Quantum Castaways

Chapters

Chapter One - Nowhere
Chapter Two - Necessities
Chapter Four - Relax
Chapter Six - Survival
Chapter Seven - Reaction
Chapter Eight - Sustenance
Chapter Ten - Wanderings
Chapter Eleven - Stand
Chapter Twelve - Expanding
Chapter Thirteen - Hypothetical
Chapter Three - Being
Chapter Five - Discovery
Chapter Nine - Progress

Chapter One - Nowhere

The first inkling that Twilight Sparkle, protégée to Princess Celestia and bearer of the Element of Magic, had that something was dreadfully wrong was the intrusion of sunlight onto her sleeping face. Shifting restlessly, her peaceful countenance contorting in annoyance, she flopped onto her belly and attempted to grind her face into her suddenly gritty pillow. The bed was damp beneath her, and startlingly cold, and her ordered and rational mind attempted to correctly analyze the sensation even in her state of interrupted repose.

"Spiiike, you forgot to close the curtains again... how many times do I-"

A sudden wave of cold seawater washed over her face like the harsh bitchslap of cold hard reality, smacking her into full panicked wakefulness.

Sputtering and flailing wildly, she bounded to her hooves and shook her bedraggled mane from disbelieving eyes. The images were blurred from seawater and nonsensical, and by the time she had shaken the stinging salt moisture from her purple gaze she was assaulted by a second wave of cold seawater, this one washing over her legs and staggering her slightly before receding backwards.

The sight that greeted her sapped the strength from her legs and she flopped backwards onto her hindquarters, her gaze panning dizzyingly across the now alien landscape. What could only have been a few hours prior, she had finished her schedule for the new week, added a few lines to her current report (still a work in progress, as the days immediately after her BBBFF and Princess Cadence's wedding were admittedly pretty slow) for her mentor before flopping into a contented sleep in her tree-cum-library home. Staring in complete disbelief at the scene in front of her, she literally could not process the radical changes to her environment.

No book-lined, wooden walls.

No stacks of errant books awaiting reorganization.

No stairway leading up to the tall upper window and her various astronomy apparatus.

No rich, invitingly solid wood floor.

Just sand stretching in a wide unbroken white arc, and what appeared to be the endless blue crystal waters of an ocean she had never seen before.

The surf crashed against her barrel and flanks, rocking her slightly, but she took no notice of the chilled seawater.

A few more details penetrated her benumbed state. White and grey seabirds darted and wove low across the blue and whitecapped expanse, occasionally darting downwards with predatory glee to pick at this or that seacreature foolish enough to peek its fishy face too close to the surface. The forlorn driftwood remnants of some storm or another bleached white by the unforgiving sun not too far on her left. Bits of dried seaweed and other indeterminate seaborne plant matter scattered here and there like a patina of rust on the otherwise pristine beach.

She stood, trembling, and turned slowly, casting about desperately for some familiar detail, some hint or clue that would make this insanity make SENSE. Her mind jumped like a panicked mare from one factoid to another. The nearest coastline was several hundred miles away from Ponyville... east, towards Manehattan. Was somepony playing some sort of practical joke on her? Had she... somehow... sleep teleported?!

The white expanse of beach continued for fifty yards or so up a gentle incline before turning into a lush mass of verdant vegetation. She could faintly hear the droning buzz of distant, unfamiliar insects and bits and pieces of foreign birdsong over the raucous cries of the seabirds behind her. The expanse of beach was unbroken save for the occasional sand dune. She took several faltering steps towards the jungle, her eyes darting over the details.

Her initial sounds were almost inaudible, shocked as she was.

"Spike?"

Her faltering, drunken trot became a canter.

"SPIKE?!"

She broke into a curving gallop, not quite willing to break into the verdant undergrowth. Still, it felt good to run, as though she might leave this suddenly cruel and senseless reality behind her.

"OWLOYSIUS?! APPLEJACK?!! RARITY!?"

Sand sprayed behind her as her hooves churned up the beach. Her pink-striped purple mane streamed behind her. Adrenaline and instinct spurred her like a rider perched on her back. Ancient herd mentality pushed her to seek others in her panic, turning a rational, logical, genius level intellect into a frightened animal racing around its enclosure seeking some way out...

"DASH?! PINKIE PIE?!! FLUTTERSHY!?"

She came barreling around a bend, turning inward toward what appeared to be a natural cove, the landscape graduating upwards towards a distant purple mountain with a top shrouded by clouds and a base shrouded in jungle. The natural beauty of the scene was like a palpable fist, but such realizations would come only later. For now, there was only panic.

"PRINCESS CELESTIA!? PRINCESS... ANYPONY?!! PLEASE!"

The fifteen minute, full on gallop took its toll on the somewhat less than athletic unicorn and she stumble-trotted a few staggering steps further, sweat painting her sides and flanks. Her head drooped, eyes closed tight against the sudden blur of tears.

"Anypony..." She croaked weakly.

"Please..."

The shushing, susurrus roar of the uncaring surf was her only answer.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she came to herself with a start, her head lifting in alarm, having drifted off into a miserable daze while still standing, her thoughts revolving in a closed loop of stunned misery. She sniffled, took in a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, let it out slowly, then opened her eyes again. Her mind relatively clear for the first time this morning, she made a bleak self-assessment and looked at the facts of her situation.

An unknown power or powers had removed her from her home, her very bed, and deposited her an unknown distance into unclaimed wilderness to fend for herself, with only her (admittedly formidable) wits between her and the unknown dangers around her.

Her friends either could not respond, or were not close enough to hear her. Unless this was a concerted attack upon the Elements of Harmony, and she had no desire to jump to conclusions as dire as that just yet without evidence, she had to assume that she alone had been spirited away. They would certainly notice she was missing before too long, and begin to look for her. Her mentor would be informed of her disappearance, and she and Princess Luna would literally move sun and moon to locate their missing charge. It simply wasn't in her friends' nature to abandon her. They WOULD find her.

Eventually.

In the meantime, she was on her own in what she was rapidly discovering was a dire survival situation. Her initial panic, while understandable under the circumstances, had not aided her in the least. She was dreadfully thirsty, hungry, hot, and tired. There was no telling what, if any, civilization was close at hand, or what sort of dangerous animals might lurk in the nearby jungle. She remembered reading somewhere that jungles were some of the most dangerous environments in existence for the unwary. Predators, unpredictable terrain, venomous creatures...

She shivered involuntarily.

She began to prioritize what she would need in order to survive long enough for help to arrive. In this she was being entirely pragmatic. She had no idea where she was, and no way of determining her bearings... at least until nightfall. Picking a direction and moving in it might sound proactive, but it would really just mean expending a lot of energy floundering towards an objective that might be the complete opposite of her intended destination. She had a scholar's knowledge of geography and the properly scientific mindset to get a general idea of her whereabouts, but that would come later. For now there were things that were more important to her immediate survival.

Fresh water.

Food.

Shelter.

The big three. Of these, fresh water was the absolute top priority. A pony could survive for perhaps a month without food, and judging from the lush vegetation surrounding her food was NOT going to be a problem. Lack of fresh water would kill her in only a few days at most. Her ears perked and she strained, her muzzle scenting the air cautiously. The smell of salt and warm beach, rotting vegetable matter, and the rythmic roar of the surf made detecting anything useful an impossibility. She eyed the jungle with trepidation, then shook her head, her face tightening into a visage of iron determination.

Jungle it is, then.

Less then twenty minutes later remembered snippets from Sure Hoof's Guide to Wilderness Survival: Jungle (2nd Edition, the rare, limited printing, with full color pictures) had led her to a babbling, mid-sized stream. She eyed the flank deep water warily, senses tuned for potential predators. What she remembered of the book said it was probably best to err on the side of caution where drinking any water in the wilderness was concerned, as bacteria and parasites abounded, but she was just so thirsty, and she didn't have the necessary trappings to start a fire, nor any sort of container to boil it in even if she did. The water was absolutely crystal clear, and a few small fish darted in silvery streaks along the bottom. She mentally shrugged and, taking one last moment to look for anything potentially life threatening, bent her head for a long drink.

The water was cold, had a slightly mineral tang that suggested springwater (Which she thought was a very good sign) and tasted like ambrosial nectar. She carefully paced her drinking, mindful of the need not to drink too fast and become sick, then waded a bit out into the cold water and sluiced the sweat and sand of her trek from her sides and flanks. She lingered a bit, bending down and dipping her head and mane beneath the surface, enjoying the sudden coolness after the long, hot morning, then straightened, stepped back onto dry land, and shook herself dry.

Her stomach gurgled noisily and she blushed, then let out a deep sigh. Right. Next order of business, food.

Deeper into the jungle, she had to remind herself several times that she was, in fact, not on a pleasurable excursion. It was difficult to keep a properly cautious attitude, the jungle was full of amazing sights and sounds. Thousands of insects, several of which she was almost positive had never been identified by Equestrian naturalists, buzzed, crawled, and darted through the steamy canopy, and the sounds of birds turned the jungle into a modest cacaphony of conflicting calls. At some point she had stumbled upon a natural trail that made a jagged run through the brush. Following this was simply the path of least resistance, and even though she thought she could identify several edible species of plants, she restrained her appetite, seeing as she wasn't absolutely sure. In fact, some of the leaves showed signs of being cropped by local wildlife, although she wasn't absolutely certain of that, nor was she able to identify the species that had done the eating just by the marks.

A spicy, citrusy scent perked her muzzle up and caught her attention like a lodestone to iron. There was no mistaking that scent... one advantage of growing up in Canterlot had been that the rarified tastes of high society ponies meant that some extremely exotic delicacies had been available. It wasn't until she'd moved to Ponyville that she'd realized how used she'd been to the everpresent availability of pretty much anything edible she might happen to have a craving for.

Carambola, or star fruit, as they were sometimes called in culinary circles, was a dish rarely seen in Equestria due to its growing most commonly on tropical and subtropical islands. Twilight Sparkle had encountered it exactly three times in her time at the castle as a filly, and twice had been in a candied, dessert form. Still, to the pony palate they were irresistible, and more importantly there was nothing more easily identifable, as combined with the scent, carambola had a distinctive star shape in cross section. Following what she was now convinced was a herbivorous animal's grazing track, she found herself in a small grove of star fruit trees.

Her stomach grumbled noisily, letting its impatience be known. She chuckled at herself, her mouth watering at the sight and smell of the delectable fruit. The twenty to twenty five foot trees swayed slightly in the muggy breeze, those tantalizing bundles several feet out of her reach. She reached up with her magic and snapped one loose, giving it a quick once over before stuffing her face. She rolled her eyes in gustatory ecstasy, finishing the tart and sweet fruit in only a few ravenous bites. She grabbed three more and finished them off with considerably less haste, savoring the delicious taste and the sensation of a full belly after being hungry for most of a day.

A light tinkling noise caused her ears to swivel to her right, towards a dense pack of undergrowth. She frowned, waiting for the sound to be repeated, her eyes scanning the terrain. Almost immediately she spotted something... odd.

Five star fruit rested in a small, tidy pyramid in the leaf choked mixture of loam and white sand. She approached the pile curiously, her head cocked slightly to the side as she gave the oddity her attention. She frowned, mentally gauging the distance from the nearest trees.

"That's peculiar." She mused aloud, somewhat startled at the sound of her own voice.

It was though. The trees weren't nearly close enough for these fruit to land here, and the chances, even if they had, of them piling up into a little pyramid were astronomically small. Her heart began to speed up a bit as the significance of this washed through her.

"There's somepony else out here!" She said, grinning.

She approached the pile to gather more data, frowning as she spotted other details that supported her hypothesis. Confusing details. She could just barely make out what looked like twists of wire lightly buried by the sand. Carefully brushing the detritus from the wire, she could see that it made a small curve around the fruit pile.

"Why would somepony do this?" She mused.

The realization struck her just a tad too late. When she would have time to reflect on it, it wasn't ENTIRELY stupidity on her part. She hadn't, after all, just blithely approached the star fruit pile to begin chomping away. She'd been curious. It should also be noted, in her defense, that ponies, being herbivores, just don't have any reason to trap small animals. Trapping in a survival situation would never have even occurred to a pony.

Grass is not well known for its ability to elude pursuers.

Even still, something about the wire and the fruit bothered her, and like most highly intelligent people, or ponies as the case may be, being bothered by a puzzle means picking at it until the answers emerge. She actually came to the realization that the loop might not be entirely benign when she remembered a similar situation in a Daring Do novel she had read as a filly, of all things. Something involving using a precious artifact as bait, and luring Daring Do towards a... Jerking backwards at that instant probably saved her life.

Maybe.

The trap had obviously been built with a smaller animal in mind, something under thirty pounds or so. Being a young mare, but well gone from filly-hood, Twilight was more than twice that, and furthermore she had been retreating from the loop when it triggered, and she hadn't been examining the pile of fruit so much as the wire itself, so instead of deftly catching her around the neck when it jerked tight, the noose caught her foreleg and the other side of her neck, smacking her violently in the face with her own hoof. She yelped in startled pain, surprise, and fear as the mechanism, a stout sapling which had been bent and restrained by the trigger mechanism and cunningly hidden in the brush on the side of the clearing, straightened with a terrific whip-crack of force, lifting her off of her hooves and dragging her several feet into the air, then bowed under her wiggling, jerking, absolutely terrified weight. The trap had been designed to snap a small animal's neck with mechanical advantage quickly, efficiently, and with as little fuss and pain as possible. The incorrect angle of the wire noose now painfully tight and digging into her neck and foreleg, and her own weight in excess of the trap's intended victims made that basically impossible.

It did, however, have the comic effect of causing Twilight Sparkle, smartest young mare of her age, to bounce like some insane person's idea of a purple yo-yo wiggling and struggling as she bobbed up and down. The tinkling noise was now plainly identifiable as a small bell attached to the end of the sapling.

To say that Twilight Sparkle went bugfuck would be like saying the Incredible Hulk had some mild anger management issues.

Jerking backwards, while a natural reaction, was the wrong way to go. The wire tightened noticably, and she felt a trickle of something warm on the side of her neck making its way down her coat. Throat closed tight in panic, swallowing convulsively, she gritted her teeth and focused a blast of magical energy at the sapling, but missed due to panic and the awkward angle, not to mention every three seconds or so she was lifted off the ground. That blasted bell wouldn't stop ringing...

Ringing...

Bell ringing? It suddenly occured to her that if the trap had a bell set to ring when it was triggered, then whoever set it must not be too distant...

Or too friendly...

She jerked her head violently left and right, but stopped with a choked gasp of pain as the action sawed at her painfully abraided neck. Involuntary tears of pain welled from the corners of her eyes.

She became aware of a sort of thudding sound, irregular... she couldn't place the noise but it sounded... LUMBERING, like a diamond dog or similar creature. She darted her eyes in the direction of the sound, ears twitching wildly, straining to pick it up. She thought she heard a muttering sound. It sounded suspiciously like, "I'm comin', I'm comin' hold yer horses."

The thudding stopped and she felt what could almost be considered a confused silence.

"H-Help." She whispered, tearing up further.

A longer silence. A grumbling, rusty, disused sort of voice sounded from a position somewhat higher than she thought possible.

"A purple unicorn baby? Sure, why the fuck not? It's no more insane than anything else on this fucking island."

She braced herself, jerking her head into a position where she could better make out the speaker.

She gasped. It was alien. Grotesque, like nothing she'd ever seen before. Taller than the tallest pony she'd ever seen, taller even than the princess or Big Mac, it looked gangly, all corded, wirey muscle. From the waist down it was dressed in a ragged pair of short pants that had a chaotic mottled pattern of tans and browns. A pair of worn light tan boots adorned its feet. A tan belt with various odds and ends attached to it, even in her panic her mind analyzed the alien, smooth lines of a unknown but obviously advanced technology. It was stripped bare from the waist up, the nearly hairless skin a light tanned color, darker than the pants. A strap held some sort of club or item of indeterminate but vaguely unsettling function onto its back, presumably a weapon of some sort, although she couldn't begin to guess its function. It had a small, fine chain around its neck terminating in a pair of shiny rectangular plates. Its dark tanned arms, slightly hairier than the chest, ended in black gloved hands with five long spindly fingers similar to Spike's but with blunt tips rather than claws. Its face was oddly flat and unexpressive, with a tuft of coarse, unruly dark brown hair around its mouth and up its cheeks and completely hiding its chin. Likewise, its mane was similarly unkempt, what she could see of it underneath a nearly shapeless tan canvas hat, and looked as though the creature had styled it by hacking it to a manageable length with a knife. Something about that face looked vaguely primate, with small, round, immobile shell-like ears and a short, tiny nose.

Its face contorted slightly, one eyebrow raising higher than the other in what she assumed to be a quizzical expression.

"Don't eat me." She choked out, beginning to shake miserably.

It never occurred to her to try to hurt it. Of course, it never occurred to her to do much of anything, at that moment. Pain, confusion, exhaustion, fear... This was quite simply the worst day of her life, and it was all just sort of compounding with one setback after another, and now she had failed and she was going to be eaten by a grotesque alien THING and no one would ever-

It snorted slightly. "I'm not gonna eat you... you practically give me diabetes just looking at you. Besides, you should shut up now. Keep acting like you can talk, and you'll prove all the head doctors right about me."

She had no idea how to parse that sentence. None at all. "What?"

It sighed. "Not gonna stop, huh? All right then, nothing for it. Hold still." He, from the deeper voice and the lack of feminine sexual characteristics she was pretty sure it was a he, reached for her with steady confidence.

"No! PLEASE! DON'T! ST-" She renewed her struggles, terror surging anew, trying desperately to angle her head for a better view, or maybe even to cast a spell, anything to stop what she knew was coming...

"Calm down! Calm down! I'm not gonna hurt you! You're making it worse!" He stopped, settling back on his haunches and waiting patiently, hands making patting, placating gestures in the air.

"Shhh..." He said gently, his voice calming to a deeper register. "Shhh, it's ok, just stop struggling and I'll get you out of that, ok? Trust me."

She managed to calm her panicked struggling enough to watch him warily, trembling and sniffling pathetically. She felt like a filly again. Helpless, powerless.

He reached up slowly, smoothly, obviously taking pains not to startle her again, caught the wire above her and stood, grasping the end of the sapling with the other hand and bending it down to cause the wire to grow slack. She stiffened slightly when he pulled a long knife from his belt, but he whispered gentle assurances again and she calmed, eyes rolling to watch his movements. With a swipe, he cut the end of the sapling loose. The rest of the small tree whipped upright in an instant. He slipped the knife into its sheath again, then bent down and carefully worked his gloved fingers into the small gap between her foreleg and neck. Her trembling increased as the foreign material touched her neck.

"Damn... you really did a number on yourself didn't you?" It mused quietly, meeting her large, liquid eyes with those tiny, beady little predator's eyes.

She noted several details. His eyes were intelligent, sharp and alert, and a sort of pale blue. Almost grey. This close to him, she could make out details that she'd missed in her panic earlier. A nasty scar ran from his cheek bone and into the beard at his jawline. He smelled... alien, just this side of unpleasant. The only way she could describe the scent was... wrong, somehow. Alien. Not pony.

She blinked.

Working carefully with those nimble fingers, he widened the noose until he was able to peel it off of her neck. She winced when it came loose, then backed up a bit, her ears laid back, hunched as though expecting a blow.

His expression softened a bit, obviously taking in her terror. "Hey, relax. I'm not so desperate I'm going to start eating... whatever the hell it is you are. You... you can talk, right? I wasn't just imagining that?"

She sniffled. "I can talk... how... how do you know Equestrian?"

He blinked. "Equestrian? I don't know any riders... oh wait... is Equestrian your language?"

She nodded warily.

He shrugged. "I was just about to ask how you speak English."

She started. "But that's-"

He nodded. "Pretty damn unlikely, but... well..." He gestured around him expansively.

"So's a hitherto undiscovered Pacific island in the middle of Afghanistan."

"A what island in the where?" Twilight said, confused.

He narrowed his eyes, consideringly. "Right. I'm guessing the words Kansas and Toto don't ring a bell either?"

She shook her head mutely.

He nodded, as though this confirmed something, but she had no idea what that might be. She frowned, the novelty of an intellectual challenge easing her fears somewhat.

Realization hit like a fist of an angry god. Her eyes widened. "You don't know where we are either? Or how you got here?!"

It was his turn to nod. "Nothing on this island makes sense."

Realization struck her for the second time. The combination punch of an angry god. "Island?" She whispered mutely.

He shrugged, then stood and gestured vaguely to his right. "You can't see it from here, but there's... kind of a bullshit mountain off that a' ways. Used to do mountain climbing as a hobby. Wasn't tough. You can pretty much see the whole island from the top of it."

She frowned.

He raised an eyebrow again. "You don't have to take my word for it, sweetheart. 'Course I have no idea how you're going to get to the top of a mountain without these."

He wiggled his fingers at her.

She eyed him speculatively. "What... are you, exactly?"

He rolled his eyes skyward. "Species Homo Sapiens, commonly known as human. More specifically, Lieutenant Commander Marshall Bailey, Officer in the United States Armed Forces, and Naval aviator, at your service."

She frowned at that. "What's a Lieutenant Commander Marshal? Is that a guard rank?"

He chuckled. "Sort of. The Marshall bit is my first name, though. Actual rank is Lieutenant Commander."

He frowned. "Call it mid-rank commissioned officer in the United States Armed Forces."

She parsed the rest of his sentence. "Naval Aviator... you're a member of your country's seafaring armed forces, but..." She frowned, puzzling over the unfamiliar word. She decided it probably had something to do with avian, which meant of birds.

"You fly?"

He nodded.

She shook her head irritably. "A naval flyer? That doesn't even make sense."

He grinned at her. "The really messed up part is that while us Navy pukes have more planes than the Airforce, the Army has more boats than we do. I could get into tremendous detail as to why it all makes sense, but to simplify things, let's say that projecting United States airpower across the planet has more to do with the sea than the air and leave it at that, 'kay?"

She didn't have any problem with that, seeing as she'd never heard of any "United States". Which is not to say that she wasn't curious... but there were more pressing matters.

She pointedly looked at his bare shoulders. "Where are your wings? If you can fly, wouldn't that make you a..." She paused. "A pegasus human?"

He blinked. "I'm a pilot, if that's what you're asking... I "fly" aircraft. Uh... a sort of mechanical flying apparatus. As for where my wings are..." He shrugged.

"Maybe twenty miles due north, much good as they'll do ya." He paused considering. She considered him back. Of the two of them, she was probably taking it better, now that the initial panic had left her. She was still wary of him, extremely so, but he had demonstrated at least a modicum of civility. He, on the other hand, had no experience with other sapient beings, other than in fiction. He still wasn't entirely convinced he hadn't just finally snapped. It had been... well...

After a moment, she started, then cocked her head slightly to look him more closely in the face.

"My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I am a unicorn pony from the land of Equestria. Pleased to meet you, er... Marshall Bailey."

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Wow... you really are REAL, aren't you?" He said, wonderingly.

She nodded, tossing her mane slightly, her ears twitching ever so slightly in irritation. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Well, for one thing, you're a horse of a different color. For another, where unicorns are concerned, I was expecting something more..." He gestured vaguely over her head. "Grand... less..." He gestured again.

"Cutesy."

She scowled. If anything it increased the cuteness force multiplier. "Not horse, pony, and you aren't exactly what I was expecting in an alien lifeform either."

He grinned, obviously amused at her response. "Alright, settle down Sparks."

She started to protest the nickname but he waved her down, gently.

"Here's the deal. We should probably get moving, that is, if you don't want to end up something's dinner. It'll be dark soon, and the local predators mostly come out at night." He smirked, as though something funny just occurred to him. "Mostly."

"I-I don't know..." She wasn't sure how much she could trust this thing... it had, after all, nearly... what? Killed her? That wasn't really his fault.

She had blundered into the trap, after all. His teeth, what she could see of them, suggested that he was probably some sort of predatory species. She was familiar with the concept, no one could be a friend of Fluttershy's and not be. While she found the idea of eating meat pretty nauseating personally, she couldn't really begrudge him the dietary requirement. It did unnerve her, a bit, being honest. Additionally, everything about him... his scent, the way he moved... it was all so alien.

His face lost its humor, and he bent down again to get eye level with her. It was difficult to discern his expression, those immobile ears didn't allow for the sort of visual cues she was used to looking for, but his expression appeared earnest.

"Look, no point beating around the bush, right? I'm sorry about the trap. I've been alone on this island so long, it never even occurred to me some... pony would stumble into it, alright? Even if you weren't a thinking, speaking, obviously intelligent being, where I come from we don't, generally, as a rule, eat ponies."

He smirked. "Besides, if your coloration is anything to go by, you're probably poisonous as all hell."

She snorted at this. Despite herself, she was beginning to like his quirky sense of humor.

His face grew earnest again. "Look, I'm not trying to say you're helpless or anything, but you ARE alone in what is essentially an alien wilderness, and believe me when I say, if you haven't had to run for your life today, you've gotten extraordinarily lucky, Miss Sparkle. This place is crazy, and it doesn't necessarily follow the rules. It WILL try to kill you... and I'd rather not see that happen."

His eyes flicked away, a pained expression on his face, as though he had remembered something unpleasant.

"Just... can you trust me a little further?" He met her eyes again.

She considered.

She wasn't the bearer of the element of Honesty, but she could read the quiet sincerity in Marshall's face. There was also a faint hint of what she suspected might be quiet desperation hidden there, as well. She found herself wondering just how long this human had been stranded here.

She found herself wondering just how long SHE was going to end up being stranded here. She shook her head slightly, clearing away the indecision.

"Alright, Marshall. Let's go."

He smiled, a genuine smile this time, not a smirk or one of those hard little "got you fucker" grins.

"Awesome. Follow me, Miss Sparkle."

She took a deep breath, let it out, and stood, somewhat shakily. Her neck felt sore where the wire had bitten into it, but she wasn't really... afraid anymore.

Not of him, anyway.

"You can call me Twilight, or Twi. All of my friends do."

He nodded. "Alright, Twilight. Welcome to... er, actually I haven't gotten around to naming the damn thing. Nowhere Island?"

He shrugged.

Her ears flattened.

He grinned. "You said it, sister."

Chapter Two - Necessities

-Planet Hell, Nightwish

They trudged through the underbrush at a decent clip, the human pausing momentarily to pick up a canvas bag he'd dropped upon approaching the grove. At first she'd been more than a little skittish about the contents of that bag, as there was a faint blood scent attached to it mixed with the scent of fruit from the grove, but he'd reassured her by revealing it was, in fact, full of star fruit.

A clinical and somewhat detached part of her noted that humans were apparently omnivorous. Neat.

She noted several items about his behavior that worried her. His eyes were constantly moving as they marched, head swiveling smoothly from detail to detail, as though searching for signs of danger in the undergrowth.

He kept glancing at the sky, what little sky they could see through the canopy in any case, as though checking the position of the sun. Judging from the quality of light and said position, Twilight judged that they had less than an hour or two before nightfall.

That was both good and bad.

Good, in that she could finally use celestial navigation to figure out where in Equestria she was.

Granted, without an astrolabe that would be less useful, but Princess Luna carefully ensured that the night sky remained constant and that the stars didn't drift too far from their intended positions specifically so lost travelers could find their way. Twilight Sparkle had used the technique countless times out of intellectual curiousity.

Bad because... well, like the man said, predators loved the night time.

Marshall's eyes passed over her, and he visibly started, then relaxed. She realized that he kept seeming to have to reassure himself she was still behind him. That was troubling. He didn't come across as unbalanced, but the nervous habit suggested he still didn't really believe he wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm not going to disappear, you know." She said softly. She wasn't quite on the level of bleeding heart that Fluttershy was, but she was certainly no slouch in that department.

He started again, then his eyes snapped to her. His face tightened, then he nodded, turning back to the jungle.

He froze.

She stopped, seeing the sudden shift in his posture as he eased downward.

"What is it?" She whispered apprehensively.

He raised a finger, a gesture she wasn't quite sure the meaning of, peering hard into the slowly darkening jungle, then he cursed quietly and carefully shifted that odd clubby, sticky thing from his shoulder. It had far too many accoutrements attached to it to merely be a club. On closer inspection it appeared to be a a structure built around a tube of dark metal, with a lens of some sort atop it, uniquely economized for human utility, which he demonstrated by grasping a handle, pulling it back slowly with a quiet machine smooth click before bringing the device to his shoulder, putting the lens in line with his eyes.

He crouched down into the undergrowth and nodded his head in a "come over here" sort of gesture.

