The Last Holdouts - A Conversion Bureau Story

by Aedina

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Luna, Original Character, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 24065

The last few humans who've waited for conversion bid farewell to Earth as it succumbs to Equestria

One of the human elites has taken his luxury yacht on a Farewell Tour of Earth before it's swallowed up by the emerging Equestria. His guests and crew reflect on their lives and on the choices that have led them to the decision to bid farewell to Terra before embracing ponydom.

Published 2012-04-29 03:34:03 UTC
Last updated 2022-03-28 22:29:16 UTC

On Board The Bonne Chance

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter One

On Board The Bonne Chance

Across the stretch of viscous sea the white yacht bobbed gently against the sheen of hazy gray smog. At the outer rim of the visible horizon was a rainbowed soap bubble dome, curving serenely into space in every direction. Slowly it impinged, subtle shifting of shadows mirrored in the cast of northern lights that flickered upon its translucent surface.

The Bonne Chance was a vision of luxury. A force shield surrounding the upper decks added its own eerie glow to the myriad of visual stimuli the guests and crew observed. Music of a bygone age could be heard above the clinking of fine crystal goblets...a farewell toast to a world that those on board would soon be exiting, permanently.

Oliver Heskin swirled the dark purple liquid idly. He was in no hurry to imbibe the potion that wafted up the scent of artificial grape to his wide nostrils. Most of his kind, the elite, the wealthy – had either already fled for the foreign shores of Equestria or stubbornly refused conversion, determined to die as they had lived, pitifully human to the end. This journey was his, shared with only the closest of friends, kin, and faithful crew. The sounds of his guests as they chatted quietly upon the deck bore an almost reverent solemnity in tone and volume, as venerable as prayer and as filled with awe.

Each of the cabins held large, soft mattresses. These were available for those who chose to make their transformation before the final countdown to immersion commenced. Only Oliver, it seemed, was willing to dare the wait, willing to risk the possibility that his metamorphosis might not be complete before his Earth, his Terra was swallowed into oblivion by a universe of Magic and wonder. Behind his elbow waited the Second Mate, nervously clearing his throat to gain the attention of his employer.

"Yes, Coppin?", he acknowledged, with a tilt of his head and a hand motion for the green-hued Mate to approach. Coppin wasn't the only pony on staff, but another pegasus on board was always a Goddess send for weather control on a voyage, as all were agreed.

"It's T minus 3 hours, Sir. Staff has begun to bring out the Equestrian cuisine options, and we've tapped a new

keg of serum. Would you like the bits brought out, Sir?" .

"Yes,it is about that time." he affirmed.

Oliver had arranged for a large "treasure" chest of Equestrian bits to be brought out on deck, along with a wide selection of saddle bags for his guests. Many of his shipmates were a little clueless about the ins and outs of Equestrian economics, and the weight and jingle of the coins might serve as reassurance to them. Oliver felt that the bits would help to provide a sense of security, however unnecessary, to those who could otherwise find themselves at a psychological disadvantage across the boundary. Granted that Heskin had been assured that all parties on board the Bonne Chance were assigned for New Foal Relocation that would enable them to get all four hooves firmly planted on the ground (or clouds, as may be). Knowing all too well that oversights happened even in the best of circumstances, Oliver had never been one to ignore the finer details of any issue. Insurance might be expensive, but the cost was vastly outweighed by the benefits - especially as Earthly wealth wasn't going to be worth a whole Hell of a lot in a very short while.

Letters from New Foals who'd settled beyond the barrier had hinted at a vast difference between the classes offered at the Conversion Bureau Centers and the realities of trying to fit in with a world they hadn't been able to fully comprehend until after their arrival. While most comparisons were of a positive nature, a few extra bits never hurt anypony. Reassurance was Oliver's forte, he'd once been highly sought out for this skill. From calming the most tentative of World Gov bureaucrats to delivering a steel clad contract when all hope seemed lost, Oliver had been "The Man".

He chuckled at the memories as he moved out to mingle. "Wonder what Cutey Mark that will translate into?", he mused.

As he perused the buffet selections it became apparent to him that there was an increase in the pastel motions of his promenade More clipped hoof steps could be heard in the mix of those who mingled on the deck. Bleary eyed ponies were waking just as a queue of his remaining human guests was forming around the newly tapped keg. A slender unicorn mare, parchment coated and midnight maned, delicately trotted to the railing, petite human shoes dangling from her mouth. Something seemed familiar about her to Oliver. Intrigued, he followed her, wondering if his instincts were correct.

"Hiromi?', he murmured, half hoping his guess would go unheard should he prove wrong. Conical ears

twisted towards him even as the mare placed the shoes neatly upon the deck beside the railings.

"How'd you know, Oli?", she asked as she turned her head, long slender neck arching beautifully.

Heskin's smile widened with his eyes, which seemed to take silent inventory of his friend's new form.

"Well, " he ventured, "that you'd become a unicorn was almost a given, but as for the rest, I'm not sure how,

I just sort of knew it was you."

Hiromi nickered as she turned in a pirouette clearly designed to show off her sleek new body. Long, soft lashes half lidded her eyes as she looked up at him, a slow deliberate wink of flirtation made him laugh.

"Oh, you're a spoilsport, Oli, go and reveal a mare's previous incarnation, and blow her cover, would you?"

She pouted, but instead of feeling perplexed, Heskin replied,

"My dear, had I known you wished to be incognito I would have held my tongue."

The unicorn tsked at him, "Now, now, there are far better ways to employ your tongue, or there will be once you drink that." She indicated the untouched potion in his hand with the point of her horn . "What're you waiting for? hmm? The Apocalypse?"

He shook his head, "Ragnarok is not yet upon us, mon petite belle, and while we're mixing our metaphors, why'd you let the other shoe drop?", he pointed to the shoes she'd just deposited on the foredeck.

"It's sort of an old Japanese custom, Oliver, when one was leaving a place they'd visited, they'd leave behind their shoes as a farewell to their host. One shoe facing each way meant that the guest hoped to return again someday, both shoes facing out was a way of saying they wouldn't be back. I was kind of thinking I could start a trend, really. Just another way of bidding adieu and embracing the new. " She gave a coquettish curtsy of her upper torso to him as she surveyed him. "I'll bet you'll be an Earth pony, Oli, you're just so ....... solid."

Heskin patted his prodigious paunch, "What a nice way to say I'm fat, Romi-chan." He bowed in turn, and made his excuses to her, working his way back to the beckoning buffet

As the evening progressed, Oliver pondered upon perceptions of Time. Odd sayings about Time dragging or flying had peppered every language on Earth, for as long as he could remember. The pressure in the air was truly the only perceivable change as the barrier grew closer to the ship. The bubble was so vast in their view that any growth of it would be far out of their range of vision by now. Had Coppin not kept him abreast of the countdown, he might well have forgotten how close the end was drawing.

"T minus two hours, Sir" was whispered into his ear in what seemed to him only a moment from the Mate's last check in.

"Be sure that the anesthetics are clearly marked, Coppin, don't want any last minute accidents, now, do we?"

"Of course, Sir, to be sure. I'll be flying out, now, for just a little while. The Captain thought I should do a last check on the air currents before we reach Final Hour. Anything you need of me before I take off, Sir?"

"Not that I can think of, thank you, Coppin."

"It's Greenwind, now, Sir." the pegasus corrected, hesitantly, "I've only just decided. Not very original, I know, but it seems to suite."

"Very well, Greenwind. How many here have chosen their names prior to conversion, do you think?"

The Mate gave a pony shrug, "I think lots are waiting until they see what they are, and what they look like, before choosing a name. Others say they want to decide based on their Conversion Dream, Sir. Have you got something picked out already?"

"One or two possibilities, it depends, and who knows, something else might come to mind when I've gone pony."

The Mate nodded, golden eyes shining vibrantly as the sky grew darker above them. He stretched out a pinion to gauge the wind, shouted, "Clear for Takeoff!" and galloped towards the prow as the crowd parted to let him pass. Watching the Mate take flight never seemed to grow old to anypony, and many shielded their eyes with a hand or hoof in the attempt to follow his ascent into the sky.

A View From The Balcony

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Two

A View From The Balcony

Greenwind felt he would never tire of the sensation of speed, of cool air racing against his flanks. He curved his wings to allow a current to lift him effortlessly higher. "Talk about an airiel view", he thought to himself as his mane whipped across his crest and withers. One of the first of those aboard the Bonne Chance to go pony, Greenwind had never regretted his decision. When it turned out he'd become a pegasus, as well, it seemed good luck was truly on his side. "Thank Celestia!", was his reoccurring thought. "Thank Luna, too", he added as an afterthought. He always felt a little guilty when he forgot to include the Night Goddess in his thoughts, and hoped he'd train himself to do so automatically over time. She'd figured more significantly into his Conversion Dream than Celestia Herself, and Greenwind was still trying to determine what it could all mean.

Robert Coppin had always been underfed, underweight and underdeveloped as a human. "Bobby Boy", as the neighborhood gang bullies had dubbed him, had spent most of his life feeling either overly vulnerable, or completely ignored. Given his choice, he tended to prefer the latter, and over time he became very very good at being very very invisible. In this, his light frame had been an advantage. Bobby could squeeze into, and through places where others would get stuck. This talent bought him peace, if not respect. Throughout his favela, hide and seek wasn't just a game for him, it was his survival. Keeping to himself and out of sight so much, he'd been seriously out of the loop when Equestria made its debut.

Greenwind could clearly remember when he'd first seen the ponies. For a blink of an eye his peripheral vision would pick up colors moving, shapes that didn't match anything he'd even imagined before. Closer inspection revealed beings that made his jaw drop. The only thing that kept him from moving out and talking to them was his habit of perpetual caution. But coming around a shadowy corner, one day, he got an unexpected taste of true horror. At first, he thought it was some sort of parade, pretty ponies all in a row, quite literally. Then it dawned on him that the streaks of dark red gracing their muzzles weren't ribbons. The crowd across the square from the ponies were waving weapons, not banners. Cheering and jibing accompanied the ongoing slaughter. It shamed Greenwind to remember how cravenly he'd crept back into his hiding place, terrified of attracting any unwanted attention.

The next day, he dared to approach a Favola Kiosk. Stunned, he lost all focus beyond the tiny flickering screen as he watched a living Fairytale unfolded itself, a bubble filled with green and gentle lands. For the first time in his lonely, desperate life, Greenwind felt his heart warm with hope. When the image of the White Mare Queen appeared, to invite anypony who cared to come to Her magical realm, he remembered tales his grandmother would tell him of the Seelie.

Three of the verses from an old legend had haunted him since he'd been a lad.

"Delightful is the Land beyond all Dreams,
Fairer than aught thine eyes have ever seen.
There all the year the fruit is on the tree,
And all the year the bloom is on the flower.

There with wild honey drip the forest trees;
The stores of wine and mead shall never fail.
Nor pain nor sickness knows the dweller there,
Death and decay come near him never more.

The feast shall cloy not, nor the chase shall tire,
Nor music cease for ever through the hall;
The gold and jewels of the Land of Youth
Outshine all splendours ever dreamed by man."*

Here, at last, was the Summer Country. And it seemed that entrance was free - or nearly so......just his body, he had never been really fond of his body, anyway, except for the ability it gave him to hide. Robert had looked up the nearest Conversion Bureau, mapping the safest course to follow, and without a bag or a backward glance he turned and began walking. His steps felt lighter than they'd ever been. The weight of fear that had crushed his chest for as long as he could remember had been lifted. Robert felt the urge to whistle, but suppressed it, he hadn't grown quite that careless yet. He straightened his usually hunched shoulders and strode briskly down the very middle of the street, where once he would have hugged the shadows and searched for potential hiding places.

"Sometimes all it takes to turn a life around is one idea, one spark of inspiration," Greenwind reflected as he circled ever higher. The Cape of Good Hope became a tiny line on the Northern horizon as the wind picked up. He felt his mane and tail being twisted into tangles as he scanned the area for trouble. Trouble was what he found. Black specks in the sky, rapidly approached with the hum of engines as their heralding trumpet. In the sea, though still out of radar range of Bonne Chance, were equally grim and dangerous looking vessels. Some had armaments clearly mounted on every conceivable surface. Greenwind squinted his eyes against the wind, and swooped lower and closer. Shots rang out just as his approach allowed him to clearly see the emblem on the nearest ship.

As he felt a surge of burning pain stab through his right wing. Greenwind spiraled out of control, frantically struggling for balance. Only the strong wind kept him from slamming into a fist hard sea as he gasped for breath. "Carrots!", he exclaimed, as he got enough control to turn and flee, hoping an awkward flight path would go un-traced by the H.L.F. fleet below. Leaving a blood trail to follow right to the Bonne Chance warred with his urgent need to communicate the sighting and his even more urgent need for medical attention.

He'd seen that sign before, long ago. That the H.L.F. was proud of their genocide, he had no doubt, but that they blatantly advertised it was a wonder to him. Why would someone want to give a warning that anypony could clearly see? Anypony could see the sign, that was sure, and anypony with any brains would immediately turn and get out of the area, FAST.

The instinctual urge to gallop away was what the H.L.F. were counting on. Trap wires surrounding the perimeter could have been avoided (and usually were) upon a pony's approach, but the fear inspired by the sign was often enough to make even an otherwise smart pony desperate enough to stumble upon them. What little remained of a pony after tripping such a wire would sometimes be enough to make a very gory trophy for some proud H.L.F. leader, but usually not.

It wasn't until he'd once unwittingly stumbled into a slightly less lethal version of that same trap, created around just such a sign that it had all made terrifying sense to him.

While he did all he could to focus his pain blurred body on safely reaching the yacht, his mind traced once more to his past. His first sighting of the H.L.F. a sign had been on his very quest to seek out the Conversion Bureau he'd intended to approach for ponification. It had been centered in a blockade that spanned the entirety of the broken down road that led to the Center and to the docks that ferried the New Foals to Equestria, the sign was.... in its own way ......rather impressive. While he stood considering it, and its unspoken implications, the mob that had erected it had their chance. Fortunately for Robert, he still had two feet instead of four hooves, or he would have had a very short pony life indeed.

"Where d'ya tink y'er goin' me bucko?" rasped a gravelly voice behind him, making Robert jump.

