavens as though they were responsible.

Rasa shook her head, making sure that Daring could see her lopsided smile. She said, “The head of Department of Archaeology, ladies and gentlecolts.” She rolled her eyes Daring theatrically swooned. “Oh, stop that.”

“But Tabby, the agony! Four more days and nights of drudgery before I can go on my big adventure!” She went to retrieve her dress robes anyway and went down the roof by the stairs like a respectable professor.

Rasa had promptly forgotten about mythical alicorn’s remnants and equally mythical bosons by the end of the day. The next day saw her spending the whole morning listening to a petty lord’s ramble on how poorly the introductory course to Arcane Magic was taught. She did not have much of a chance to get a word in edgewise, let alone to explain that no, the minor lord’s son having to repeat the course due to missing all but the first lectures was not terrible in any sense of the word. He was, however, a lord, and–more importantly–his family had been donating a large sum to the department. She had donned her best simpering smile and settled for allowing the colt to register for the next course in sequence on probation.

And if he fails that one and his father comes back again, I can offer him a full term of internship with Dr. Resonant Ring. Dr. Ring was not a professor that she would normally recommend to just about any student – he thought that teaching a course was a waste of his time and an undergraduate student was a tolerable lab-hoof at best and a torture to talk to at worst. Most of the graduate students who did manage to stick with him turned out all right, though. She entertained the fantasy of giving his lordship’s son to Dr. Ring and getting back somepony more decent, or at least diligent. Everypony would hate each other and her in a perfect ouroboros, she thought with not a little sardonic glee.Still, the whole debacle was an unpleasant reminder that funding was starting to claw its way up her priorities.

She had thought she was rid of the entire sordid affair and nearly groaned out loud when Dean Beaker appeared in her hallway. Her hopes that the dean had been looking for Dr. Watch Cricket, whose office was next to hers, were thoroughly dashed when the elderly mare cleared her throat louder than necessary and knocked on Rasa’s door. She let her in and offered tea and crumpets, which the dean reluctantly declined, claiming that she would rather be quick. She also kept looking back through her shoulder, so Rasa asked if she was expecting somepony else.

“Yes, I am. I believe you know of him—“

As though they had arranged for it, another pony showed up on her doorstep. He was a thin earth pony with very short emerald coat and no mane—all of his hair was reserved for his very bushy mustache and beard, both of which grew past his muzzle. She needed only one look at the color of his dress robe lining–blue for Physics–and the odd device strapped around his neck to confirm her suspicion.

“Ladies,” he rasped, and without further ado sat on his haunches next to the dean. Rasa fixed her glasses, which had slid down due to her eyes’ widening.

The dean carried on as though nothing had happened. “—Dr. Flash Point, this is Dr. Tabula Rasa—“

“The Head of the Department of Arcane Magic, yes, I know.” His eyes squinted in concentration. “In fact, I do know you. You were that filly who dispelled Falada’s perfect cycle in my class.” His mouth curled into something that could generously be called a smile. The dean raised an eyebrow, and he explained, “Some idiot boy thought he could be cleverer than every other scientists in history and disproved the laws of thermodynamics. So he conjured a perpetual gas cycle that converted external magic to make up for heat loss. We would all have been a happy mess on the walls of the university if it were not for her.”

She felt all her blood rushing to her head. “Thank you,” she said automatically, before adding with a softer voice, “that was a long time ago.” So long ago that she was still reeling from the fact that he remembered at all, considering the lengths that she had gone through to avoid attention in the aftermath. There was nothing modest about it—Rasa just didn’t want it to be known that she had been the one that told the ‘idiot boy’ how... and at the end of the day, his antics only proved the sanctity of the laws of the universe.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your collective company?” she asked hastily, lest the dean got curious. As the words left her mouth, Dr. Point carefully removed the item hung around his neck. She had never seen it, but Rasa had a sinking feeling that she knew what they were here about.

It was the dean who answered. “First of all let me preface this with a request that the following discussion will not leave.” She waited for Rasa’s affirmation, which was given as a nod, and continued, “You are aware of Dr. Point’s latest work, of course.”

“Yes.” Privately, she added, all the whispers about it, which is all that there is to be talked about.This was not a conversation she wanted to spend all afternoon on. Without beating the bush, she said, “Dr. Daring Do has, in fact, asked my opinion of it, especially as applied to the Shroud of Shadows.”

“Oh, wonderful! Then you already know the relevant details,” the dean said as Dr. Point raised one eyebrow. “But just to be sure, did she mention that Dr. Point’s device lends a strong credence to the colt’s testimony, and vice versa? … Dr. Do did mention the colt and his helmet, didn’t she?”

He snorted and the dean hurried on. “In any case, the remnants of the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters is a boon to the scientific world, the likes of which we have not seen in decades.”

The grinding sound returned, and only when the dean threw a sidelong glance at Dr. Point did Rasa realize its source. When the old, short-coated stallion spoke, Rasa couldn’t shake the sense that he was in desperate need of re-hydration. She missed almost all of his sentences. “… proper measurements from such an old and powerful magic, which is all but extinct today.” His eyes narrowed, a sign that if this were a classroom he would have called her out.