"Look out that way, over there by that mossy rock." He wasn't whispering, merely talking in a low tone, almost conversational, and she immediately noted how the lack of sibilance actually made him a little quieter than her earlier whisper.

She marveled at the neat trick, even as her eyes and ears strained to catch sight of what had him spooked.

"Do you see the rock?" He asked, not taking his eyes off whatever it was he saw.

"Yes." She said, emulating his quiet tone.

"Ok, follow that root at its base to the right, 'til you see it... and don't panic. Whatever you do, DON'T run."

Her heart sped up at his words, but there was a tight control there that eased her fears, somewhat. She followed his instructions and saw...

She wasn't sure what it was she saw. It certainly was an odd little thing.

It was small, perhaps the size of a filly. Thirty pounds at the most. It was crouched silently, coloration causing it to blend into the natural shadows of the jungle foliage. From the position it had taken it appeared to walk upright, with forelimbs ending in three claws. Its hind feet sported two small claws, and a third, larger, deadly looking curved claw that was slightly offset from the other two, like a deadly little scythe. She had no illusions about what THOSE were for. It was densely feathered all along its body, with a narrow, vicious looking head, alert beady orange eyes, and a slight overbite displaying a row of sharp looking teeth.

It was looking right at her.

She hunched towards the human instinctively.

"What is it?"

He shook his head slowly. "Don't know. Seen 'em before. Call 'em murder turkeys, but to be honest, I think they're some kind of... feathery little dinosaur. One of the many reasons I know we probably aren't anywhere familiar. Back home these suckers have been extinct for... millions of years. Keep your eyes on it, and tell me if it moves."

He shifted very casually over, scanning their flanks, the odd tubelike weapon pointed outward.

"What-" She started to ask.

"These little fuckers ALWAYS hunt in packs. Always. Thought I'd taken care of the pack that hunted this area weeks ago. Guess I missed a few. It's the little bastards we DON'T see that are the problem. That one there is the fake out. It WANTS us to see it. It's trying panic us and flush us into its buddies." He sighed slowly.

"Can't be many of 'em. They're being AWFULLY coy about this. I'm guessing two... maybe three at the most. That one there is a male, you can tell 'cause they're smaller." He shifted slightly.

"And there's the female. Clever girl. Ok... as soon as I take out the female, that little fucker is gonna come quick and quiet ready to tear me a completely superflous new oriface. Gimme some kind of signal when it moves."

"Wait! Wait!" She hissed frantically. "You can't just-"

"Twilight, those things are NOT playing tag with us." He said reasonably.

"That doesn't mean we have to... KILL them." She said, weakly.

He risked a look in her direction. "They are vicious little eating machines and they are going to do their damnest to end us in as messy and bloody a fashion as you'll EVER see this side of Animal Planet. Welcome to the jungle, sweetheart, it's time to grow up."

He paused. "Or die, if you prefer..." He said in that entirely too reasonable tone.

She winced. Then risked an irritated glance at him.

He let out a deep breath. "She's moving. On three."

She started, turned back to the male, and realized it was moving, terrifyingly fast, and deadly quiet.

"One,"

"Marshall, it's moving!" She whined. His jaw tightened, but he obviously couldn't risk glancing at the male.

"Two..."

It came on in a bounding, oddly birdlike scamper, snapping its jaws in anticipation. Those claws flexed as though already ripping into her flesh. She swallowed hard, frantically looking for a way out of this.

That didn't involve her or it bleeding.

"Three."

KA-KA-KRAK!

What happened next she was never entirely certain of. Three incredibly intense bursts of sound accompanied by bursts of light she caught in her periphreal vision errupted from the weapon the human held. This set her sensative ears to ringing and jerked a pained, startled cry from her. Immediately after firing the weapon he pivoted with a snarl, frantically attempting to capture a sight picture of the oncoming male. It was obvious he was going to come up a little short. The male "murder turkey" let out a trilling, piping, victorious shriek and launched itself at her...

Only to slam heavily into a purple plane of force she'd thrown up at the last moment, practically out of reflex. The voracious little mass of feathers and teeth hung there like a bird that has discovered the joys of sliding glass doors and a good window cleaner. The expression on its face could best be described as a cross between "WTF" and "I has a sad".

Her own expression hardened and she gathered her power, horn bursting into purple light as she telekinetically flung the predator away, sending it on a terminal arc which left a small hole in the canopy and ended with a distant crash of breaking vegetation and the scattering of myriad birds and smaller critters.

Marshall stared at her open mouthed, smoke drifting gently from the weapon forgotten in his hands. His voice, when it came, was full of quiet awe. "Holy Dungeon Master's Guide, Batman."

She eyed the hole with narrowed eyes, then nodded slightly to herself in satisfaction and rounded on him.

"Do NOT patronize me." She emphasized this with a little bounding stomp on her front hooves, eyes flashing.

He swallowed, looked at the hole in the canopy, where a few errant leaves and small twigs still drifted in the rapidly darkening sky, shook his head, then ducked his head in a nod.

"No, ma'am."

She winced at the ringing in her ears and stared at his weapon intently. "What in Celestia's name IS that thing?"

He blinked, glanced down, then scanned the tree line again, looking a little shellshocked. "M4 carbine. It... er... fires little bits of metal at extremely high velocities through the application of expanding gas... um... what the hell just happened?"

"Magic." She said, then frowned at his uncomprehending look.

"Unicorns can focus and manipulate the energies of the universe. Through our horn and the application of our personal thaumic field, we can generate a localized energy matrix to manifest a number of varied effects, including firing small flightless raptorian carnivores at extremely high velocities through the application of Kinesis."

He blinked at this.

She gave him one of his own little "got you fucker" grins.

He grinned back, and let out a little chuckle. "Why Sparks, I do believe that was a zinger. OK. Human one, unicorn one."

She flicked her ears confusedly at him. "Huh?"

He snorted. "I'm keeping score. Current score is one all."

She thought about this for a moment, then frowned. "When did you-"

He gestured at her expansively with his off hand, rifle still held at the ready.

"You walked into my trap. That counts." He said, loftily.

She scowled. "It shouldn't. I wasn't-"

He shook his head, eyes back on the foliage. "No take-backsies. Mare up unicorn, and move forward."

She rolled her eyes and grumbled slightly, before glancing at him with a worried expression. "Are they gone?"

He scanned about for a few moments more, than relaxed and flicked a small button on the mechanism of the weapon.

"Yeah, I think so. Coast is clear. Don't drop your guard completely though. These little fuckers are tricky, I tell's ya."

He stood from his crouch and manuevered the rifle back onto his back with one smooth movement that she found herself fascinated by. It had never occurred to her how the mechanics of Spike's arms and fingers required such complex movements, but those movements were magnified in the tall primate. He scanned the undergrowth in the direction he'd fired, his face settling into serious lines. He glanced down at her and she glanced back, puzzled.

"You probably don't want to watch this, Twilight." He said in a voice gone serious.

Turning from her, he stalked into the undergrowth, and despite his warning she followed him, curiousity getting the better of her. He slipped around a small torn leafy bit of what she now recognized from history books as a prehistoric fern, towards a slightly larger and differently colored "murder turkey", which lay curled in a heap on loam and sand spattered lightly with crimson, feathered sides raising and falling shallowly.

Its eyes flicked in their direction, but it made no attempt to rise. The front of its chest was matted with blood and torn feathers, its back a welter of gore through which bone shone wetly.

How it was still alive, she had no idea. She glanced away, sickened, more than a little fearful now, considering the awful power of the weapon on his back.

He stared down at the beast silently, considering, shot her another glance, shook his head, and looked back, his expression one of a stallion who knows he's going to have to do something that will draw considerable ire, but is necessary none the less.

Her eyes widened. "What-"

He glanced back at her, then turned back to the task at hand and drew that long knife from his belt.

"No..." She said in a small voice.

"She can't hunt, not with three 5.56 rounds through her spine. That means the alternative is to let her die in considerable pain on the jungle floor, and feed some scavengers or let her rot." He said quietly, not turning around.

"But..." She protested weakly.

He sighed and turned toward her. "It's best we get this out of the way fast, Sparks. Sooner or later you are going to have to kill something to survive on this island." Starting with "Sooner", He emphasized each word with a gentle shake of the knife.

He glanced up at the hole in the canopy meaningfully.

"If you haven't already."

She glanced down, trembling. It wasn't her fault! She'd just reacted! She hadn't meant to... well... wait a minute, it was kind of a bird. Maybe it was ok? She didn't KNOW for certain she'd hurt it badly. She shook that thought off. No, before you do something, you take responsibility for its possible outcomes.

Even the ones you don't like. She shivered. Had she really had no other choices?

His voice cut through her musings.

"Meat is a reality you're just going to have to live with where I'm concerned, Sparks. If you plan on sticking around." He glanced down. His expression was sympathetic. Compassionate, even.

It was not, however, compromising.

"I don't want to be alone anymore, but I'm not going to risk getting sick because I can't get the nutrients I need. Maybe if I was a survival expert I could find alternatives, but I'm not. I'm a navy pilot with half remembered three week SERE, er, that's a wilderness survival and enemy evasion course under my belt, and a Bachelors Degree in Aeronautical Engineering."

She sighed. He gave her a slightly frustrated look, then appeared to grudgingly compromise.

"You don't have to watch. You don't even have to like it, Sparks. I'm not going to leave a living thing I mortally injured to die in agony over several minutes, and I'm not going to kill something and then let perfectly good protein go to waste." He said reasonably.

"Besides, the fucker made me expend calories and bullets to stop her from eating my hairy ass. The least she can do is be delicious."

She glared at him. "That's not funny."

He shrugged. "Point of view, Twilight. 'Sides. They taste like chicken, and I feel like chicken tonight."

She had been in the process of turning away, and this comment caught her attention again. She turned to give him a horrified look, and consequently caught sight of him turning with the knife and finishing the murder turkey in two quick motions, boot sole to the side of its long muzzle to keep it in place and prevent it from snapping at him, and one short, quick bone crunching stab to the base of the skull.

Step, in, crunch, out.

In a morbid sense it was actually rather ingenious in its efficiency. Like he'd done it a thousand times.

She couldn't grasp the idea of a species so economical with murder. She suddenly felt very dizzy.

Fun fact, unlike terrestrial equines, Equestrian ponies are more than capable of a vomit reflex. Which is probably for the best, seeing as the now infamous "baked bads" incident might have had more serious ramifications in a species that couldn't void their stomach.

Deadly even.

She turned away, heaving, bile and partially digested star fruit spilling onto the blood specked ground. She stared down at it and watched reality fade in and out at the edges of her vision, and only the horrified realization that if she passed out right now, she'd end up in her own vomit and the blood kept her on her feet.

She kept her back to the human's quick field dressing of the animal. Her head hung low between her forelegs, and she focused on breathing in and out, and not being sick again or passing out. Consequently, she only heard the wet slicing noises of the human's casual butchery.

This did not help.

It felt like forever, but was probably only around five or ten minutes before he announced his completion of the act, wiped his knife off on the leaves and stuck it back in its sheath, and they continued onward in uneasy silence.

Lieutenant Commander Marshall "Rain Man" (formerly Beetle, but YOU don't pick your callsigns, and a rather infamous incident during a liberty port in Pusan Korea had ended that handle forever) Bailey was not a soldier. At least, he did not identify himself as one. Sure, like any cocky twenty year old punk just out of OCS, he'd wanted a fighter pilot slot. The problem was, of course, that the Navy had needs, and they didn't always coincide with the wants of twenty year old would be fighter jockeys.

Thus, after an Associates Degree, Officer Candidate School, flight training and various required courses, he'd ended up attached to Fleet Logistics Support Squadron Six Two, or VR-62, "The Nomads". While flying the venerable C-130T Hercules four engine turboprop cargo plane, he'd developed a distinct love for the mechanisms of flight and, as the years passed and he advanced slowly but steadily up the ranks, and at the advice of a respected senior officer, he had taken the opportunity to continue his college education. Over the course of his career, he had actually developed a love for the aeronautical engineering field, thus it seemed like a natural fit.

He'd never been in a fighter cockpit, and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be, at this point. At the age of thirty, he was not an old man, but dogfighting was a young man's game, and he was getting just a little long in the tooth to start down that road, now.

Then, of course, the universe had shown itself for the perverse bitch goddess that she was and dropped him onto this hell hole, and Marshall had discovered something else that he was, above all else.

A survivor.

Now he was starting to wonder if perhaps he was also crazy. The thought had occurred to him in the past. In the long, long hours of solitude. This island wasn't exactly a great place to be if you were starting to doubt your senses. There was just too much wrong with it. Animals that should have been extinct, geographical features that couldn't exist in tandem...

Among other things. The talking purple unicorn pony with the flank tattoo was pretty much the icing on the crazy cake. He had to keep looking over at it to prove to himself it... no she, was still there. It just looked so ridiculous. She didn't look much like a terrestrial pony, when you examined it with a critical eye. She was too small, barely waist height, probably less than seventy pounds, the eyes were too big, the muzzle was too short the face too expressive... and, you know, it was bright purple with a mane garish enough to make an anime girl blush, and a cute 'lil horn.

Frankly, she looked like someone described a pony to an ignorant and drunken Chuck Jones once, and in a self-destructive binge of alcohol and barbituates he'd scrawled his interpretation of a what a cartoon unicorn should look like... and not one of those anime ones that were done all ultra-realistic.

No, ol' Chuckles did what Chuckles did best. We're talking Looney Tunes. Emphasis on the looney.

Still, several factors suggested to him it... damn it, SHE was actually there. For one, in his worst fever dreams he certainly wouldn't have imagined up a little cutesy purple unicorn. He'd run a hundred six degree fever and had to be taken to the hospital during flight school once. In his hospital bed he'd hallucinated that his roommate from college was sitting on his chest and reciting landing checklist procedures in a bad Russian accent.

Which was just before turning into a gargoyle with the face of Christopher Walken, and telling him he was going to be late for school if he didn't get up.

All of which was fucked up, and incidently led to him acing the written test on landing procedures, but never anything as off the wall as a pretty petite purple pucking pony.

If HE'D imagined it up, it would have been a huge black thing with a razor wire mane and steel hooves shooting fire out of its nostrils. Maybe with Ronnie James Dio astride it.

Or you know, someone small and curvy, and distinctly more brunette, athletic, with legs that went all the way up and modest breasts, he wasn't picky, and more than a handful was a waste.

Oh and skintight leather pants.

Leather pants were awesome.

Unless he was considerably more fucked in the head than he even knew, and his brain had decided he was sufficiently desocialized that even Bugs Bunny was starting to look like valid company at this point. Which he supposed was possible, because you were always supposed to be the last one to know.

So operating on the assumption that he was not, in fact, insane in the membrane, he had to face facts. A magic slinging unicorn from a society which obviously didn't get out much was following him back to his camp, and he had probably traumatized her for life.

He risked a glance at her. From what he could see, she was obviously on autopilot. Refusing to look at anything, dragging her hooves. Even her tail was drooping.

She refused to look at him.

She just looked so... lost. Forlorn, and scared, and frankly, just plain downtrodden. He shouldn't have forced so much on her so quickly.

He frowned.

Here they were, just met, after he nearly killed her in a trap meant for small animals, and the first thing he did was kill something in front of her. Where ever she came from, they obviously did things differently than they did on Earth. She looked so horrified. It was like he'd killed a PUPPY in front of a twelve year old. Hell, unless things had drastically changed back home, a twelve year old these days was sufficiently desensitized by the internet, TV, and the video game industry that they probably wouldn't have batted an eye if he'd taken a CHAINSAW to the damn thing.

He'd technically saved her life, damn it. If she'd continued wandering around in the jungle by herself, those damn dinosaurs would have probably bushwhacked her but good and made a quick meal of her. Oh sure, she might have gotten one with that Jedi bullshit, but she'd have never seen the other one coming, and then it was good night, Gracey.

So why did he feel... cruel? Why did he feel like a world class heel? A bully. Like a know-it-all adult who had just told a happy child that there was no Santa Claus because it made him feel big and superior?

He sighed, and before he could consider some possible fix for the problem they were there.

Home sweet motherfucking home.

This place was one of the reasons that he was convinced there was something screwy going on on this island. It was just a little too useful, it smacked of artiface. Oh sure, it was just a cave... but it was almost perfect, when he found it.

A little hobbit burrow waiting to happen. The place practically had a neon sign over it saying, "Hey fucker, you should build here!"

A big tree sticking out of a modest amount of top soil and the meadering foothills that eventually turned into Mount Fucked If I Know and a babbling little stream had created a perfect little hidey-hole that stayed dry in the wet and had sufficient space to store his not inconsiderable arsenal of shit. Salvage and construction over the years had turned it into the next best thing to a fortress.

He wasn't being too much of a blowhard to say that he was more than a little proud of it.

He watched Twilight Sparkle approach and wondered, not for the first time, what to do next.

Despite everything that had happened today, despite all she had to think about, despite the aches, pains, and general malaise of the spirit, she had to admit, Marshall had outdone himself. Before her lay what she could only imagine represented untold hours of labor.

A ten foot tall palisade fence that ringed a hill, higher in the back as it followed the hump, with an over looking tree rested in natural fold of a foothill. From here she could see that a small observation post, just a platform with a little three foot rail and a removable canvas covering had been built onto the limbs of the tree. Marshall glanced back at her, his expression a little smug, but she was too busy wondering at what he'd built to be irritated.

Grasping a plank that rested across a closed gateway, he lifted it out of the way and pulled the gate open with a little grunt of effort. The hinges, she noticed, looked like left over bits of some far more advanced piece of machinery, obviously adapted to this purpose from salvage. She stepped into the enclosure and he closed the gate behind them, placing the plank firmly into the slots provided on the inside.

She shook her head, slowly, glancing around her at the interior.

Several stoutly constructed outbuildings of wood abounded the inside of the palisade, some with obvious purposes, others less so. Most appeared to be organized storage buildings, with numerous wooden pallets stacked with supplies. Nestled back against the hill, almost directly under the tree and framed by roots was what appeared to be a grey metal door, again, obviously repurposed from some other piece of machinery. This obsessive attention to personal safety both reassured and worried her.

He grinned at her tiredly, and a trifle sadly, she thought, unless she had completely misread his eyes, and gestured about him.

"Welcome to Casa Del Bailey. Pool hours are from eight to six, dining hours are from six to ten, and we would request that guests refrain from getting hammered and pissing in the ice machine."

She snorted, which told her how tired she was, if his decidedly off-color humor was getting anything out of her.

Tossing the canvas bag of star fruit next to a crude wooden barrel, he shifted the murder turkey carcass onto his shoulder and walked into one of the outbuildings smelled strongly of woodsmoke and faintly of blood. For several minutes she just rested, not knowing what he was doing in there, and not really wanting to know. Smoke began to billow out of the room. A little later he came back out sans carcass.

She was amazed at how relieved she was not to have to look at it anymore. Like if she couldn't see it, it wasn't there. She wondered if that made her a hypocrite. She felt like she should care more about it, but right now she just felt numb. Now that they were closed off from the jungle, completely wrapped in a place he obviously thought was safe enough, all she wanted to do was collapse in on herself.

Ponyville already felt like a lifetime ago.

"How long have you been here, Marshall?" She asked quietly.

He frowned, considering her question thoughtfully as he removed his gloves and the rifle on his back, set them aside, then dunked a large rag into the crude barrel of water and began scrubbing himself. He tossed her another wet rag and she caught it with her magic, gratefully using it to scrub the day off of her coat and mane.

He watched the levitation trick with fascination before her expression prompted him to return to the conversation at hand.

"Five years."

She stopped and stared at him, eyes wide. "Five... five YEARS?!"

"Give or take a month or so. Things were-" He shuddered, his expression far away before he jerked back to reality. "Hectic, when I first showed up."

"How do you stand it?" She whispered. She felt like breaking down after a DAY.

He shrugged. "You focus on the day to day. Focus on the now. It's not so bad, really." The forced nonchalance of his posture, the slightly wooden set to his face, and most of all his gaze told a her a different story.

"Like I said, it was probably close to a month before I found this place. Since then, I've been keeping track of the days on one of the back walls."

He gestured vaguely towards the metal door.

"Not much else to do. I call it my "Fuck You Universe" wall. Each day is a point in my favor."

She blinked. "You seem awfully obsessed with keeping score, Marshall."

He shrugged again. "Only way to tell if you're winning at life. You done with that?"

She glanced down at the rag and nodded. Her mane and tail were an absolute mess, but without a brush that was a lost cause. He reached tentatively into her magic field and took the rag, his expression bemused.

"Huh... feels tingly. I better not get cancer from this, Sparks."

She smiled tiredly. "Only in about one in five cases."

He blinked.

"Two to one, Marshall. My lead."

He sighed. "Yup. Getting my ass handed to me by a pint-sized equine. Not my best moment."

He looked at her seriously. "What about you? You can't have been here long."

She sighed. "That obvious, huh? I just got here this morning. Went to sleep in my own bed, woke up... on a beach, actually."

He nodded. "Could have been worse. A lot worse."

She waited for him to elaborate but he simply picked up the rifle and the canvas bag of fruit and opened the metal hatch set into the hillside with a grating sound of metal against rock.

She didn't press him for more. She simply followed him into the side of the hill.

It was dim inside the cave, the glowing embers of a dying fire providing what little light there was. He stoked the fire back to life with some kindling and a few pieces of dry wood, then used a small stick from it to light several jars with small amounts of some flammable liquid in them.

This provided a surprising amount of illumination, revealing a comfortably sized room with just enough height that he didn't have to hunch over to get around. What little smoke there was from the fire drifted up into a shielded hole in the cave roof, no doubt disappearing into the night sky. The room was an odd mixture of high tech salvage and crude jungle survival practicality. A metal chair with a wooden base rested in the corner next to a wooden table constructed of the remains of several pallets. A mattress of some silky material with a few crude pillows and a folded grey blanket with an odd stencil on it. She was delighted to find that it was in common Equestrian.

"PROPERTY OF US GOV'T NAS JACKSONVILLE, FL"

"VR-62 NOMADS"

Several shelves had been braced onto the walls, and she realized with growing excitement that they held at least ten or fifteen different BOOKS, training manuals, judging from their spines, along with three or four dog-earred paperback novels, the spines spiderwebbed with creases from repeated readings.

He walked over to the table and did something complicated with the rifle, removing some pieces from it before setting it down. While she watched he went through a few bags, setting out some bowls and crude cutlery.

"Uh... don't have a huge selection for the equine palate, I'm afraid. I've got some dried fruits, some fresh star fruit, some tubers and such. Sorry. You probably don't want what I'm eating."

She shuddered. "It's ok. I'm not hungry."

He looked doubtful, but shrugged. "Suit yourself. I've got some left over material from one of the 'chutes, a few cushions I salvaged that I'm not using. I can rig you up a place to sleep, if you'd like."

She nodded absently, staring up at the books. Something occurred to her suddenly.

"Actually, Marshall... I'd like to get a look at the stars, if it's all right with you. I'd like to see if I can get a fix on our position."

He frowned. "Sparks... I think..." He shook his head. "Nevermind. Sure. Observation deck is upstairs."

He scratched his bearded chin. "You know, actually, I'm not entirely sure how I'm gonna get you up there. Never rigged it for someone with hooves."

She gave him a silent, pleading look.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, we'll figure something out."

Her grateful smile obviously embarassed and pleased him.

The evening was turning just a little bit cool, and consequently Marshall had thrown on a desert camo BDU top with the sleeves rolled up and the front unbuttoned as they made their way outside. Grabbing a lit stick, and his set of binoculars in their case, he ignited the outside alcohol lamps, and they made their way up the back side of the hill, where he'd cut a path. Staring in consternation at the back side of the palisade, he made a mental note to clear cut the kill zone on that half of the area surrounding the back wall, as it was starting to creep in again.

Experience had taught him you didn't want anything sneaking up on you at night, even if you were behind a palisade.

Once they'd arrived at the base of the tree, they stared up at the tree with its eight slat steps, framed in a night sky still just a bit too early to get a good look at the stars.

Considering the problem logically, he decided she probably wasn't ready to be hoisted into it with a rope, nor was he entirely confident of his ability to do so without hurting her. A sinking feeling in his gut told her that regardless of what he did to get her in the tree, when she made her observations she was in for some pain anyway. Still, he kept his suspicions to himself. Sure it wasn't Earth's night sky, but it might be hers, and there was no point in getting her worked up if it was.

He got the impression she was just a tad fragile right now.

Getting her up onto the "observation deck", turned out to involve what Marshall would later refer to as "the most ironic bit of grab-assery this side of where ever". Hooking her forelegs over his shoulders, her ears laid back in embarassment and distress, he hooked her back hooves into his belt and just muscled his way up the slat ladder too quickly for them to get awkward enough to slip. Once up top, it was a little cramped on the platform, with the two of them, but it did have a hellaciously good view of the night sky, and he'd cut the jungle back enough to provide a clear space.

She frowned up at the night sky, muttering something to the effect of, "Luna's taking her sweet time tonight."

"Might be a little easier with these." He said calmly.

She practically yanked his fingers off when she saw the binos. Once again he was treated to that fascinating purple glow of hers. It felt odd, less like his fingers had fallen asleep than like a mild electrical shock. Not unpleasant, just weird.

She looped the strap behind her head and telekinetically lifted them to her eyes, scanning the night sky.

The moon was there, big and completely unlike the one he was used to. This had been the first inkling he'd gotten that something really screwy was going on back when, aside from going from landing at an FOB in Afghanistan to a jungle island in less than an eye-blink that was. The moon was plainly artificial, as it was just a big white globe way up there, with no craters or shadows to make it distinct. It looked like a photo realistic moon made by a lazy eight year old, actually.

She frowned. "No... no that's all wrong. What is she thinking?!"

He raised an eyebrow. "What is who-"

She spun, hooves clopping on the wooden boards and panned east, then over west. The stars were coming out more and more clearly as the light faded completely, and while it wasn't HIS sky, it was pretty. The lack of any real light pollution really made it jump out at you.

"No, no, no..." She panted. "It's all wrong! Nothing is where it's supposed to be-"

She dropped the binos, clearly distraught, and he caught them before they could hit the railing hard enough to do some damage.

"Hey, easy there! These are the only pair I have!"

Then he caught a look at her face and any thoughts about the binoculars left in a rush.

She was terrified. It wasn't the fear of disorientation, of being lost. It was deeper, much more visceral. This wasn't the fear of the unknown, it was a desolation of the soul. As though one of the fundaments of her reality had been stripped from her.

It was like watching someone lose their FAITH.

She'd laid her ears back, and her eyes rolled wildly. She tensed, and it suddenly occurred to him that he was on a little platform fifteen feet above a steep rocky incline with what was looking to be a panicking equine.

"Oh boy." He muttered.

Chapter Four - Relax

-Shower, Psychostick

The jungle seethed with life, almost literally boiled. Bugs, reptiles, and every manner of bird and mammal; from tiny beetles all the way up to the fiercer jungle predators fought and sought, bled and bred. It was almost sensory overload, and it did bizarre things to ancient instincts in the equine brain. Reading about it and actually experiencing it was almost incomparable. Distraction was almost inevitable, and all too often dangerous.

Twilight had learned, in a not inconsiderable amount of pain and blood over the last several weeks, to keep her ears and eyes on a swivel. Even her often under-appreciated sense of smell got a workout. She watched the human run his fingers along the mossy green base of one of the timbers in the palisade wall, inspecting it for cracks and splits, checking its seating, and how closely it was wedged against its neighbors. She was often amazed at how sensitive the tactile sense of his fingers was.

Hooves just didn't have the sensitivity for this kind of work.

"Hey Sparks, give this one a hard shove down from the top, if you please."

She nodded, seeing exactly what was needed, and firmly pressed the top of the timber with terrific telekinetic force. It shifted slightly, coming in line with its fellows.

Marshall attempted to wiggle the timber, grunted approval when he couldn't, and sat back on his heels, removing his hat and wiping his forehead with his forearm.

Such was their routine. Life was an unending trial of finding where the next meal was coming from, of staying one step ahead of predators, of fighting the mind numbing monotony of day to day survival. At this point, being honest with herself, she realized that she wouldn't have lasted a week on this island by herself. Oh, she was smart, and she was no foal, but he'd saved her hide a half dozen times over just by pointing out trouble spots and telltale signs of danger that he'd had to learn from bitter experience.