"Stockyard, dockyard, looking for scraps, maybe a job, if I'm lucky." was his quick witted reply

Narrowed, un-trusting eyes raked him over. A metal baseball bat tapped out Morse code for imminent and impending violence on the palm of the hand opposite the one that held it. "Big, Large, and Giant," were words that vied for descriptive accuracy in Robert's mind as he tried not to visibly shake or sweat under the hate-glazed glare. "Crap!" was what finally won the vote, though.

"No'tin' there for the likes o' yew, ye'aint no twoffer, an' ye'aint from 'roundabouts that I ken reckon, "growled another gorilla in the crowd, this one held a two-by-four with nail studs along it. Whether they were coated with rust or with dried blood was something Robert hoped he'd never be close enough to discern.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to trespass, don't want no trouble" he nervously intoned.

The baseball bat pointed itself passed his ear, hovering over his shoulder, just an inch from contact. "Best be on yer way, then, buck-o, an' best ye ne'er come back. I see yer mug in these parts agin' and it'll be paintin' the pavement, yew ken?"

"Oh, Aye, Sir, thank ye, Sir!'

With military crispness, Robert spun on his heels and marched away as quickly as he felt would be acceptable. Once out of sight he fell back to old talents, hiding and watching. He'd wait until the coast was clear, and then find a better way to reach the Center, he thought. It was as he planned his route, that a plume of dark smoke registered on his field of vision. The stench of burnt flesh, horse flesh made him retch as he realized that the Conversion Bureau was on fire.

Wiping tears from his eyes as he fled upwind he cursed his cowardliness. His former confidence was too new to him, too fragile and tentative to withstand the conflagration. Robert hardly knew where he was running, but he didn't stop until he reached the end of the previously blocked off docks. Apparently all the H.L.F.ers had gone to the bonfire. Robert wept more openly, and crept into an unusually large (and equally unusual) open loading bin, hiding himself among the boxes and miscellaneous gear that nearly filled it.

Pain brought Greenwind back to the moment. He turned his head to make certain he'd not been followed before swinging an approach vector to the now sighted Bonne Chance . "I can do this!" he told himself. He tucked his left wing closer to his side, his wounded wing flaying unresponsively, making it difficult to do anything more than dive. He felt the yacht's force shield tingle as he approached and prayed that the Captain would shut it down in time.

Greenwind would have conveyed his gratitude to the Captain, who did indeed see him heading in, and cleared the shield for him. Yes, he would have, had the crash to the deck not knocked him unconscious - he lay in a pile of his own blood and feathers as a stretcher was rushed out to tote him to sickbay. "H.L.F." he managed to mutter, before the darkness overwhelmed him.

* paraphrased from the Celtic Myth: Tir Na Nog (Land Of Youth)

Sickbay

The LastHoldouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Three

Sickbay

Sharp footsteps rang fast and loud along the ship's corridor. Warned by intercom that a pony patient was being rushed to her sickbay, Dr. Jeanette Frazer had made certain that the tiny facility had been cleared to make as much room as was physically possible. Every instrument she might need was neatly at hand, and their unicorn medic, Florrie, was on call, just in case. Up till now their skills had rarely been required on Bonne Chance. The occasional aspirin, antacid, or band-aid had been the bulk of their services, thus far.

As the stretcher reached her, one of the crewmen carrying it cried out to her, "I don't think it's as bad as it looks, Doc. No major arteries hit, no bones fractured, leastwise, not as I can tell. Might be a while before he can fly again, but the bump to his noggin' is the worst of it"

"Thanks, I'll take him from here. Good thing we had the doors widened for ponies or we'd be in for problems.
Get him on the bed, NOW, please"

Closer inspection of her unconscious patient revealed the truth behind the ad hoc diagnosis from the stretcher bearer. Stitching the clean-through bullet hole in Greenwind's wing proved easy enough. The bare patch of featherless wing the procedure inevitably created would look a little odd until he fledged once more. Cold compression to the knot on the pegasus's head brought the swelling down, and there was no indication of skull trauma. Once her patient seemed to be resting comfortably, Dr. Frazer comm switched to Florrie that her magic would not be required and that she could stand down. Next she contacted the Captain, with clear instructions to convey status to those on deck, most especially Mr. Heskin.

"Good news for Greenwind, then." audible relief was in the Captain's usually brusque tone. Dr. Frazer noted it as the most expansive in expression she had ever heard from him. "Let's hope it's a trend."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"Ah, forgive me, Doctor, you were most likely left out of the loop. We have company coming, the type that shoot at pegasi without provocation."

"Well, yes, Captain, I had to gather we might, since no one on board this ship could possibly have generated a bullet wound. H.L.F.?"

"Who else?, now if you'll forgive me, Doctor, I must put as much distance between them and us as the barrier will allow."

"Of course, Sir, forgive me," she replied, clicking off the intercom. Long experience of looking trouble directly in the eye and remaining outwardly calm took over for Jeanette. She did an inventory of her supplies in her mind while cleaning up the aftermath of her surgery. "Best get out more bandages and disinfectants" she muttered to herself as she began to take deep breaths to combat her inner worry.

"Need a hoof, Netta?" inquired a dulcet alto.

Another deep breath kept the doctor from jumping right out of her skin as she turned to see a pale white mare framed by the Sickbay door. Florrie was the epitome of unicorn delicacy, from her nurse-capped ivory mane to the tip of her silver hooves.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

"What, sneak up on you? Not that hard, when your mind is occupied, Netta. Besides, it's easier than you'd think." The unicorn raised up one hoof-tip and then placed it down onto the floor again with barely a sound. "See?"

Jeanette nodded as she made space for Florrie to join her, they talked quietly, so as not to disturb the resting Greenwind. "Yes, thank you, yes. Just in case, hmmm?"

It was like the two of them had some sort of telepathy between them. Which, given that magic was real, might just be more than metaphoric, she mused. "Wish the bay was bigger, right now. First time I've ever thought we might need it to be. Maybe we could ask Mr. Heskin to let us have a couple of the neighboring cabins for triage and recovery?"

"I'm sure he'd see no trouble to that, and I could always do some logistical alterations." So saying, Florrie's horn took on a tingling shimmer, and before the doctor could even blink, the wall that separated the Sickbay from the adjacent cabin was simply - Gone.

Holding back her astonishment, Dr. Frazer smiled, "You know, believing in magic is certainly easier than it used to be," she joked.

"Just wait til you get converted, Netta, you'll not have to believe anything anymore....you'll simply know it, you'll feel it. Speaking of which, weren't you going up on deck to get some potion soon. We don't have much more time, really."

"I was, but then things went all cattywumpus on us, here." The doctor tilted her head towards the sleeping Greenwind. "And now I'm wondering which would be worse, being out of commission when I might be needed, or waiting to put it off until the last minute?"

"Well, I could take charge, if you like. We're pretty well protected here, within the force-shielding. If I need any help, there are others on board who can lend a hoof or a hand. You shouldn't risk it, in my opinion. Besides, you'll feel so much better once it's over with."

"Bend my arm, why don'tcha? No, no, you're right. Besides, it's not as if I don't have backup, What's the pool say on my change over?"

"Oh, most think you're going to be a unicorn, like me - for some reason health care professionals seem to, " speculated the pretty mare, "My bet is for pegasus, don't know why, really, just feels like it to me."

"Well don't count your bits before they're in your saddlebags, Flo. Think I'll go up and get my share and hunker down for the nonce. I'll give you a combuzz the moment I wake up from the groggies. Wish me luck!"

"Luck!," was the enthusiastic echo that followed Dr. Frazer out the door. The unicorn watched her friend lean on the guardrail as she made her way along the corridor. Netta's gait was awkward, and obviously painful, her right stump of a leg casting a bizarre misshapen shadow on the wall as she finally vanished from view.

"Yes, luck", she thought. "Next time you walk this way it'll be on four good hooves!"

Battlestations

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Four

Battlestations

The line for the potion was much shorter than Jeanette had expected it to be. Conversely, there were far more ponies on deck. "Makes sense" she muttered, thinking that with only an hour and a half left to go, at most - it had been a good decision to take Florrie up on her offer to look after sickbay, Besides, the wave of tangible relief that her presence generated was interesting to observe. Everypony knew that Dr. Frazer wouldn't leave a patient who needed her. The very fact that she was here meant that all rumors of Greenwind's improving condition were true. She leaned against the deck rail as she made her way to the front of the line.

"Heya Doc! Here's your cuppa!" sang out the cheerful earth pony behind the table. Dr. Frazer tilted her head, pondering if she should recognize the bay stallion, but when she found that she couldn't she decided not to fuss with it. "There'll be plenty of time to get reacquainted with everypony once we've gotten safely past the barrier," she told herself.

"Thanks!" she answered, carefully cradling the cup against any possible spillage as she moved on to find an empty conversion cabin. A polite path cleared its way before her, easing her passage through the herd. Encouraging muzzles nodded to her, some ponies throwing in a wave or a hoof's-up gesture.

A voice rang out "Don't drink it until you're on the mattress, Doc!" and she turned her head trying to find the source, without success.

"Course she knows that, silly filly, she's a doctor." came another voice from the throng.

At last there was a room in view, empty mattress beckoning her. Jeanette set the cup down on the floor beside it, undressed, and settled into what she hoped would be as comfortable a position when she woke up as it was now.
The artificial grape made her nose wrinkle, then she up ended it in one full gulp. As the anesthesia took over, her body became the pliant dough of bubbly morph-o-goo, writhing and shifting into the equestrian newfoal she would become.

Bullhorns blared forth from the ship's loudspeakers, closely followed by the clipped tones of the Captain. "Everypony below decks, please, all passengers will kindly clear the deck. All crew, to your stations, we've got incoming."

With amazing calm and orderliness the deck cleared. Oliver made his way to the stern, shielding his eyes with one hand, the other still clutching his untouched goblet of potion. The gathering storm clouds made the glint of light reflecting off of the approaching metal behemoth more ominous. Above was the familiar whir of helicopters. Glad he'd installed the force shields, and praying that they'd hold, he turned and made his way to a cabin. Oliver Heskin was determined to show those bigoted H.L.F. bastards that, one way or another, he was not leaving this Earth unless it was as a pony!

Captain Damian Smollette was gripping the wheel of the Bonne Chance as tightly as his forehooves would allow. His gray wings were spread and flapping, to help him maintain his balance on his hindquarters. "What do these fools hope to accomplish anyway?", he wondered, sweat matting his mane to his poll. Fortunately the yacht under his command had more than a few little secrets under Her helm, the finest, fastest, and most formidable of engines being just one of them. Right now he was taxing those engines, and coaxing every last jolt of power out of them. All he had was a little more than an hour, before Full Encloser - and once everypony on board was actually everPONY on board he could cross into Equestria early, if it proved to be necessary. In the meantime he could lead this merry little circle dance and stay out of range - given that the H.L.F. didn't suss his strategy and out maneuver him...given that They had no similar surprises hiding in their arsenal. One good homing torpedo might be enough to bring down Bonne's forceshield, and there was nothing to keep the sea itself from becoming a turmoil of stormy, wind-whipped waves around him, generated by the helicopter blades. Behind him, was his First Mate, a stolid earth mare, frantically clicking on switches, reading gauges, and talking to the ship.

"Good Chance, good Chance!" she intoned, like a mantra. Smollette couldn't help it, it made him smile to hear it.

"You know, Marina, She can't really hear you," he scolded.

"Oh, Aye, Cap, I know right well She can't, but it can't hurt, now, can it?"

"I suppose not, but could you hold it down a little, please, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry, Sir, yes, Sir........" her voice went into a whisper tone as she continued praising the vessel for all she was worth "Good Chance, good Chance, good Chance"

On another plane of existence entirely, Jaenette surveyed a vast green plain, gentle hills rolled up in the distance. The sky above was glowing in sunset hues that she'd only ever seen in old photos, before. When she turned to look around she saw a huge tree, and below it were two forms of ethereal beauty. She found herself bowing before Them, Luna, Celestia, how often had she seen their holograms - not as if any image could do them justice.

"Little one, welcome. Are you ready at last?" came the mellifluous inquiry of Celestia.

"Sister, this one hath given her life to the healing of others, but like Ourself, she carries much pain." was Luna's observation. "Tis only fitting she joins the herd."

"Your Highnesses," came Jeanette's own voice, head still bowed before Them. "There is someone I hope to find in Your realm, but I do not know if he is there. I know you've helped many, far too many to remember, maybe. But if You would help me know how to find him...." she trailed off, aghast at her own audacity.

Luna gave a flick of Her tail, as though to indicate that the request was, indeed, presumptuous.
Her sister, though, stood, and walked forward, "Rise, Netta, for that is what I shall call you, until you choose your own name. Come along with me."

Not at all surprised that a Goddess would know Florrie's nickname for her, "Netta" followed willingly as Luna nickered Her farewell and flew up to begin placing stars into the twilight sky. Together they came near a ridge, and far below spread a valley dotted with little villages and roads. It was as if the whole of Equestria was laid out before them.

"You see Our Realm, Netta. While I cannot know where each and everyone of my subjects might be at every moment, there are always those who share a special bond with me. To find the one you seek you must follow that same sort of bond, the one of love between you. Love shall guide you, if he is in Equestria, you will know it and love will lead you."

As these words sank in, Netta felt a warm glow begin above her, a light shown out from her forehead, where now sat a unicorn horn. The light shown down into the view below them, until it pointed like a spotlight on one specific town. Jeanette sent out a wave of love towards that spot, focusing herself upon it with all of her might.

A shuddering of the very earth beneath her hooves rocked her violently....or so it seemed

Until the rocking entered her consciousness in a very different way. Lifting her groggy head from her forelegs, Netta could dimly see the cabin walls pitching and rolling. The only light in the cabin emanated from her shimmering horn. Desperately trying to hang on to the memory of her Conversion Dream, she felt herself hurled across the cabin floor, mattress and all. She made one stumbling attempt to stand, glancing over her new body, with a note to her neatly regrown right rear leg, as she wobbled unsteadily, legs akimbo.

Then the ship pitched again, tossing her from the cushioning mattress and sliding her almost all the way out the cabin door. Across the deck railing loomed two enormous black helicopters, gunfire and smoke surrounded them - the clamor of conflict deafening in her now highly sensitive, mobile ears . In their wake hulked a be-cannoned monster. The sensation of the forceshield against Netta's side was the only comforting thing. Blasts were clearly hitting it, but it remained intact, so far.