She looked him in the eye, accepting the challenge. “I await the results eagerly, and wish the expedition nothing but the best of luck.” She meant the last part sincerely, if only for Daring’s sake.

He didn’t even blink, but somehow Dr. Point managed to make her feel as though she had disappointed him. She hoped to the heavens her expression didn’t change—Daring always made it sound as though Rasa’s emotions always leaked. The dean, seemingly oblivious to their little exchange, said, “I hope so too, dear, since you will be accompanying Dr. Do.”

Rasa’s head turned so fast she felt a muscle pull. “I beg your pardon? I… surely Dr. Point’s co-workers, those who have actually worked with the device, are better choices.” Her eyes fell to the device hung from Point’s neck, the particulate accelerator he claimed to be just as effective as its gargantuan, yet more tried and true cousins. Does he think I was born yesterday? That I’m stupid? Or maybe she needed a cup of tea or two.

Dr. Point snorted. “Oh please. None of them can even sustain the light spell for more than an hour.”

“What Dr. Point meant to say,” the dean cut in, “is that the device requires a highly skilled unicorn to operate. It also happens that Dr. Point needs—” The dean paused very briefly to glance at Dr. Point, and taking the rustling of his whiskers as a sign of approval, went on, “—the evaluation of an expert who is not involved in this project. It would also behoove us all to keep knowledge of both discoveries to as few need-to-know people as possible.”

“And in your judgement, I fulfill all the above,” Rasa said. She felt light-headed all of a sudden. Forget tea, I need at least a glass of brandy. It was not really a dilemma, however: she could refuse, or appeal to the President of the Canterlot University if they were still insistent and if she so wished. And why would I wish to be hamstrung into this tomfoolery? To Point, she said, “I… will have to think about this.”

For the first time, something like annoyance surfaced on the old stallion’s face. “I don’t think you understand,” he growled, “I’m offering you co-authorship, and potentially future collaborative work, on the discovery that will change the world. Even if for some Celestia forsaken reason that does not interest you—“

He let out a wracking cough; Rasa was already half-way around the desk before he stood. Still coughing, he shied away from the dean’s questions and paced towards the other side of the room. The dean looked as worried as Rasa felt, but neither of them was eager to take away his dignity just yet. Rasa thought instead of the rumors of his declining health and whispers of overworked graduate students–gossips, all of them–that persisted in spite of Point and team’s silence. She thought back to her conversation with Daring and, more tellingly, her thoughts and feelings that Point’s mere presence elicited. No, she amended with a tinge of shame, because of his silence, and because, to all appearances, he was on the verge of turning the scientific world on its head again despite his isolation from other scientists.

A long time ago, when her little sister had been in the awkward stage between worshipping Rasa and wanting to annoy her to death, Lassez Faire had asked (innocently, Rasa would have liked to believe) why scientists kept making a big deal out of their discoveries, only for them to be debunked in as little as a year. Even more boggling to her was the fact that some scientists were happy to be proven wrong, to be upstaged and had their names remembered as the one who got it wrong, if they were remembered at all. Rasa, who had not yet been completely buried in her studies and had still been a well-to-do earth pony family’s heiress, had declared that the advancement of science and unveiling of truth were always their own reward.

She should have realized that, even in the insulated bubble that was academia, money had always been and would forever be a driving force.

The dean looked beseechingly at Rasa, who for her part was starting to feel that everything was spinning out of control. Rasa turned and summoned three glasses and a water jug, pouring for one for each of them as casually as she could. It bought her time to think, and when Dr. Point finally came back and downed his glass in one swig, they could all pretend the conversation had not been interrupted by anything.

“I would go, griffons take it,” he said with a voice so hoarse that she reflexively poured him another glass. “The hoofprints of powers beyond us mortal ponies; the only reminder that there was once a time when the sun would not with certainty lend us its light.” His gaze on her was so intense that it took all her self-control not to look away. “Lady, I would go even if it means the death of me.”

“Surely not!” The dean exclaimed. Dr. Point turned to her, blinking owlishly as though he had forgotten that she was there. “You still have your magnum opus to finish.”

“Ah, I suppose.” From his look and tone, the dean might have as well as been talking about a side column embedded in the ads section.

“Now, Flash—“

Rasa released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “That won’t be necessary, Dr. Point. I will join Dr. Do’s expedition and perform the experiments requisite to validating your theorem.” She levitated Dr. Point’s strange device closer to her eyes. It was a curious thing. At a glance it was an unassuming rectangular object the length and width of her arms, though it looked rather thick and from the strain it put on her telekinesis was denser than it looked. She wondered how the gaunt-looking Dr. Point was able to carry it around so casually. It had an opaque blue screen – she wondered if it was piezomagical – and about a dozen or so of small buttons underneath it. She reluctantly set it aside, reminding herself that she was still in the presence of guests.

“I want second authorship of the first publication that we’ll work on,” she said firmly, and paused.When he nodded, she went on, “And… I have some ideas that I will need your expert advice on.” She could be the pony who proved him wrong, or less famously, a collaborator riding on his genius. Either would bring attention to her department, and with it, financial support as well as pony resource. Acceptable reward for braving the Everfree Forest.

Other people always made lying to themselves look so much easier than it was.