"You know," she said musingly. "I've been thinking about this island... we really have no way of knowing if we're even in the same universe. I mean, both of us are experiencing differences in our physical model that would seem to suggest that they aren't entirely compatible."

These kinds of conversations were common between them, and truthfully, she cherished them. He called them bullshitting, and while she vehemently disagreed with the terminology, she did rather like how they passed the time. Marshall was a born debater, and a love of science fiction and an engineering degree gave him a pretty large basis to argue from.

"Just because I've never observed magic doesn't mean it wasn't possible on earth." He said, not unkindly. "In fact, there is circumstantial evidence which suggests that if it doesn't exist now, it might have at one time. You know, myths and legends and crap."

He removed a canteen from his belt, poured a little on his head, took a swig, then tossed it unthinkingly at her without looking. She caught it easily with her magic and did the same, letting out a little shiver of pleasure as the lukewarm water ran through her mane. She "hydrated", as he called it, and mused about how several weeks ago it would have never occurred to her to be worried about the color of her urine.

She slipped the canteen's belt clip onto the tough leather (Real animal hide. Oddly, it didn't bother her as much as it used to.) strap of the saddlebags she'd put together from some of the canvas he'd had around and let out a disgusted breath at the muggy heat of the day. Marshall had once jokingly called surviving in the jungle, "living in a fat man's armpit", and despite her disgust, she couldn't exactly disagree with him.

She didn't even want to imagine what she looked like, at this point. She'd never been a terribly vain pony by any standard of the word, but Rarity would probably have fainted dead away if she'd gotten a look at her friend at this point.

Imagining this brought a small wistful smile to her muzzle. She shook it off.

"Point taken, but really, we can't make any assumptions about our current situation... I mean, we could literally be anywhere."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, winced, pulled something small from his beard and pinched it until it cracked. That was another thing. The jungle wasn't happy unless it was all up in your personal space. Insects, parasites, flying and otherwise, even fungus, were a real problem they had to watch out for on a constant basis. Whatever limited body modesty and personal space she'd had regarding the human and he vice versa, had gone away very quickly, indeed.

Right around the first time she developed an itchy rash high on her back between her shoulders and he'd picked away the tick or whatever it had been she couldn't reach, then given her a good scratch.

Ohhhh Celestia that was heavenly. Fingers were the best.

"Well... we can make a couple of assumptions, Sparks. I'm an engineer, not a scientist mind you, and it is more a philosophical consideration than a scientific one, but have you ever heard of the Anthropic Principle?"

She frowned, then brightened. This sounded good. "No... go on."

He grinned wryly at her enthusiasm and returned to his inspection, thinking over his words carefully.

"Ok, so the universe could literally have an infinite number of possible configurations of physical laws, right? Like, carbon could have been extremely rare, or the relation between strong nuclear forces and weak nuclear forces could have been switched. You follow me?"

She nodded. "Infinite combinations of possible outcomes... but only a very narrow band of those outcomes support our particular form of life..." She mused over this, thinking she might know where he was going with this, but wanting to hear him elucidate it rather than jumping to conclusions.

He grinned and pointed a finger at her. "Exactly, so the band of carbon-based life producing outcomes of universe configuration are pretty damn slim... the chances are astronomical, but the Anthropic Principle says, wait a minute... we're here to OBSERVE it, right? So no matter how vanishingly slim the possibility that conditions could be right for life to exist, it MUST have happened, because we're even here to consider how vanishingly small the possibility is."

She nodded, a gleam in her eye. "Riiight... I think I see where you're going with this, but go on."

"Now from what you've told me, magic is a vital part of this complete breakfast, right?" He gestured at her expansively.

"You NEED it to live, like, not need it like you NEED a bath, or you NEED a book, but straight up will wither and die if you don't have it, right?"

She shuddered at the possibility of a universe in which magic COULDN'T exist, but nodded seriously. "All ponies have an innate connection to magic, and the dependency for unicorns is even stronger than some."

He nodded. "So you've been with me for weeks, and you seem fine. Since you're still kickin', Anthropic Principle says that magic must exist here, and must function about like you'd expect it to, otherwise no more Twilight Sparkle, comprende?"

She frowned. "Basically sound, but I think it would be foalish to rely on just that... it takes an awful lot for granted. Having never observed a situation in which magic does not exist, I can't begin to extrapolate how tolerant it is to conditions which may be outside its characteristics."

He nodded. "Fair enough, trust the universe, but verify. I dig it."

They regarded the wall in companionable silence for a moment, then Marshall groaned, popped the vertebrae in his back in a rather grotesque maneuver, then stood.

He considered her evenly for a moment, then grinned. "So... three weeks in jungle hell and still kickin'. Not bad, Sparks me lass. Not bad a'tall."

She grinned back at him. "Well, I did have some advantages I could name. Still, I must not be doing TOO bad, I'm still winning."

Marshall scowled. "Five to four... a narrow margin at best. Things can change in a heartbeat." His expression eased.

"With your help, we're actually a bit ahead of the game, for once, so I put it to you... what would you say to the rest of the day devoted to some rest and relaxation."

She beamed. "Oh I was hoping you'd say something like that, Marshall. I've been wanting to get through that training manual, Battlefield Expedient Medicine, it looks absolutely fascinating-"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa there... too much excitement, Sparks. You gotta take these things slow. Still, I might actually have a better idea."

She cocked an ear at him curiously. After several weeks of interaction she found that she no longer had to translate Equestrian body language, he picked up that she was urging him to continue.

"Well, I tend to save what limited supplies I have for special occasions but..." He leaned in close, looked suspiciously left and right, then whispered something in her ear.

Both ears stood up straight and her eyes widened. She actually took a step back, to take in his face. Her gaze shining, she looked at him in wonder. Then her expression flickered between doubt and suspicion. This sounded a little too good to be true. Surely after five years... "Do you mean it? You'd better not be teasing me, human... after three weeks, I take this sort of thing VERY seriously."

He solemnly crossed his heart and nodded gravely. "Pinkie Promise."

She'd told him how seriously she and her friends took those words. In the intense, "A Game of Trolls" (you win or u mad?) the two of them had going, it had become something of a safeword. She shuddered slightly, her eyes closing, then she literally bounced with excitement. "Oh Marshall, you've made me so happy, I... I don't know what to say."

Marshall smiled softly and shook his head in amusement. "You don't have to say anything, Sparks. I already know. Come on, I'll go get the stuff. Let's go get clean, for once."

She looked off into the middle distance, her eyes still shining. "Clean... with real soap. Real shampoo... it's like a dream."

"This is an absolutely amazing rock formation, Marshall." Twilight said, after staring for several long moments. "Also, I'm not sure mind you, but I think geologically impossible... at the very least unlikely."

"Shhh... Twilight... you're ruining the moment."

"Sorry, Marshall."

The two of them went back to surveying the vista before them. Several stepped rocky shelves with waterfalls spilling off of them collected into a natural basin, which then eventually became the stream that Twilight had washed off in on her first day on the island. The result was a sort of a natural thirty foot swimming pool, about six feet deep at the deepest point, crystal clear, and admittedly a little cold.

Still, for their purposes it was pretty much perfect, if a little suspect.

Frankly, it could have had a big neon sign over it saying, "Attention Twilight Sparkle, this is NOT a trap" and she might have still considered it.

Survival situations played merry hell with your priorities.

Marshall set down the bag of various toiletry odds and ends, and intently surveyed the scene as he removed the rifle from his back. Even now he was alert for any sort of danger, and Twilight scanned the jungle intently along with him.

Thankfully, apart from the ever present background noise of the wild, the whole jungle was eerily silent today, everybody seemed to be taking a break.

He finally nodded to Twilight and relaxed a bit, thus indicating that it was probably safe. She quickly shucked the saddlebags loose and set them close to Marshall's bag.

Leaning the carbine carefully against a boulder, he sat down and undid his boot laces, slipped them off, then grabbed a old green plastic bottle with the word "Prell" splashed across the front. Then he stood, took a deep breath and charged the pool, leaping into it with a gigantic splash and a cut off shout.

Twilight waded in more sedately, but chuckled at his enthusiasm. She magicked a small wad of salvaged slivers of soap ranging in colors similar in Rainbow Dash's coat to a sort of light pink along with a ragged washcloth from the bag of toiletries and immediately set about scrubbing herself with great relish.

Marshall broke the surface with a spray of water, stood and removed his shirt and shorts, letting them float in the pool sedately as he scrubbed himself. Fully naked for the first time since the two of them met, she noted that he had sparse hair on belly and thighs, under his arms and... lower. He either didn't notice her curious gaze, or didn't care.

Then she noticed something interesting.

"Hey! You DO have a Cutie Mark!" She exclaimed. "You never said humans had Cutie Marks!"

Marshall spun at her sudden call and gave a look which was a mix of surprise and confusion.

"A what now?" He said quizzically.

"A Cutie Mark! That mark, on your flank!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you looking at my ass?"

She gestured impatiently. "No, not anymore... let me see!"

Marshall gave her a blank look, twisted awkwardly to stare at his right buttock, then his eyes widened in realization and he literally doubled over with laughter.

"HA HA HA... YOU THOUGHT... I... HA totally forgot about.... HA HA HA!"

She scowled. "What's so funny?"

He struggled to get a hold of his mirth, caught sight of her expression and cracked up again. She waited patiently for him to calm down with an air of wounded dignity.

Finally he was able to draw breath. "Ha... Ok... oh man, that was classic. Actually, I've been meaning to ask about that doodle on your ass... didn't think it was a tattoo, since it looks like it's on your coat, and its held up too well to be a dye job. So that's a... Cutie Mark?"

She frowned, quizzically, and tried to flank him a bit to get another look at it. He watched her, a mixture of amusement and embarrassment on his face.

"Ok, that's a little creepy, Sparks."

She frowned staring at the symbol. "What does, U.S.D.A. approved, grade A Beef, mean?"

He chuckled. "It means, don't get blackout drunk in Hong Kong when your lesbian copilot is your liberty partner, and you owe her thirty bucks."

She stared at him blankly.

He rolled his eyes. "It's a just a joke tattoo, Twilight. I got it when I was drunk. Attractive human males are sometimes referred to as "beefcakes". My copilot was making fun of me. Sassy was kind of a bitch."

He raised an eyebrow. "I take it that these... Cutie Marks have some kind of significance to ponies?"

She nodded. "When a filly or colt gets to a certain age, they eventually discover what their great talent is. When they do, the Cutie Mark magically appears on their flank to signify this. It's... pretty much the defining moment in a ponies life. What's a tattoo?"

He went back to washing himself, then picked up his shorts and began scrubbing them against a boulder.

"A tattoo is a permanent mark applied under the skin by repeatedly piercing the area with needles and injecting a small bit of ink. It can be of great significance to the person getting it, or a drunken mistake, but it certainly doesn't magically appear."

She shook her head. "So humans don't get Cutie Marks... that's... kind of sad."

He frowned. "What if a pony has a talent that they don't want? Like... you know, a trashcan or a dishrag or something?"

She blinked. "I don't think it's possible for a pony to get a Cutie Mark for something they don't enjoy or find fulfilling... it doesn't seem to work that way... and honestly, you wouldn't be the best at something you don't really like doing."

He nodded. "Fair enough, I guess. You'd be the expert. So what does your star thingie mean?"

She grinned. "It signifies my talent for magic. I received it when I accepted Princess Celestia's offer of tutelage."

He nodded. "Neat. Seems like a pretty efficient system you got going there, Sparks."

She nodded happily, then frowned. "Marshall, what's a lesbian?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ok... not awkward at all... A lesbian is a woman, a female human, who is attracted to and enjoys sexual intercourse with other women."

Twilight nodded in understanding. "Ah, I get it. We have those too."

He blinked. "Really?"

She nodded matter of factly. "Marshall, our gender ratio is something like five to one, skewed towards more females. In some towns it's even worse. Same sex relationships, interspecies relationships, polygamy... it's way more common among Equestrians than what you've described of humans."

She smirked. "I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want to shock you... you're kind of a prude."

He raised an eyebrow, then waved a hand dismissively. "Bah, I refuse to be needled by your hipster ways, you don't wear pants, your argument is invalid."

She snorted at this and gestured at him. "Says the guy from the species that has to kill something and wear its skin to keep from freezing. I have no idea why your ancestors ever crawled out of the trees... actually, that's a lie, I DO know why... they were terrified things on the ground were staring up at their junk."

"Oh really?" He took up his shirt and began to twist the water out of it, winding it up tight.

She nodded, and went back to lazing in the cool water.

SNAP!

Startled at the sudden whip-crack and sting against her flank, she jumped completely up out of the water and came down with a splash, breathing hard and staring about herself wildly.

"What the buck!?"

Marshall giggled to himself. "Oh man, that brings back memories. Class of '97 towel snapper of the year."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she grit her teeth together.

His eyes widened and he raised his hands. "Wait a minMOTHERFUUUUUuuuu-"

SPLASH!

Twilight stared in satisfaction at the huge splash in the center of the pool, where she'd telekinetically picked up the hapless human and flung him shrieking into the depths.

"Take that, monkey!"

A few bubbles and a widen ring of wavelets, but no sign of the human.

She frowned.

The ripples slowly faded away. The bubbles had stopped.

"Marshall, are you ok?" She said loudly. She frowned. What if there was a rock out there, hidden under the surface, and he'd hit his head? Anxiety began to flare in her chest.

It was then that she learned two very important facts about human physiology. They were terrific swimmers, far outclassing even the most athletic Equestrian, and they could hold their breaths for considerably longer.

A white foam splash erupted directly in front of her, startling her enough that she reared up and began flailing with her forelegs.

Marshall grabbed her around the chest, avoiding those hooves and bodily lifting her up over his head with a roar of triumph.

"MARSHALL! YOU-" She shrieked.

"THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!" He roared and tossed her flailing out into the depths.

When she finally sputtered to the surface, mane plastered over her face and spitting water irritably, she found him watching her intently in some ridiculous and awkward looking fighting stance, making weird "waaaaaa" noises. He pointed at her and spoke in an oddly stilted manner, exaggerating his mouth movements so that his words didn't seem to synch up with his lips.

"You are quite skilled at horseplay young one, but now you must die! I alone am best!"

She burst out laughing at this display, horse-paddling back to shallow water. "What in Celestia's name is that thing you're doing with your mouth?!"

"That's what she said."

She slammed a hoof playfully into the water, splashing at him. "Marshall!"

He relaxed a bit, grinning and flopped his head back in a quick jerking motion to get his hair back out of his eyes. When he dragged it back like that and pulled it into a cue somewhat like a mane his face took on a slightly more Equestrian cast.

Well, minus the beard anyway. She idly wondered how attached he was to it.

He shook his head and shrugged. "A specific genre of movies... yes, films... like with a projector, moving pictures, right. Anyway, these martial arts, that's like... specific fighting styles and stuff, these martial arts movies sometimes get made in foreign languages, and companies will buy them, then dub over the original actors in English... usually very cheaply. It makes for some pretty entertaining unintentional comedy."

She grinned. "I think I'd really like to see one of those, one day."

He nodded seriously. "Yeah, it's a blast. I'd really-"

SNAP!

He yelped and spun, rubbing his right buttock. His shirt was being magically winded up for a second snap.

He turned back and narrowed his eyes. "Oh it's on like Donkey Kong now, marefriend."

Thus began a solid hour of grab-assery, horseplay, shenanigans, and various other tomfooleries. It felt good to let go, to be childish, to not worry about the future, or how her friends were doing, or if she'd ever make it off this island alive. It was just her and her new friend wrestling and splashing and generally making real foals of themselves and not caring a bit. In darker times, and there would be many in the future, she would look back on moments like these and take heart.

She would remember, and gain hope. Moments come and go, but friendship really IS forever.

It lives in the heart and the mind, in moments like these, perfect and wholesome and ever-shining.

Then the bottom dropped out of her vision and she stumbled, going over into the pool. Marshall stopped running from her and laughed at her, pointing playfully.

"Watch your step, Sparks!"

She flailed to her hooves, lurched sideways, then stumbled again, blinking woozily. "Marshall... help."

His playful attitude was gone in an instant, replaced by concern. He waded back to her and steadied her, looking her over intently.

"You ok, Sparks?"

She closed her eyes, focused her thoughts, then nodded slowly. "I think so... just... really dizzy all of the sudden."

He frowned, scratching under his beard, then looked towards the shore. "Maybe you're tired... we should probably head back."

She nodded, stumbling again, but he steadied her and they made their way to shore.

"You ok to walk, Twilight? Do you need me to carry you?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so... this is... really weird. I just feel slightly disoriented."

He looked worried, pulling on his damp shirt and shorts with fast nervous jerks, then throwing on his boots and doing up the laces quickly. This was a side of Marshall she was learning to live with. He'd said before that she appeared "cute" to him, and she suspected that he reacted unconsciously to her as though she was much younger than she was. When she'd asked about this, he'd explained the concept of neoteny, which she found fascinating, from a psychological perspective. She wondered what that said about her species in general. He looked up at her in between tying laces with anxious concern.

"You think maybe you overdid it, magically speaking?"

She gave him a look that said, "nigga please", and shook her head. "No... I've had reaction headaches before, this is... it's like the ambient thaumic field is fluctuating, like the world is... for lack of a better term, FLEXING. I've never felt anything like it."

He scowled, then nodded shortly, picked up the bag, her saddlebags, and his rifle and they set off back home.

When they reached the gate, the lightning started. Marshall cursed and dropped their gear quickly in the courtyard, tearing up towards the cave. Twilight watched him with concern. She'd only ever seen him move with such alacrity and focus when their lives were directly in danger. Slamming open the door, he stepped in, grabbed his binocular case, then sprinted around the hill towards the tree and its observation post. Staring at him in confusion, then at the blue lights in the sky with some trepidation, she followed.

He took the slat ladder as quickly as possible, basically flying up the side of the tree, his face grim and set. A quick teleport and she joined him, staring up at him in confusion.

"Marshall, what is it? What has you so spooked?"

He focused the binos on the sky and frowned, adjusting the focus. "Sky lights, Sparks. There's no mistaking that blue lightning."

She frowned. "What is it?"

He focused on the distant strikes. She realized that though the blue flashes struck downward several times, there was no corresponding boom of thunder. It was not a wholesome color either... it wasn't a natural blue. It looked... artificial.

"Ok, THAT'S not creepy at all." She muttered under her breath.

Then she realized that she didn't feel dizzy anymore. She gazed thoughtfully at the sky.

"Looks like it's striking out east... far east." He seemed to relax a bit, chewing his lip. He glanced down at her. "Sky lights happen from time to time. Seems to be random."

He scowled out towards the east.

"Always means the same thing, Sparks. I saw them the day you appeared, and other than that, it was the only time they didn't bring me a complete pain in the ass."

He took a deep breath and watched the distant silent lightning pensively, his face worried.

"Something is coming."

She frowned at his word choice and shivered. It wasn't entirely the wind on her damp fur. That sky looked ominous.

"Should... should we go and check it out?"

He shook his head slowly. "It's too far. We'd be stuck out at night, and that's... that's a really bad idea when you don't know what you'll find out there."

She nodded quietly. "Marshall... I think it's important to note... I think I felt this coming."

He frowned, then nodded. "I think so, too. That dizzy spell... you got all woozy what? About fifteen, twenty minutes before the sky lights showed up? You think it's something magical?"

She considered this. "If it isn't, then whatever it is disrupts the ambient magical environment enough that I can feel it. I should point out that I'm a lot more sensitive to things like that than most ponies."

He nodded. "You know, maybe this whole thing IS something to do with your world. At least, this magic that's a part of you."

He frowned and looked into the middle distance, considering something.

"I haven't been more than five miles from this camp in... shit, has to be over a year now... not since..." He shook his head.

She frowned at that. "Marshall, what aren't you telling me?"

He shook his head. "I told you this island is crazy... there wasn't any reason to wander far, you can't leave it. Anyway, I don't want to get into too much detail, because I think the situation may have changed, what with your magical abilities, and I don't want to bias your observations with mine. You're the magic expert, I want you to approach it with a clean slate."

She frowned. "Experimentally speaking? Ok, I guess, but Marshall, I'm going to need something, or I'm going to explode."

He grinned. "I think it's time for a little road trip, Sparks. Time to come at this problem from a different angle."

She grimaced. "Didn't you just say night travel is a bad idea?"

He chuckled. "Since when did I ever let the fact that an idea was insane stop me? Come on, Sparks... don't you want to be inducted into the ever deepening mystery that is this fucking island?"

She sighed. "You're going to get me killed, I just know it."

He slapped her on the shoulder and gestured expansively out towards the sky.

"Come on Sparks, a little mangling builds character. You'll never know what you're really made of 'til something tries to eat it."

She shook her head sadly. "And we just had baths, too."

Chapter Six - Survival

A/N: I hate prefacing a story with author notes, it's a bad habit that I'm entirely too fond of, but something minor has changed from the previous version of chapter 5. The amount of C4 packed for the trip has been changed from one ounce to one and one quarter pounds, as a result of better research into the amount of C4 necessary for specific jobs and convenience.

That's pretty much it. Thank you all for reading.

-Won't Back Down, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Marshall carefully stuck the small capped leads of primary explosive into the pound and a quarter of putty-like substance at the base of the invisible force field. After inserting the caps, he wiped sweat from his forehead and began backing up, unwinding the leads as he did so.

"This manual is amazing, Marshall. I never realized there was so much science that went into blowing things up. Did you know that there's a mathematical formula for determining exactly, to the ounce, how many pounds of C4 is necessary to demolish a steel..."

Marshall jumped during this diatribe, dropping the leads, then scowled in Twilight's direction. Her ears drooped and she trailed off.

"Er... sorry."

"No, Sparks... really... that's fucking fascinating. Is there an equation for how many pounds it takes to blow my ass halfway back to Earth?!"

She frowned. "I said I was sorry... but..." She bit her lip.

He sighed, crossed his arms, then cocking his head slightly and gave her a wry look.

"Um... I think you're doing it wrong. Have you read this thing completely?"

His look became slightly defensive. "I read all the safety stuff, and the appropriate sections for setting a C4 charge without blowing yourself to flinders."

She rolled her eyes. "Figures. Well then you probably missed this section. It isn't in the same spot."

The purple aura'ed manual hovered close to his face and he frowned, reading the appropriate section.

"Sure the charge will blow up, but most of the force of the explosion isn't going to be directed at the barrier. The way you have those blasting caps stuck into that thing, the shockwave is going to move parallel to the target, so most of the force will be wasted."

He grabbed the book out of the purple field and stared at the page. Meanwhile, Twilight telekinetically removed the leads from the side of the C4 block and reinserted them directly into the side directly opposite the barrier. Marshall almost dropped the book.

"Hey! Careful with that stuff, Sparks! It ain't silly putty!"

Twilight sighed. "Between the two of us, who has read more of that manual?"

Marshall glared, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

She smirked. "Ok, since that's settled... if the purpose of this operation is to try to breach this barrier, then we need to direct as much of the shockwave INTO the thing as we possibly can. Ideally, that means a shaped charge, which-"

Marshall sighed and shook his head. "Which we can simulate somewhat by burying it under a few feet of dirt and rocks directly in contact with the force field."

She grinned delighted that he'd caught on to her plan so quickly. "Exactly!"

Marshall frowned. "Problem. If that barrier doesn't breach, what prevents the blast from venting in the path of least resistance? I don't want a bunch of shrapnel headed in our direction."

She cocked her head slightly. "OK, so we move ourselves slightly to the side of intended breach location, say, down the promontory side a bit closer to the water, so we have the slope of the promontory as cover, and I put a shield between us and the explosion to catch any debris. Also technically Marshall, the term you're looking for is fragments, or frags, not shrapnel. Shrapnel is the ball bearings in any kind of shell that produces a cone shaped pattern spray. It was invented by Major General Henry Shr-"

"Oh great horny toads I've created a monster. How could you have possibly gone through that thing so fast?!" Marshall groaned, dramatically putting his hand to his forehead and rolling his eyes skyward.

She merely rolled her eyes at his antics and proceeded to lift fist and head sized rocks from the promontory near the block to get to the sand beneath. After seeing the extent (or lack of) her reaction, Marshall shrugged and removed a small entrenching tool from his pack and began moving sand.

The purple unicorn watched this with some curiousity, as he was very carefully digging against the barriers edge. The pit he created showed movement of soil beyond the edge of the barrier, so that he appeared, to the observer unaware of the barriers presence, to be digging a small pit.

Twilight shook her head, still awestruck at this quiet display of the sheer power that must have gone into the construction of the thing.

"Marshall, did you notice the sand is shifting beyond the barrier too?" She asked.

He stopped, looked at the hole, then looked to her with a frown. "Yeah, I had noticed that. I also noticed that you stopped helping."

Twilight laid her ears back. "Sorry."

She began levitating clumps of sand and rocks out as he dug them loose. Between the two of them, the hole widened quickly.

After a bit of this he frowned and turned to her.

"Hey Twi, I just thought of something." He said musingly.

Concentrating on the task at hand, she grunted in askance.

"Say that we actually DO manage to breach this thing. Didn't you say that it would cascade and take out the whole island? I don't think I want an earth shattering kaboom."

She stopped, blinking, then looked at him. "What? No... I didn't say that."

He frowned. "I'm pretty sure I remember something about catastrophic cascade failure equals crater where island used to be. I don't particularly like this place, but I don't want to get rid of it while I'm standing on it."

She nodded. "Yes, I did say something to that effect, but what I didn't say was breaching the barrier would cause such a result. What I SAID was, if I were to disrupt the barrier, it would cause an energy backlash from the spell matrix cascade failure. Then you'd get your earth shattering kaboom. The difference here is a matter of method."

She sat down on her haunches and entered into lecture mode, and he went back to digging, but his attention was obviously directed towards her.

"Bear in mind that I'm oversimplifying things here, but I get the impression that you don't particularly want to sit through a counterspelling one oh one class. Basically any spell is a manipulation of extant magical fields through a spell matrix, which is a framework that directs the energy into a given effect. Dispelling a spell requires that you analyze the matrix, then manipulate it and essentially pick it apart until it becomes unstable."

She concentrated on one of the rocks she had levitated loose, lifted it up into the air, and transformed it into a jungle colored booney hat sized for a pony. Marshall stopped digging and stared at it in shock.

"You didn't tell me you could do that."

She grinned. "Hey Marshall, I can use magic to transform objects back and forth."

He mock angrily shook a fist at her. "Why I oughta..."

She chuckled. "Seriously, I only mastered a few items. Mostly hats and suits, oddly enough. Each other object requires a completely new spell matrix, and it's energy intensive. Also, it isn't permanent, so it's not exactly something we can rely on."

He nodded. "Still, good to know for emergencies and such."

She nodded in agreement, then concentrated again, frowning.

"Moving on, when a magical field has been realized in a spell matrix, it goes from being potential thaumic energy to being actual thaumic energy. When a spell matrix is destabilized, the energy can't go back to being a potential energy field anymore, it has to go somewhere. A spell that you know inside and out, you can destabilize in a way that erm... "grounds" this energy safely."

The hat popped back into a rock. Twilight concentrated again and it popped back into hat form.

Marshall watched fascinated. It was obvious to him that she was an expert giving a demonstration in her field of study. With a start he realized that she'd probably been through as much schooling as he had, if not more. He frowned thoughtfully at this.

She frowned at the levitating hat and dispelled the spell with simple brute force. The result was quite dramatic. The rock crackled back into being with a shower of sparks and a hissing pop of displaced air. A few motes danced in the air for a split second before fading away. She dropped the rock.

"With a really simple spell, even that isn't necessary, because all you'd get are a few sparks and maybe a little pop. An extremely complex working with a massive amount of energy tied into it will cause a variety of effects, depending on how the spell matrix unravels, but the most common is a detonation. Also, on a side note, this sort of active dispelling is really only effective on static spells, or spells that don't have an active practicioner tied into the spell matrix. Most shields are active, because the practicioner is protecting him or herself, and is using their personal energy as a supplement to the energy reserve."

She gestured with a forehoof. "If they sense someone fiddling with the spell matrix, they can repair the damage. Then it becomes a tug of war between the dispeler and the spell caster. Still, the basic principle is this; the more energy in the collapse, the bigger the kaboom. Energy doesn't like to be jerked around."

Marshall quirked a smile. "Yeah, physics is a touchy bitch, ain't she?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Sure, Marshall, sure. Anyway, blowing a hole through a shield isn't the same thing as dispeling it. Again, this is an oversimplification, because there are a lot of different types of shields, but when an opposing force, say, an object or a spell, strikes a barrier, the energy that makes up the shield is utilized as a counterforce that directs the energy of the projectile or spell that struck it away. More complex shields are more efficient and may do special things with that energy, but the principle remains the same."