Still too tired out from the anesthesia and her recent transformation her mind tried to make sense out of the scene before her....blind panic was the instinctual response. Netta heard yet another hit to the shield, loud enough to thunder an echo across the entire deck. When the wave slammed into the Bonne Chance, she was sent once more into motion.

Thrown to the stern she half crawled, half clamored towards an open cabin door. The protection it offered was like a beacon that helped her draw strength. When she reached the door frame, she wedged her body against the wall. In the cabin was a burbling pale puddle. A broken goblet lay shattered next to an old fashioned tux and tails on the floor. "Mr. Heskin!", she exclaimed as another shell-blast ricocheted from the shield wall. "Oliver!", she cried. Some part of her knew that calling out to him was a waste of effort, that he would be beyond her voice's reach, but it was almost a compunction to try. "Oli, Oli!" she screamed, trying to drown out the sounds of battle behind her. Then her world careened, and this time when she smacked the wall, it was hard enough to knock the wind out of her and leave her sprawled in a rag-doll heap. Helplessly she watched as Oliver transformed. She neighed to him, as though trying to warn him of the disaster unfolding all around them.....Her horn flickered out as one last wave capped through the shield and over the railing, flooding the room.

Author's Note

https://www.facebook.com/photo/?fbid=10209407294897143&set=a.4049115844088

A Race For The Border

Special credits: The enclosed illustration by my spouse Chatoyance.

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Five
A Race For The Border

The sea, the sea, the beautiful sea. It spread out to every horizon as he soared along. Beside him, on each side, flew two beings of unimaginable grace and beauty. To his left, a dark and starry maned alicorn mare, to his right, a white alicorn mare with a mane and tail of streaming rainbow energies. Without speech, he could hear them.

"Welcome, welcome, thou who hast brought so many to Our realm, both with thee, and before thee," came Princess Luna's greeting. She dipped, curving Her pinions in an elegant arch.

"Indeed, welcome, sir. Alas, Our time here, together, is all too brief, we have little leisure" was Celestia's counter. She pressed closer to him, steering him into a turn towards a, now distant, shoreline.

"Thou art needed in the world that soon shall end." explained Luna, the note of urgency in Her tone conveyed command as well as concern.

"Needed?," asked Oliver, "Hadn't I better go then?" A pristine beach sparkled before them as they swooped to land. Oliver noticed that only his own sturdy hooves left imprints in the sand. Where each of the Princesses stood, no indication of weight was evidenced beneath Them.

"That you shall, and shortly so, " came Celestia's reply. "First, and quickly, a small Gift. When you wake you shall remember." Each of Them turned Their heads towards him, caressing his crest and withers with Their necks. The touch was electric, intimate, comforting, and completely correct all at the same time.

"Remember thy Element, sir, and how to rise above it. Keep thy head, and thy wits about thee. Keep thy calm, and recall that deep within thee shall be the knowledge thou shalt require." were Luna's parting instructions as Oliver felt the dream shift and slide away from him, like so much vapor. In the recesses of his hind brain he could hear a terrified neighing of his name. A frantic cry reached him as he shook his head and neck, waking more swiftly than expected.

Clarity and awareness fought back against the post-conversion muddle in his mind as he realized he was sopping wet. Beside him, clutching the edge of his saturated mattress with her forehooves, was a terrified unicorn mare. The shine of Bonne Chance's forceshield flickered sporadically, lighting the icy waves with crimson. Oliver could make out the faint form of the ship's hull behind them as he turned his head. His ears were filled with the roar of battle, engines and propellers buzzing in a dissonant, but steady, thrum. In the distance above them, an approaching copter let down a rope ladder. Through the copter's lighted and open carrier door he could just make out the silhouette of helmeted humans. Gunfire added to the cacophony of chaos, but as far as he could tell, none of it seemed to be aimed towards them.

Oliver stretched his neck and forelegs out, trying to help the mare as she scrambled onto the sodden pallet, Neither of them were able to hear above the surrounding bedlam. Oliver motioned to his companion to turn around. As she complied, he spread wide his wings and giving them an experimental shake, he rose a fraction above the churning water. Netta's gasp of surprise was drowned out, as she felt the black pegasus stallion grip her around her barrel. She watched the waves engulf and swallow the mattress as she was carefully lifted out of harm's way.

Oliver turned towards Bonne Chance, keeping as low as both wind and water would allow. He hoped that the clouds and confusion would help to cover them. If so, he would be able to make it to the speeding yacht without drawing fire. Each wing-beat gave him confidence, he couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd felt this strong and fit. "Under completely different circumstances," he thought to himself, "this would be very enjoyable".

A staccato of white noise issued from the radio, giving little hope of making out the incoming message, but Marina held her sensitive ears perked and ready. Sputters and partial words gave sporadic bursts that fought for coherency amidst the din. Finally she pieced it all together, "Captain, I have the conscript. Shall I read it to you, Sir?"

"Thank you, yes, please." Captain Smollette couldn't spare her more than a momentary backward glance, but he listened as he continued to maneuver their vessel with deft skill and speed. He more leaned on the wheel, now, then held it. Exhaustion and tension were visible in the set of his muzzle and the sweat that plastered his coat.

Marina read out, "This is Copter Alpha, repeat Copter Alpha, we have your Six, we are allies. Copter Beta has engaged H.L.F. vessel on your behalf. You have two ponies overboard in your wake. Rescue cannot reach, due to forceshield and incoming. We advise you that full immersion is imminent."

At first Smollette merely nodded his head to the message, then the meaning sank in. "TWO PONIES? Overboard in our wake!?" he whinnied, "Wasn't everypony below decks? Sweet Celestia!. Scramble the crew, Marina, let's get them some help, NOW! Then, thank that copter, we need all the help we can get!"

"Aye, Aye, Sir. We've got crew available, and I have a message for you to call Florrie, in Sickbay, too. I'll try to acknowledge the copter as soon as we get this taken care of, Sir." Marina sent forth commands that set unseen hands and hooves into motion, a flurry of switches and clicks punctuating each stage of the procedure.

Meanwhile the Captain grabbed for his own headset, and coded the Sickbay up. "What's up, Florrie? Make it quick, please. I've kind of got my hooves full at present." Thankfully the internal communications weren't as botched as the radio, less interference from forceshield and Barrier alike.

The nurse unicorn's tones kept things businesslike and brief, "Three things, Captain. First, Greenwind's awake and doing well, though I had to practically tie him down to keep him from reporting to the bridge. Second, I've commandeered adjacent quarters for any emergencies. Last, and most importantly - I've got everyone who hasn't converted yet reporting to the cargo hold. There's only about 20 or so, at most. We're going to do an en masse spray dousing. That way crossover won't be at issue. That's all, Captain, Sickbay over and out"

Smollette acknowledged the message and clicked off, "Mostly good news, all in all, Marina, how's it on your end?"

The earth pony First Mate reported, "Looks like our Overboards are on their way back, and under their own power, at that, Sir. As yet, they're unidentified. One pegasus stallion, and one unicorn mare, in transit. Guide ropes and landing lights are being provided, and one of the medics has reported to the aft deck, just in case. Now that the copters have engaged the H.L.F.ers, I'm working on stabilizing the forceshields against further hits. We should be good, Sir. Luna willing!"

"Yes, I'd noticed things seemed to be calming down a little. Means I can slow Her* down a little. Maybe give our Overboards a better chance of catching up with us." Smollette felt a wave of relief shiver through his weary muscles. He did his best to keep his grip on the wheel, with a silent prayer to the Sisters, that soon he might be able to rest.

Known for her levelheadedness in times of crisis, Florrie had long been used to taking charge. She was infinitely glad that, so far, her precautions had proven unnecessary. Though, Murphy's Law being what it was, she never counted on such luck holding for very long. Fear had spread when the ship began to be rocked and pitched from the force of the enemy's fire against both sea and shield. Now that more normal nautical motion was resuming, things were calming down. Panic had been prevented, and Florrie was grateful that a stampede in the hallways had remained only a distant threat. Greenwind fidgeted and complained behind her, still determined to give her a hoof-full, and an earful of the myriad reasons he should be allowed to resume duty.

"Stifle it, Wind, or do you want to make me find you a muzzle?" she queried. At the very mention of the word, the young pegasus stallion stammered to a halt in his diatribe.

Meekly, he hung his head, ears drooping, "I'm sorry Miss Florrie. I just wish I could be of more use."

"You've already been of tremendous use today, Greenwind, without you we wouldn't have spotted that ship until it reached our radar sensors. It's only because of your patrolling and warning that we were able to get such a good head start on those H.L.F.ers - you've kept us out of range for anything more than aftershocks. If you really want to do something else that's useful, why not make sure that everyone who needs it, has made it to the cargo hold? Hmmm?"

Greenwind brightened considerably. He eased himself from the sickbay bed with a nod and was out the door with a parting flick of his tail, before she could change her mind.

*Her - in this case the Captain means the Bonne Chance. All sea vessels are considered to be female, and are often referred to as Her or She, especially by their crew.

The Willow World

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Six
The Willow World

An eerie quiet filled the Bonne Chance as Greenwind manuevered along the tilting corridor. His hooves rang out hollow echoes as he surveyed each abandoned cabin. "Feels like a ghost-ship", he thought, gooseflesh rising along his withers with a shudder. "Too many of Móraí's * stories, " he told himself. Caoineadh ** - they weren't real, not in this world. Then again, with Equestria just a thin veil away...Magic had proven to be very real after all. Who knew all of the ramifications of it's influence? Greenwind heard a variation of an old rhyming prayer, running through his brain "From ghoulies and ghosties, and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night, Celestia, deliver us!"

"Get yer head about ye, laddy-boy, back to what ye was at!" he told himself with a derisive snort and a firm shake of his head. One nice thing about ponies, they were pretty good at taking important orders; it was almost a guarantee that anyone who would be left in the cabins would either be mid-change, or un-ponified. Greenwind knew that Florrie's request for him to check for stragglers was more perfunctory than anything else, but it still felt good to be up and moving. It took an effort of will, though, to keep him from giving in to the temptation to head for the bridge. "I'd just be in the way," he told himself, "More hindrance than help, no doubt." Indeed, the bridge wouldn't fit more than two ponies at a time in it, even if he went up.

Captain Smollette had become like a father to him. The urge to be with his new-found family was strong in Greenwind even before his conversion, now it was almost an instinctual imperative. Caught cowering in the cargo hold shortly after the ship left port, there'd been some controversial debate about how to deal with the stowaway at first. After his story had been related to Mr. Heskin, the Captain had made it his duty to keep Bobby Coppin under his watchful eye. The fear that he might be an H.L.F. infiltrator, bent on finishing the work begun with the Bureau bonfire was obviously on everypony's mind.

The transformation within Greenwind had been miraculous, even before he was allowed to ponify. Given a sense of purpose and a place he could feel safe, his former shyness and loner ways dissolved in the warmth of camaraderie.

Feeling an intense need to prove himself, he'd turn a hoof to any task available. It wasn't long before he'd earned his Second Mate post. It seemed weirdly appropriate that he'd end this journey where he'd begun it, in the depths of the cargo hold. As he approached, he could hear voices calling out instructions. "Line up over there, folks, we're not gonna be able to stand on ceremony - we're down to the wire." Mattresses were being hauled, clothing was being shed, and casks of potion were being rolled over near the coil of a long hose.

Greenwind smiled as he entered, "Everypony here?," he asked as he cantered through the door. Calls of greetings and reassurance rose to meet him as he tried to determine where he could be of the most help. Seeing their injured friend up and active even generated a small shower of applause, as he took his place beside the barrels. "Okay, it's time to Pony Up!" he joked, as they set to their very last human endeavor.

Hiromi had joined the press of pony bodies descending the stairs when the Captain announced the clearing of the deck. The herd moved as one to congregate in the huge communal mess hall. Calmly they went about trying to establish a sense of order; focusing on making dinner. One corner of the room was set up as an impromptu nursery and day care area for the young foals. Here they were kept helpfully distracted and out of harm's way. Mares and stallions alike took their turns in watching the young. Stories and coloring projects helped to keep the foals from even the hint of distress. Despite the rough motions of the rocking ship as they fled their pursuers, everypony did their best to prevent panic.

Such organization in the midst of the tossing sea - the attention to details during the ending of the world. Romi remembered how her Sensei used to say, "Life goes on, my flower, and ours is meant to drift the stream of it effortlessly."

That ponies seemed to unconsciously echo the philosophy of the Willow World both surprised and comforted her. Japan had known so many disasters, each one met with indomitable determination. Tsunamis, Earthquakes, War, Fire, Famine, Nuclear Meltdowns - somehow the tiny islands had held themselves together. Each time rebuilding, renewing themselves with a core of traditions handed down through the centuries with little variation. Even when Nippon's citizenry was forced to leave at last - domed shimmer of Equestrian incursion on their horizon, they took their unique culture with them - like so much flotsam in their wake.

"You seem very lost in thought, dear, a good one I hope?", inquired a bright orange mare beside her. Hiromi blinked, no matter how she tried she still felt unaccustomed to the casual way ponies approached and cared about each other - and their lack of any discernible etiquette. The unexpected endearment startled her, in and of itself.

Taking a moment to gather herself, she dipped her forebody, reminding herself that it was highly possible this was someone she knew, but in a form she hadn't seen them in before. "Yes, thank you, M'am.", she replied, glancing up to meet the gaze of sympathetic concern emanating from the earthpony's vibrant crimson eyes.

The mare chuckled, "My goodness, you're so polite, dear. Such nice manners. I'm Amber Flame, formerly known as Katelyn Mayborrow, in case you knew me from before." The name rang a bell in Hiromi's memory. Even with over 100 ponies on board the Bonne Chance, the months at sea and the close quarters had allowed almost everypony to meet once or twice at the very least. In her mind's eye, Hiromi could picture a matronly acquaintance of Oliver's, plump and pleasant - the very picture of a friendly storybook nanny.

"Thank you, M'am," She said, dipping another curtsy, "I believe we've met briefly, I haven't decided my new name yet, but I'm Hiromi Takahashi."

The earthpony seemed surprised. With a step back she inspected Hiromi from over her broad muzzle. "Oliver's little geisha friend?", she asked.