Marshall scratched his beard thoughtfully. "So basically what you're saying is, in order to shatter a shield spell, you have to exhaust the energy reserve that was built into it."

She grinned delightedly. "That's exactly right, Marshall!"

"Do I get a cookie?"

Her eyes took on a faraway look. "Marshall, if I had a cookie I'd have eaten it already. I'd MURDER somepony for baked goods right now. I say that knowing full well the moral and ethical ramifications of such a statement, but I reiterate. Kill. For. A. Pie."

He chuckled at this, especially the apparently utterly sincere look on her face. She was getting better at this.

She gave a small smile, then sighed, turning her thoughts firmly away from baked goods. "In the case of a breached shield, the effect is reversed. Without enough thaumic energy to hold it together, the spell matrix collapses on its own. No explosion, just "pffft"." She blew a raspberry for effect.

He snorted. "Is that a technical term, "pffft"?" He repeated her raspberry.

She pawed the ground with her forehoof. "Well, not really, but it actually does kinda sound like that. Princess Celestia used to use a collapsing barrier under the table to make it sound like really obnoxious nobleponies had gas at functions when things were so boring you couldn't believe it. It took me years to figure it out, and then... what was I gonna say?"

Marshall actually laughed out loud at this. "The Sun Princess likes practical jokes, huh? Sounds like my kinda mare. I'd like to meet her-"

Twilight shuddered. "I certainly hope not. The two of you should absolutely never meet."

He pouted, somewhat hurt. "What? Are you afraid-"

She stared hard at him. "Yes."

He returned it. "But-"

She continued the stare. "Never."

"Never?"

"Ever."

He let out an explosive sigh, stepped up out of the now four foot deep hole and tossed the entrenching tool down so that it stuck up in the sand.

"Spoilsport."

He cracked his back and she shuddered slightly at the sound, then frowned, hesitating. Had she just made a joke at her mentor's expense? With a start, she realized that she had. A momentary pang of anxiety passed through her, but she snorted at herself in a rare moment of panic aversion. Princess Celestia had a sense of humor, particularly where her own image was concerned.

The epiphany hit her with thunderous force and she gazed at Marshall with a shocked expression. He had finished stretching, gotten back down in the pit, and was back to work. He was carefully leveling the bottom of the small pit and patting the sides with the entrenching tool to pack the sand into a harder surface, and didn't notice her scrutiny.

She performed a mental exercise. An experiment of sorts. She stripped away the effortless dignity and years of wearing a regal mask; of being the constant, calm influence in pony politics. She reflected on those rare moments when the Princess had been caught off guard or surprised. Those moments when the Princess had been alone with only a few close associates around.

Unconsciously, without realizing that that was indeed what she was doing, she removed her immortal, ageless mentor from the high pedestal she'd placed her on and looked, really looked, at the pony that was left.

Marshall stood and considered his handiwork, Scratching under his beard absently as he did so. Lifting his eyes from the ground, he considered the clouds and partially hidden, alien sun. This reminded him of the Sun Princess and he smiled to himself, closing his eyes as he did so. It was hard to believe that the OCD... ok, being charitable; the detail oriented, Twilight Sparkle had a mentor who was apparently fond of fart jokes. That was almost too funny to believe.

In fact, considering the way that Twilight spoke of the Princess, Marshall thought it was entirely possible the Princess had been subtly messing with Twilight's head for years. That was some motherfucking grandmaster trolling right there. Despite what Twilight seemed to think, Marshall thought that, all things considered, if he ever ran into this Princess Celestia, she might turn out to be a pretty awesome drinking buddy.

He wondered what Twilight would think of that.

This struck him as funny enough he chuckled to himself. In that moment, Twilight's eyes widened. Marshall, unaware that she was watching, was chuckling quietly to himself as he enjoyed the heat of the sun and the cool ocean breeze. It was a moment of rare honesty for the human, who often hid what he was really feeling behind self-ridicule and an overblown, overexaggerated enthusiasm. She shook her head.

They were the same. At their hearts, where it mattered... it was almost scary. It was the outward attitude that threw off the scent, she realized. Outwardly they were so ridiculously dissimilar that you couldn't compare the two. Celestia was the picture of subtlety, while Marshall HAD none.

At all.

He seldom exercised a sense of tact, he seemed to enjoy discomforting her, but there was no maliciousness in it. Still, under the surface, at the core, they both had an iron resolve, a monsterous willpower, but tempered it with the ability to not take themselves and the situations around them seriously unless it was necessary. The dignity, in one case, and lack thereof, in the other, was a mask. A defense mechanism.

It was an interesting revelation, this realization that wisdom did not necessarily mean not appearing foalish, but rather not CARING if one appears foalish. That wisdom was internal, not external... Twilight herself was wise enough to recognize it, and be respectful of the results.

In their own ways, Celestia and Marshall had been alone for long periods of time. It was almost a form of enlightenment.

"How did I never notice before?" She wondered aloud.

Marshall opened one eye, saw her staring at him and grinned. "I forgive you, Sparks. This much awesome is pretty hard to take in all at once. Like standing too close to a mountain, or staring at the sun. You kinda have to stare at it from an angle, you know, catch the edge of the radiance or be blin- HEY!"

She levitated him out of the pit and hung him upside down, staring into his eyes. "Sorry, I had to cut you off there, Marshall. Your ego was threatening to eat itself." She cocked her head slightly, considering him, then giggled.

"You look pretty funny upside down like this... sort of like a big shaggy brown mop. Ever consider shaving once in a while, monkey?"

He crossed his arms at this pony-handling and refused to be nettled. "With what? A knife? You're really giving me more credit with sharp things than I deserve. Whittling wood is one thing, my face is entirely another. I already have one massive facial scar. I don't need any more."

She set him down right side up and considered him, all trace of amusement gone. "You know, Equestrian medical science could have prevented scarring like that, Marshall. Considering what you've told me, I'm a bit surprised that human medicine couldn't-"

He cut her off. "I got it in the crash, Twi." He sighed, rubbing the scar in question. His face became distant again, as it always did when he considered how he got here.

"Piece of jagged metal split my cheek open, cut me down to the jawbone. I'm amazed I didn't lose some mobility on that side, I mean, I could stick my finger through and touch teeth."

She winced. "Why would you do that?"

He gave her a look that said basically, Why WOULDN'T I?

"Anyway, I had to sew myself up, and I am a talented man, but small, tight stitching on my own face with no anesthetic is not one of my many talents." He winced, remembering.

She considered him quietly for a moment, then softly mentioned. "You don't talk much about how you got here, Marshall. I get that it's painful for you, but..."

He shook himself and turned back to the barrier, his face starkly neutral. "Not right now, Sparks. Maybe later, yeah?"

She said nothing, but nodded quietly in assent.

His face broke into a grin again, and he playfully ruffled her mane. Despite her annoyance at the action, she grinned back at him. Seeing him depressed, even momentarily was just... unnatural.

"Come on, Sparks. We got work to do. You go ahead and set the charge... you seem to have a knack for this stuff that I lack. Just be careful, yeah? I doubt your Princess wants you back by the pound."

It was rage. It was hate. It was fear. It was what it had been created to be, just as its ancestors were, so many eons ago, so far far away. A weapon forged of the negative parts of the soul of the universe, the great black hole that fed and fed, and never stopped. The insatiable, inevitable heat death at the end of time and space. Bred and twisted to one purpose.

Kill those touched by the light. By the physical projection of the warmth of the soul.

It was not truly intelligent. It was cunning, certainly; no stupid beast could hunt the prey that it had to, but its many millennia dead masters were too paranoid, too jealous of their power, too steeped in their own darkness to consider creating anything other than a slave, and such a beast had they created. One that could never rebel, or know remorse.

Or pity.

Only hunger.

Even if it were capable of mercy, of understanding such a concept, it could not stop. It needed the vital energies that coursed in the blood and flesh of its prey, needed it as fire needs fuel, for its own corrupt and dark energies burned so fiercely, so quickly.

It had been greatly confused, of late. One evening it had awoken to a ripple in the great, vast web that was the energy of the universe to find itself transported from its swamp home to... this place. It had raged then, stalking the land like an inferno, and the creatures of its territory knew fear. Then, like an inferno, with no fuel to feed the fire of its life it grew weak, weaker, more frantic with hunger, but while the flesh and blood and bone of the denizens of this strange island fed its physical needs they could not feed the deeper hunger, the need for that energy, that warmth.

That light.

It had known fear, then. Its masters had not bred fear out of it. Fear was rage, was hate, was power. Fear was a goad and a whip, and it feared nothing more than it feared its masters. Still, with weakness came vulnerability. Its creators had known that there would come times when the true prey of the beast would become scarce; indeed, this was the hoped for result. So they had built into it a safety mechanism; the ability to hibernate, to lie, still as death, dormant, waiting... waiting.

It had found a cave, one that spent a great deal of time partially submerged, and it had curled into a ball and slept, resembling nothing so much as a collection of strange rocks.

It slept, and dreamt of slaughter.

Then... faint glimmers of power... a speck here and there, but not nearly enough, too far away, and strange. Alien, but perhaps... close enough. It stirred in its sleep, but did not wake.

Then more... more...

Closer... close.

One beady yellow eye that shone in the darkness fluttered, opened, and then focused.

Twilight shuddered again, and her ears pricked alertly. She pawed nervously, caught herself doing it and frowned.

"What's up, Sparks?" Marshall asked. "You're makin' me kinda nervous with those explosives, dear."

She shook off her reaction and continued rolling back the leads, further and further down the side of the promontory, almost to the waters edge. Marshall hoisted up his pack, shrugged it on, then grabbed his rifle and Twilight's own saddlebags. He trotted over to her, snugging the saddlebags on her carefully. She looked up at him in askance.

"I'm not all that convinced this is gonna do anything more than when I attempted it, but if I'm wrong, we might need to be ready to move in a hurry."

She flicked an ear in acknowledgement and frowned. "Should we postpone this for when we have more supplies, then?"

"Naw." He grinned. "I couldn't take the suspense, could you?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head, then frowned and glanced back confusedly at the cliffs.

He turned to her, eyeing her carefully. "Twilight, that's twice. What's up?"

She started, looked back him and shook her head. "Nothing... just... nerves. Something about those caves. Paranoid, I guess."

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, studying the dark holes himself. "It's only paranoia if they AREN'T out to get you, and I think we've established that this whole island is trying to eat our collective face. You prefer to move to the other side of the promontory?"

She shook her head. "No, we're ready... but... let's not stay here any longer than we have to, ok?"

He shrugged and patted her shoulder. "Sure, Sparks. Sure."

He took the leads from her, then removed the megometer from his own pack and unwrapped its probes. Twisting one lead wire around the end of the positive probe, he crouched down and began fiercely cranking the megometer, building up a charge. He took the other explosive lead in his right, the negative probe in his left, then hesitated, looking at Twilight.

"You should probably get that shield thing ready, Twi. Make it nice and strong, too... we're closer than I'd really like."

She nodded assent, her horn blazed to life, and a corruscating purple half-dome field of energy sprang up between the two castaways and their explosive charge, now only visible as a pair of wires sticking up out of the ground.

He nodded to himself, then paused again. "Hell Sparks, you set the damn thing. You want to do the honors?"

She shook her head regretfully after a moment. "No... I'm staying connected to this shield spell so that I can pump energy into it if it feels like it's going to fail. No point in taking any chances. Do it, Marshall."

He grinned. "I love it when you talk dirty, Twi."

She rolled her eyes.

He frowned, snapped his fingers as though he'd remembered something, then carefully set the leads down and rummaged through his pack. Twilight stared at him curiously. He pulled out a pair of over-sized earmuffs, the kind that aircrew commonly wore as hearing protection around loud aircraft engines.

"Tuck your ears in close, Sparks. This is going to be hella loud, and I don't want you developing tinnitus or something."

She complied and he carefully adjusted the hearing protection over her ears. The world took on a muffled tone, and she could hear the blood rushing through her head. It was fortunate she didn't have to wear these things for long. They were the wrong shape, and she could tell that extended usage would give her one heck of a headache.

"What about you, Marshall?" She shouted unintentionally.

He raised his voice to a shout. "I've only got the one pair, it'll have to do." He mimed putting his fingers in his ears. "I've got fingers, you don't, so..."

She rolled her eyes and picked up a rock, concentrating on it intensely. This wasn't quite the same thing as the spell that converted a rock to a top hat, but the principle was the same, and she'd come a long way since then. In any case, Twilight proved once again that improvisation was the hallmark of true genius, not even noticing the amazing amount of multitasking she was undertaking. Marshall whistled appreciatively as she worked. The shield spell never wavered, but the rock suddenly popped into a crude but serviceable pair of ear muffs. Marshall took them and inspected them carefully, then finally nodded, impressed.

"These aren't going to turn back into a rock while I'm wearing them, yeah? That could be awkward. Not to mention messy."

She shook her head. "It's good for hours, at least. I doubt you'll be wearing them longer then a few minutes."

He nodded, put the earmuffs on, then picked up the negative probe and lead again.

"Ok, before we get this party started, one more thing. The air pressure change is going to be drastic, so make sure you open your mouth to let the pressure in your head equalize. You do NOT want burst eardrums."

She nodded, and complied.

"Also, I want you to watch the barrier, and how it reacts to the explosion. THAT'S what I really wanted to show you with this. If this does breach it, we'll figure it out after the fact."

He turned to the barrier and brought the probe and lead close.

"On three."

She nodded and braced herself, concentrating on the shield as she watched the air above the buried wires.

"One. Two. Three!"

He brought the lead into contact with the negative probe.

The explosion was not what Twilight expected. For one thing, she was expecting it to be... well, slower and more majestic, with a huge ball of fire. This did not happen, the actual explosion was over so quickly it might as well have been instantaneous, but the effect was almost more impressive. One instant the ground was flattened and quiet, the next it erupted and there was a peacock's tail plume of escaping concussive fury that raced along their side of the invisible barrier.

The ground slammed brutally against her hooves, and the pressure wave raced past her, nearly staggering her in its intensity, for all that she had braced for it. Even with hearing protection, it was still ridiculously loud. Several fast moving objects of varying size and velocity struck the barrier as rocks and debris rained down, and she winced as she felt the instantaneous and drastic drain on her magical reserves.

At the same time, for the first time since coming to this place, she saw it; the barrier that kept them prisoner. A ripple, for lack of a better word, had raced outward from the explosion's point of contact with the barrier, racing along the barriers edge in a concentric ring that spread out and bounced back before disappearing completely. It was only a split second, but in that instant the entire construct was revealed, and she sat back on her haunches, mouth dropping open wider, completely awestruck.

It was a dome. Actually, probably more accurately, a globe, since it obviously extended underground. An inconceivably massive, completely enclosed dome that surrounded the entire island within itself, with the exception of a few small bits and pieces which extended outside.

The point of the explosion was now covered in a fog-like cloud of choking dust and sand, and Marshall stood up, slowly took off his hearing protection and dropped it to the ground, eyes straining into that cloud.

Twilight removed her own hearing protection and quietly tucked it into her pack, then looked over at Marshall, her ears slowly drooping.

Marshall continued straining to see, then sighed and looked down at her and shook his head. He reached over gently and scratched the base of one of her ears, and she gave him a sad smile and closed her eyes slightly. That felt really good after the itchy, stuffy hearing protection.

"Well, Sparks... there was never really much hope. Still, I..."

She leaned towards him a bit, unconsciously pursuing those wonderful, magical fingers. They really should patent those things.

When she spoke, it had a contemplative, almost meditative tone. "That plume... it was the force of the explosion taking the path of least resistance and spreading out once it got free conforming along the barrier. If we had pulled it off, there should have been a superheated jet of gas through to the other side."

He nodded and dropped his hand. "You saw the-"

"Ripple? Yes. It's... encouraging, Marshall. We did SOMETHING to it." She looked down, quietly thinking. "Just... not enough. Still, even if we didn't succeed in breaching it, we've determined that it must conform to SOME rules, since we affect it, but... I have no IDEA what it is, still. I'm thinking less and less that it IS a magical barrier. Even in that instant, I didn't feel anything change, magically speaking. If it was a magical barrier I should have felt SOMETHING."

He sighed and looked back the way they had come. "You ok?"

She took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded. "Yeah. This just means... well, we need more analysis. There are already a couple of experiments I would like to try. We just have to-"

Whatever they would have to do got a rapid reprioritization, because right at that moment, hell itself blasted forth from one of the nearby sea caves with a roar of fury so loud that for a moment Twilight thought that a second explosion had gone off.

The impression that Marshall got of the thing as it came barreling towards them was of a semi on legs. It was wading in what was, to it, about thigh deep water, but this didn't seem to hinder its movements in the slightest. Instead it simply threw up a great chaotic mass of surging white water before it. This had the added effect of obscuring it somewhat, but what he DID see he didn't like.

It resembled both a hairless gorilla and a beetle, all horny protrusions and a great horned crest reminiscent of a xenomorph queen. It was about ten or eleven feet tall, bulging with muscle under thick bony plates or shining carapace, or some freakish mix of the two, with three foot long claws and fangs that jutted impossibly long and glistening from a mouth too small for them. It gave the odd false impression that the creature was pursing its lips at them.

At least when it wasn't roaring.

"Oh shit." Marshall muttered faintly. "We've angered bugzilla with our experiments."

He snapped out of his daze about when the creature was some sixty feet away and brought the rifle up to his shoulder.

"Twilight, snap out of it girl!"

He began methodically popping off shots at it, and he might as well have been taking pictures at it for all the good it was doing. A streak of silver smeared from a bullet which had deformed as it sped away appeared on first it's bony brow, then a forearm, then a spark flew off of its chest, and Marshall cursed. The 5.56 mm bullets just didn't seem to penetrate that thick bony hide.

A hit to one leg spanged off with a wild whining noise, and Twilight gasped in pain as it clipped her left ear. Marshall looked down at his rifle in disbelief, then began frantically back pedaling up the slope.

"Twilight, are you ok?!"

"No, but I'll live!" She gasped back.

She gritted her teeth against the stinging pain in her sensitive ear and focused her magic around the creature. She could feel something warm oozing down the side of her muzzle, but she didn't have time to focus on that, the only thing she could focus on was the monster coming towards them.

Her telekinetic field appeared... and just seemed to wash off of it, barely slowing its charge.

"It's no good, something's wrong, Marshall... it-"

"Get back, Twi... I'll try and draw it off!"

He gritted his teeth, raised the rifle back up to his shoulder and flipped the selector to three round bursts, basically under the impression that if the single shots were having no effect, maybe a whole LOT of nothing would get lucky. Taking a sight picture of those beady eyes, he squeezed the trigger.

Bullets spanged and sparked off it, again, to no effect. It advanced up the slope towards them.

Marshall began to pace backwards steadily, firing until the rifle clicked on empty, then tried to throw himself out of the way of the thing as it barreled into him.

"FUUU-"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as the creature barreled past him, intent on its true target, but slamming one massive, bony plated forearm into him in passing and driving the wind out of his lungs. He had couched his rifle across his chest diagonally in a last ditch attempt to cushion the impact, and this probably saved his life.

The machined steel and polymer rifle cracked and shattered as it slammed into his chest and dented two of the four magazines stored on his tac-vest, but absorbed some of the tremendous impact that lifted the Navy pilot off of his feet and threw him fifteen feet down the promontory to land heavily on his back with a grunt and a scattering of loose rocks and gravel. Still wearing the pack, he lay there not moving on his back, like some large ungainly upended turtle, the wreckage of his rifle scattered about him.

Twilight's eyes rolled in panic. "MARSHALL!"

He didn't respond, then the creature was upon her.

She hastily threw up a shield, but the creature just waded through it, and it seemed to... flow around its skin without touching or hindering it in the slightest. This impossibility nearly led to the stricken unicorn's death, as it raised one spiky fist and brought it down with the intent of smashing her to purple jelly.

An instinctive emergency teleport some fifteen feet distant saved her hide, but the thing immediately oriented back on track and crashed towards her, forcing a second teleport, then a third. She blasted magic at it so forcefully her eyes blazed white and her horn crackled and sparked with released magical energy, but these telekinetic punches washed over it with little to no effect that she could see.

It was at this point that she realized an unfortunate fact. It could sense her magic. It always seemed to know exactly where she was going to pop up, so she only ever had a few seconds of respite before the thing was on her again, and she didn't dare teleport further away with Marshall lying helplessly on his back.

Which was damn inconsiderate of the human, if you thought about it. He and she would have words, when this was over with.

If she was still alive, that was. As it was, there was only her, and the beast, and the deadly struggle they were locked into.

It was then that Twilight learned a truth about herself that Marshall had learned a very long time ago.

She was a survivor, too.

She gritted her teeth, teleported out of the way of another sledgehammer blow, then telekinetically picked up a boulder a little bigger than she was and flung it at the thing bodily. She couldn't get the heavy rock going all that fast, she was just too drained for that, but that much weight slamming into the thing's shoulder staggered it a bit, and she continued the only tactic that seemed to work, a hailstorm of rocks of various sizes slammed into it from any direction she could muster.

For an eternity, it seemed, she danced toe to hoof with death, always just a step ahead of the reaper, but it couldn't last.

One mistake, one slip up from an already exhausted pony, and she'd be finished.

This duel, this dance of fates, was the scene Marshall woozily woke up to, groaning and fluttering his eyelids. He sat up, spit blood from the wound on his tongue where he'd apparently bitten it in falling, and felt the back of his head wincing.

Then he remembered what was going on and glanced frantically at the unicorn.

His eyes widened.

She stood there defiantly, eyes blazing white and a snarl on her face, mane streaming in an unseen wind, horn blazing with a corona of purple fire. Blood streamed freely from the notch taken out of her left ear, and her sides heaved with the strain.

The creature, on the other hand, advanced towards her ponderously, methodically, as though sensing that time was on its side, and various boulders, rocks and bits of gravel popping, pinging and shattering off it, further slowing its advance.

Marshall doubted an APC could withstand the punishment Twilight was throwing at it. For the first time he internalized just how powerful that cute little pony was.

Her eyes flicked towards his, he caught a momentary flash of shocked joy, then she teleported again, stopping the rock assault. The thing immediately oriented towards her, almost like it had her on radar, and growled, eyeing her with alien hunger. She stood with her back to the spot where they'd set the charge earlier.

"THAT'S RIGHT UGLY! YOU WANT THIS FLANK?! COME AND GET IT!"

She spun and waved said body part at the thing tauntingly, and Marshall shook his head, groaning, then came to a painful crouch and staggered to his feet, scanning for his rifle. It was, of course, obliterated. Which of course, figured.

Par for the motherfucking course.

"Damn it, she's lost her friggin'... TWILIGHT, STOP TAUNTING IT AND RUN, YOU DUMB FUCK!!"

She never took her eyes off of it, zinging the occasional rock at it to goad it on. It charged with a roar.

"TWILIGHT WATCH-"

She muttered something he didn't catch, then teleported next to him a split second before the creature barreled into her.

Instead, it barreled face first into the barrier that it couldn't see.

Concentric rings of light shivered up the barrier as the creature slammed face first into it, a victim of its own momentum and an inability to see the wall in front of it. Its own force proved to be its undoing, as a fang and one of the great spines on its crest snapped off and arced away from it. Green ichor splattered the ground around it, and it roared in pain and rage and clutched its face, slamming one massive fist again and again into the ground and the barrier respectively.

Marshall blinked, then looked at her. "Did you-"

She gasped and staggered, then glared furiously at him, sides heaving. "Of course I planned it, you stupid, reckless, miserable ape! What were you doing standing your ground in front of that thing?! Is that a human thing, did you think your EGO was going to stop it?! You could have been KILLED! I'm Marshall Bailey, avalanches go around me, hurrr.."

She whacked him in the shin with her hoof and snarled at him. Marshall blinked at this, but in her defense, Twilight was looking decidedly... frazzled. "Shooting at it over and over again like that was working! One of those bullets clipped my ear you.... ARRGH!"

"Um, Twilight, I'm sorry, but this really isn't-"

"I swear all you think of is, maybe if I throw more little bits of metal at it it'll lay down and leave me alone. ARGHH! That's the definition of insanity Marshall! When you try something that didn't work once again and again expecting a different result... of all th-"

He put a finger to her lips, and she heroically resisted the urge to bite him.

Barely.

"Bitch at me later, Sparks, we have to get away from this thing, 'cause I doubt it's just trying to give us a singin' telegram!"

She kicked him in the shin again and he winced. That was really starting to sting. "It's no good, dang it! It can sense my magic, and me, I think! That thing was following me no matter where I- pony-feathers!" She concentrated and teleported the two of them about two hundred feet down the promontory towards the jungle.

A distant roar announced that it had shaken off the stun of its impact and was beginning the charge again.

Marshall saw it resume its relentless pursuit and paled, then looked at Twilight.

"Run!" (or if you prefer an alternative)

She laid her ears back, winced as this tore open her wound again and snarled. "Duh!"

Together, man and pony crashed through the underbrush in headlong flight. Stumbling occasionally, branches whipping into her face, Twilight struggled to keep up. After the barrier experiment, several item transformations, several dozen teleports, more telekinesis than she'd done in several years combined, not to mention the all day trek to reach this point in the first place, Twilight found that she just didn't have the reserves to keep this up.

She was at her limit, and that THING just kept coming. She could hear it behind them, closer and closer. It didn't seem to need to go around trees as it came at them, it just crashed through them, splintering the hapless vegitation into scattered wreckage.

"Damn it!" Marshall huffed. "That thing is like a goddamn tank! We-"

It exploded into view and Twilight staggered into Marshall and teleported them again, narrowly avoiding embedding them both in the middle of a rotten palm tree. They both collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Extricating themselves quickly, Marshall gave her a desperate look, his own sides heaving with the strain of their mad dash.

Twilight flicked her eyes over to the tree she'd almost merged them with and paused. Palm tree, and damaged by something.

After several hours of sitting there it actually kind of stunk, that punky, rotten wood smell. Celestia what a stink-

Her eyes widened. "Marshall! Stinky kids! Stinky kids, Marshall! Stinky kids!"

He spun, eyes wild. "What?!"

She growled and shook her head, frustrated with her own exhaustion driven obtuseness. "NO! The rootscrapers! They outmass that thing by like three times, not to mention outnumber it like thirty to one! If we could get to-"

He smacked his forehead. "Twilight, you're a fucking genius! I could kiss you!"

She winced, tried to stand, and collapsed. She tried again.

She failed.

She looked up at Marshall. "Marshall, I can't get up. The battle, running... It... it's too much."

Marshall gave her a stricken look. "Don't you do this to me. Don't you fucking-"

She tried again, and collapsed again. Moving, thinking... it was just... so hard. She couldn't remember a time when she'd overexerted herself magically as badly as this. She looked at him, squinted, vision doubling, as he looking at her with growing horror, and she couldn't, she just couldn't let him put himself in danger. Not after everything he'd suffered on this Celestia bedamned island. "That last teleport... it... Marshall, you have to run. It's coming for me, if you go now, you should-"

Marshall groaned, stripped off her saddlebags, then his own pack, and tossed them up onto a nearby branch. "No, no you're not doing this to me. I am not leaving you here, you hear me?!"

He grabbed her by barrel and hindquarters and shrugged her up onto his shoulders with a grunt of effort. Her side rested against the back of his neck, her legs dangled on either side of his torso, resting against his pectorals.

"Marshall, don't be stupid, you can't-"

"Shut up you stubborn purple bitch!"

"You-"

He jammed her rootscraper distress whistle into her mouth and she blinked. He began his jog again, this time carrying her on his shoulders, racing through the jungle with grunting, heaving effort.

"I am not... going through... that again... NEVER again... YOU ARE NOT... GIVING UP ON ME... so just shut the fuck up... and get... ready to blow as hard... as you can!"

Her brain half dazed at this sudden turn of events, did a one eighty then vapor locked. She let out a wheezing chuckle.

"That's... what he said." She gasped weakly.

Marshall chuckled in spite of himself, then stumbled, but didn't go down. He resumed his run, gasping in effort. "Don't make... me laugh right now, damn it."

Her mind dazedly tried to keep up with what was going on and failed. She was just so tired, so mentally and physically exhausted. She went over what she'd just heard. Going through that again? What did that mean?

It probably wasn't the time to ask.

It was a testament to how out of it she was that she actually had to think about the validity of that statement.

They heard a tree explode a few dozen feet behind them and a frustrated bellow of rage and hunger, and this spurred Marshall into a full on sprint, his teeth gritted with effort. She could feel the pulse in his neck against her side, and the shuddering, straining effort he was throwing into this, every fiber, every shred of being, every bit of effort he could muster.

Despite everything, the terror, the danger, the absolute ridiculousness of it all, she could not recall a time when she had ever felt safer. It was an illusion, she knew. A complete lie actually, but she could feel his heartbeat against her skin, and she knew in that instant, and for the rest of her life, that it would STOP before he would allow himself to fail her.

Despite herself, a strange, fierce joy built within her. Here they were, fighting for their lives, fighting against nature, both internal and external, with one purpose, one goal. Survive. It was a form of harmony, a NEW form of it. In this time, at this place, they were absolutely uncompromisingly ALIVE.

"Faster Marshall!" She called exuberantly. "You can do this!"

"I don't... know why... I always end up carrying your ass... Sparks. I'm starting to get... a little tired... of the irony." Marshall grumbled, but damned if he didn't put on a little bit more speed.

They burst from tree cover a scant fifteen feet ahead of the rampaging... whatever it was. A forest of long necks suddenly shot up, alarmed. They were fifty feet from the scattered gathering of the herd.

Twilight took a deep breath and blew so hard she thought she might burst a blood vessel. Marshall put every last bit of his reserve into his legs and lungs, pushing it for the home stretch.

Forty feet... the thing was twelve feet away, a force of unnatural power. This close she could FEEL the evil coming off of it, a palpable, relentless maw, a empty hole that needed filling and never could be.

Thirty feet, the herd was starting to react now, gathering in their defensive circle. Marshall was wheezing, his pulse was hammering hard in his neck, and she would have worried about him if she wasn't terrified, exhilerated, and exhausted out of her mind, right now. Then she felt the evil behind her hesitate for the first time. Just a split second, but that was when she knew this would work.

The hesitation felt sort of like a realization that at this point, whether it caught up to Twilight and the human or not, it was heading straight for an asskicking so legendary that future abominations would speak of it in hushed whispers.

Target fixation. Gets you every time.

Marshall got to about ten feet, began to stumble, then amazingly turned it into an epic powerslide right between the legs of one of the aggressively posturing rootscraper cows.

"SAFE!" He shouted, spreading his arms out wide.

Then he ran out of momentum and faceplanted into the muck. Twilight was involuntarily rolled over his head by her residual inertia onto her side, laughing uproarously despite herself.

The sounds of the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny roared not twenty feet from them, and the thunderous slamming of several ton feet crashed into the earth around them, but neither of them could have moved in that moment, not if their lives depended on it.

Marshall sighed. "Twilight?"

Twilight, who had closed her eyes slightly, opened them. "Yes, Marshall?"

"Could you get my head out of this crap? I'm too tired to move."

She groaned, wiggled, adjusted, and then dug her muzzle under his cheek and pushed his head sideways, up out of the clinging goo. In his defense, the churned up, nasty muck was kind of like glue at the moment.

"If I have a heart attack right now... just... jump on my chest a bit and we'll call it even."

She let out a deep breath against his cheek and chuckled weakly. "Marshall, if you have a heart attack right now, the best I could do is bite your nose."

He wheezed. "Fair enough."

They were silent for several seconds, the sounds of furious national geographic levels of survival realism raging on, and Marshall sighed.

"Are Moms and Dads winning, Twi?"

Twilight flicked her eyes towards the sounds and winced. "I... actually kinda feel sorry for that thing."

Marshall grinned fiercely. "I don't. I hope they beat it until it cries."

Twilight shook her head. "I don't think it CAN cry."

He smirked. "I stand by my position."

She glared at him. "Violence isn't always the answer, Marshall."

He winked. "If violence isn't the answer, you weren't using enough, Twi."

She sighed and shook her head, exasperated. "Humans. Ugh."

Chapter Seven - Reaction

-As Long As I Fall, Helloween

"I think we're clear, Marshall." Twilight said finally.

Marshall was silent as he scrutinized the jungle. There was an awful lot of it to scrutinize. It had been an hour since either of them had spotted the thing out in the jungle. Things were quiet, for the moment. At the risk of sounding cliche, perhaps a little too quiet.

"Marshall."

He took a deep breath, let it out, then frowned. "We can't afford to be premature. Neither of us is in the shape for another sprint like that." He spit and shook his head.

"Damn... if I only had my binoculars." He muttered.

Twilight's ears drooped, which aggravated her wounded ear, but she merely grimaced at the sting.

Marshall noticed her gloomy look and patted her back reassuringly. "Ah Sparks, I didn't mean nothin' by it. In emergencies you have to prioritize, it was a no brainer."

She grinned weakly. "So I rate higher than a pair of binoculars, huh?"

Marshall grinned. "Oh yeah, definitely. Now if I was carryin' a large pizza and some beer..."

She refused to be nettled by this, since this sort of thing was very Marshall. "Yeah, I get you. Hay fries. A half dozen of Pinkie's cupcakes."

"A white chocolate latte from Starbucks, ice cream."

She groaned. "Oh... ice creeeeaaaam."

Marshall sighed mournfully. "Ok, now that we have officially progressed into the food porn stage of subject digression, should we go for it?"

She looked dubious, but nodded reluctantly after a moments consideration. "I don't see much alternative. We have no food, limited water, and no shelter. Night's coming fast. If we don't move now, it's going to be pitch black before we even get half way."

He nodded grimly, and came to a standing position. Twilight groaned, but followed. It was going to be a long trip.

Slipping out proved to be easier said than done, however. The circle of adult rootscrapers had tightened into a paranoid, overprotective ring of flesh that even Twilight couldn't slip through. After several minutes, Marshall spotted an opening towards the woods in the right direction and made a break for it.

Only to be shoved back by a head the size of a genetically enhanced watermelon on a long thin cable of a neck. While compared to the body, the head was tiny, it was by no means insubstantial, and it was still on an effective whipcord of muscle. He was pathetically easy to bowl over back into the circle. The rootscraper cow made burbling warning noises at him.

Twilight smirked quietly at his offended expression and he scowled.

"Ok, this is fuckin' retarded. What's the deal?"

She looked at the circle thoughtfully and nodded to herself. "They're protecting us... they think we're kids, remember? They're still shook up about that thing's attack."

Marshall tried again, and was again rebuffed. A bit more forcefully this time. He fell backwards hard onto his ass and continued backwards, the force sufficient enough that he actually rolled a little ways.

Twilight chuckled a little. HE obviously didn't think the situation was very funny, but then, it wasn't happening to her. She knew well enough not to get into a disagreement with a ten ton animal.

He rubbed his aching buttocks. "Laugh it up, horseface... got any bright ideas on how to make 'em let us go? 'Cause I really don't want to be here when they decide it's feedin' time."

She gave him a squinty sort of look, then considered. She shook her head. "Nope. Also, I wouldn't worry so much about that Marshall, it's silly. What we have is a distress whistle, not a "feed me" whistle. That would sound more like, eeeooowwwwiiee-"

A sound like three horrifically clogged sinks backing up simultaneously sounded over head and Marshall had a split second to watch Twilight's pupils go to pinpricks before a literal torrent of puke green colored, half-digested palm heart chunks rained down in a deluge on the hapless unicorn's head. The downpour turned her mane into a slime slicked purple greenish mass that hung limply down her face, covering her eyes and neck, and dripped sluggishly from her back and sides. She blew a bit of the sodden hair out of her eyes and gave him a stunned, "what the fuck just happened" look.

For his part, Marshall reacted with his usual grace and poise. He was rocked on his heels in the throes of terminal hilarity, laughing so hard he actually involuntarily sat down hard on his rump next to her and pointed helplessly, great whooping gales of laughter startling out of him. Tears streamed from his eyes.

"Oh... oh MAN! That was classic! I WISH I could take the credit for that one, but that was ALL you, marefriend!"

She blinked, and then spoke in a small, shocked voice. "I don't know which is worse... that my mouth was open, or that it... actually doesn't taste all that BAD."

He giggled at this, then ran a finger through the mess on her mane and gave it a considering lick. She gave him a terminally disgusted look.

He frowned, then scratched his chin. "Hey, you're right... kinda tastes like poi."

She gave him a confused look, cocking her head slightly at this. As she did so, she failed to notice the gathering group of baby rootscrapers pushing in closer. She noticed in a hurry when one of them gave her a long slow lick up her right side.

"What is- hey what the, oh stop... that heeheheee tickles, Marshall, make them stop!"

Marshall just continued pointing and laughing at her misfortune as the rootscrapers gathered around her like a horde of ravenous zombies going in for the kill. She rolled around in giggling panic, under their merciless ministrations, kicking her legs uselessly in a convulsing paroxysm of involuntary mirth.

"Stop, HA! Stop HAHAHA! Stop it! STOP! I'll pee!"

It was a testiment to the pandemonium of the moment that it was unclear which of them actually said it.

It may have been both.

At some point during all of this, the adults tightened into defensive positions again.

They had noticed a pair of luminescent yellow eyes watching hungrily from the jungle's edge.

"Come on, Twilight. You have to admit, it was pretty fuckin' funny."

Twilight Sparkle gave him a flat look and shook her head slowly from side to side, staring at him the whole time.

"Marshall, I was just given a full body involuntary tongue bath by a horde of infant reptiles. That was just sick! No, it was wrong! No it was wrongsick! It needs a whole new WORD!"

"Oh, come on, Sparks, mare up. I know guys back home that would pay good money for something... well, similar to that."

"I mourn for your species' lost innocence, Marshall. That was ALL of the molest. ALL OF IT."

He giggled. Actually giggled at this. "HEEHEE... Ah, well... it was for the best, anyway... I mean, on the one hand, they got all that crap off of you, and on the other, that thing came back, we would have been screwed. So in a way, your humiliation served a valuable function. Way to take one for the team, Sparks!"

She raised her hoof towards him. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She blew frustrated air through her nostrils. "I don't have fingers. This is a pony giving you the finger."

He chuckled. "It loses something in the translation, Sparkle."

"Yeah well, your face is lost in translation."

He shook his head.

"What?"

She sighed and looked out towards the jungle. "It sounded better in my head." She muttered petulantly.

Marshall followed her gaze, rolled his eyes, then sighed.

"Well, I'll give that fuckin' thing this, Sparkanator. It's damn persistant." Marshall said dryly, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

The two of them had recovered enough to sit up and were now watching the adult rootscrapers ward away the... whatever it was for the fourth time. It was smart enough not to wade into that much whoopass directly, but it was also just a tad too big and beefy for the rootscrapers to attempt to simply stamp and slash the life out of it. What occurred then was a slow meandering circle of threat displays and hissing around the outskirts of the clearing. The outlier rootscraper cows had been chasing it for the past several minutes. They'd get close, the two parties would bellow at one another for a few minutes, then someone would get a smack or thrust in and the thing would start backing off again.

Rinse, repeat.

"I'd be a little more admiring of its virtuous qualities if it wasn't employing them in support of the quest of eating me, Marshall."

Twilight had about had enough. Sure that thing was terrifying, one only had to look at it to see that it was an absolute apex predator. Terror is never permanent though, and after all they'd been through, it simply wasn't sustainable. The body can only maintain perfect alertness for so long. Eventually, it runs out of "omph", and when that happens, it happens fast.

"Oh come on, Sparks. Can you blame it? I mean look at this flank." Marshall patted the rump in question.

"Hey!" She sputtered, indignantly.

"This is grade A, choice magical pony flank steak. I mean, I know I said I wouldn't eat you or anything, but come on..."

"That's not funny, Marshall." She gritted her teeth.

His voice became singsong, like he was qouting a jingle or something. "I want my pony flank, pony flank, pony flan- HEY OW! You bit me!"

"Serves you right, "beefcake"." She said, a slight smirk drifting across her face.

Marshall chuckled at this and rubbed the bruise on his forearm. "Ok, Sparks, you win. Just trying to take your mind off it."

She frowned at this, realized that to a certain extent he'd succeeded, and dropped her ears in chagrin. This tugged on her bloody ear again and she hissed at the sudden, unexpected reminder of her injury.

"Ponyfeathers that smarts!"

Marshall caught this and winced in sympathy.

"Does it still hurt, Twi?"

She sighed. "Marshall, I don't know what's in those immobile seashells you have the audacity to call ears, but there are a lot of nerves in pony ears. So yes, it does hurt quite a bit, actually."

Marshall gave her a mournful look and sighed. "Shit Twi, I am so sorry about that. Damn... six inches to the side and..."

She put a hoof on his arm and gave him a soulful look. "Marshall, when that thing charged me you stood your ground and tried your best to give it something else to worry about. It was dumb. Absolutely moronic, actually, but it was a very brave, noble sort of stupid."

Marshall quirked her a smile. "Well, we can't all be geniuses... genii? What's the right plural word for-"

She snorted and shook her head. "Both, actually. There's some controversy over which is proper, but since the etomology of word means a guiding spirit-"

He clutched his chest. "Stop. Too much intelligence... incompatible with stupid human... you're killin' me."

It was goofy, but he was trying and she giggled, in spite of herself.

He smiled back and frowned, then his expression cleared and he twisted to snap something off of his belt. At the awkward motion he winced, and she realized that he'd actually taken quite a beating of his own. Her eyes flew wonderingly over the dented magazines on the right side of his harness. It looked as though someone had struck him across the chest with a I-beam.

Which she assumed wasn't too far off from what actually happened, if it happened to be an I-beam wielded by an adult dragon. How he didn't have broken ribs, she didn't know.

"I totally forgot, I have my emergency kit on my belt. Come here Sparks, let's clean that up before it gets infected."

She frowned, then shrugged it off and wiggled over to him, leaning the side of her head with the wounded ear toward him. He opened the kit and cleaned his hands with one of the sterile wipes before turning to her. He looked at her for a moment, obviously planning the best way to do this, then shook his head.

"Come on, Sparks. Put your head in my lap."

She gave him a dubious look.

"Hey, don't gimme that look, it's your flank I'm interested in, not your- Ow! What is with all the biting?!"

"I don't want to use any magic after draining myself that badly, and besides, there's no point in ringing a dinner bell for that thing. Think of it as negative reinforcement. Aside from my horn, my mouth is one of my primary manipulators, joke about it and I bite again. Hard."

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. All joking aside Twilight SNARKle, trust me, this will be a lot easier if you lay your uninjured ear down on my lap and let me do this. I have some experience with this sort of thing, ok?"

"How would YOU have experience with cleaning pony ears?"

He rolled his eyes. "I used to own a German Shepard, ok? A really big dog. Poor guy used to get ear infections all the time, so I used to clean his ears for him about once a week, and that kept the infections to a minimum. Damnedest thing, too. Only dog I've ever known who LIKED having his ears deep cleaned like that. Just lie there and groan while you did it. Heh... I loved that dog. Used to make my ex-girlfriend sick when I did it, but towards the end she annoyed the piss out of me so I used to do it when I wanted to make her leave the room. Usually right after she ate. Man, that takes me back. I called it "oo-mox" after Star Trek-"

"Marshall, as fascinating as that trip down memory lane is, I'm not sure whether I should be insulted that you're comparing me to a dog or impressed at your passive-aggressive attempts to antagonize a girl into leaving you rather than just being mature about it and parting ways amicably."

"Heh, she annoyed the crap out of me, but she fucked like a demon, so-"

"OK, too much information, monkey boy!"

With that she stood, manuevered herself to his other side, and dropped her head into his lap. She ended up with her good ear pressed against his thigh and her wounded ear facing upward. From this vantage point, staring out across his legs to the circle of rootscrapers she could see the rootscraper younglings scrambling over one another and playing.

"Let's get this over with, Marshall." She muttered, staring off into the distance.

"Twilight, if you're uncomfortable-"

"Marshall, I trust you, ok? I do. Just... be careful. Ears are very sensitive."

He let out a deep sigh, angled himself slightly and brushed her mane a bit, absently. He gently laid his hand on her neck and her ear flicked involuntarily. She winced.

"Easy, easy..." He muttered, and she heard the slosh of disinfectant. She shifted slightly.

"This is gonna sting, Twi."

She sighed. "I know, I'll try to keep still."

He gently began to clean the wound, carefully, slowly. Even still, she winced at times and hissed at others.

"How bad is it?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"Well, it could be worse, but..." He hesitated.

"What?" She asked, suddenly worried.

"You're... missing a chunk, Twi." When she stiffened at this, he was very quick to clarify.

"It's not a big piece, chunk is a bad word, maybe notch is a better word? I'm sorry, but this isn't going to heal completely clean, even with stitches. In fact, stitches probably wouldn't help in the least."

She sighed. So the island had succeeded in marking her permanently, just as it had marked Marshall. She hoped it didn't look too bad, but she didn't want Marshall to feel worse than he already did about it, so she decided to play it cool.

"I thought it felt weird, somehow. Still, it could be worse, I suppose."

"Like I said, Twi... you're lucky it wasn't about six inches over. I could have killed you, Twilight."

The way he said it, matter-of-factly, monotone, it didn't sound good. It worried her, actually. He was taking this much too hard.

"I already said I don't blame you, Marshall. It was an accident."

She could almost feel his frown, but instead of responding, he turned to the kit and removed a bandage. A quick, deft move with his fingers and the adhesive bandage was in place snugly wrapped around her wound. It actually helped with the pain quite a bit, now that every flick of her ear didn't rub the raw edges together. Before she could gather herself up Marshall gave her neck a light touch and she paused.

"Since you're already like this, you've got a bloody mess all up in the canal of your ear, Twi. Should probably get that cleaned out."

She sighed. "Ok, just be careful."

He went to work carefully, and it was the damnest thing. He obviously had done this before in a similar setup, with a similarly sized ear, and those fingers combined with the little cotton swab stick thingies...

Her eyes rolled involuntarily and she slumped bonelessly on his lap as he worked the dirt and dried blood out of the crevices of her ear. She groaned. She couldn't help it. The last time she'd had a deep ear cleaning like this was one trip with Rarity to a day spa, and that simply couldn't compare to this.

Not by a long shot.

He chuckled. "Damn, and I thought Max was a hedonist. You are enjoying oo-mox entirely too much, Sparks."

She muttered something incoherent into his leg and he chuckled again.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Less talking more cleaning, monkey." She said drowsily.

"Jawohl, mein-"

"Marshall, if you keep spouting Germane at me like that, I'm going to bite you again, and I should point out that all I have to do is turn my head-"

She felt him wince. "Ouch... ok ok, sorry."

After a while, he stopped cleaning but she didn't bother to lift her head. Instead he just started petting her mane and she let herself kind of drift. It was nice, especially after the stress and terror of earlier that day, followed by the admittedly hilarious, but not entirely restful assault by baby lizards. Perhaps they should have been more attentive to the situation, but it just felt so nice...

"We both almost died you know?" She said, half unaware that she was speaking.

He continued petting her quietly. "Hmm?"

"Out there, earlier, there were at least a dozen times where we were both almost killed. If you hadn't picked me up..."

She felt him take a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah, well, if you hadn't kept that thing off of me while I was unconscious..."

She shook her head slightly. "I don't think so, Marshall. I think the only reason you were injured at all was because you were between me and it." She frowned.

"That thing definitely had a hard on for you," he mused.

She wrinkled her muzzle at that word choice and sighed. "I could feel it, Marshall. I've never felt something like that before."

He made an encouraging noise and she considered.

"It was like... like being next to a fire, only it's some bizarre kind of reverse fire, sucking heat in instead of putting it out." She shuddered. "Throwing magic at it... all of my strength. It just... walked through it like it didn't matter."

She frowned. "You know, I've encountered a lot of bad things in my life, fought some of them too. Nightmare Moon, she was bad, but it was more that she was... just so angry. At the core of that anger was hurt and loneliness. She had reasons for being what she was. Discord... he was... well, evil, but he seemed to have a sense of fair play, for lack of a better word. He didn't kill anypony, or anything like that. Maybe it was just that he didn't have time, but..."

Marshall let her follow her train of thought, just rubbing her neck calmly. She closed her eyes.

"Queen Chrysalis was the closest thing to real, palpable malice that I've ever encountered. Even that was a... kind of selfishness, really. She didn't care who she hurt to meet her goals. She was evil, but she was also looking out for her subjects. They feed on love, you see."

She paused for a moment, then spoke in a small voice. "That thing... there was no reasoning with it. I don't think it has enough of a capacity for reason... to reason with. It was just... just..." She found herself without words.

She was startled slightly when Marshall pitched his voice in a slightly absurd accent, and spoke instead.

"A man like Ringo has got a great big hole, right in the middle of him. He can never kill enough, or steal enough, or inflict enough pain to ever fill it."

He pitched his voice slightly differently, as though he were continuing dialogue.

"What does he need?"

Then back to the other voice.

"Revenge."

He was quiet then, and she frowned, sensing there was more. She rolled her face slightly to look up at him.

"Revenge for what, Marshall?"

He grinned and continued in that original accent.

"Bein' born."

She shivered. "Scary. That's a quote from something, isn't it?"

He sighed. "Yup. A movie called Tombstone. It seemed appropriate."

She nodded into his leg. "I think you're right, Marshall."

"I don't know about the more preternatural aspects of the thing, Twi. All I felt was pants-shitting terror from being chased by it. Still, I've seen you react to stuff I can't sense before, so..." He shook his head.

She sighed. "Take my word for it, Marshall... that was the closest thing I've ever felt to unadulterated evil, just... seething off of it... and the worst part is, I think it was made to be that way. How is that possible? Why would somepony do it?"

He sighed. "I'm of the opinion that something has to be sapient before it can be really evil, but that doesn't mean you can't turn an animal bad, Sparks. Abuse a dog enough, train it a certain way, and you turn it into a killing machine. It doesn't want to be bad, you understand, it just doesn't know... can't know... any other way."

She frowned. "Do you think it was put here intentionally? Like... something is actively trying to stop us? If it is, stop us from what?"

Marshall groaned and cracked his neck with a quick jerk of his head, making a noise that always bothered her, just a little. "It's a little too specialized not to make assumptions to that effect. I think you've got the wrong idea. They, whoever they are, ain't trying to stop ME. I mean, it hunts magic, Twi. How many magic using ponies have YOU seen on this island?"

She shivered again.

He considered his position for a moment, then frowned. "Still, I suppose there's really no telling for sure. That thing gave every impression of having been there awhile, and we... well, I chose which spot on the barrier to examine."

She nodded. "We can't afford to MAKE assumptions, Marshall. We have to approach this whole situation systematically, logically, and with as little bias as possible. It's our only hope."

They were silent for a while, then she rolled onto her back and look him in the face, the back of her head resting on his thigh. In this position, her hooves just sort of naturally folded against her barrel like a begging dog or praying mantis.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Who saved who when is a completely academic question, Marshall. The fact of the matter is, you saved my life, and I'm grateful..."

He gave her a ghost of a smile. "You're welcome, Sparks. I sense a "but" in there, somewhere."

She gave him a meaningful look and didn't say anything, just stared at him with those liquid amethyst eyes. Eyes filled with compassion and understanding.

He stared down, his face twisting in indecision, then he looked away. his expression distant. She started to say something, but he beat her to it.

"Later is now, huh?" He sighed. He looked out at the clearing, and at the slowly untensing rootscraper herd. The thing was out of sight again, but it had relented temporarily before. They weren't going anywhere, anytime soon.

She flicked her uninjured ear at him in a, go on, sort of gesture.

He slipped loose from her and stepped away, his back to her. His posture became stiff, and he folded his arms behind his back.

"There's really not much to tell, Twilight... but if you want the story..."

She frowned and folded her legs under her in the standard pony position of recline, the intimacy of the moment completely gone. She bit her lip. "If you don't want to..."

He sighed. "It was a routine landing, then this fucking island happened. There was no warning, no sign that anything was wrong, just one second the FOB approach lights were there, the next, they weren't, and the GPS, uh, the global positioning satellite locator, lost signal. That was the only indication that I had at the time that something was wrong. We hit treetops that weren't supposed to be there and lost two engines before I really knew what the fuck was going on. I did everything I could to prevent the crash, and when I realized that there was no chance of that, I did everything I could to survive the crash with everyone intact."

He turned back, and his expression was... odd. It was obvious that these were painful memories for him, but there was something else. An evasiveness that she didn't like, because it was so uncharacteristic of him. "It wasn't enough. I survived. The rest of my crew didn't. They didn't all die at once, but they did die. The fucked up part, Twilight, is that if I HAD managed to pull out of that crash, we ALL would have died when I hit the barrier."

He looked out sullenly at the jungle canopy, and Twilight felt a moments regret for forcing this on him. Her curiousity was hardly sated, however. There was more to this story, at least for him, than he was telling her. She could feel it, like a scab that was half loose, but still slightly adhered to an old wound.

He sighed, and shook his head. "Sometimes the universe gives you a binary solution set. You always have a choice, but sometimes the choice is choosing between two equally unacceptable outcomes. I made mistakes Twilight; mistakes in judgement, mistakes in procedure, and while I probably couldn't have saved them, that doesn't make me any less responsible for their deaths."

She shook her head. "How are you culpable, Marshall? Didn't they have choices? Are you somehow saying that you caused your plane to be trapped on an alien island in a huge impenetrable bubble?"

He shook his head, irritated at her word choice. "I didn't say I was culpable. Culpability is the assumption of blame, that I was guilty somehow of wrongdoing, which I wasn't. I was responsible... I was their superior officer, and I was their pilot. Whether I could have saved them or not is irrelevant; by accepting that position, I MADE myself responsible for them. If there were choices to make, I was responsible for making them. That's the definition of leadership, Twi. Being the one who's responsible for making the decisions, and owning up TO that responsibility."

She frowned at his logic, but remained silent, considering. She KNEW there was more to this. Yes, he was very serious where safety was concerned, but he was also a realist. Some might even call him pessimistic. He was telling her, but by doing so he WASN'T telling her.

He turned away again, shifting from one foot the other, then stalked the edge of the circle of adult rootscrapers.

She sighed, her ears drooping in dismay, and lay with her chin to the ground, considering. She felt like she hadn't learned anything at all, and worse, now he was obviously upset. Calling attention to his emotional state would only upset him further.

It was a hard lesson, and not one she entirely agreed with, but she couldn't see a way free of it.

Sometimes, the only option is silence.

After an hour or so, of this uncharacteristic quietude, he looked at the sky and scowled. "It's gonna rain tonight."

She jerked awake at this statement and frowned. "What?"

He sighed. "It's gonna rain tonight, and we have to face facts, Twi. You're gonna have to stay with the herd tonight."

She nodded, then blinked and gave him a scowl. "What do you mean, you?"

He unclipped his canteen from his belt and tossed it next to her. "There's a few swallows left of that, and we have no food, no weapons, no shelter, we can't start a fire, and that thing is out there stalking you. Home is at least fifteen miles away, and at night, it might as well be a hundred."

She gave him a skeptical look. "This explains the "you" comment, how?"

He gave her a neutral expression. "Come on, Twilight. You said it yourself, it's after you. It doesn't care about me. I'm about as magical as a rock. Maybe it can see better at night and maybe it can't, the point is, by myself, I can get to our packs and get back here. Then we're set. We hole up here with the herd 'til it gives up, then we break for home. With our supplies we have options."

Her ears flattened against her head. "I do not like this plan, Marshall. This is a bad plan. If you're wrong, your knife isn't going to stop that thing. So what if it isn't after you? What about everything else? What if there's another of those... cat... squid... things out there?"

He shook his head irritably. "Twilight, give me some credit. I survived just fine on this island for five years without you, I can-"

She stood up, bristling at this comment. "Marshall, this isn't an attack on your competency! Yes, you're the big bad human! We don't NEED those things immediately! What you're talking about is an unnecessary RISK."

He narrowed his eyes. "I am not leaving valuable supplies just sitting out there-"

She jerked her head back. "Are you listening to yourself?! Who's going to grab them? Most of it isn't even edible! Whether you go now or a week from now, the outcome is the same! Marshall, I understand you're upset, I'm sorry I made you talk about that stuff, but don't-"

"Twilight, I am not debating this with you, I'm telling you what I'm going to do. The longer we wait, the longer it's going to take to find that stuff. Right now, all I have to do is follow the damn broken back trail of that thing back to where I tossed those packs. It's a risk, but it's one that I can manage."