Hiromi nodded silently. It was amazing to her how she fell back so easily into her training. "Each situation, each client you meet, Romi-chan, each shall have a different need of you, a different picture of you in their mind." Her Sensei used to tell her. "Your purpose is to fulfill their ultimate fantasy to a state of perfection they've hitherto undreamed of."

The instructions echoed in her mind as if she was hearing them afresh. Most of the time the decision for which facet to display, which mask to wear, came to her instinctively. That was before the potion. She'd hardly been a pony for more than an hour or so, and the change was still leaving her confused. All the emotions she'd schooled herself to suppress so that her outward calm was as much a part of her as her hand or her shoulder....they flooded her now, sprang to the surface like tigers that had slipped their leashes. As a consequence, her features contorted, transforming from her old mask of "the demure little doll" to a sudden look of fear and uncertainly. She dropped her head, trying to hide the reaction. Her ears drooped, flicking in distress.

Then a warmth spread over Hiromi's arched neck. She was being hugged, pony hugged. Hiromi fought the urge to flee. She challenged herself to relax. "Thank you, M'am" she murmured as she gave a last shudder of release. The tears that wet her dainty muzzle signaled the dissolution of all her remaining masks and pretenses. "Now I'm really a pony," she thought as she abandoned herself into melting sobs within the comfort of the elder mare's embrace.

* Móraí (MO ree): An Irish term for Grandmother
** Caoineadh (kWEEn Ah): An alternative Irish term for Banshee

As Above

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Seven
As Above

Oliver's wings ached of fire and strain as they beat over the choppy waves. "It's a good thing we went to those classes, eh Doctor?", he asked. Oliver had insisted that everypony on board the Bonne Chance go to Conversion classes, even if they were still in human form. He blessed his foresight now, as he tried to trust to his new instincts and the fading memory of his Conversion dream. He struggled to hold on to his passenger with both forelegs, unable to raise himself higher due to their combined weight. Knowing that it should be possible for him to carry her was, he found, quite different from knowing exactly how he was supposed to do so.

Netta merely nodded, her teeth clenched in terror as she bobbed like a cork in the spray her hooves kicked up beneath her. All of her concentration was on a brightly swaying dot of light in the distance - the rescue crew on the aft deck of the Bonne Chance were holding it high for Oliver to follow, as they threw out pony-sized life preservers and uncoiled a tow line, securing it it to the stern.

Oliver felt the motion of her assent, his eyes focused on the very same goal, the light, a sharp pinpoint of hope and haven growing steadily closer. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, and was relieved to see that the H.L.F. ship was no longer in hot pursuit. One of the two copters had engaged the enemy and was busily exchanging rounds while the other hovered just behind his path. The force barrier prevented any closer approach of the vehicle, but the roar of the propeller beat the water to an icy froth. As Oliver returned his attention to the Bon Chance, a spot light flooded over him.

The glare from above cut a sudden swath for him, marking his own position more clearly for his crew. Oliver wished he knew if the copter's light included other, more lethal things, being aimed at him.....whose side were these guys on? Just because the other copter had gone for the H.L.F.-ers did not automatically rank this one as an ally. They could very well be on two completely separate teams from each other. Hell, it could even be completely different chapters of the H.L.F. fighting for the honor of taking out the last ponies on Earth before Doomsday claimed their misbegotten bigotry for good and all.

Static rattled and hissed through the ship's receiver despite every effort Marina made to adjust the settings. "The barrier's interfering with our reception, Sir. I just can't seem to get through to them."

"It doesn't matter, now, in a little while there'll be no more barrier," answered Captain Smollette. "Once we've recovered our over-boards, and everypony is accounted for, we're gonna cross!"

Marina understood. The two unidentified new foals would be safe, once Immersion was completed. It was simply that the chances of the two arriving in the same place as the rest of the ship's complement was lean, at best. Granted, the exponential lands might cease to grow, once all of Terra had been absorbed - but that was only one of the many theories being bounced around. Risking the loss of even one of their on-board family to such a chance was out of the question if it could at all be prevented.

It bothered her, though. It seemed very un-pony not to try and help the copter's crew. Of course there was no way of knowing if they even needed help. Anypony in their right minds would already be converted, or have the means of being so on hoof. Marina tried to focus her attention to the reports coming from the aft deck, so that she could let the Captain know when the rescue was completed. She'd already heard from down below. Greenwind had helped organize the cargo bay and was ready to dose the remaining unconverted any moment now, she knew. The Baptism of purple goo would be an interesting sight and part of her wished she could be there to see it. Duty called, though, and despite many nagging tugs on her conscience, she did her best to deal with the task at hoof.

The ever-present, rhythmic thwump of rotating blades was apt to induce an hypnotic state of mind. It didn't matter how many years Paul had been flying, or how many times he'd been behind the stick - only his protective ear cups kept him from giving into the seductive drone of engine and blades. Below him the two ponies he held in his spotlight struggled to reach their ship. Behind him he could hear his co-pilot rooting through their belongings for the flask of purple conversion potion. Everything had seemed so easy when they'd left Cape Town. One last tour of the coast to check for any stragglers, then home in time to cross over. The flask had been a precaution, only, until now. In his lap lay the now defunct radio transmitter. The voice of the kind mare on-board the endangered yacht below no longer reached out to reassure him through the barrier's interference.

"Shame the deck's too small for us to land on, hey Paul?", his copilot shouted to him, from over his shoulder.

"Yeah, at this point I'd settle for a rock, a breaker, anything that we could put down on, Artie.", Paul replied. The problem, he knew, wasn't leaving the helicopter. The problem was avoiding being turned to mince-meat by the copter's uncontrolled descent once no-one was piloting it. Both of them would have to down potion and bail very quickly, and very soon. Any injuries could be cured in Equestria, with magic. But death was irreversible. And if the copter hit the yacht? Well, he didn't even want to THINK about that one.

So Below

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Eight
So Below

Florrie stared at the casks of potion as if they'd become her own personal nemeses. The high powered jet hose now lay in an uncoiled mass upon the cargo hold's floor, in a statement of impotence and frustration. Up until now, casks had been easily tapped, but these few last barrels had sat longer than all the others. As it was, she was surprised that they had held together when they were rolled out of storage. Further handling of the casks threatened imminent, explosive results.

Greenwind cleared his throat behind her, and titled his head to indicate the waiting passengers, huddled cold and naked upon their mattresses, doing their best not to look worried and scared. "If we break them, the distribution won't be right. Right?", he asked.

Florrie ground her teeth in anger, choking back her desire to nip the inquisitive colt. It wasn't his fault that the casks were dangerously distended from the damp. Even if the corks were removed, she feared the "champagne" effect. Attaching the hose would have to be accomplished quickly, as the potion might otherwise spill out before it could be effectively distributed among those who watched so anxiously. Knowing there was more than enough to go around was some small comfort, and if nothing else maybe rolling in a puddle would do the trick, but it became a guessing game on dosage even with the hose...she dared leave no room for tragic accidents to occur.

Here she was, one of the best magic-users on board, literally able to melt walls away with her will alone - and she couldn't figure out how to overcome this simple problem? If it wasn't so important, she might laugh; instead all she could feel was the sting of embarrassment as she felt the eyes of her shipmates riveted to her horn in hope. She could tell the seconds were ticking away. The barrier, growing ever closer, was a further pressure added to her task.

Greenwind shifted nervously behind her and she snapped her neck around to chastise him. Before the words could form on her muzzle, the sight of his wounded wing, awkwardly raised like a school-foal begging for the teacher's attention, stifled them. She glared at him and then the moment of solution hit her like a brick between the eyes. "Greenwind, what did the doc say about you flying? That wing doesn't look too bad - do you think you could still manage a short hover?"

The colt blinked and glanced at his wing, giving it an experimental flap. He winced a little bit, but nodded to her. "Don't remember the Doc sayin' I couldna' fly if I had ta" he replied. Whatcha' got in mind, Miss Florrie, ma'm?"

"Can you steer levitated items, yet, Greenwind? Do you know how, and do you think you could direct the barrels into place? GENTLY?"

Those who waited close enough to hear the whispered queries perked visibly with hope, and the motion went like a wave of expectation through the group.

Greenwind eyed the barrels tentatively, "I think I could, yes, ma'am." It was clear he wasn't quite on the same page as Florrie, but it didn't matter. Her next comment made her plan clear to him as she said,"Then I think I've got this sussed.” As Greenwind swiveled his ears in puzzlement, Florrie smiled. “It's been a stormy ride, recently, Greenwind, and now... well......Tut,tut, it looks like rain."

The youngster grinned sheepishly, and nodded as he turned to get some lift-off room, "Purple rain, Miss Florrie, aye, a right good shower of it, I reckon!" A couple of trotting steps saw him awkwardly airborne, a slight tilt in his balance as he turned and banked back over the waiting, soon to be, new foals. As Greenwind passed over the barrels, Florrie's horn glowed. The aura of her magic encapsuled the swollen containers and lifted them up into the his wake. Bobbing like buoys behind him, he did his best to center the floating casks over the mattresses. Every face in the room was fixed upon him, and he felt himself nearly bursting with anticipation,

Florrie called out, "Try to space them as evenly as you can, lad. You folks, gather up together ,under them, as best you may, " She smiled, widely, as she realized that all she'd have to do at this point was a little bit of her "disappearing act", as Netta called it. A wall was just wood, and so were the barrels of potion. Briefly she wondered if the potion would form a cloud, within Greenwind's area of influence. Either way, it still looked like rain.

As her hooves hit the deck, Netta could still feel terror coursing through her body. Most of the rescue crew scrambled to help steady her as she landed. Some of the others turned their attention to helping Oliver. The huge stallion still hovered in the yacht's wake, with the guide rope firmly clenched in his teeth. The line cast that had finally made it to them may have been the crew's fourth try, but it could not have been better timed. The storm had tossed the dark waves, obscuring the rescue lights hung from the railing. Without the line, Oliver and Netta would surely have succumbed to the grip of the cold, dark sea.

Oliver found flight far easier now that he was trying it unimpeded. It took only the twitch of a wingtip to steer, as he hovered higher over the waves. He allowed his crew to aid the unicorn mare to stand and stumble her way below deck, no doubt heading directly towards sickbay. The storm didn't frightened him, now that she was safe. Oliver's powerful form seemed made to glide through such turmoil with ease and he felt no chill even as the wind whipped his mane and tail into an imitation of the sea-foam below. When the aft deck cleared of all but two of the crew, Oliver folded his wings and came to a neat landing. With little fuss, he allowed instinct to guide his smooth descent.

The copter that had helped to light their way was an almost invisible speck, now. Oliver hoped the pilot would be alright.
Once he'd identified himself to the crew, the tenor of his rescuers altered to more respectful tones.

“Welcome back, Sir, good to have you on board again!”

This last voice came over the ship's speakers when his status was relayed to the bridge.

“Nice to be back, Marina, how's everything else holding up?”

“We're working on it, Sir, but things seem to be smoothing out. We're going to be heading straight in, now that you're back aboard. The last of the New Foals are being mass converted in the cargo hold. We don't want to give those H.L.F.'s an opportunity to regroup.”

“Seems wisest, beside we could hardly see the Conversion Terminus with the weather reacting as it is. No visibility, and far more danger than I'd anticipated – a shame, really, but it can't be helped.” Oliver dipped his neck to bring his muzzle closer to the microphone. “Is there anything else you'd like to tell me, Marina?”, he queried. He didn't know what prompted the question. Something in her tone of voice, combined with his newly heightened instincts, had the words coming out before he even knew he'd spoken.

The hesitation on the opposite end of the speaker only served to strengthen his growing concern. Reticence was palpable as she whispered her reply. And not for one moment did he believe the First Mate's response of, “Sir?....umm..no Sir.” when it finally came to his ears.

As she switched the intercom off, Marina blew a “Hrmph!” through her nostrils. Craning her neck around, she could see the Captain at the wheel. He wasn't a bad sort, she knew. No pony really could be, he was just focused – dedicated. Smollette wasn't the type of pony to think out of the box. His brusque, straight forward, and no-nonsense attitude instilled respect in every member of the crew.

Marina knew that, for him, the copter's helpful occupants were out of his venue. But Oliver had heard it in her tone of voice. The unease was growing stronger in her with each moment. Electronic devices would soon be useless, the closing barrier canceling out all Earthly technology. Stalled copter engines would be just one of the problems the unseen rescuers would have to fend against in their struggle to safely reach Equestria's shores.

Marina's hoof struck the deck with a thud. “No!” she shouted! The Captain's wings snapped up at her sudden outburst.

“No? No, what? What's wrong, Marina?”

“It's just NOT right!” the mare replied, stamping the hull, this time, with emphasis!

Smollette had been bending his full attention on steering. He had reached a hoof out to increase speed just as Marina's outburst startled him from the motion.

“Sir!, permission to leave the bridge, Sir!?”
She hollered over her withers, not even awaiting his puzzled response as her hooves thundered down the passage.

“Gran....granted” he stuttered after her, complete befuddlement causing his jaw to drop. Then, with a shake of his head, he turned back to the wheel, once more.

Winging It

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Nine

Winging It

Artie was helping Paul into his parafoil* pack with one hand, and clutching the cyclic** stick with the other. Maneuvering was tight, and the storm made the process even more challenging. The lights kept flickering, making everything surreal, as if they were in some sort of strobe puppet show. All attempts to locate their Potion had failed, and time was running out. Bailing was now their only option. That, and prayer. After all, without the magical purple nano-fluid, survival was pretty much out of the picture for the long-term. Only if they could make it to the ship below would they stand a chance; surely that nice mare would have 6 ounces to spare.

"Talk about going out with a bang, guess that old saying was wrong, huh?" quipped Paul

"Which one was that, then? " Artie asked, already knowing the answer.

It was just chatter, he knew, words to fill the hole of fear both of them were feeling. The cavern that quaked in the depth of Artie's gullet made him want to curl into a fetal position. But it would be such an unbecoming way to meet one's fate. Besides, cannon-balling didn't mix well with parachutes.

"An old author, called T.S. Elliott.", said Paul. "Elliott said that the world would end, not with a bang but with a whimper." Paul gasped out this last part as the copter took a momentary nose dive.

They changed positions, one last time. Paul taking back his customary seat with difficulty, due to the bulkiness of his chute. "I'd say this is one Hell of a Bang!" he shouted, over the noise of Artie opening the pit door.