She shook her head. "What IS it that's got you so-"

He scowled down at her. "You can't help yourself, can you? Everything doesn't fit together neat and tidy! You can't go through life characterizing every dent and ding and expecting the world to fall neatly in line with Twilight Sparkle's expectations! I told you, Twilight! Sometimes there are no good choices! Sometimes, there are shitty choices, and you make the best fucking decision you can, and then you live with yourself, or you FUCKING DON'T."

She stared at his verbal explosion, shocked beyond words. She had never seen him like this. It was so unexpected that she just sat there, frozen for several seconds.

He stared at her, staring at him, then something in his eyes changed, and he turned away.

"Fuck this." He muttered. Then he made a break for it.

This time, he made it through.

By the time she had recovered enough of her wits to call after him, his retreating back had already disappeared into the ever increasing gloom.

Chapter Eight - Sustenance

-Civilian, Wye Oak

The daylight leaked from the island quickly, and the grey, oppressive sky hid the traitorous false moon completely from view. In the clearing, surrounded by the protective but hardly comforting bulk of the rootscraper herd, Twilight Sparkle strained desperately to pick out some detail in the rapidly darkening jungle.

Her ears flicked nervously, which stung, and she found herself pawing the mud and stopped, scowling slightly.

She hated this. Twilight Sparkle was a proactive pony. A pony of forethought, and careful planning. She avoided situations like this precisely BECAUSE she hated feeling powerless.

Being powerless meant being out of control. Being out of control of a situation meant reacting to changing conditions on the fly. Being forced to react meant making split second decisions, and too many of those turned out, in hindsight, to be mistakes. So here she was, completely stymied, unable to so much as create an orb of light to improve visibility for fear that the use of her magic would draw that thing close.

Draw it towards her, but also towards Marshall, alone out there, in the dark.

She grit her teeth and stood, pacing, her thoughts circling furiously. Admittedly, this current situation was partly her fault. She was willing to admit that much, but the way he'd reacted... He had gone completely overboard, and now he was out there, and angry, and worse, he had a tendency to get reckless when he was angry.

She stopped and looked back towards the jungle, but she could make out only vague shapes now.

Tepid moisture splattered her muzzle and she blinked, going cross-eyed to stare at it.

This was all the warning that was forthcoming. Seconds later she was in the middle of one of those torrential downpours that strike the rainforest so often. The rootscrapers, covered in thick feathers and no doubt optimized for this type of weather, didn't even move. Her mane plastered against her head and neck, she blew some of the sodden mass out of her eyes with an irritated whoosh of breath, then went back to her cycle of annoyance.

And anger.

And worry.

She did this for several hours, pace pace stop, scan the treeline, pace pace stop. She continued long after there was any sort of decent visibility, which didn't take long, with the fall of night and rain respectively, simply for lack of anything better to DO. She had a wealth of options with her magic, but she didn't dare exercise any of them for fear that it might make the situation WORSE. She had just about reached her limit before a wave of dizziness struck her with no warning, like a freight train. Her forelegs slid forward out from under her, resulting in a muddy faceplant. After several aborted tries she managed to right herself, twisting about frantically.

"No no no.... not now.." She moaned.

The telltale blue lightning that fell what felt like approximately fifteen to twenty minutes later was close, probably no further than the primordial palm forest they'd left behind on their first passage through the herd, and it struck several times in quick succession, almost mechanically precise in its interval. The world was suddenly visible in patches, like a strobe light at one of DJ-PON3's shows, but without the deep bass rumble that would accompany such a show. If there was any other need for an indicator that this was not normal lightning, the complete lack of thunder would have been enough.

She gritted her teeth and considered her options. It was time to stop sitting on her flank and DO something, Celestia damn it. He could be hurt, he could be-

"Wow... that's a lot of sky lights-"

Twilight jumped about three feet in the air, turned and flailed wildly with her hooves in an amazing display of involuntary mid-air acrobatics, and let out a yelp of startlement. Marshall, startled at her reaction, stepped backward, dropped his pack and her saddlebags with a splash before slipping on the rainslickened mud and going down on his rump. He had obviously grabbed his rain gear from his pack, as the downpour pattered on the waterproof camo poncho he had put on over the rest of his gear.

Why, exactly, those unknown soldiers had packed raingear going into the desert was a question best left to equipment loadout planning groups.

"Jesus, Twilight! You scared the-"

She was in his face before he could finish the sentence. "YOU!"

He paled and jerked his head back from her furious countenance. She reacted by stepping up onto his chest with her forehooves, driving him further onto his back. He squelched into the mud, and the sound the rain made on his poncho was a frantic drumbeat in furious counterpoint to the still active flashing of soundless alien lightning. She leaned down to glare at him eye to eye.

He started to speak and she narrowed her eyes and bared her gritted teeth. Little wisps of vapor began to curl from her mane.

Deciding keeping his mouth shut was the better part of not being immolated, he shut his trap.

Twilight was horribly conflicted. On the one hoof, she was genuinely relieved to see him, so relieved, in fact, that she felt a little light headed. On the other hoof, she was also so furious with him that if she had had hands, she would probably be strangling him right now.

She elected instead to continue staring at him. To his credit, not only was he not stupid enough to try saying anything, he also looked honestly terrified.

They sat frozen like that for several minutes, her standing half on him with her sides heaving, him pressed with his back in the mud, hat askew, staring up at her in the rain, his face illuminated in still images of blue illumination. After several beats, she snorted.

"I don't know, what that was..." she said, slowly, filling each word with deadly sarcasm. "But you cannot freak out in this place, Marshall. Not like that. Not ever."

He winced as she threw his own words into his face, and started to open his mouth.

Her glare intensified.

"Every decision you make here... everything you do has to be considered." She stepped backwards deliberately, and sat on her haunches, watching him. Her furious visage had banked to a slightly colder fury.

He closed his mouth, sat up wincing, and looked downward, sheepishly.

She cocked her head slightly. "Well?"

He shifted his gaze to look at her through the matted, sodden tangle of his hair and nodded.

"I'm-"

She shook her head. "I don't want to hear it, right now. I am so... I really don't have the words, Marshall. This was the most inconsiderate thing you've ever done."

He jerked his head up. "Oh for crying out loud! I admit, it was stupid, but it's not like-"

She blazed up again, almost literally, though she was a bit too damp to really catch flame, and stepped right up to him once more.

"You are all I HAVE." She hissed.

He started, blinking, shocked right out of his indignation.

She met him eye to eye, willing him to understand.

"I was always... different, Marshall. It wasn't obvious at first. Little things. I was speaking in full sentences at the age of three. Reading at a college level at age five. Then one day, I saw Princess Celestia raise the sun at the Summer Sun Celebration and I knew... I KNEW what I was meant to do."

"It may have escaped your notice, but I am not the most socially adept pony in Equestria. I suppose, in retrospect, it was that my intellect developed so much faster than my emotional maturity. The only friends I had growing up was my brother and my foalsitter, Princess Cadence... and just before I joined Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Young Unicorns, he was busy with guard training. I didn't see Princess Cadence much after joining the academy."

She scowled. "I went through life thinking I didn't need anypony. That most ponies were a waste of time. The only things I cared about were magic, and learning, and making Princess Celestia proud of me."

At some point that neither of them were in the frame of mind to notice, the sky lights had ceased their regular beat. The rain had lightened up slightly, becoming a gentle shushing sound in the background. The clouds above parted slightly, allowing the traitor moon to peak her face through them and give the island below a quiet, gentle sort of illumination. Marshall watched her quietly, his expression somewhere between confusion and embarassment.

"I was SO wrong, Marshall. It took a near disaster to teach me differently, but I eventually learned that everypony needs somepony. In the course of learning that lesson, I made five of the best friends to ever exist. I love them, Marshall. We were like family. A big, dopey, funny, occasionally schizophrenic, and absolutely AMAZING family. I thought it would last forever."

She sniffed, and her head drooped downward. If she was crying, the rain and the darkness made it impossible to tell.

"Then in one morning, I lost all of it. My friends, my books, my place in the world, my WORLD. All of it. For, as near as I can tell, no reason at all."

She looked up at the sky, considering that nearly impenetrable murk of night and cloud and the distant false moon. Stared as though she could gaze a hole through the monstrosity between them, through the impenetrable, invisible barrier that separated her from... all of it.

"I have to face reality, Marshall. It's the kind of pony I am. I will NEVER, NEVER give up looking for a way home, but if we are on another world... if we are in another universe, I may never find my way there. Regardless of whether I do or not, I doubt it will be a quick process."

She advanced a step, looking him in the eyes. The naked need for his understanding made him lock gazes with her, frozen.

"I may have survived my first week here without you, I may not have. Regardless, you took a bewildered, disoriented mess of a pony in without even the slightest hesitation, and you showed her how you do it. How you get through every day in this miserable place. How you manage to laugh, even... even after all of THIS." She gestured with a hoof.

"I may have survived without you to help me, but I can't survive without you, now. This island has taken everything from me, everything but my magic, and my intellect."

She gazed at him intently. "And you."

She broke the intense stare and sat back on her haunches again, now emotionally drained and so very tired. It had been a long day.

"So yes. Inconsiderate. You ran out there into the night because you were angry, and you did it without CONSIDERING for a SECOND how I would feel if something HAPPENED to you!"

He seemed to deflate slightly at this, and she could tell that what she'd said had hurt him, at least. Maybe he was listening.

"I don't know what it is you think you're responsible for, what makes you throw yourself at danger without a care for your own safety, and I don't CARE. We are a team, Marshall. It's you and me, and we either get through this together, or we don't get through it at all."

Marshall looked pained. "But-"

She glared. "Don't you say you aren't that important. Don't you dare."

"Twilight-" He started.

"You have to promise me you won't pull something like this again. You are important to me! If you have any feelings at all for me, whatsoever, you will PROMISE me that whatever else we do, if its reckless, or dangerous, we will DO IT TOGETHER."

He sighed. "Twilight-"

She stepped right up again and put a hoof on his knee. "You bucking promise me, Marshall!"

"Goddamn it, you stubborn mare, will you let me get a fucking word in edgewise?!"

She blinked, then gestured with her hoof for him to go on.

He glared at her sullenly for a moment, his jaw set in that stubborn way of his that made her want to smack him, then his expression softened and he sighed.

"I'm just not used to it, ok? Five years is a long time, Twilight. I've taken so many risks, so many insane risks, that it just doesn't register sometimes that what I'm doing may be... somewhat ill-advised."

At her disbelieving look at his understatement he waved her off irritably. Then his expression softened.

"When I only had myself to look after that was ok. No one would be hurt but me if I fucked up and got myself killed."

He sighed. "I get what you're saying, I do. For what it's worth, I don't think I could deal with losing... anyone else."

He put a hand on the hoof she still held on his knee. "So I get it, Twilight. I'm sorry. To be honest, I was sorry almost immediately after I hit the treeline, but..."

He looked sheepish. "I kinda... got turned around in the dark. Stumbled on that broken palm tree more by smell than any real woodcraft, got our stuff, then wandered around in the wet and dark and kickin' myself in the ass, 'til those sky lights started up."

He rolled his eyes and cocked his head slightly. "The whole time I was thinkin', damn, she's right, this is fucking stupid, but, well... you know me."

She stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and grinned tiredly. "Oh believe me, Marshall, I am rapidly becoming a subject matter expert on the complex patterns of human idiocy."

Her expression hardened again. "You still haven't promised me, Marshall."

He sighed and gave her as sincere a look as he could manage in the dark and wet. "I promise, Twilight, no more stupid, unnecessary risks."

She glared. "And?"

"And if a risk is stupid, but necessary, we do it together."

She continued to stare at him. He fidgeted, then rolled his eyes again.

"Pinkie Promise." He said, morosely.

She relented and cocked her head, slightly. "Are we cool?"

He grinned tiredly. "Yeah, we're cool."

Despite the tension earlier, the two wayward castaways had managed to settle into something approaching comfort, with the inclusion of a second poncho for Twilight. Adapted from another soldier's gear, it was a little long, but it worked for their purposes. Marshall thought it looked pretty hilarious, but he kept his mouth shut about it, managing to restrain himself to a few odd grins when she wasn't looking. Eventually the rain tapered off to the occasional splatter and the night grew relatively clear. Huddling together for warmth, they shared the contents of her packed fruit bag.

The improvised saddlebags had not held up under the downpour as well as she'd hoped, and she cringed to think about what the precious books inside might look like. She sighed and dug through looking for them, but not finding them, she sat back munching disconsolately on a piece of star fruit.

She frowned. "That's funny."

Marshall, who had been steadily easing towards a light doze blinked, then looked in her direction and, upon seeing her staring glumly at a piece of star fruit, smirked lazily. "Twilight, considering the fact that star fruit has been a part of your balanced diet for nearly every meal since we've met, I wouldn't use the word funny to describe the situation."

He looked skyward at the dismal clouds, then sniffed. "Fucking tragic comes to mind..."

She rolled her eyes balefully in his direction. "I didn't mean the fruit, you nut. I meant the books. I was expecting to find them ruined after all that water, but I can't seem to find them at all."

He snapped his fingers. "Right! You tore me a new asshole so fast it completely slipped my mind!"

She smirked. "Marshall, just as you can't put a new donut hole into a donut hole, you cannot put a new asshole in a-"

He chuckled. "HA! Bite me. No, what I meant was, I moved your books into my pack when I found the bags. I figured it might be a good idea considering how rainfall is around here. Check my pack."

She blinked, then opened up his much better put together pack and found the explosives manual and her new journal safe and sound on the very top. She turned to him, somewhat embarassed by how touched she was by his gesture.

Then she recalled how he'd done it in the middle of being inconsiderate and had a perplexed moment where she couldn't figure out whether she should be happy or angry again.

He snorted. "You can't figure out whether to be pissed or grateful, can you?"

She flicked her good ear at him in response and he chuckled. "Pony or human, you mares are all the same."

She rolled her eyes. "I had noticed some distressing similarities between you human males and stallions as well."

He gave her a disdainful look. "Neigh."

They stared at each other seriously for several seconds, then both burst out laughing in quick succession, Twilight, then Marshall after her mirth got the better of him. They laughed together on and off like this for several minutes. One or the other would stop for a moment, then they'd look at each other and start up again. Before long, tears streaming down their cheeks. At some point during this Marshall impulsively hugged her, and after a beat she hugged him in return. If there was a hint of fierceness in that gesture, even a bit of desperation, on both their parts, it still felt good. Perhaps even helped to heal part of the rift between them.

It felt good to laugh again.

The two of them had gone into what was left of the night with the intent of sleeping in shifts, but this had proven absolutely futile, as several hours of exhausting activity had left them both... well, exhausted.

Marshall lay peacefully on his back, his head supported by their combined packs, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Twilight had simply slumped with her head on his chest, and in repose he'd rested a hand on her neck. The first to awaken, Twilight opened her eyes to stare blearily at him. She'd fallen asleep with her face turned in his direction, and not particularly in a hurry she stared at him, unwilling to disturb him by moving around.

She contemplated her state of being as she gazed at him. Her friendship with Marshall Bailey was a strange one, and she wondered if that was because he was human, if it was who he was, or if it was their situation. Probably a bit of all three, she decided. She'd never have imagined a friend like this back in Equestria. For one thing, anyone who heard them talk to one another for more than five minutes might assume that they didn't like each other very much.

She shuddered to think what would have happened if Fluttershy instead of Twilight had been foalnapped. 'Shy was just... too emotionally fragile, too thin-skinned for someone with Marshall's sense of humor. Rarity would have found him rather uncouth... worse, he was smart enough to know that his behavior would get under her skin, and demented enough to think it was funny.

That might actually make the contrary human WORSE.

Applejack and Dash probably would have gotten along with him ok. He was guileless by nature, tending to evade questions he didn't want to answer or flat out reject lines of inquiry rather than outright lie, and hardworking. If he and Applejack had butted heads, it would have been out of sheer stubbornness. As for Rainbow Dash, they had flight in common, and were both on the reckless side. They definitely shared a love of practical jokes, as well. Inevitably though, he and Dash would have clashed at times. Dash had a tendency to jump to conclusions and a sort of bravado that Marshall would have found impossible not to mess with.

Twilight had given up trying to predict what Pinkie Pie would do in any given situation.

Twilight frowned as she realized that her friendship with Marshall couldn't really be categorized in the same way as her relationship with her other friends. She didn't quite know what made it different... aside from the casual verbal abuse, of course.

Was that it? Were they only friends out of adversity? She'd said things to Marshall that would have absolutely devastated some of her other friends, and she'd said it to be FUNNY. More importantly, he'd done the same to her, and if she had to guess, she'd imagine that the growing fondness with which she viewed such bickering was the same for him.

Was that healthy?

More importantly, was it really friendship?

If it wasn't friendship... what was it, exactly?

Twilight Sparkle didn't like being confused.

"Twilight, I can assure you that no matter how long you stare at me, I am not going to get any prettier than I already am. It just isn't physically possible."

She started, jerked back to the now by his voice, and found Marshall gazing at her from below the brim of his shapeless booney hat with a lopsided grin on his face. She snorted.

"The multitudes of human females must mark the day of your disappearance with wailing and gnashing of teeth." She said dryly.

“Naw. Know a couple that might throw a party, though.”

She smirked. “Why do I have absolutely NO problem believing that, do you think?”

He let out a rumbling chuckle that she felt through his chest and sat up, brushing his hat back onto its proper place. She raised her head and gazed up at the morning sky.

It was clear for once.

Marshall stood, groaned, stretched with numerous cracks and pops, and let out a voluminous series of curses so foul that Twilight's ears involuntarily flattened.

He finished the string of invective with a yawn.

“Well... everytime I think I've hit rock bottom, this island sets the bar a little lower. A night of sleeping in the mud, in off and on showers, and freakish monster summoning blue lightning, in the middle of a herd of dinosaurs, while a creature out of Clash of the Titans stalks my ass all night? You can't BUY suck like this... and believe me, I've been to Thailand, I've TRIED!”

She gave him a disgusted expression and shook her head. “I'm not sure what most of that sentence means, but something about it makes me want to kick you.”

He didn't respond to this, instead pulling out his binoculars and scanning the treeline. She watched him, fidgeting slightly for several seconds, before he lowered them and passed the binoculars quietly to her.

She looked up at him and after an awkward, confused hesitation he remembered that she was trying not to use magic at the moment. He helped her adjust the strap around her neck, then she sat back awkwardly on her haunches and used her forehooves to mimic him.

“Did you see it?”

He shook his head. “No, but I want a second opinion.”

She began her own surveillance, frowning slightly in concentration. Marshall, meanwhile, removed his poncho, whacked it several times against his leg to break the dried mud off of it, then folded it and put it in his pack. As she turned to scan the opposite treeline he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his BDU top due to the heat and went off a ways away to do his business. She continued her scan of the treeline studiously until the sounds of urination finished, then lowered the binos and cocked her head at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

She frowned. “I didn't see it either, but that makes no sense. Why would it dog us all night, then just... give up? What changed?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Seems unlikely after the epic ass-whooping it waded through just to keep close by, though. Think it's a trick?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I don't think it's that smart.” She shuddered. “Maybe whatever came through in that last round of sky lights scared it off.”

He frowned. “That's... discouraging. Also, it doesn't strike me as the scareable type.”

They mused this over for several seconds before Marshall slapped his fist into his hand.

“Countermeasures!”

Twilight blinked, then cocked her head at him curiously. “What?”

“Ok, this is gonna take some explanation, so bear with me. I told you about anti-aircraft weaponry, right?”

She frowned, but nodded. War was not unheard of in Equestrian history, but it had been a very long time since Equestria had had anything approaching an armed conflict, and they had NEVER had one on the scale that humans tended to. It took a certain amount of mental juggling to reconcile this with certain accepted notions in Equestrian social sciences, namely, that a society had to be largely peaceful to enjoy any sort of technological advancement worth the name.

Such experts often pointed to the differences between griffon, pony, and diamond dog tech levels as proof of these notions, and while these modes of thought were cautiously accepted by the Equestrian scientific community at large, they had always struck Twilight as somewhat condescendingly pony-centric.

Considering the massively more advanced state of human technology, it would appear that humanity blew those theories completely out of the water. With the evidence that she'd gathered on this island, she could probably have written a score of mind blowing papers on the subject.

She shrugged off the thought for later analysis and turned her attention back to Marshall.

“One of the types of anti-aircraft weaponry is called a heat-seeking missile. You already know that heat is a form of radiant energy, but what you might not be aware of is that most of that radiated heat is actually a form of light.”

She frowned. “Ok... so if it's light why can't we see it?”

He raised a finger. “Light has properties of both a particle and a wave. I could get into it, and by your expression I see I'm going to have to later, but the jist of it is that the wavelength of light determines what color it is, or even if we can see it at all. Heat radiates in the infrared spectrum, and the heat that most aircraft generates from engines and the like is specifically the mid-IR. Heat-seeking missiles look for that signature, lock on to it, and follow it to the target.”

She nodded, following, and completely fascinated.

“So anyway, obviously nobody likes the idea of a weapon they can't evade, so they developed countermeasures. At first, these were decoy flares that radiated heat. Essentially, they fooled the missile into thinking it was tracking the target, when in actuality it was just chasing a flare.”

He paused, and at her nod, continued. “So that worked for awhile, but as heat-seekers got more and more sophisticated that method got less and less effective. Eventually, a company called Northrop-Grumman came up with another solution. They invented a countermeasure that shot a focused, multi-wavelength beam of mid-IR light from a turret that contained a sensor that detected missile launches, called a Directed Infrared Countermeasure, or Nemesis defense system. Basically, instead of giving the missile a decoy to follow, it blinded the sensor the missile used to track in the exact wavelength of light that it was looking for.”

She frowned. “So...”

He snapped his fingers, excited. “Come on, genius! So what I'm saying is, you don't see by magic, or hunt by it, but every time those sky lights hit, it knocks you for a loop. You said it felt like the magic thauma-thingie flexed when it happened and that made you dizzy.”

Her eyes widened. “Right.... so if this thing is even MORE sensitive to magic than I am because it hunts by it...”

He grinned. “Then when those sky lights hit it was like the thing was a cat left in a tumble dryer for twenty minutes or so. Combine that with how dark and rainy it was last night, and the fact that you've avoided doing anything magical since we saw it...”

She beamed at him. “You know... I honestly think you're on to something here. It's a sound hypothesis.”

He grimaced. “Only one way to test it, though.”

She frowned. “Yeah. We can't stay here forever. I say we go for it.”

He nodded seriously. “And... that doesn't factor in whatever those sky lights just landed on our backyard. They were close by, and RIGHT in the direction we have to go.”

She sighed. “That's true whether we leave now or later. Best we do it while we have the best possibility of evading that magic hunter thing.”

He nodded. “Agreed. Like the mare said, a stupid risk, but a necessary one. Let's eat breakfast then make tracks.”

Twilight grabbed a star fruit from the bag with her hoof and looked at it glumly. Marshall gave her that evil grin of his that always preceded a comment that she wasn't going to like.

“There are alternatives... just make that noise again, I'm sure one of the rootscrapers will-”

She threw the fruit at him, which caught him by surprise, as he wasn't aware that hooves could do that. Luna wasn't the only one good at spider tosses. It hit him in the inner thigh and left a painful bruise.

He called it a mark of tragedy.

Leaving the herd was much easier now that it had been several hours since the “Magnificent Bastard” had been spotted, as Marshall had taken to calling it. Despite her initial rejection of the sobriquet, she was not above just calling it “MB” for short, because they had to call it something, and before long both of them were doing it.

Trudging warily through the woods, every sense on alert, Marshall and Twilight made their way through the primordial palm forest. Every unexpected noise or snap of a branch brought them both to instant, tense stillness, Marshall's hand drifting to his knife.

Both of them KNEW something was wrong, something was out of place, but neither of them could put a finger (or hoof) on it.

Twilight was the first to spot it, when it came right down to it, and that was mostly because she literally stumbled over it.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed cutely, as she tripped and half tumbled into a palm tree. She had been so focused on her surroundings that she hadn't paid attention to where she was putting her hooves. She glanced down at what she'd stumbled over and froze.

Then looked up consideringly at the palm tree.

Marshall, who had gotten a bit ahead of her but turned when she exclaimed, gave her a confused look.

“What is it, Twilight?” He asked, concernedly.

Twilight, looked around one more time, then a slow wondering grin broke over her face. “Of course...” she said quietly.

Marshall frowned.

“Marshall, it all makes sense now! I'm telling you, it makes SENSE!” She whooped, then started running around him in a giddy little circle.

He followed her motion, bemused. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“No no! I get it now! Something that's been bothering me all this time is finally clear! The rootscrapers, Marshall, how are they still alive?!”

He frowned. “Because they're too damn big and ornery for anyone to take down?”

She grinned. “Exactly, but you're missing the point. That herd is huge... it represents a combined tonnage of well over 300 tons. Something about them has been bothering me all this time, and I finally get it! The closest land animal in my world that matches it for size and feeding habits is a form of elephant, and adults get to around six to twelve tons and eat close to... eight hundred pounds of food a day.”

He put a hand out and stopped her giddy victory lap, as it was starting to make him dizzy. She turned, excited and happy, her cheek against his palm.

“Ok, so...?”

“So taking into account that these are birdlike, and appear to have a crop, so they probably have a slightly more efficient metabolism, they STILL eat pretty much ALL day, and they eat a very specific part of one type of plant. You said so yourself.”

She met his gaze squarely. “So as a rough estimate, say an adult rootscraper needs close to six hundred pounds of food a day. That's probably an underestimate, but it will do for our purposes. Do the math, Marshall! Six hundred pounds, times thirty adult animals, equals eighteen thousand pounds of palm heart a day! That's nine tons! Now granted these are huge palm trees, that still around two palm trees per animal per day...”

He blinked, then looked around at the forest, and considering look on his face. “Sixty trees per day... four hundred twenty trees per week... there shouldn't even be a forest here right now...”

She nodded eagerly. “But there IS.... why?”

He looked at the rootscraper dig marks she'd tripped over. The dig marks that went right up to a palm tree...

That was absolutely pristine.

“Because whatever is causing those sky lights is replacing them.” He finished, awed.

She turned eagerly from him and gazed around them. “The scale of it! It's...”

Marshall shook his head, mutely, for once awed into silence.

“Figure that before I showed up, unless you actually SAW the sky lights happen, you would have been completely unaware of them. Now factor in that if I'm asleep, or lying down, I wouldn't be aware that I was dizzy...”

He frowned thoughtfully. “You think the sky lights happen a lot more often than we're even aware of?”

She nodded. “I think it's pretty obvious. Something is ACTIVELY maintaining this biome, Marshall. In addition to yanking random ponies from their beds and thrusting them into the middle of this...”

She gestured with a hoof. “Something recognizes that this is a closed system with an unsustainable ecology... and it's fixing it ON THE SLY!”

He nodded seriously. “Ok... so how do we exploit this?”

She paced furiously, thinking. “Well... again, we need to run a few experiments when we get back to the camp. I'll need your help with those... and...”

She looked up at him. “I need as close to a bird's eyeview of the island as I can get. We need to get to the top of that mountain.”

He frowned. “Why? I've already surveyed...”

She shook her head. “That's just it, Marshall, you haven't! You searched the island when you were under the assumption that the only thing the sky lights mean is new predators, but we have evidence that more than just that is being transported here all the time, and that it probably happens way more often than we're aware...”

He sighed, looked away, set his jaw and crossed his arms, then nodded finally and turned back to her. “Ok... so how do we get you to the top of the mountain, genius? It's too far for you to teleport. It's surrounded by flying predators. There are at least four or five sections that are almost perfect vertical climbs, and you have no hands!”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Oh ye of little faith. Fear not, monkey. I have... a plan.”

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes at her. “You know, it kinda ruins the effect if you blush while you do that.”

She blushed harder.

A/N: And now for your viewing pleasure, one of my good friends and colleagues Nugar has written a scene for you folks. It's good enough that you could consider it canon Quantum Castaways if you wish, and probably takes place some time during the three weeks or so that Twilight is acclimitizing to her situation on the island. I doubt this will be the LAST one of these, and I will post them as I receive them at the end of each new chapter.

So, without further adieu, Quantum Castaways presents, QC Omake Theater.

Musical Murder, by Nugar

“Murder turkey, you’re the one… you make breakfast, so much fun…murder turkey, I’m awfully glad I shot you.”

Twilight’s ears twitched as she slowly turned to see her human companion cooking breakfast in his makeshift fryer, humming a random tune beneath his breath. He broke off and sucked his finger for a moment when he got some hot grease on it, and when he resumed poking the charring flesh with a knife, his absentminded tune had changed.