"Seems like!" Agreed his co-pilot, his own chute on and ready to go.

Paul wrapped his seat's safety strap around the shaft of the cyclic, buckling it securely to the arm of his seat. Their hope was that this would buy them enough time to dive without the copter following in their wake. Anchoring the gas petal to the floor had been accomplished with the help of a spare helmet and some serious application of duct tape. They'd done their best to pass the Bonne Chance, yet stay in line with Her course. The wind would most likely work in their favor, unless it shifted suddenly, but the strength of the storm was going to make guiding their chutes difficult, at best.

Somewhere over his shoulder, Artie was preparing to jump. Almost wishing he were a more religious man, Paul made due with murmuring the Princesses' names in a hushed petition for aide. "Luna, Celestia, Luna, Celestia, Luna...."

Paul saw the very last of Artie's helmet disappear out of the view from the door frame, as he rose to take his own leap of faith. Echoing in the now vacant cockpit, despite the noise of wind and storm, was his shout as he took to the air.

"E Q U E S T R I A !"

Marina was a mare on a mission. There were several decks to descend before she could reach Mr. Heskin. Her main difficulty was not to trip, as she galloped down the stairwells between each deck. While it was true that Mr. Heskin had commissioned special construction on his Yacht, equipping it to accommodate pony sized bodies - stairs were still stairs. Marina had spent most of her time on the bridge and upper decks, even when she was off duty. She hadn't practiced much on stairs, not on four legs!

So, "Potion... Potion was a must", she thought. Her first stop would have to be Sickbay. What else would they need? She arched her neck, and grabbed some saddlebags hanging from a hook beside Florrie's nurse station. She hoped she'd be forgiven for borrowing them without asking, given the circumstances. "Rope would be good!", she declared. How she wished she could somehow send an inflatable life raft, or a dingy. Marina gave another stomp of her outraged hoof as she shook her head, impatiently. She HAD to think straight. Lives were on the line and the clock was ticking. Grabbing whatever came to hoof wasn't the way to go about things.

A few deep breaths, and she was out of Sickbay, and back on track. Rounding a corner at full speed careened her into a startled stallion. Chain reaction almost collided him to the unicorn mare, behind him, blanketed in a sodden wrap.

"Careful There, where's the fire?", was his rejoinder, as he protectively blocked Marina from barreling into the wet Newfoal.

"Sorry, Sorry," Marina blurted as she spied the shivering pony behind him. Realization widened her eyes, "Doctor? Is that you, Doc?"

The mare's eyes were wide with terror, clearly she was in shock. "That's her, alright, but she's not up to talking, just now", explained the stallion. "I'm seeing her directly to Sickbay, if you could step aside, please?"

Marina compressed herself, apologetically, to the side of the passage, as though trying to shrink into the wall. The two ponies passed her. A backward glance was all she could spare as she once more began to race to the aft deck.

Oliver stood on the storm swept stern deck. The enclosing Barrier was a huge bubble that completely filled the horizon. He had half a mind to order the Captain to come to full stop - no matter where they were, now, they'd be crossing over. Equestria was all there would be. Closing his eyes he took a moment to remember the sad Earth, the few wonders that had been left to view as he bid her goodbye. He'd been one of the lucky ones, he knew that, his whole life he'd known that. When the Good Families had tried to fight the inevitable, he'd been banished from their midst for daring to speak the truth.

"Wealth won't matter, not for very much longer. What are you going to spend it ON?", he'd shot to the assembled committee. "Power? You're delusional, there's only two real sources of power in Equestria, and if you think the Princesses are going to let you run rough-shot, you've got another think coming!" Their stupid contract, ensuring their continued humanity - they had no concept what it really meant. It was just another prison sentence pretending to be something it wasn't. Philanthropy had been expected, attempts at atonement, even regret - all these he'd been prepared to see - but those who ruled donned blinders and began to plan their cozy little rebellion on the other side. It was ridiculous, futile! Storming out of that meeting turned out to be one of the most satisfying moments of his life. And the freedom it gave him! To not Care anymore about what Anyone thought. He'd seen the light. He was going pony!

Pounding hoof-beats brought Oliver back from his reverie. As he turned with an a cocked ear to see what the fuss was, Marina impacted his withers with an "Umph!" of expulsive breath. "Whoa there! You alright?" he asked, as he planted his weight, grateful for the ability to lock knees and the strength that his impressive new frame afforded him.

Marina, saddle bag in muzzle, first shook her head, then tossed it up and down. Both her winded state and her full mouth prevented her clear response. Franticly pantomiming, one of her fore-hooves shot to skyward pointing urgently as she nudged at him to turn around. Oliver was caught between concern for his very obviously distressed First Mate, and confusion at what she so anxiously was trying to convey. He followed her hoof, turning to survey the sky.

Above them, he could make out the dim outline of the helicopter. Two small forms were dropping from it, barely visible as their chutes opened. Clouds of colorful parafoil blossomed behind them, suddenly, making their positions much easier to track. Oliver felt the weight of saddlebags being settled between his wings. Now able to speak, Marina's voice shook in passion, "They saved you, they need help!"

Realization hit Oliver like an anvil, those two brave souls would die if they couldn't manage a safe drop onto the Bonne Chance. Even then, they'd need something soft to break their fall, and potion on hoof, just in case. For those vague shapes in the storm-tossed air seemed very bipedal, at present. Could he manage both, as passengers? His back was broad, and he'd already proven his strength by carrying Netta to the ship. "LIGHT!", he shouted, hitting the com button with his muzzle. "Captain!" he commanded, not giving Smollette a chance to acknowledge, "I need a searchlight, NOW! Aim it high, and we need one more pegasus on deck, two, if possible. Where is Everypony?"

"Marina!", he continued, as he turned to face her once again, "Thank you! Yes, I see. I've got it! You head back to the bridge, but rouse everypony you can find on your way, let's get this rescue together fast!" As Marina galloped back up the stairs, Oliver spread his wings, reared, and kicked off. The effortlessness of flight, the Princesses' gift, was a true boon to him, he required no more than the slightest twitch of his feathers to steer. As the ship's searchlight lit the sky, he gave powerful pumps to his outstretched wings and began to climb, silently thanking the Sisters for their foresight.

Greenwind took a moment to admire the purple cloud in his wake, as Florrie's magic vanished the recalcitrant casks to reveal the life-changing elixir. His wing was sore, but not much beyond that. He let the rain hover for just a second more, for dramatic effect and appreciation, but also to be sure that everypony was under it. With a conscious closing of his eyes, he released his influence, and turned to land beyond the cluster of mattresses. Florrie was watching him, her horn's light fading as she smiled. The crowd barely had time to applaud the rain, as transformation sent them puddling into undulating masses of goo. Their shouts of joy were silenced as mouths became mere lines. It was truly an awesome sight. Greenwind had never seen the process, and was torn between horror and fascination as he watched Florrie survey it from a much more practiced and practical perspective.

"Did it, then, Miss Florrie, yer a genius, ma'am." His admiration was reverential, his tone hushed. Usually so exuberant, since his own conversion, Greenwind felt subdued by the sight before them. Writhing gelatinous blobs were springing out hooves, ears, and long, graceful limbs. Soon the plumes of mane and tail would sprout to complete colorful new coats.

"I couldn't have done it without you," was the nurse's response. "How's that wing?", she inquired.

"Not too bad, considerin'," he replied. The pegasus stretched his bandaged right wing, flexing it experimentally, before he folded it back into place with only the smallest of winces. "Seems ta' be ship-shape!", he smiled.

Florrie circled the metamorphosing Newfoals, double checking that all was well and as it should be. Practically itching to be on the bridge, Greenwind fidgeted. "That colt certainly has a lot of energy", Florrie thought. It was almost a pity to keep him from departure, but she was uncertain if his help wouldn't be needed again. All pondering was put aside at the approaching pound of heavy hoof-beats. Marina arrived in an almost literal lather, looking around the room with wild eyes, until they rested on Greenwind's wings.

"Need pegasi!", she announced. "Aft deck, emergency, hurry!" she commanded her Second Mate. Before he could even open his mouth in answer, the mare was turned through the door and heading up the stairs. Greenwind risked a quizzical look towards Miss Florrie - torn between the call to duty and the knowledge that he was still officially on the wounded list.

"Go, go!", Florrie's permission snapped him into action, his muscles moving him before he could even think. Wishing she could know more of what was going on, Florence Nightingale, nurse and unicorn returned her attentions to where they were needed most.

"So much for things going smoothly", she sighed - It seemed that even the best laid plans of mice and mares had, indeed, gone awry.

*Parafoil- A specific type of "ram-air" parachute, designed to be more like a paraglider, allowing for control and steering.

**Cyclic Stick - The main control device that steers a helicopter. It looks a bit like a joystick, but bigger. It comes out from the floor.

Air Male Delivery

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Ten

Air Male Delivery

The press of warm pony bodies was a comfort to the Earth Mare, Amber Flame. Much of the herd had relaxed, once the ship had slowed and ceased its careening. A dozy haze was generated in the closeness and scent which pervaded the mess hall. Nuzzled against her flank, the young unicorn mare, slept. "Poor thing", murmured Amber, softly. Hiromi had cried herself out, overwhelmed with post-conversion emotions, and they now lay cradled on the floor together. Amber's deep-crimson eyes made out shapes of moving shadows around the room. The keenness of her new senses were still a wonderment to her, how much she could make out, even in the dimmed hall.

Thundering hooves broke the calm as a pinto Earth Mare galloped into the room. Everypony roused and stared as Marina came to a halt. "Pegasi, we need pegasi!" She gasped out between breaths. "Copter pilots, rescue mission. Oliver says Come, Fast!"

Her message delivered, she tried to turn and leave. But there were too many ponies, all of them curious, many confused and frightened, who now blocked her way. With a shudder of surrender, Marina allowed herself to sink to the floor. Her sides heaved and her eyes were huge with their urgency.

"Get her some water, somepony!" shouted Amber, rising to her hooves and approaching the weary First Mate. "Give her room to breath!"

A space cleared around them, as the ponies realized that their presence was more hindrance than help. The war between the desire to be of assistance, and their curiosity was evident in the twitching of muscles and cautious steps as they formed a sort of semi-circle around Marina. From somewhere, a bucket of water arrived. Amber Flame lowered her neck and nudged it nearer to the Earth Pony. "Take your time, dear.", she intoned gently. Then lifting her flaming eyes to the herd, she addressed them authoritatively. "Didn't you hear her?", she demanded. "Oliver needs pegasi!" She searched through the crowd for the appearance of feathers. "You, you, and You!, " she pointed a forehoof at winged ponies throughout the throng. "Get going, Up, to the top deck. Take anything you feel might be helpful on the way, but don't dawdle! Go on, get a move on!"

Clear directions and a goal seemed to activate the mess hall. The pegasi started for the stairs. Brisk hoofbeats ascended as they caught the pace, too organized to be a stampede. Voices of encouragement called out amidst the clamor. "Yes Ma'am!" "Righto!" "On it!", music to Amber's ears as she returned her attention to Marina.

Awakened by all the hullabaloo, a bleary eyed Hiromi had nudged her way beside them. "Anything I can do to help, Miss Amber, Sensei* ?" The title elicited a raised eyebrow ridge from the older mare. Marina gazed up at the two of them, gratefully. Her breathing was starting to slow to a more normal rhythm, now.

"Thank you, thank you both.....thank everypony. I really should get back on duty, though."

Amber shook her head as she lowered it across Marina's withers, "I think not, dear, not just yet.". A flick of her ruby-hued tail indicated the small line of winged ponies that were heading up the stairwell. "Besides, haven't you done enough? You need to rest!" Amber's last statement was more imperative than elective.

"Yes, Miss Marina-san", echoed Hiromi, bashfully, "You need to rest". The little unicorn filly settled herself on the floor beside the First Mate. A circle of curious ponies still milled about them, as close as they dared. Keen ears perked to hear the latest update on their situation. After a few more breaths, and a deep drink from the bucket, Marina felt able to oblige them.

"All right, everypony", she began "You all know we had some copters above us. An HLF ship was chasing us, too. That's why we're down here, instead of up on deck. That's why we were racing around all over the place, just a little bit ago." Murmurs of confirmation accompanied this brief recapping of recent events.

"Well, it turns out the choppers were on our side, and one of them turned back to keep the HLF busy somewhere away from us, thank Celestia. The other copter kept with us, making sure we were okay, and helping us track a couple of our crew who'd gone accidentally overboard during the storm."

Consternation was etched in every watchful pony muzzle, now, but the hush was on them as they listened to Marina tell them the rest of the tale. The rescue of Oliver and the Doctor, and the plight of the copter pilots - who even now, were parachuting down to meet them enthralled the herd.

As soon as she'd finished, pony voices began to volunteer assistance. "No, no, nothing we can do `til they get down here, really, that's why Mr. Heskin needs the Pegasi. When we're allowed back up, we might be able to pull some of the mattresses in the upper cabins onto the deck, just in case. If anypony has any medical skills at all, be ready to jump in. Nurse Nightingale is helping the new converts, down in the cargo hold, and the doctor is still recovering." The First Mate struggled up, regaining her hooves. "I should get back to the bridge now. If anyone wants to take up towels, or blankets, that might prove useful, too."

Marina headed towards the now cleared stairwell, despite protestations that she should stay. Amber and Hiromi watched as her pinto painted hind-quarters disappeared with a whisk of her tail.

"I could make some tea, don't you think, M'am? They might need something to help warm them up," offered the little unicorn filly.

Hiromi's suggestion broke Amber from her contemplation, "That's a very nice idea, dear, thank you. But what did I ask you to call me, now, my Romi-chan?"

The filly blushed deeply as she turned to go and make the tea. In a hushed whisper, "You said I am to call you Mama...... yes Mama.", was her reply. Amber's smile broadened as she watched her new daughter depart.

Cerulean skies surrounded Paul and Artie. The storm of but a moment before had come to a sudden, eerily heavy, quiet. The barrier's bubbled walls closed in from all sides, now. Above them, their helicopter started to stall. A deep, diagonal dip aimed it towards the sea. Below him, Paul could see the rainbow hues of Artie's parasail. He focused onto the ship below, steering himself expertly towards her gleaming deck.

A dart of black shot forth from the ship's stern. It rose, in a steady pump of outstretched wings. Growing in size as the distance between them narrowed, a huge pegasus was lifting into the wind-dead sky. Oliver climbed steeply up, gauging his course to intercept the lowest of the two pilots. Artie, who'd been adjusting his straps and double-checking his gear, startled as the massive stallion came into his peripheral vision. Frozen moments in the now hushed sky seemed to stretch around them.

"I'm taking you down!", shouted the massive stallion, " cut loose, cut loose!.

Artie made a shrugging gesture of helplessness. Pointing to his helmet and tapping at his ear to indicate that he'd not heard.

The stallion pushed closer, careful not to tangle his wings in the lines. "Get out of your rig, and peel," he shouted. "Make it quick! I'll be right back, more help's on the way!", he exclaimed.

"Righto, I'll get the clips." Nervously, Artie's gloved hands began to fumble at his lines, while the stallion soared higher, towards Paul's gleaming sail.

A peacefulness had settled into Paul. A sense of slow-motion wonder pervaded him as he registered what was happening around him. On the ship's deck below, tiny dots of color were taking to the sky. "The cavalry to the rescue!", he thought, with a heady grin.

He craned his neck and watched as the abandoned copter's flight path plummeted in its sharp drop. Whether it would hit the barrier, or the sea, first, was anypony's guess.

The next thing he knew, a massive pegasus stallion was hovering effortlessly beside him. Paul smiled and waved in greeting only to be surprised by the urgency of the stallion's commanding voice.

"There's not enough time for you to land, we have to get you to the ship, and ponified FAST!" his would-be rescuer proclaimed.
"Get out of your straps, quick as you can - and strip!"

"STRIP??!?" This last word registered to Paul's puzzlement, but the pegasus only nodded in affirmation.

"No time for false modesty, no-pony is going to give a swirl," assured the stallion, "You're going pony, pronto!"

So saying, the heroic stallion gave him a perfunctory nod, and dove back down towards Artie. Paul shoved his gloves and helmet off, ripping at his straps and suit - sending colorful streamers of fabric flying in his wake. Then he reached upwards, one sharp motion of his expert hands unhooked him. The peaceful time-suspense sensation fled from his body as he began to plunge.

Sluggish chugs tremored up through Bonne Chance's hull and deck as the ship came to a sudden and shuddering halt. Without Marina's comforting presence on the bridge, the Captain had found little beyond her exit to occupy his mind.

It amazed Damian how used to Marina's little whisperings and chants he'd become. When the earth-mare had stomped out on him, he'd had PLENTY to think about. Now that her familiar hoof beats approached the bridge once more his ears perked up in hope.

Her silence, as she returned to her post, was palpable with disapproval - indicating clearly that his current residence in the proverbial dog-house was far from over. Should he try for a reprieve? Maybe he'd be better off pleading for parole, instead. How to begin, what to say? Smollette wasn't much of a talker in the first place, and rarely managed more than the few absolutely necessary words required to do his job. Now, well, now he had to find the right words. Best to get it over with, straight out....

"Marina?" She snorted acknowledgement at him as he cleared his throat to continue. "I'm sorry, I'm really very sorry. You were absolutely correct...", he struggled for each syllable. "It was completely unpony of me not to take the helicopter pilots into account."

There, he'd said it, and the position of his drooping ears and tail could only confirm his sincerity. Smollette felt himself sinking into the morass of Marina's extended speechlessness with a sense of despair. Awkwardly, he resumed his apology,
"It just didn't dawn on me, not until you said something. I was so focused...." He let the excuse dangle, slumping into the wheel with resignation for his fate.

Then warm breath ruffled his mane and pole. Marina's voice whispered into his ear, "Just don't let it happen again, we're all in this together now, all ponies together - even the ones that aren't converted yet. Ponies help each other."

Straightening his withers, Smollette replied with conviction, "Yes, yes we DO!" Pressing past Marina, he headed for the deck, "You're in command. Take the Bridge." With a new-found resolution he sprung through the steer-house's door, taking immediately to wing.

"Aye, Aye, Sir!", came her hearty response. As Marina watched, her Captain's form soar up and away from the ship. A smile spread upon her muzzle. "Now that's more like it!" she murmered.

Greenwind had launched from the loading dock. It had only made sense to go down from the cargo bay. His injury would have kept him from being in the first response team, anyway . He winced and wobbled, trying to even out his balance as he ascended. As he reached a level trajectory a gust of wind and a blur of gray feathers zoomed in his peripheral vision.

Greenwind blinked in confusion. That it was the Captain over-taking him in flight was a wonderment. He tried to assess everything that was happening. He craned his neck to take in the current scenario. Above him the constellation of the ship's Pegasi was maneuvering to assist Oliver. One of the pilots had dropped from his parafoil's rig in an act of complete trust.

The other human form seemed to still be struggling with a tangle of ropes that refused to discharge him. Helpful Pegasi teeth were nibbling carefully, to release him. Oliver flew just below, to catch him when he was finally freed.

A sudden impulse gripped Greenwind as his vision fell on the first pilot's free-drifting parasail. Immediately he shifted his course and aimed for the rainbow fabric. He gave a loud whinny to catch the attention of his fellow rescuers, and two or three of them reacted with a look down that showed puzzled incomprehension. Shouting, at this distance would do him no good - he simply jerked his muzzle towards his new goal and prayed they'd get the gist. Greenwind could feel an idea forming in the back of his brain. He wasn't quite sure what it was, yet, but he knew it was important. And he knew it was going to be catch as catch can.

Captain Smollette had spent most of the Bon Chance's voyage ensconced behind the steering wheel. Even in his earliest days of conversion, he'd been confused about his having become a pegasi. Flight came less easily to him, than so many of his fellow crew-mates and passengers. Now his wings pumped determinedly, as though with a will of their own.

The cluster centered around Artie, as he finally struggled free of his sail cords. They seemed quite sufficient to the task. Damian focused instead upon the free-falling form of Paul. Curving a wing, he banked and dove under the copter pilot's trajectory and did his best to brace himself for impact.

"Umph!" was their mutually agreed upon exclamation at the their sudden collision.
"Appreciate the lift" Paul joked into his ear as the pilot established a better seat and a firmer grip.

Smollette, always one to be a bit on the brusque, replied with a snort. "Potion?" he asked, "Do you have some with you?" he queried as he sped back to the main constellation surrounding Artie.

Unseen, Paul shook his head, "Seems we weren't as prepared as we thought we were.", he answered, "I'm really hoping your bunch has a spare 6 ounces."

"Should", was Smollette's curt rejoinder.

Everypony seemed to be getting things sorted out under Oliver's direction, when the Captain and his new passenger arrived. It seemed that there was indeed potion forthcoming - from the knapsack slung across Heskin's wide withers. Flasks were being withdrawn and distributed with all due haste.

"Now, the minute we hit the deck, you two, you down this, got it?" Oliver instructed, "We're not going to have a moment to spare."

Smollette allowed himself to glance down at the Bonne Chance as the situation around him became calmer with a stout plan of action.

There was something wrong....with the ship....with HIS ship! It listed even as it lay dead in the water. Bonne Chance looked, for all the world as if she were cresting a climbing wave. Then the water broke, and a curve of gleaming bubble revealed itself as it began to absorb the bottom of the hull.

The barrier was meeting itself to completion from beneath the very waves, why hadn't they thought about that, he wondered? Or had he simply failed to take in the implications? Regardless, it made the timing factor all that more imminent. And he knew that the need for all of them to be on-board when inclusion occurred was crucial. Nopony wanted to wind up separated and scattered to somewhere in the vast Expansion by some quirk of the Barrier - and the only way to avoid that was to keep in proximity with the rest of the herd.

"Sir!", Damian exclaimed, pointing a forehoof towards the ship below, "We're going to need to land NOW! That, or change Now, one of the two." But as these words registered to Mr. Heskin's sharp pony ears, Smollette noticed one other problem arising.

The water, around the bubble, did not seem to be absorbing into Equestria with any rapidity. This was causing a sort of displacement back-up, as it were....and now there really were waves forming around the rising bubble. Bonne Chance wobbled, partly embedded. The arc of the curve began to shift into a new configuration of unknown substance as if it was being gobbled from below.

"Well, Seabiscuits!" the Captain cursed. Other exclamations of various baked goods expounded from the constellation as the rest of the gathered pegasi registered the new catastrophe on the day's agenda.

*Sensei = Teacher

Imminent Incursion

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Eleven

Imminent Inclusion

Florrie had felt the tilt of the storage bay's hull. Thinking, at first, that it was just another wave, she was grateful that the angle of the climb wasn't enough to send the groggy newfoals into a sudden tumble of awkward limbs. She heard the engines stalling, and guessed that the ship must be too close to the Barrier for them to function any more - but still, they shouldn't be frozen in this odd position, should they?

Wide colorful eyes began to blink open around Florrie, filled with confusion and wonder. Some of the more bold were making efforts to move and rise. This was good. 20 minutes was the usual conversion time - had it been that? Time itself seemed to be stretching and shrinking in random patterns with the hectic shifting of the day's events.

All Florrie knew, was that it was time to get these newfoals up. "No time for dilly-dallying colts and fillies!" The authority in her tone was unquestioned, and her patients responded with further attempts to climb to their hooves and get walking.

"Up onto the deck, that's where we're all supposed to meet for the big moment. Come on, up with you now, I know it's not as hard as it seems. And once we're safe in Equestria, you can all take a nice doze, if you still need to." As Florrie gave out orders, she moved around among them. A nudge of her muzzle would help somepony to break from their post-conversion stupor, or she'd lend her shoulder for somepony to lean on, while they got their legs more firmly situated under themselves.

The ship's suspension still had the medical unicorn worried, but there were more pressing concerns in the scheme of things. She herded everypony with a determination that brooked no nonsense. Soon they were all moving up the companionway.

Florrie scanned a last look around the cargo bay, to be certain she hadn't missed anything. The light was dim, but she saw a sparkle flicker along the inner hull. A hint of glittering curve; a portion of the Barrier had bulged up through the keel! Startling at the appearance of its radiant glow, Florrie bucked and turned, making her own hurried exit....as around her very hooves the deck began to transform into something resembling sculpted crystal.

Florrie almost smacked into the rump of the rearmost pony on the stairs. She fought to regain her calm. "No lolly-gagging, I know you're tired, but we really need to hustle, foals, pick up the pace if you can", she urged. She silently prayed that nopony took it into their post-conversion euphoric heads to halt and take in the scenery with their new senses. Knowing how co-operative to orders their newfoal status made them, Florrie figured that so long as she kept them focused, kept their eyes on the prize, as it were, they'd keep to a constant pace and make it safely.

A loud crackling noise echoed behind her as she climbed. A glance down confirmed that the ship, too, was now being converted - but to what? And how much time did they have? Would it harm the newfoals, or the crew? So many questions. "Nothing to be done about it" she thought, and who'd have ever thought that the ship would become something else at all?

Greenwind caught a corner of parasail in his muzzle just as a trio of newfoal pegasi joined him from the constellation. It took but a gesture of his head and wings, and each of his volunteer helpers mimicked him. As the winds picked up again, Greenwind gathered his small squad so that the parasail was a taunt-spread blanket between their four corners. A flick of his wing-tip and they turned in unison, banking sharply and with precision. Rushing air filled delicate nostrils and sensitive ears. Salt and spray churned beneath them, as they brought the sail under the descending herd. Now they had a safety net. Even more important, a solid surface that could cradle the pilots with ease while they converted, yet one that could move WITH them. As they approached the rest of the constellation once again, he muzzle-bumped the nearest unoccupied pegasus. Through gripped teeth he asked, "C'n u tk ovr?". It took a second for that to be parsed out by the colt in question. But in just a moment, the pony took Greenwind's sail corner with a smile and a wink.

Like a verdant bullet, now, Greenwind shot up to Mr. Heskin's dark form. "Mr. Heskin, Sir!", he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the chaos of incursion. Fortunately for him, Oliver was already diving his way. "Get them on the sail, and give 'em their potion, now, Sir!"

Oliver gently lowered Artie onto the sail, flask of potion in hand. Above him Smollette was speeding his passenger, Paul, to meet them. Wild-eyed panic was plastered across the Captain's muzzle. "The SHIP!" was the only thing he shouted as he practically bucked Paul onto the waiting catch cloth.

"Get them to the ship, fast as possible, keep everypony together!" was Oliver's parting command to the rest of the constellation. Then he plunged and followed Smollette back down to where the Bon Chance hung like a jeweled ornament on the crest of a swelling bubble dome. It was no longer a matter of them crossing the Barrier, the Barrier was coming to them. Unfortunately, so were the waves.

Crystal Clear

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Twelve

Crystal Clear

Dr. Jannette Frazer awoke wet, unusually wet. Her own equine aroma filled her nostrils as she fought for full consciousness. Echoing hoofbeats pounded by the sick-bay door as she climbed once more to consciousness.

Was there something happening, another emergency? Was there something she was supposed to be doing? Somewhere she was supposed to go? She was the only pony in sickbay. It was uncommon for a newfoal to be left alone - but, then again, the last couple of days had been anything but common.

Torn between retaining what memory she could of her conversion dream, and the need to assess what was going on in her surroundings, a doctor's long habit of shouldering responsibility won out and she snapped into awareness like a cork released from a bottle. She noted that Florrie's nurse's bag was missing, as was her own packed kit – WITH its containers of potion.

Turning to the hallway leading to the deck, she marveled at the strength in her legs - it had been so long since she could move solely on her own power! Entranced by the joy of her new pony limbs, she watched each step as her hooves crossed over to the sickbay door.

And then she was on the floor! Beside her stood a flustered Florrie "You alright, Netta? ", the nurse asked in concern. Florrie's gaze switched between worried glances of her friend's fallen form, and the ascending rumps of the cargo bay's sleepy newfoals - heading for the galley.

"It's slippery" , the doctor murmured, one hoof-tip tapping at the floor. As if to emphasize Dr. Frazer's point, Bon Chance gave another, now rising, lurch. Florrie went down as the elevator-like effect sent a shudder through the nearby hull.

To Jannette, it was like a reoccurring nightmare. Hadn't she been through this once before? A vague memory of it tickled at the edges of her mind as she pitched across the deck. Some inner instinct guided her to spread her legs out as long as she could. Together, the two mares found themselves tobogganing pell-mell into the base of the stairs.