“Murder turkey murder turkey… come join my murder day feast… murder turkey murder turkey… everybody have a piece…”

“Marshal!” she snapped. “That’s one of my favorite songs! Do you have to pervert it into something so… so human?!” He froze, giving her a startled look, completely unaware as to what she was referring to.

“What?” he asked in complete confusion.

Twilight sighed. “Oh, nevermind. But if you’re going to sing, can it be about something besides killing animals?”

He blinked, then got a faint blush as he realized what he’d been doing. “Oh! Oh, uh, sorry. It’s just… you know, murder turkey is actually a pretty fun thing to say.”

“Sometimes, you’re like a big, uncouth Pinkie, you know that?”

“…No?”

“If you want something funny to say, just say pickle barrel kumquat, and show some respect to to that poor thing you’re eating.” She glared at him sternly.

“Okay?” He paused. “Pickle barrel… kumquat?”

Twilight nodded, satisfied. “Much better. Also, you’re burning your murder turkey.”

“Dammit!” After hurriedly rescuing his breakfast from the coals, he sat down with a sigh. “You know, it’s just too goddamn early for this island’s special brand of what the fuck.”

Chapter Ten - Wanderings

-Tea In the Sahara, The Police

"Twilight, I understand how excited you are about this. I am just as excited as you are. The problem is that all the environmental hazards we run into out here in the jungle are pretty tame compared to the kind of bullshit that a desert will pull. We get thirsty here, water is never more than a mile or so away. Out there, you can't count on a source of water like that, you have to bring everything you need with you."

She frowned, seated pony style and telekinetically picking at a salad with a fork while Marshall cooked something on the fire. Their discussion basically flitted back and forth over the same sticking point; she wanted to plan RIGHT now, gather supplies RIGHT now, and go.

RIGHT now.

After the initial excitement on the mountaintop had worn off, as they made their way down the clouds, Marshall had calmed down considerably, to Twilight's initial confusion. She was happy about this discovery, and a large part of her was disappointed that he didn't appear to be as happy as she was.

She'd finally cornered him into discussing it when they sat down to get dinner started. Much to her chagrin, she had discovered that he wanted to take things at a slower pace. The maddening part was, as eager as she was to find that distant mysterious structure, she had a nagging suspicion that he was absolutely right.

"During the day, we'll bake. At night, we'll freeze. The air will be so empty of moisture that we'll lose what little water we've got twice as fast."

She glared at his back and he stopped cooking, set down his spoon, and turned, shoving sizzling meat onto his plate next to a modest green salad. He sat down in front of her and looked downward, considering, then gazed back at her and began further ticking off points calmly on his fingers. "The only sane time to travel will be in the three or four hours when it's still light out at evening, and in the three or four hours after dawn before it starts to broil. Which of course assumes there ain't nothing living out there. Seeing how diverse this damn island is, it wouldn't surprise me in the least. All the tricks and tips I've picked up living in the jungle won't mean squat out there, it might as well be another damn planet."

He stared down at his plate, fiddling with his fork unhappily. "There will be no landmarks to navigate by, no shade we don't make for ourselves, and if we get turned around or end up lost, we're boned. I've never been that far into the middle of the desert side of the island for a reason, Twilight. I'm crazy, but I ain't stupid. Hell, for all we know, whatever stuck us on this damn island put that building in the middle of bumfuck nowhere for exactly that reason."

She sighed. "I understand this stuff, Marshall. I really do, but as difficult as it's going to be, we HAVE to do this." She cast a pleading gaze at him across the table as he added a little salt to his meal and then dug into his dinner.

He met her gaze and smiled. "I know that, Twi. I'm not advocating sitting with our thumbs up our asses when something is just sitting out there that could be the solution to this whole mess. What I'm trying to get across to you is that what we need is a cautious approach with plenty of contingency planning so that WHEN, not IF, WHEN things go wrong, we can adapt."

She chewed thoughtfully on her meal and swallowed, sighing. "I know, I just..." She gestured helplessly with a foreleg in a gesture she'd picked up from Marshall that meant, as far as she could tell, helpless frustration.

He gave her a look that was completely compassionate, for once not busting her metaphorical balls.

"Twilight, this is NOT the one time in your life to throw caution to the wind because you want to go home. I know how much you want to see your friends again, but..."

He sighed.

"Look, I've been on this island for five years. Five. Years. I've had leads, promising leads, that turned out to be false. Nothing as promising as this one, mind you, but it has happened. You CAN'T hang all your hopes on this panning out the way you want it to. We have no idea what the hell is out there, Twi. It might be Ye Olde ACME Teleportation Complex that'll take us home lickety split, and it might be a fucking trap designed to lure us in and do god knows what to us."

Marshall picked at his food moodily, his expression thoughtful. "If this island has taught us anything, it's that it doesn't give away anything for free. We have had to struggle and fight for every step of ground we take from it. I don't want you to put all your hopes on this one thing being some kind of magical cure-all and then be devastated when and if it doesn't... work out."

She scowled, about to retort in the face of what sounded like very unpleasant skepticism. It felt in that moment, at best, timidity, and at worst, complacency. She opened her mouth, caught his expression as he raised his gaze from his plate, and stilled, whatever angry retort she was going to say dying in her throat, unborn. Marshall just stared back, calmly. Perfectly willing to let her vent on him, and just as unmoved from his position.

She forced herself to take a step back and consider this. To remember that this man had been through this before, and that from his own painfully learned lessons, he was trying to help her, despite her insistence at being obstinate, antagonistic even. She looked down at her meal, momentarily ashamed of her lack of empathy in the face of his own obvious consideration.

Finally, she looked up. "Ok, so what do we need?"

He cocked his head slightly, considering. "First of all, the most important thing is water. Keeping it in us, and having plenty on hand to replace what we lose..."

"X-ray, zero point zero zero five seven niner."

"X-ray, zero point zero zero five seven niner, aye."

"Yankee, negative zero point zero zero two three four."

"Yankee, negative zero point zero zero two three four, aye."

"Zulu, negative zero point zero zero five seven eight."

"Zulu, negative zero point zero zero five seven eight, aye."

"Resetting display. Calibration error factor... is zero. LVDTs have reset to neutral value."

"Values verified. Plotting now."

Marshall leaned back from the display and turned with a creak of metal and canvas, watching as Twilight Sparkle plotted the coordinates on the makeshift white board they had set up. Well, it couldn't exactly be called a white board; for one, it wasn't white. It was really nothing more than a piece of canopy glass that had survived intact installed with a white wooden backing for contrast and bolted to the cave wall. For a writing implement she was using one of the ubiquitous black grease pencils you'll find in any cargo shipping operation. She had carefully drawn up a three axis grid coordinate system, and was marking the position they'd called out.

After this she then extrapolated very quickly how much displacement from the neutral position this represented in space, then, with a complex understanding of expanding thaumic fields, a bit of advanced waveform algebra, and a little trigonometry, changed that into a ray trace of the direction of thaumic field expansion. Marshall was no slouch where complex math was concerned, but even still, he shook his head at this. Half of the symbols up there were gibberish to him... in fact, they sort of looked like what had resulted from the time, half out his mind from lack of sleep after a thirty six hour flight schedule, he'd forwarded one of his mission reports to his CO, after he'd accidentally changed the type font from Times New Roman to Wingdings.

Needless to say, his CO had been very disappoint. Even after Marshall had valiantly tried to point out that as bad as Wingdings was, at least it wasn't Comic Sans.

Still, loopy-ass characters aside, he could see the concentration and complex problem solving involved. It was like watching a Stephen Hawking, an Albert Einstein, or a Richard Feynman at work, sans bongos, of course.

Marshall would be the first to admit that Twilight Sparkle had a beautiful mind.

She sat back on her haunches and examined her work for errors, telekinetically tucking the grease pencil behind her poor notched ear. Marshall smirked when he realized she was getting a little black stain right there from the dirty grease pencil. She continued scanning her work, mouthing variables silently under her breath. Her eyes darted from equation to equation, then went back to the top again, for the third time. Marshall was well acquainted enough with the scientific mindset, and Twilight more specifically, to know that if he didn't interrupt her, she'd be teasing and playing with that very limited set of data values all day.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the board. "What's that symbol there? The one that kinda looks like a monkey fucking a coconut?"

She blinked, startled out of her math funk, then turned very slowly and glared at him. "That is the ancient unicorn glyph for "Aba", which modern thaumaturgical studies recognizes as the symbol for the coefficient of thaumic fluctuation, and it does not look... like that."

He smirked. "The fact that you knew exactly what symbol I was referrin' to says a lot about what it looks like, Twi."

"You were pointing at it!"

"I was pointing generally in the direction of the board, and you weren't even looking at me when I did it. Come on, look at it, see the little feet-"

Twilight snarled at him, turned back to the board to refute this, blinked, then cocked her head slightly.

She squinted.

Her eyes widened in horrified realization, then she scowled and rounded on him fiercely. Fat yellow sparks actually jumped from her mane.

"MARSHALL! I-, WH-, YOOOOUUU! I CAN'T UNSEE IT! YOU... BU- ALL OF MY HATE!"

He spun out of his chair and ran for the door, laughing, papers and grease pencils flying everywhere.

Outraged unicorns being attracted to sudden movements from their erstwhile prey, Twilight Sparkle gave chase.

"GET BACK HERE YOU, YOU, MATH DEFILER!"

"So how exactly does the coefficient of monkey spunk relate to the coconut, Sparks?!"

"ARRRGGGGHHHH!"

Marshall choked up his grip on the improvised bat and watched his opponent intensely. He dug his boot into the dirt and tensed, ready.

Sixty or so feet away, Twilight also stood resolute, her stance widened out a bit, all four hooves planted. She telekinetically picked up a rock and, biting her lip in concentration, changed it into a reasonable imitation of a baseball. She telekinetically held this overhead.

Marshall's eyes narrowed.

Twilight's eyes narrowed in answer.

With a snap of sparks, Twilight sent the magically created baseball shrieking towards the improvised "homeplate". Marshall waited for his moment, then swung for the bleachers.

The ball slammed into the raised hillock of dirt behind him and he tossed the bat down, shaking his head in disgust.

"Son of a bitch, got me again! I cannot hit that fucking curve ball."

She trotted up, grinning ecstatically. "I told you, I've got this pitching thing down pat. Controlling high speed vectors is one of my specialties."

"Well, I freely admit that I am beaten in this arena, Twilight Sparkle. You have bested me, fairly."

She looked up at him, an odd look on her face. "Marshall, does... baseball qualify as a sport?"

Marshall smirked. "There are some people who would argue that case, but I ain't one of 'em, Sparks. Sure, it's a sport. Why?"

She frowned. "I've never been good at a sport before. I mean, I'm not exactly out of shape. I came in fifth place in the Running of the Leaves, but that was more due to following a book and pacing myself. I... I'm not sure how I feel about this."

He reached over and mussed her mane fondly. "Don't worry Sparks, just 'cause you found a sport you've got some natural talent at, doesn't mean you have to turn in your egghead ID card just yet."

She snorted, rolling her eyes at this. "Oh good, I was really worried about that, since it nets me a discount whenever I shop for nerd gear and nerd accessories." She said dryly. A lock of mane flopped into her eyes and she blew it out of her way irritably.

He gave her a considering look. "Damn Sparkle. That mane and tail are gettin' a little long. I'm not really sure how fashion works for you equinoids, but I can say you don't want 'em to get any longer, for safety's sake."

She frowned, looking at her tail for a moment. "Back home I usually have an appointment scheduled every two weeks or so, but obviously that hasn't happened. That's going to be a pain in the flank trying to do without making myself look like a disaster."

She sighed. "Still, I guess it can't be helped. We definitely have to take care of it before the trip in four days."

After much discussion and planning, four days was the minimum amount of time they'd decided they needed to prepare for "The Road Trip" as it was becoming known. The amount of water weight they'd have to carry was obscene, and they'd needed to make something like a barrel to even carry the amount they'd need.

While he had made a few barrels in the past, they weren't anywhere near large enough for their purposes. Furthermore, the barrels he'd made previously wouldn't have stood up to the rigors of the journey.

A sort of wheeled water barrel/cart converted from an old crate handtruck was the best thing they could come up with. This was, of course, a secondary means of transport, as Twilight had assured him that despite its cobbled together and kludged nature, it still obviously had an intended function that the Come To Life spell could discern, and thus neither of them had to worry too much about man- (or pony) handling the damn thing. For that matter, if push came to shove, she could just telekinetically tote the silly thing, though that would be a lot more energy intensive. Still doable, however, since they only planned to be traveling during the early morning and evening once they hit the desert.

The waterproofing, a converted tarp and some jungle made adhesive (Twilight probably didn't want to know what it was made out of), would take time to set, and the lack of available forage for Twilight in the desert meant that they also had to take the time to dry some fruit and grasses she found edible.

It would be by no means pleasant, but it would be survivable.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You do have an alternative, you know. If you magic me up a pair of temporary scissors, I could probably give you a trim myself. I'm no barber mind, but I could probably take care of it without butchering your style too badly. At the very least, it'd be straighter than if you tried to do it yourself."

She gave his hair and beard a hard and obviously critical once over and then raised an eyebrow dubiously at him.

He caught the look and glared. "Hey now, that isn't strictly fair, Miss Sparkle. I didn't exactly have a mirror to attend to myself with, and before you showed up, who exactly did I have to impress? The rootscrapers?"

She continued to gaze at him levelly for several moments, then finally nodded to herself. "Alright. I'll give you a shot, but I want something in return."

He raised an eyebrow, wondering exactly when him doing a favor for her turned into a case of quid pro quo, but deciding to humor her. "Like?"

She eyed his beard and raggedy mop of hair with obvious distaste. "You let ME give you a shave and a haircut."

He blinked. "Uhhh..."

She grinned lopsidedly at him. "Oh come on! If you aren't willing to let me try to fix the damage you've inflicted upon yourself, why should I let you anywhere near MY hair?"

He grimaced. "I think it's more the thought of a flying piece of sharp metal near my face and neck that gives me pause."

She grinned impishly. "Oh come on, it's not like I could mess you up that much more than you already are. I mean, look at it this way, if I really screw up on the right side, at least you'll match."

He gave her the stink eye. "That attitude does not fill me with an overabundance of confidence, Sparklebutt."

She gazed up at him, pleadingly. "Come on... you know how much control I have! It'd be easy! You know I'd never hurt you."

He frowned. "You'd never hurt me intentionally, Sparks. Still, I guess fair is fair. Before we head out on this crazy pilgrimage, I guess we'll wash up and do each others hair."

He clasped his hands together in front of his chest and batted his eyelashes at her. "Oh, it'll be just faaabulous. We'll talk about what boys we like, and tell ghost stories!"

She stared at him incredulously for about a beat and a half, then burst into giggles. "We can have pillow fights and play truth or dare!"

"Like, ohmagawd, it'll be just the bestest day evaaar!" He said, adopting a ridiculous valley accent.

They had a good chuckle over this.

"Ok, so, truth or dare?" Twilight asked as Marshall circled her, snipping occasionally. She valiantly tried not to wince every time he did.

He paused, raising an eyebrow at her. "Are you serious? Are we actually doing this?"

She rolled her eyes up at him. "Come on, Marshall. Humor me. You're making me a little nervous with those scissors."

He grunted and stepped back a bit, cocking his head. "Ok... Ok... truth."

She considered this for a moment, then looked at him thoughtfuly. "What does your Callsign Rain Man, mean?"

He grimaced at this. "That's not exactly a clean story, Twi... but..."

He paused, considering, then snipped a couple more times at her mane. Still working, he began telling the story.

"So the squadron I was attached to had a delivery in Pusan Korea that left us a three day window before the next delivery. CO gave everyone a forty eight hour liberty pass. Thing is, you never go into a foreign country without a liberty buddy."

He combed his fingers through her mane, frowned, then snagged something from her neck and crushed it with a pop between his fingers. "Gotcha... little fucker."

"Thanks." Twilight said, absently.

He nodded and went back to the task at hand. "Anyway, my liberty buddy for the trip was this fireplug looking short fucker named Lieutenant Randy Michaels. Short, stout, red-faced son of a bitch could drink a dedicated wino under the table, and I swear he had to have some kinda hypnotic spell or somethin', cause he was an ugly little bastard, but women would throw themselves at him like he was free chocolate or something. He was an egotistical, cheap, petty little asshole too, but since there was always more women after him then you could beat off with a stick, I put up with him, 'cause sometimes they'd settle for second prize, if you know what I mean."

Twilight flattened her ears and glared at him from her peripheral vision. "Sounds like a sound basis for a friendship." She said dryly.

He chuckled a bit. "We can't all be models of love and tolerance, Twilight, but I DO try. With the purest of motives, you understand."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh absolutely."

He grinned. "Randy's callsign was Kiwi, on account of once, for a bet, he ate a whole can of Kiwi shoe polish. That's basically like eating an ounce of black paraffin wax, just so you know."

She grimaced. "Yuck, who bet him that?"

He grinned. "Best fifty bucks I ever spent. It was a couple of days before he could smile without people doin' a double take, and he had the shits for a week."

She snorted. "I should have known."

He switched positions to her tail and started working there. Twilight was forced to twist to watch him work.

"Anyway, Kiwi and I went in together on a double room at a local hotel, so we wouldn't have to sleep in the shitty transient bachelors officers barracks they had up there. Since we only had two days, we didn't figure we'd get lucky or anything. We started drinking at this place on Texas Street that advertised a hundred and fifty different shots, trying to go all the way down the menu. Our intention was to get absolutely shitfaced. That's extremely drunk, just so you know."

She nodded, flicking an ear at him in a sort of pony "go on" gesture.

"So 'round about shot... eleven, I think... I lose track of Kiwi, and around shot thirteen I notice he's chatting up this cute little hostess type. I didn't think nothin' of it, 'cause those girls are there to get dumb, drunk, horny assholes like me an' Kiwi to spend money buying 'em drinks and shit. Anyway, I shit you not, I turn away for three seconds, and when I turn back, the son of a bitch tips me this sly wink, and puts his arm around the girl, and damn if they don't go off towards the hotel together."

He shook his head, obviously still disgusted. Twilight frowned.

"So I know he's going to be... uh... busy, with this chick for at least an hour or so, maybe more, if he had a lot to drink. So I settle in, figure I'll give him a couple hours, then I'll head up. You know, be a good buddy, even if he WAS being an asshole taking a girl up to a room we both paid for."

He grins. "Thing is, you can drink a helluva lot of alcohol in two hours, 'specially if you've got a mad on."

Twilight frowned. "I don't know if I like where this is going..."

He snorted. "I warned you. So about two hours later, I'm so drunk I can barely see, let alone walk, but if being a single officer on liberty teaches you anything, it's a sort of zen and the art of drunken navigation, so I make it back in relatively one piece to our hotel room. It's pitch dark inside, and Kiwi is snorin', so I figure all is well. Thing is, all this walkin' and drinkin' has got me to the point where if I don't get to the head quick, I'm gonna piss myself. So I'm stumblin' around this pitch dark, completely unfamiliar room just kinda blindly feeling around with my hands, I got no idea where the fuckin' bathroom is, and I'm literally doing the peepee dance trying not to ruin my pants. I finally get to the toilet, and man, you want to talk about relief?"

He paused, finished with her tail, and stood, stepping back a bit and looking carefully at his work.

"So imagine my surprise when Kiwi's snoring stops halfway through me takin' a piss and he kinda groggily goes... What the fuck?"

Twilight's eyes widened. "No..."

He chuckled. "Yup. It seems in my haste to find the head, and my drunken state, I wandered into the bathroom without realizing it, then felt around the wall 'til I found the doorway, which actually took me back OUT of the bathroom, and I wandered over to the first approximately toilet height object I could detect in the dark. Turns out, that was Kiwi's bed."

She shook her head. "So your Callsign is Rain Man because..."

Marshall shrugged. "Golden showers are still showers, Twi. I admit, Kiwi didn't see the humor of the situation, but the Pilots Association sure did."

She frowned, disbelievingly. "These are your friends?!"

Marshall shrugged. "Some of 'em. It's part of being a pilot, Twi. Nobody starts out liking their callsign, but you aren't a pilot unless you have one. It's a badge of honor; a compliment, albeit a backhanded sort of compliment. It kinda says, you're one of us, you sad, sorry son of a bitch. Eventually, you kinda grow into it."

She considered this, then slowly nodded. "I don't think I would have understood what you were getting at before a few weeks ago. Now... it really is fascinating how you military humans, I'm guessing it's mostly military behavior, have this sort of... I don't know, insulting way of complimenting each other."

He grinned. "It ain't strictly a military thing, Twi... but you'll probably see it in the military more often than anywhere else."

He crouched, meeting her gaze on the level. "Someone watches your back, someone you really trust... it doesn't matter what they SAY. The fact that they're willing to put their life on the line for you, to have your back no matter what the circumstance, speaks volumes more than a thousand compliments made for politeness' sake that they don't really mean. Plus, when one of us crude types gives you a genuine compliment, we fucking MEAN it."

Twilight blinked at this, oddly touched by his sentiment. It really DID make sense, and as she had said, she doubted she'd have understood that before this whole mess had started.

What did that say about her?

Twilight shook her head, clearing it, then gave him a questioning look. "You done?"

He stood, gave her a quick once over, then nodded. "Yup. Best magic yourself up a mirror so you can check."

She did as he asked and found that it didn't look half bad. Oh it wasn't professional, by any stretch of the imagination, but despite the conditions, he'd managed to give her a pretty dang good haircut. She nodded her satisfaction and he grinned.

"Nice." He said, giving her a thumbs up.

She grinned. "Now it's your turn, monkey boy."

His grin faded, he opened his mouth, caught her warning expression, sighed, and seated himself, giving her a resigned look. "Alright, let's get this over with."

She transformed a rock into a surgical straight razor and tested the edge on a hair. Marshall watched this with a kind of horrified fascination. Telekinetically dual wielding scissors and razor, she brought the flying bits of metal close to his face. He visibly started.

"Uh... have you ever shaved anything before?" He asked.

"Nope." She said happily.

"You maybe want to try on something less vital first... like... a patch on my arm or somethin'?"

"Nope." She repeated.

"You know, with that mirror I can probably do this myself. Yeah, it's probably better if I-"

"Uh uh." She said sternly. "Quid pro quo, Marshall. I'm gonna make you look amazing!"

Marshall rolled his eyes fearfully skyward. "I need an adult." He said in a small voice.

"I AM an adult." Twilight said, happily.

The grooming implements descended mercilously.

Marshall was both awed and terrified at the speed with which Twilight worked. Cutting his own hair had always been a convenience sort of gesture. Shorter hair was cooler in the jungle heat, and you had to worry about insects less often. He generally just hacked off whatever bits annoyed him with his knife when it got too out of control. He did the same thing with his beard, so he wasn't sporting the ZZ Top look. Yes, this had a tendancy to give him a slightly ragged look, but as he had said earlier, who was he trying to impress?

The problem here was that Twilight was approaching this with her normal manic intensity and attention to detail, and she had her own vision where his appearance was concerned. All Marshall could really do was sit still and try not to fidget, lest he lose something important.

Messing with her head SHOULD have been the farthest thing from his mind.

"Ok Twilight, so... truth or dare?"

She paused, considering him thoughtfully. The scissors hovered, unneeded at the moment, the razor was very carefully clearing his neck and chin. She frowned. She didn't really want to imagine what sort of embarassing questions Marshall could come up with. Marshall was sneaky that way. Of course, she also didn't want to imagine what inventiveness he could apply to some embarassing task he could set her.

He wasn't exactly leaving her a lot of options here. Still, fair was fair. She just had to go with the least likely to be sanity damaging option. She thought for a second, then made her choice.

"Dare." She said, and almostly immediately second guessed herself. Still, it was too late now.

Marshall considered this carefully, then slowly grinned. "I have some of that flying rat bastard left. I dare you to eat a piece of it."

"WHAT?!" She cried, incredulously. "I'm not going to-"

"Ow! Son of a bit-" Marshall reached up to his right cheek and glanced down at his fingers, now sporting a bit of crimson.

"Oh... Marshall, I'm so sorry, I-"

He looked very slowly up at her. "How bad is it?"

She winced. "Well... it's really just a little cut."

He slowly stood up. "Twi..."

She backed up a pace, smiling nervously. "Really nothing but a scratch! Honest!"

He snatched the scissors out of the air and considered her carefully.

"Marshall! It'll totally buff out! It-"

Marshall grinned wickedly. "Hey Twi, you're a bit uneven there, with one ear notched and all. It'd be pretty neighborly of me to make you match!"

She bolted, and he gave chase, both of them laughing and shrieking uproarously.

Marshall winced as Twilight carefully stitched the nasty gash in his lower right thigh, just as Battlefield Expedient Medicine told her to do. She bit her lip in concentration and finished the careful work, then wrapped a medicated bandage around the wound.

"I hope we learned a valuable lesson about running with scissors today." She said crossly.

He snorted. "Yeah, don't try to tackle a purple unicorn when she can just teleport to escape great justice."

She smirked and put away the medical kit. She gave his face a careful look. "Geez, Marsh. I'm sorry about your face."

He wrinkled his nose a bit at the nickname, but didn't comment on it. "I kinda brought it on myself. It's not too bad is it?"

She shook her head. "No. It really is just a scratch. There's no reason it should scar. I... I hope you still trust me to finish what I started."

He grinned. "Yeah, I do. I'd better, or you're gonna mope around all guilty and suffering from taskus interruptus for the next day or so."

She scowled indignantly. "I would NOT."

He raised an eyebrow.

She flattened her ears. "Well... I guess I might a little... it's just, I KNOW I can do it. I don't have Rarity's eye for fashion, but telekinesis is part of my thing, and I'm sorry Marshall, but looking at you half shaved like this is driving me batty."

He shook his head and sat down. "Ok, get it done."

It took less than five minutes. She stepped back and sat on her haunches, considering him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

She smiled. "It looks pretty nice. I mean... you actually have a face under all that."

He chuckled at this and her smile turned into a pleased grin. He really did look nicer without all that hair. She'd trimmed his hair back evenly to just under shoulder length, and kept the bangs relatively short. Marshall had one of those manes that had a tendency to curl up when it was too long, but shorter like this, it was relatively straight, which did a world of good towards making him look less scruffy.

He was clean shaven at the moment, and it suited him. Oh it had its awkward aspects, for one thing, humans apparently darkened when exposed to sunlight over time, and the areas previously covered by his beard were startlingly pale and white compared to the tanned parts of his face. The scar on his left cheek was bad, but it was an old scar, mostly pale against his tan cheek, and disappearing completely into the pale skin of his jawline at this point. It wasn't an Equestrian face, but she was finding it difficult to picture Marshall as a pony, and there was a certain... pleasing symmetry to it. It was a strong face, an expressive face.

She blinked and shook herself, then stood up and transfigured the razor back into a rock. Then she transfigured it into a small mirror.

"I think that about does it, Marshall. You want a look?"

He grabbed the mirror and looked at himself, fingering his chin and turning his face this way and that, to get a glimpse of his own profile. A strange look crossed his face, an... odd, bemused, far away sort of glance. He hesitantly touched the scar on his cheek, tracing its length.

He blinked a little, then handed the mirror to her, a small, slightly wistful smile on his face.

"Thanks, Sparks. It looks good."

She smiled gently back at him. "It doesn't look all that bad you know, Marshall. The scar I mean."

He blinked, then smirked. "You mean it hardly detracts from the rest of the trainwreck I'm sportin', yeah?"

She frowned. "No... I'm serious. Don't talk about yourself like that, Marsh. I don't think I could imagine you without it. It's... well, it's a part of you."

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. "If you say so, Sparks. I'm not winnin' any beauty contests, is all I mean. I guess I got the kinda look that grows on you, eh?"

She grinned. "Yeah, like a fungus."

He chuckled. "Hey, I told you what you have to do if you get hoof rot. All you gotta do is piss on it for a few days, and it'll clear right up."

She shook her head. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Judging from your callsign, I think "watersports" are right up your alley."

He winced. "Oh, ouch. Your rapier wit is matched only by the sharpness of your razor."

He fingered the tiny cut on his cheek.

She grinned, enjoying the byplay. "Touche."

He gave her a deep flourishing bow and they both chuckled.

The day of their departure got off to an unpleasant start. It was absolutely pissing rain, and both of them were carrying almost a half again as much gear as they normally would. It is an unpleasant experience to be both wet AND sweaty.