Erupting through the floor was, for all the world, what looked like a jagged mountain of glass. Subtle creaks and cracks rumbled to more ominous groans and shattering. With a mighty surge of force, Florrie was thrown, quite literally up the stairs, Jannette not far behind her. Only the foresight of Oliver's widened passageways kept the two from being battered by the banister as they were unceremoniously tossed upon the main deck into a jumbled lump of legs and horns. And the funny thing was, nopony seemed to notice their arrival at all. A grander show was in progress, and clearly taking center stage.

Panicking ponies were struggling to keep from sliding over the tilted deck. As though the herd's collective weight might tip the balance, they were all heading aft; right towards THEM.

Everypony on deck had stood transfixed, eyes upturned to the sight of the pegasi constellation, carefully lowering a vast rainbowed parasail to the deck, corners and sides held in their muzzles. Two play-dough like lumps of putty were forming into equine shapes upon the spread canvas. Hooves stomping in thunderous applause greeted their safe landing.

Then……… A sudden buck shook the deck in a tremor, a cascade of rolling motion that echoed with a sound like gunshot. Bon Chance rose from the waves, a fiberglass ballerina. Her bow almost vertical, for an instant, from wave to sky. In a gust of billowing spray the parasail caught the swirling winds, bobbing into a bubble. Spires and rods of crystal grew from the yatch’s frame, reducing the fore-deck into flying splinters.

As everypony slid and scrambled aft, the entire bridge cabin caught the parasail's cables. In one hefty motion the two upper decks of the Bonne Chance split horizontally from the remainder of Her hull.

Railing kept everyone from taking an impromptu salt-water bath. To the wonder-struck eyes of the herd, the deck
floated gently upward, evening out. Those who were watching, saw the rails curve and extend – weaving into a delicate basket pattern that grew like a living hedge. It intertwined to surround and protect the entire circumference of a huge and sturdy Equestrian Airship. Beneath them the waves crashed and swirled amid the shining rib-cage of the Bonne Chance’s crystalline corpse.

The Landing Party

The Last

Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Fourteen

The Landing Party

Marina was at the helm, forelegs clutching through the wheel. Against all odds she'd managed to hang on through Bonne Chance's aerial upheaval. Her eyes and nostrils were still flared wide and wild from fright.

Marina did her best to take in and respond to what was happening around her. It no longer seemed to matter how she steered. The ship floated serenely on a course that could barely be guessed at. Clouds settled into view as Marina took a long and ragged breath. She leaned up to catch the rope that hung from the ship's bell.

One, Two, Three....pause; and again One, Two, Three! The herd settled down, quieting as they circled around to hear her instructions.

"All passengers and hands, we need assessments, and we need them now. Some of you are already assigned to stations. But frankly, we don't know whether those stations are even There anymore. The Captain and I will be going over our maps of Equestria, and if any of you Pegasi are still feeling up to it, some scouting might come in handy."

Muzzles nodded, and shifting to tasks of inspection and inventory began in earnest.

Marina searched the deck for Smollette and Heskin, and finally found the former cursing pastries at a locked-down chest. He was trying to use a feather-tip to open it's padlock. "Come on you stubborn strudel swirl!", he groused

Marina did her level best to stifle the laughter her captain's remark inspired. "Maybe if you talked nice to it instead, sir?", she suggested. The glare Smollette returned her suggestion with, was almost enough to silence any further levity on her part. Almost. "Or I could give it a good kick", she said, leveling a powerful hind hoof just above the lock's shank.

"Might have you do just that, but I prefer the contents remain intact, and undamaged, at present", he snorted.

Lowering her hoof, Marina gave a little shrug, "Shame. One may assume that in all this, " her gesture indicated the entire vessel, "the key is nowhere to be found?".

Smollette closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, visibly calming himself before replying, "Oh, that, " another breath "would be a fairly accurate assessment. Yes."

"And the object, or objects so desired, Sir? What has you willing to en-peril your pinfeathers?"

Marina's timing on this question could not have been more fortuitous. Smollette had just ceased trying to pry open the lock with a much mangled and bedraggled feather tip.

The captain slumped dejectedly to the deck, eyes closing, once more, in despair, as he barely whispered the words, "the maps".

From Her vantage view in the darkness, Princess Luna watched the birth and unfurling of the magnificent new air-ship. Then, a glow from below caught Her eye. Now climbing back from his descent to the waves, the white maned (and tailed) stallion was pumping his wings for all of his might. The object in his mouth had begun to emit a soft lavender glow, barely detectable in the dark save for the "tug" it produced within the pit of Her stomach. All the pieces now fit, Luna thought, or soon would.

The Princess found Herself unusually excited, the last of the New Foals, it seemed, were already under Her particular care. "Which would be better?", She asked Herself, a grand entrance, or swift and silent incognito? The quieter She could be, the least intrusive, She determined, would give Her the longest opportunity to assess this last and newest of herds. What might She learn? Even She was uncertain, but the chance to soak up what could be gleaned before Her Presence was known was an irresistible impulse.

Luna held back, a moment, then shadowed the laboring stallion. She let a thin silver thread of Her own Magic pull Her along in his wake. It unraveled to join the lavender glow surrounding the canister clenched, by its strap, in his muzzle. Here was Her Word and Bond summoning Her. Before either of them had truly awoken, this eve, and from another Realm, it had begun its Spell. How Marvelous!

Stepping back into the shadows came very naturally to the Princess of the Night. Even so, She took a moment to swing on a dark, hooded cloak, conjure-fetched from her wardrobe. Many an adventure, or clandestine assignation had been secreted away in its silent folds. Feeling rather Filly-ish, Luna muffled a giggle with a fore-hoof, and watched the herd as the stallion landed in their midst.

A tangible mix of reverence and calm shivered through the ponies at his return. Picking up on their reaction, Luna guessed him to be the leader of this New Foal Herd. She hoped he'd speak up, or she'd have to weave a listening spell.

Thankfully he seemed to be accustomed to addressing large groups. His voice was ragged with weariness, and yet it still held a persuading authoritarian tone. At first, he was awkward, but only due to the strap clutched in his jaws. As he let the canister fall, a small, green pegasus colt ducked in and skillfully caught it between his up-swept wings - carefully cradling it out of the way.

"Thank you, Greenwind.", he acknowledged with a head nod. "Alright everypony, are we all accounted for? Any injuries? Difficulties?" . He snorted at his own question, "I mean, beside the obvious, that is?" Oliver scanned the herd for the Captain, or his First Mate - hoping for a clear "chain of command" response from just one pony. Thankfully those around him caught on quickly, and remained quiet, despite the urge to start shouting out "helpful" information.

"Damian? Marina?" "Doctor, Florrie?" from a lumpen huddle on the aft deck, the nurse's voice replied,

Greenwind looked about, answering "She was just here, a minute ago - but I think she went Captain hunting."

All of this was matter-of-factually conveyed as Florrie disentangled herself from a slightly dazed lavender unicorn mare, who remained sprawled on the deck.

"Here, Sir". "All hooves accounted for, and nothing to report so far as I know of."
"This", she said, indicating the other mare "Is our doctor, but I think she's still a little groggy 'round the edges, Sir.

Jeannette knew she was being spoken of, and if her head stopped spinning she might even manage to respond. There had just been a few too many ups and downs tonight, and she prayed to the Princesses that the weather would stay becalmed for a bit. At least, til she'd gained her hoofing. Deep breathes and slow blinks seemed to be helping. Slowly the kaleidoscope of ponies came into clearer focus around her. Netta remembered watching Florrie teach the New Foals how to stand and walk. There was something uniquely different about weight distribution. Using her forelegs as a leverage, she kept her knees straight locked, then a careful small kick of her hind-quarters landed her neatly on all 4 hooves. Her slow smile beamed out as she ceased swaying for the first time since her conversion. "Hey, look, no hands!", she chimed. The ridiculous exclamation took a moment to register with the herd, and then the laughter began to build. Netta bowed her slender neck in acknowledgement of a joke no Equestrian-born pony would ever "get" and withered her way through to stand near Oliver. Whatever he might need of her, was his for the asking - and his sleek coat tickled her muzzle with what promised to be a fine scent when it settled in.

Greenwind balanced the sea-slicked cylinder on his narrow back as the shifting of pony bodies jostled him. He felt the sacred trust placed into his wings, which he held like a cage, encircling and protecting the item from loss or harm. He did his best to stay within sight of Mr. Heskin, who, at least, had the height advantage to track him. Being slight of build was against him, here. Eventually all he could manage was a view of hundreds of rumps. The towering stallion's head was still visible, but significantly out of reach. He was prevented from flight unless he dropped his charge, and that he was more than loathe to do.

An unexpected, but familiar voice startled him as Marina address him from behind, "What'cha got there, Greenwind? The crown jewels?"

"Near enough, " he murmured in reply

"Oh ho?" Inquired the ever-curious mare as she sidled up to him. Occasionally she'd glace behind them. Greenwind followed her gaze, realizing that the Captain was there his head resting upon a chest, looking entirely woebegone.

"Um....?" was the closest he asked to a question.

"Lost the key," was her immediate response

"To?"

Their shorthand conversation echoed many a late night watch at the helm and they fell into it with ease.
"Maps", Marina stated,

"We'll work it out, Florrie, if nothin' else" Greenwind was sure that a solution was within reach.

The canister caught the corner of his eye, once more, as he watched the Captain. Then his whole posture shifted, ears coming eagerly forward. To Marina, he said, "Won't matter!" as he reclaimed his role as the (O.C.P.C.O.D.) Official Cheerful Pegasus Colt on Duty.

Smollette heard the trotting of light hooves approaching. A familiar voice was hailing him. "Sir!, Sir!"
And the next thing he knew he was staring at the almost neon-green hocks of a young pegasus colt.

With effort, he raised his head, "Greenwind?"

"Sir!, "Yes Sir!" His Second Mate crisply answered.

There was usually a wing-tipped salute in that mix, but the cheeky grin was plastered firmly in place. The Captain struggled to his hooves, Marina coming in to lend him a muzzle and a sturdy side to lean upon as he rose.
Something cradled in Greenwind's wings explained the absent salute. Smollette had seen it, before....but the significance just wasn't sinking in for him. He was too tired, too dejected, and off of his bearings to boot. The Captain shook his poll and gave the offending chest a light kick as he wrested himself back into form once again.

"Report!" The command snapped forth.

Greenwind's grin got wider, at that, "Too much, Sir, but leave it for now, I pray...more important matters, if'n you'd be so kind." His still bandaged wing dipped a little, at last giving his First Mate and Captain full view of the canister. A canister surrounded by an argent eldritch hue. Carefully, the Captain reached his muzzle forward and grasped the dangling cord. "Right!, Right you are!" he slurred, as he gave a flap of his wings. He circled up, up, and headed towards the tall stallion at the center of the herd. If that wasn't Heskin, he'd....well, he'd eat his compass, so he would!

Princess Luna felt as if She were watching a play. Each scene acted out, each character sure of their lines. As Her moon began to brighten the sky, rising on the far horizon, She awaited Her own Cue. The tug of Her Gift to Oliver Heskin preambled about the deck, as though unsure of its timing, as well. Shortly She'd have no Shadow to hide in, and (as they say), "The jig would be up".

Luna saw a gray pegasus stallion rise from the back of the herd, canister dangling from his muzzle - and wondered how She'd missed the transfer from the green colt? Even a Princess, it seemed, couldn't keep track of Everything at once.

The magical umbilical cord that connected Her to Her promise was nearly visible in the spotlight of the moon. Even as the canister was returned to the Lead Stallion, the Princess glided forward. As he opened the tube, the enclosed Scroll floated out, hovering for an instant, and then poofed away in brief display of flame and smoke.

It's sudden reappearance was somewhat less anticipated, She had no doubt.

The scroll arrived beside her accompanied by another flare of smoke and fire, and the sound of a chime.
She posed, Her silhouette displayed against the light of Her moon. With a flair of her cloak, She revealed Herself to the Herd. "Didst thou ring?" She inquired, a playful smirk creasing Her ebon features."

Epilogue: Past Tense

Epilogue: Past Tense

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Upon Four Hooves

Upon four hooves, I sweet grass tread
Where once was devastation
And flower'd meadows, verdant, spread
Across my newfound Nation

The bubble-gate, which open’d doors
Of hope, long cast aside
Dismiss’d away all human mores
And vanquished human pride

A new beginning, second chance
Was gifted to my ken
Compassion for our circumstance:
The plight of mortal men

And those who had the sight to view
Beyond all compass’d fear
Traverse’d the dangers to pursue
The better life found here

Equestria, the Fairest Realm;
Where dwells no Earthly pain ~
Our Princesses are at its Helm
May They, forever, reign

Epilogue: Past Tense

There were few things grander than the view of Ponyville from the Canterlot Castle's balcony. Today, the view was grander, still, by far. Banners of all shapes and sizes fluttered from every peaked roof, some being pulled across the sky by pegasi. Everywhere there were flowers, on buildings, on lamp-posts, on ponies - the aroma was a wild mix of pure intoxication. Confetti rained down from what few clouds had been commissioned for the day, only to disappear once it reached the ground. Nowhere was there a cobblestone that didn't gleam with polish, and nothing could there be to dampen the spirits of the parade of celebrants.

900 Years ago, a promise had been made. 100 years ago, a promise had been kept. Now Equestria brimmed with the one time populace of an extinct world, the New Foals. With them had come new cultures, foods, entertainments, and a point of view that radiated with goodwill and gratitude for their salvation.

A small gathering of New Foals milled on the castle promenade. Colts and fillies, chasing, and calling out to each other in their excitement. Watchful parents keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of trouble, of which there was, blissfully, none.

Resplendently head and shoulders above this group, stood a handsome black pegasus stallion with a stark white mane and tail. At one time, he'd been known as Oliver Heskin. Princess Luna, Herself had graced him with the choosing of his Equestrian moniker: Onyx Wavechaser. His broad chest sported a purple sash, which crossed diagonally from over his right wing to under his left wing. Somehow he managed to pull off the swank of this accessory in his stride. On him, well, it just looked right. He was bookmarked on either side by two very different unicorn mares. One was a contrast study of his own coat, in white and silver, with a starched nurse's cap perched between her ears. The second was slight and slender, deep purple with markings swirling across her rump in shades of green.

"I've decided," said the white nurse mare, "to move to the border. There just isn't enough work here."

"You would think, Florrie" replied the purple mare, "that you almost wished that ponies could become ill more easily".

Onyx's ears swayed like a metronome as he followed the conversation. "No, of course not!" Florrie sounded indignant.

"You could always train for another kind of job, Florrie. You have such a knack for magic of almost any kind."

Florrie shook her head, "It's like starting over from scratch, Netta. Some might find that exciting, me...I just want to do what I have been doing - only, more of it. More often."

Carefully, Onyx cleared his throat. He stepped out from between the two mares, and turned to face them. "I think, Florrie, that the only true concern we might have, is that you'd be so far away from us, in Tacksworn. We're going to miss you. Right Thistle?"

The former doctor let Florrie use her old nickname, out of friendship and habit. Every other pony knew her as Thistle Bloom now-a-days, and addressed her as such. "Too true, Florrie, you're family - near as nevermind....I can understand, but I don't have to like it."

"Well, nothing's set in stone, but the idea's been buzzin' around in my brain-pan for a good, long time, now. Besides, I can and WILL keep in touch. And you can put me on the roster for Finders Keepers contacts, I can spot lost New Foals from a mile away."

"Yes, one of your better notions, Thistle Bloom," Onyx chimed in.

"It just made sense," responded Thistle, "So many of us had no clue where we were, or where our loved ones might be amidst all the chaos. And since my talent kicked in even in my conversion dream.....it seemed only right to help."

Thistle had hunted down her father in a far off new settlement almost instantly, once she'd put her horn to it. She still recalled the wonderment of just being able to "know" whether someone was in Equestria, or not, and finding them became her calling. Especially when there were those trying to reconnect with loved ones across the vast Exponential Lands. Now Thistle's Finders wandered in all corners of the realm, it was a very rewarding career.

A blast of trumpets halted any further conversations for the time being. Above the airships, the Princesses glided to a regal rest upon the tallest parapet's balcony. Celestia's voice was audible to everypony as She thanked the New Foals for their many contributions to the Realm, and extolled their virtues to all in attendance.

The party lasted a week. Conferences, classes, demonstrations, displays, and dances galore were just the tip of the ice-berg to the options available. Oh - and there was one more thing. Ponies were now Immortal.

The afterlife realm had been dismantled and reabsorbed into Equestria Proper, and everypony who had ever died was back. There were more details to follow, to be sure. And the Recently Revived would have thousands of stories that nopony had every heard before. There was so very much to look forward to!

Character Follow Up Synopsis:

Onyx Wavechaser - Formerly Oliver Heskin: Onyx was appointed the official New Foal Ambassador. His wisdom and calm diplomacy were of infinite help and support to the Crown.

Thistle Bloom - Formerly Dr. Jeannette Frazer: Created Finders Keepers, which specialized in helping New Foals find and reconnect with loved ones that had been separated during the Conversion Years. After the Respawn, they also helped the Recently Revived to do the same. Eventually she asked Onyx to sire her 3 foals, but declined his offer of matrimony.

Grey Salt - Formerly Captain Damian Smollette: Adopted Greenwind as his son, & formed a family with Marina. Together, they charted luxury conveyances upon the transformed Bonne Chance.

Parchment - Formerly Hiromi: Ran a Tea House with her adopted mother Amber Flame.
She also gives classes in Ikibana (flower arranging) & Jiuta Mai (Geisha formal dance)

Yonder & Tangerine Sunset - respectively the helicopter pilots Paul and Artie: Moved to Tacksworn and created Daredevil Diving. They specialized in parasailing and other means of allowing Earthponies and Unicorns to enjoy and explore the joys of flight.

Florrie: Lived with Onyx and Thistle in Canterlot, for a while. Eventually she moved to Tacksworn and joined the staff of Daredevil as chief Medical Specialist.

Author's Note

Many road blocks, complications, moves, and just plain writers' block added up to 10 years between the first chapter and the final one. So sorry about that, everypony.

Magical Missive

The Last Holdouts

By Aedina

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

Chapter Thirteen

Magical Missive

Mid-dive, Oliver marveled at the strength and speed in his wings. Knowing that his crew had things well in hoof, allowed the onyx stallion to focus upon his own, clandestine, goal. In the wreckage below was a very special item. An item he’d been saving for just such a moment as this.

Brokering the Contract between Equestria and the Earth’s ruling families had been more than hard work filled with sleepless nights. If he’d not been a member of their own, he strongly doubted that his persuasions would have held much weight or merit with any but the Princesses. Fortunately, Oliver's sterling reputation for fairness and diplomacy had won out.

The Families signed….oh, they grumbled and complained like spoiled children, but they had signed.

Oliver had been sure to cover his own butt, as well. Conversion had long been on his agenda, but he’d put it aside as a lesser priority in the face of extinction. When all the finagling was flung, and all the wrinkles ironed out, Oliver boarded his yacht with the determination to see as much of Earth as he could, before it vanished completely. There was really only one caveat he’d craved, insurance.

The darkened boardroom had held only two figures in it’s shadows. It was the wee hours, and almost all of Mr. Heskin’s senses were blurred with weariness as he approached the Princess with an elaborate bow.

“Thou hast asked of Us to stay, Sir Heskin, an’ so, here We are. What wouldst of Us? Most especially? Know that any boon thou mayst ask is thine, if it is within Our power to grant it. Without thee. Many would have died. My Sister is keen in the keeping of Her promises, an’ I, in assisting Her to achieve Her true goals.”

Oliver’s hidden smile widened at the carefully chosen words, “So it seemeth, Your Highness to this most unworthy of petitioners. `Tis but a small boon that I would ask. An assurance of safety for myself and those that I shall take into my care, when at last we reach Your Realm.

”Princess Luna nodded Her serene and royal head, the sleek dark muscles of Her long neck dancing underneath as She strode towards him. The gesture was such that he knew he could rise from his Reverence. “`Tis, indeed, little to ask. Assuredly it is thine.” She replied. “Yet, somehow, I think me that there is more to’t than doth meet mine ears. Elsewise thou couldst have spoken thus, with Tia present.”

“Shrewd, shrewd,” Heskin thought. His respect for Equestria’s Princesses had only grown as he’d learned the ways they could say more than most could hear. Like the finest of lawyers, they were, in some manner. “Aye, well, as to that, it may or may not be. But if You will extend Your particular patronage, Highness, along with such provisions as shall be require’d for the voyage, mine poor heart would be much relieved, an’ all my worries put to rest.”

Luna quirked a cautious and curious eye-brow ridge at Oliver. She waited, for a moment, as though straining to hear “the catch”. She was sure there Would be one, at the very least. Oliver let the silence linger until She snorted and laughed. “Ever art thou a surprise to Us, Sir Heskin – a rare beast, especially amongst thy more transparent fellows. We shall see all needs are met, and a token of this assurance that thou dost seek shall shortly be in thy keeping, as well.”

"Thank You, Your Highness,” Oliver gave another bow, backing away from Her Presence until at last he turned to leave.

Paul had never been a planner; not so much spontaneous, as impulsive. As he floated out of his conversion dream, a breeze whistled past his newfoal ears. Paul felt his ears shift to follow the errant wind. “Now, that’s new!” he thought. He wanted to stand, but his legs weren’t quite ready to comply to the concept. Paul settled for a stretch of his neck, and the bleary blinking of his eyes as his vision tried to adjust and focus.

He could smell the herd, a mix of pleasant warmth surrounding them. Them. Artie was curled into a fetal position beside him. The orange hue of his best friend’s new coat stood out vibrantly, even with the myriad hues milling about them. His best friend's scent tickled at his sensitive new nostrils, and Paul nuzzled closer, in curiosity, only to find feathers tickling at his muzzle. So, Artie was a pegasus....how cool and appropriate was that? Stretching his neck further, and turning it around, he found his own withers similarly tufted with downy drying wings. This evoked, in Paul, a smile.

Then a sudden vertiginous motion, kick-triggered his new limbs into a purely panicked reflexive reaction. Paul grabbed Artie's neck in an effort to protect his friend from the lifting (and completely re-positioned) yacht now looming above his view like a humongous skyscraper! The swirling water below only helped to emphasize the precarious nature of their predicament. Never more than now had Paul been grateful for reflexes that responded before his brain clicked into panic. He didn't fight the knee-jerk reaction as he strained his new wings to their full. Beside him a flurry of feathers formed a constellation, his fellow pegasi coming to his aid. Then a swirl of rainbow colors went past him, and he recognized his own parasail fabric as it flashed by. As his eye followed it's ascent, it grew. Lines spiraled forth, attaching themselves to the deck. A huge[ i]Crack exploded, as the ship split in two, the lower hull abandoned on a stretch of rock, below. Before Paul's astonished eyes, Bonne Chance underwent a metamorphism. It seemed only an instant, and yet the transformation stretched his time-sense all the same. An airship, a steampunk pony airship took form around him as his constellation mates lowered Artie and him gently to safety once more.

Sounds of wonderment were everywhere, as the herd explored their new vessel. Parts of it still growing as it floated further skyward.

Princess Luna stepped back from Her work with a half-smile and a discerning eye. Each of Her stars, so lovingly arranged, glimmered with hope and light. This was Her favorite time of the evening, before She began Her Dreaming Rounds, but had settled the darkening sky. But as She watched, the dome of twilight gave a shudder and stretched, Stretched?!. Luna blinked, tilting Her head. She sought out the portion of Her domain that seemed distorted, smoothing against it with her muzzle and forehoof. Closing Her eyes, She quested for the cause of the phenomenon. Ah... there it was, the Terran bubble that connected Equestria to Earth - it had collapsed upon itself at last. So, the Exponential Lands had given its last hiccup over a very full meal - no more Terra.

"`Tis Done." She murmured. Should She tell Tia? Did She need to? Or would Her elder sister already sense the fulfillment of an ancient promise without hearing the words? A brief brush against Celestia's slumbers assured Her that there was no need to wake or inform Her sister of anything - Tia would know when She woke. Having begun Her work, Luna decided to continue Her rounds, however early.

Luna sent out Her Shadow-Self, the part of Her, which toured the Dreamings of Pony-kind, known, even now, as Nightmare Moon. A perfunctory glimpse of Equestria assured the dark mare that there were no urgencies that required Her immediate intervention; and so She set out to investigate what She now decided to call, "the closure site".

Though Her Shadow-Self could transport anywhere She willed - swifter than flight, indeed swift as thought, - Luna decided to take "the scenic route". This allowed a more in-depth surveillance of Her target region. Three things, did She see. All quite odd, each in their own way. Far below, a glimmer of crystal formed an almost cage-like structure upon an outcropping of jagged rock. Almost parallel to the Princess, in the night's sky, was a vast sky-ship, the deck milling with what looked to be an entire herd. And lastly, a diving dot of shock-white mane and tail streaming out behind the shape of a pegasi stallion nearly as dark in form as She, Herself, was.

The young Princess pondered for a moment, determining if Her aid was necessary within the intriguing tableau before Her. No strong "pull" or "tug" coerced Her into motion, one way or the other. Luna resolved to watch, lest somehow catastrophe hovered in wait. She would be ready, should the need arise, aye certise, so She would.

Wind and salt spray were more a hindrance to sight, than to motion for Oliver. His withers ached with the overuse of his newly fledged wings. So many changes had he navigated in this day, emergencies safely sailed through despite the tumult of final Inclusion. This one last task, for his Bonne Chance family, one more card to lay on the table, and all would be well. What he was looking for, was small, though, and could have been dragged to anywhere in the expanding Equestrian sea. It would float, of that he had made sure. If only he'd thought to ask Flory, or one of the other unicorns, to enchant the case with a finding spell, or a light. Frankly he hadn't considered the necessity of it, until now. Now, when the waves swirled in a storm around him. Now, when at last the destination of their journey was in their hooves.

At first, the day the "token" that Princess Luna had promised him was delivered, had seemed much like any other. But at about noon, the strangest of visitors arrived. Not at his door, so much as through it. When Oliver had entered his foyer, there sat, staring at him, a little blue cat. Upon his approach, she stretched herself and blinked her wide eyes...and spoke! The small feline indicated a corked copper casing tube that lay beside her on the floor. "As a favor, I am sent, to thee, sir. Carrying this promise of the Princess to thy possession." The cat groomed a paw, casually as she pointed it towards the case. "Now, that thou hast seen and received it beyond all doubt, the task is done." Nearly twirling in place, the flexible feline gave a glance over her shoulder, "Unless, thou hast fish?" Oliver did his very best not to seem as startled as he was. He gravely placed his hand up on his chin, as though pondering her query, but in truth; to hide his widening smile.

Giving a gracious bow to help gather his wits, he replied, "Fish, aye, I think me so, an welcome art thou to have some, it shall be arrang'd." this, he said, whilst ringing the rope bell for his butler. The cat looked not just pleased, but smug. She took it all in her stride as any cat should. "Jensen," Oliver said, as his servant arrived, "would you be so kind as to fetch miss?..." He gave a curious glance to his small guest. "Chang e" she purred. "Miss Chang e, here, some of our finest fish, and whatsoever else she might require before she departs?" "Very good, sir" his butler acknowledged, not even blinking an eye at circumstances too odd to be believed. As the little blue cat followed Jensen out to the kitchen, Oliver bent and retrieved the copper tube from the foyer floor.

Uncorking the container took some effort, but Oliver knew it meant a firm seal that would hold the contents in watertight safety. He carefully unrolled the parchment document, giving it a thorough read, before replacing it within its protective case once more. "Safe Passage, Tis done" he said, in echo of something Her Highness had once said. He tucked the tube under his arm, clapped his hands together, and bowed to the empty air.

The memory would have brought a smile, had Oliver not been feeling so tired and overwhelmed. The crystalline skeleton of his ship's hull glittered into view. Hanging from a cord, in plain sight, was a the tubular case, corked and secure, though dangling with a sway that threatened to dislodge it. One swoop, and he muzzle-tugged the cord, clamping it firmly in his teeth like a bit. Then he let the wind lift him, as he turned to join his herd in their new sky vessel. Once more quoting Her Highness, even through his clenched jaws. "Aye, tis done!"

The Characters

The Lasy Holdouts

A C o n v e r s i o n B u r e a u S t o r y

By Aedina

The Characters