Twilight could tell from Marshall's gait that the wound in his leg was sore, but he insisted that he'd be fine, once he got moving, and Twilight was eager enough to be off to take his word for it. The water trolley, newly enchanted with the Come to Life spell, trundled merrily along behind them like an eager puppy, the only member of their little band whose spirits weren't a bit dampened by the ugly weather.

Despite it's unauspicious beginning, the jungle leg of the trip wasn't too terribly difficult. The two of them had a system in the jungle, and the month or so of constant vigilance had tempered Twilight into razor awareness of her surroundings. In fact, if either of them were having problems, it was actually Marshall. It took all of an hour to figure out that his injury from yesterday was bothering him more than he cared to admit. Despite her sharp desire to find that distant building, she began to feel a pang of worry for her stubborn human companion. They had decided to swing towards the mountain to get a better trajectory when they made their stab out into the desert. Having no real way to navigate towards the distant object, they were going to have to rely on luck and careful scouting to find it before their dwindling water supplies forced them back.

When they stopped for the evening, Twilight checked the wound to find that it had bled a little, but the stitches had held. In her very limited medical opinion, they probably should have waited another couple of days before attempting this, but Marshall had been insistent.

She replaced the bandage and tried not to feel guilty. It was her enthusiasm that was making him push himself, and she knew it. Yet even despite knowing this, she couldn't stop the quivery, excited feeling in her chest at the thought of unlocking more of this enigmatic island's secrets.

Finally came the day when they reached the edge of the jungle territory. Marshall called an early stop, and she gazed in awe and no small amount of trepidation at the cracked, desolate landscape ahead of them. Twilight glanced down at the odd, rocky shelf underhoof that extended about ten feet from the edge of the jungle to the beginnings of the desert itself. She looked left and right, and the broken, uneven outcropping of rock extended as far as she could see, forming an unnatural buried bowl that held the desert as its contents.

Marshall nodded. "It extends, as far as I could tell, all the way around the desert. Kinda like the box part of a sandbox. I never noticed it during... well, the first couple days. Had too much else on my mind."

She frowned. "So what now?"

He removed his pack from his back and checked the ground carefully before sitting on a handy fallen log.

"It's the wrong time of day to start our trek just yet, Sparks. It's getting too dark for safe travel, and it's probably a good idea to start our routine early, so we get used to it. Sleep the night 'til dawn, then travel four hours or so, 'til it starts to get too hot. Set up our shade, lounge around, maybe catch a nap if we can, stay hydrated, then start up again when it starts getting cooler in the evening. Travel another four hours or so until it starts to get too dark to see, setup our windbreak and hammock, then sleep 'til dawn. Rinse and repeat."

She frowned. "It still seems awfully inefficient."

He grinned. "Oh sure, you think that now. Wait 'til we're good and stuck in. You'll be glad you've got me around, then."

"I'm glad you're around now, I'm just a bit skeptical is all." She grumbled.

He smirked. "Well you don't have to take it completely on faith, Twi. Desert survival was hammered pretty hard into us at SERE school. They weren't dumb, they knew where it was we'd likely be crashlanding."

She frowned, still somewhat dubious, but decided that she'd reserve judgement. Marshall had never steered her wrong where survival was concerned yet.

They settled in, and before too long, had a small campfire merrily popping along. The conversation turned to a favorite topic of theirs, that being the many differences between human and pony culture. Marshall was finding it pretty hard to stomach some of her claims.

"It just doesn't make any sense, Twi. A bunch of strangers don't just burst into coordinated song and dance routines. That kinda stuff takes practice. You start dancing and singing in the streets, and people are as likely to look at you like you're a nutball as not."

She stomped a hoof. "I'm telling you it happens all the time! A pony starts singing, something that means a lot to them, something from their heart, and it touches all the ponies around them. It's part of what ponies are! It's magic!"

He grimaced. "It's a load a' bullshit is what it is."

She scowled. "Marshall, I'm telling you it happens! Don't humans have music? Songs that matter to them?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Of course we do. Hell, one of the things I miss most is my music collection, I had over sixty gigabytes of music. That's like, over ten thousand songs. No, I'm not going to go into detail about how, Twi... the fact of the matter is that spontaneous musical numbers just don't friggin' happen on earth."

She frowned back at him, her expression somewhat saddened. "But... can't you think of anything appropriate? Something that means something to you right now? Something from the heart?"

He blinked, then gazed at her incredulously. "Are you asking me to sing?!"

She frowned, then nodded. "Yes. I know you're capable of it. So sing something. Something that really matters to you, right now. I'll prove it to you."

He crossed his arms. "I ain't a pony. What's it gonna prove?"

She sighed. "It might not work, and if it doesn't, you haven't lost anything, and I get to hear a human song. If it does, I prove my point. It's a win/win situation."

His brows beetled a bit and he stared into the fire for a moment, thinking. After a moment, he smiled wistfully and shrugged. "Alright, alright... I think I've got somethin'. I'm warnin' you in advance though, I ain't no James Taylor."

She shrugged. "I don't know who that is, so it's not like it'll matter."

He sighed. "Ok, gimme a second to remember the words."

She shook her head. "Just FEEL it, Marsh. You have to FEEL it."

He scowled. "Ok Yoda, gimme a second."

He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, then began, tentatively at first, but with more feeling as he continued.

"There is a young cowboy who lives on the range."
His horse and his cattle are his only companions
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons
Waiting for summer, his pastures to change..".

She didn't think it was going to work at first, then she closed her eyes and listened with her heart instead, and it was there, pure and strong and large as life. She opened her eyes and joined him.

Her heart knew the words. A ghostly sort of accompaniment took up. Marshall looked spooked, but only for a second, then he too was caught up in it.

Harmony.

"And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire
Thinkin' about women and glasses of beer
closing his eyes as the doggies retire
He sings out a song which is soft, but it's clear
As if maybe someone could hear"

"Goodnight, you moonlight ladies
Rockabye, sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rockabye, sweet baby James"

It felt good, so good, deep inside, it was like a glimpse of home. Tears formed in her eyes. This alien song, so different, and yet so fundamentally a PART of her. She gazed over at him across the flickering fire and she could see that his eyes were glistening with it too.

"Now, the first of December was covered with snow
So was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston
Though the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frostin'
With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go..."

The unfamiliar words slipped out of her like the tears, the haunting, quiet melody rising peacefully into the night sky like the embers dancing from the fire, flickering and fading easily into the good night.

"There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway
A song that they sing when they take to the sea
Song that they sing of their home in the sky
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
But singing works just fine for me..."

"So goodnight, you moonlight ladies
Rockabye, sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Won't you let me go down in my dreams?
And rockabye, sweet baby James."

And once again it didn't MATTER that they were so alien. It didn't mean a single tinker's damn. That song encapsulated what they were both feeling, at that exact moment in time, showed that for all their superficial differences, for all of their petty dissimilarities, they were alike in the places where it really, really mattered.

There was no need for words after that. They simply stared silently into the dying fire for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, but not alone, oh no, not alone in their heads.

Then quietly, calmly, they lay down to sleep.

They awoke refreshed and rejuvenated for the trip ahead. To his surprise, Marshall found that even his leg wasn't bothering him as much, although that might have been just the good night's sleep away from the wet. Despite this, Twilight checked and changed his bandage, nonetheless. They busied themselves with the morning preperations, with one notable exception.

Marshall wound the desert camo Keffiyeh scarf around Twilight's neck in a close approximation of his own identical neck garb. She was already wearing the repurposed desert BDU blouse, the sleeves rolled up just a little to accomidate her shorter forelegs, and left open to drape across her back. She was bit longer of body length than a human torso, and Marshall had added a little length to it. A single button at her neck in front, and her saddlebags secured on her flanks completed the ensemble, and held it snug so it wouldn't slip loose.

He'd even made little modified hoof covers. He admitted he didn't know if they were necessary, but with how hot the cracked parched earth was likely to be, he figured it was better safe than sorry.

He stepped back, considering her for a moment, then adjusted here and there and nodded to himself.

"Right off the recruitment posters. Hoorah." He grinned and set her magically transfigured pony sized desert boonie hat in place.

Twilight stared up at him dubiously, her expression mostly hidden by the Keffiyeh scarf. "Marshall, this seems... counterintuitive. Not to mention, I'm already kinda hot."

Marshall grinned and slipped on his aviator sunglasses. "Ah come on, Sparks! You look cute as a button. A pretty little military, ragamuffin, mismatched, desert camo button."

He grimaced evilly at her and bared his teeth. "Come on, Sparkle! Lemme see yer warface! GRRRR!"

She gazed flatly back at him her expression annoyed and unimpressed. "Grr."

Marshall rolled his eyes in answer. "That was about as convincing as a five dollar hooker's O-face."

Twilight wrinkled her muzzle at this and sighed. "You are so... UGH."

He grinned. "You love it. 'Sides, it's only hot right now 'cause we ain't in the desert. You wanna keep the sun off you, but with fabric that'll breathe. That's what this stuff'll do, sure as shit. Trust me on this. Let's get movin'."

They got moving, and before they were more than a mile or so away from the jungle she realized he was absolutely right.

The heat was a palpable thing, sucking any moisture away that it could find. Even in the early morning, the air shimmered with it, mirages giving false promise in the distance. Every hour they traveled, she thought... it couldn't possibly get hotter than this.

Every hour, she was proven wrong. Their water disappeared with frightening speed, even on that first little bit of the trip. Despite her eagerness to get to their destination, she was extremely glad when he gauged the position of the sun, then called the small party to a halt. Twenty minutes later they were lounging under luxurious shade provided by a swath of waterproofed nylon, courtesy of an old parachute. They whiled away the hottest hours of the day in relative comfort, napping in shifts and staying hydrated. She even transfigured herself a set of aviator glasses in her size, after the glare got to be a bit too much.

Marshall was quietly amused at this.

"Alright. Alright. I admit it. You were right. If we had just headed out right then, we'd have been woefully unprepared." She said finally.

Marshall just grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "You're going to be insufferable about this aren't you?"

"Who has two thumbs and just got hisself a point? This guy." He said, pointing.

She laughed at this and rolled her eyes. "It's nice to see you can accept victory with such grace and dignity."

He grinned. "You wanna see undignified? How's about I do a victory dance."

She groaned. "Please don't, it's too hot to even WATCH you exert yourself."

As the day cooled into evening Marshall and Twilight packed up their things and continued on their way. They made good time as the daylight failed and the air cooled, by now the jungle was a distant and fading green line on the horizon.

Their destination many many miles ahead, and invisible from the distance and the haze of the desert.

Eventually it began to get too dark to see, and with it came a chill wind. Marshall quickly used the entrenching tool and Twilight's impressive telekinetic talents to dig a windbreak, then carefully set up the canvas hammock.

"Here's the thing, it is going to get COLD tonight, even with a fire, and we gotta be sparing with that, 'cause there's no firewood once we use up what we brought. The windbreak'll help some, but it won't be enough. The hammock is to keep any creepy crawlies out of our personal space. Even so, in the morning you check your little hoof booties before you put them on. I don't want to imagine what this fuckin' island has in lieu of a scorpion."

She frowned. "There's only one hammock."

He gestured at the tightly rolled bundle. "There's only one sleeping bag, too. We're gonna have to share it."

She considered for a moment, then nodded. "It makes sense. Body heat, I get it. Is it really going to get that cold?"

He nodded solemnly. "Depends on what time of year it is, but without seasons, I'm assuming summer or so. Even still, it can get as cold as thirty degrees or lower at night."

She shook her head. "I'm glad I wasn't dropped out here in the middle of the desert to begin with."

He smirked. "You and me both sister. Jungle was never more than mile or so away."

Despite them both obviously resolving to be adults about the situation there was still a bit of a clusterfuck as they both climbed into the hammock. Ponies weren't exactly built for hammocks, and their wildly disparate body shapes meant getting comfortable was a comedy of errors. They eventually found a position which suited both of them, him spooning her with his greater overall body length, her curled up on her side with the back of her head tucked under his chin. Despite the chill, and it was absolutely freezing outside of their little sleeping arrangement, things seemed to work out ok.

Before too long, they were both fast asleep.

So it went, day in, day out. Before very long, they forgot what it was like to be in the jungle. As their water supplies dipped lower and lower, they both began to worry about finding what they were looking for. Once the green line of the jungle dipped below the horizon, it was difficult to tell if they were making any progress at all.

Other factors were beginning to wear on the two as well.

"Celestia help me, I am so TIRED of this desert!"

Marshall grunted, giving her a sidelong look. "I'll say. I know I WON'T miss the daily gas attack."

Twilight gave him a stricken look. "I apologized for that! It's not my fault! I've never had to live on a constant diet of dried fruit and grass! How was I supposed to know it gives me gas?!"

"Twilight, a little flatulence is one thing, I could live with that. You try bein' in a pressurized environment for hours on end with a bunch a' nasty fuckers living off of navy rations. That was bad, but it couldn't hold a candle to your accomplishment. What comes out of you constitutes a violation of the Geneva Convention."

She flattened her ears and glared at him. "You JUST went over what that was! I am NOT a warcrime!"

He grinned tiredly. "I'm not saying you are, Sparks. Just your ass. That is DEFINITELY a-"

She gasped. "Marshall! Look! There it is!"

He blinked, startled out of banter mode and he looked in the direction the whole line of her body was straining towards in excitement. He shielded his eyes from the glare, then raised his binoculars to survey it.

Something flash blinded him momentarily from the roof of whatever it was, but it was gone. He frowned.

"Something about this ain't right..."

She squealed in glee. "Marshall, I see movement on top of it! Somepony is up there!"

In her excitement she took off running up the slight incline shielding her from the immediate view of the object, leaving him in the dust.

He cursed and jogged behind her. "Twilight! Wait, we have to-"

He saw the muzzle flash before he really internalized what it was, but of course by then it was too late. A blot of something dark blinded him as it splashed across the right eyepiece of his aviator sunglasses, and Twilight jerked and tumbled to the dirt suddenly just a split second before he heard the crack of the high powered rifle.

He dropped prone and stared up the hill as Twilight jerked spasmodically. He tossed away his sunglasses and stared in disbelieving horror at the scene in front of him.

"No."

He scrambled up the hill and desperately grabbed one of Twilight's jerking hindlegs just as the second shot sent up a spray of sand inches from Twilight's thrashing head. He drug her brutally back down the hill, out of the sniper's line of sight, pulling himself up the length of her body.

The bullet had hit her dead in the throat, glanced off of one of her vertebrae, (oh god, he could SEE her-) and then exited out the back of her neck, opening a great rent in her that spilled... no poured... no flooded her life out in great gushing gouts. He ripped her scarf off and clapped it over the entry and exit wound pressing hard. She stared up at him, her eyes wild and panicked.

"Ma-rerkrkrkr." She dribbled, blood oozing sluggishly from her nose and mouth, staining her muzzle.

He fought it, he fought it so hard but it flooded out, it flooded out, the tears and the blood, her LIFE, HER LIFE-

Ma-rekreggle." She tried again, her forelegs batting at his forearms, hindlegs kicking weakly, uselessly. Her eyes were full of pain and terror and-

"No." He sobbed.

Tears spilled uselessly from him, her eyes flooded with them as well, then widened.

He watched as the life left her. He saw the exact moment when the thing in front of him stopped being the wildly intelligent, good, noble being he knew, and started being a piece of meat cooling under the uncaring desert sun.

Twilight's eyes glazed and fell half-lidded, she kicked one last time, and let out a final rattle.

He fell back onto his ass and shook his head, his vision fading.

He took in breath for a scream to end the world.

"Nuh!" He jumped, cold sweat dripping from his body and glanced around, panicked.

The warm body tucked in with him murmured a sleepy protest and kicked him gently in her sleep.

Marshall sat up, staring down at the shadowed form mostly hidden by the folds of the sleeping bag. Twilight stirred again, never an easy waker, and twisted in the bag.

"Mrrshl, wazz hppng?" She muttered, still mostly asleep.

He tried to keep his voice calm, but even he could tell he sounded jittery as hell. Fortunately for him, she was too lost in dreamland to notice. "Nothin'... just... just gettin' up to stir the fire and check our perimeter."

She grumbled and shifted, digging her face into the material of the sleeping bag. He slipped out of the sleeping bag and stepped away, barely noticing the icy terrain under his bare feet.

Marshall walked out past the windbreak, shivering shirtless and shoeless in the frigid desert air. He could feel the icy cold especially on the tracks of the tears which coursed down his now mostly beardless cheeks.

Some of them found the crease of his scar and followed it down like a canyon cut into the bedrock of his flesh. He scrubbed furiously at them.

"What the hell was that, Marshall?" He asked the night in bewilderment. It had been so vivid, so real.

Usually his dreams were nonsense, stupid, silly things he forgot long before he even thought to examine them. He'd never understood the vivid descriptions others had given of the dreams they had at night.

He did now.

He was terrified. Scared in a way he hadn't been since those first early days of the jungle, back when he'd still had hope of rescue.

Back before terror became anything other than a complete liability.

A luxury.

He hadn't smoked in well over twelve years, not since the early days of officer training, when he learned about the dangers of lit cigarettes and liquid oxygen and decided that it was time to give the old cancer sticks up for good.

He badly wanted a cigarette now.

He scrubbed his face again, considering. What killed him about it was the emotional impact of losing Twilight. He had KNOWN... absolutely known that he couldn't survive it.

Even now he could still feel it, that leaden, gutshot weight in his middle. A core of ice far worse than the chill of the night.

He walked back to the fire and poked a few times, stirring up a little heat. It didn't help much, so he stepped back to the hammock and slipped in as gently as he could.

Apparently not good enough.

"Celestia's tits, you're freezing!" Twilight cried in protest. He grinned wanely at this. He wondered how much of that curse was her being half asleep, and how much of it was his influence.

"Sorry Twi. Us humans apparently don't retain heat as good as you ponies do. Probably 'cause you're denser than we are."

She grumped at this. "Are you calling me dense? 'Cause if you are, I gotta tell you, you aren't equipped to match wits with me, monkey boy, even when I'm half asleep."

She twisted and burrowed her muzzle into his neck, as though hiding her face there from the cold. It wasn't ideal, her horn was about a half an inch from going up his nose, but he didn't try to adjust her position. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and she snuggled closer, quieting back down to soundless, pleased animal murmurs, her forelegs bent between them and pointing down.

She was warm, and alive.

Marshall stared at the cold foreign stars shining down in the distance, his mind still full of that horrible nightmare.

He was still awake when the dawn brought in the new day.

Marshall was up, shirtless and bare foot and staring down into a small carved wooden cup of water when Twilight finally woke. She watched him from the hammock for a few moments, quietly. He looked... haggard. Tired, as though he hadn't gotten much rest. She vaguely remembered him getting up in the night, or had she dreamed that?

She wasn't entirely sure.

He downed what was in the cup and stowed it away, then stood and gazed out towards the estimated position of their destination. She couldn't see his face from here, but his body language was... tense.

"Marshall... are you ok?"

He jerked a little at the sudden sound of her voice, then turned around and smiled tiredly at her.

"I'm fine, Twilight. Just..." He stopped, shaking his head.

"I'm fine." He reaffirmed, more certain this time.

He walked over to his boots and carefully upended one of them, firmly slapping the heel. To her surprise, something small and black and vicious looking dropped out of it onto the ground and scuttled towards him.

He brought the heel of the boot down on it like a hammer, smashing it against the earth. He shook his head.

"And THAT'S why we check our boots in the morning." He said.

She sighed. "Did you have to kill it? It didn't mean you any harm."

He shrugged. "It's really harmless now. Plus you saw it, little bastard tried to ambush me. It was self-defense."

She shook her head at him and sighed.

Still, she checked all of her booties before she put them on.

Carefully.

Within ten minutes they were on their way, with no variation of landscape or landmark to walk towards. Within an hour the heat was rising quickly, and the distance became hazy. The only sound was the squeaking and creaking of the water trolley, Marshall's boots, and her muffled hoofbeats.

She shook her head. "It's crazy... I know we're moving, but it doesn't feel like we're making any progress at all."

He continued a few steps more, considering what she said. At first she thought he wasn't going to answer her, maybe he wasn't in the mood for conversation, but he finally did.

"In the jungle there are always landmarks to give you an idea of how far you're moving. The terrain is wildly varied, so it's easy to mark your progress, if you know how. Out here, it's just... one big wasteland. You lose your way... you are in for a world of pain."

She frowned. "Marshall, is your leg bothering you?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm just tired, Twilight. I didn't sleep very well last night."

She frowned, opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she asked. "Was it because of me? Did I..."

He glanced at her. She couldn't really tell what he was thinking because between the scarf, the booney hat, and the sunglasses the only thing visible was his nose. "No... no, it was fine, last night. I guess I just had a lot on my mind. Kept... going over the same thing in my head again and again. Don't worry, Twi. I can keep up."

She frowned. "Marshall, I'm not worried about that! I'm worried about you."

He sighed. "I told you, Sparks. I'm fine." His tone suggested that the subject was closed.

She shook her head, a little irritated, but aware that if he didn't want to talk about it, prying it out of him would be like trying to hide a cupcake from Pinkie Pie. She let the matter drop and they continued on in silence.

At their midday break he set up the shade, drank the requisite amount of water necessary, and very deliberately lay down using his pack as a pillow and pulled his hat down over his eyes. Twilight busied herself by keeping watch and updating her journal. She was careful to record the incident with the song, noting especially how it made her feel.

She also wrote down what she could remember of the words.

She was constantly amazed at the complexity of the human equation. There seemed to be no common thread, no absolute rule of human behavior. From her conversations with Marshall they ran the gamut of motivations and philosophies. She got the impression that she could make a lifetime study of their idiosyncrasies and still only scratch the surface.

She glanced up at her human companion, blissfully asleep on his back, his hands folded on his stomach, snoring up into his hat. She found he usually did that when he slept on his back. She smiled at him, amazed at how familiar to her he was now.

The sun beat down overhead, but the shade provided by their makeshift shelter kept the worst of it off. This whole desert thing was turning into far more of an ordeal than she could have imagined from the outset. She'd been so... skeptical at first. Once again Marshall had pulled through, reining in, well, tempering her occasionally dangerous enthusiasm. He had put so much work into this trip, trying to make it as safe as possible.

Was it really any wonder he was exhausted?

She frowned, mulling over this little bit of data in her head. Had she been overly short with him? She had a sneaking suspicion that she had. Worse, she realized, it probably didn't HELP his exhausted mental state. Maybe... maybe he didn't want to talk about it because SHE was the problem.

A sudden snort from Marshall interrupted her train of thought, and she glanced at him, ears flat, but he simply resumed his snoring. She shook her head.

"Marshall isn't the kind of person to..." She stopped, considering this. No, he wasn't the sort of person to politely lie to you when something about you was bothering him. He was more likely to pick at it until a confrontation was inevitable, BUT...

If it was combined with something he viewed as a personal issue? Something he felt was HIS problem?

Her gaze turned a bit worried. "What's going on in that stubborn head of yours?"

"Spray ME, Marshall! Spray me!"

"But the water's so cold, honey... look at how much Jessica's nipples are standin' out in her teeshirt."

"Oh, I see the problem. Alright girls, remove your shirts!"

"Nice."

"Marshall! You must bring the sacred purple stone to the fires of Mount Doom, to defeat the evil one!"

"Uh... little busy here, old guy."

"Marshall, I am not trying to cockblock you! Do not take me for a conjuror of cheap chicks!"

"Hey, I'll have you know these are extremely expensive hookers that I didn't pay for."

"True dat."

"Wait, we're not getting PAID?!"

"Uh..."

"FLY YOU FOOL!"

"Damn it."

Heat. Time. Distance. Light. Dark. Sleep. Walk. Time had a strange elongating effect in the desert. On the first day, it was difficult to imagine the inhospitability of the blasted landscape that stretched before them.

On the third day, it was difficult to imagine they'd ever been anywhere else.

"On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound"

"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can't remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La la la la la la..."

It took a moment before Twilight realized that he was singing. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure that MARSHALL knew he was singing, it was so quiet. As it got louder, she felt herself falling into it.

"After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
And after three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead"

"You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can't remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La la la la la la..."

She was a part of it, but she wasn't singing. In fact, she began to forget everything... even her purpose for this journey, it was just one hoof following another hoof in step, and a set of footsteps beside her, and no end to it. Her contribution was to be a silent witness and a partner to the desolation of it. The emptiness of it.

"After nine days I let the horse run free
'Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with its life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love"

As it finished she shook herself, as though from a fever dream, breaking once more into the harshness of reality. She looked sidelong at her human companion, but his gaze was fixed on the distant horizon.

"That was..." She paused. "That was very powerful, Marshall, but I DO have a name."

Marshall continued forward, still staring at the horizon, his expression never changing.

"Do you?" He asked quietly.

Twilight had no answer for him.

No answer at all.

Twilight stared up at Marshall, her expression hopeful. Her horn gave off a faint, steady glow. The human, telekinetically suspended about sixty feet in the scorching desert air, panned carefully with his binoculars.

"Well?" She asked.

"Not a damn thing, Twi."

She frowned, lowering him gently to the ground. "Are you sure?"

He cased the binoculars and put his sunglasses on, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm sorry, Twilight, there's just nothin' out there to see."

"It's been three days, Marsh. What if... what if we passed it?"

He frowned. "It's a distinct possibility, but I don't think so. I admit, I expected we'd have seen it by now, but..."

She sighed unhappily. One more day of searching, and then they had to seriously consider turning back.

He patted her head sympathetically. "It's not that bad, Twilight. If we don't find it this trip, we'll head back and rest up, resupply, then try it again. Maybe come at it from a different direction. It's not like it's goin' anywhere."

She frowned, looking at the dust caked on her hoof covers. "What if it does? We have no idea how it got here in the first place. What if it DOES disappear?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. "I don't have an answer for you, Twilight."

He sounded tired again, and here she was being difficult, AGAIN. She felt bad. She lifted her head to apologize, but he wasn't looking in her direction, he was looking towards where they guessed the object was, at their last best estimate, his expression thoughtful.

He uncased the binoculars and ducked his head under the strap, then looked in her direction.

"Take me up again. High as you can this time."

She frowned. "That isn't safe, Marshall."

He gave her a negative gesture in the form of a downward slash of his palm. "Don't care. We're gonna find this damn thing. It can't be far, I KNOW it's out there."

She bit her lip, knowing she should say it was a bad idea, but... she sighed.

"Ok, let me know when you're ready."

He nodded.

She encapsulated him in her telekinetic field and lifted him up, straining to the limits of her telekinetic capacity. Which was really around where she started to lose line of sight. Lifting Marshall was incredibly easy, for a living target.

That was very high up.

She watched that speck, biting her lip in concentration and worries started up almost immediately. If he was having problems, she couldn't make out any gestures. She probably couldn't even hear him from this distance.

Not clearly.

Then a wave of dizziness struck and she slumped to her side, her telekinetic field winking out like a light switch.

Immediately Marshall began to drop, his voice dopplering louder as he approached the ground. Straining, suddenly terrified, she forced herself back to her hooves and gritted her teeth as she focused on his wiggling, flailing form.

He was moving very fast, and she was still so dizzy. She almost got a grip on him several times. Failed. He was moving faster... she wasn't going to be able to...

She screamed and lashed out, sparks and light streaming from her horn.

Marshall halted about a foot from the ground, the binoculars swinging like a pendulum back and forth from his neck, held in place by his collar and the angle of his head, the lenses inches from the hard packed, unforgiving dirt.

He eased out from his wince and opened one eye, then the other.

"Fuck me sideways..." He muttered quietly.

"Marshall, I'm so sorry, the sky lights... I-"

"Twilight, buddy. Pal. Friend. It's alright, but if you don't put me down right now, I'm going to start screaming, and I don't think I'm going to be able to stop."

She eased him down to the ground and sat on her haunches, wincing. "Sorry."

He lay flat on his stomach, then reached up and convulsively pulled open his keffiyah scarf, eyes closed, and breathing heavily. After several seconds, he kissed the dirt and rolled over, looking at the sky. Despite the protective measures he'd taken with the scarf, she'd noted since the second day that the pale skin of his jaw and cheeks were red and peeling. It couldn't have been comfortable, but he'd never mentioned it.

A persistant feeling of guilt had began to swamp her every time she noticed it. Now this...

"Are you alright?" She asked, timidly.

"Just ducky." He said weakly.

She frowned. "Wha-"

He sighed. "I'll be fine, once my heart stops trying to mosh with my lungs, Twi. What happened?"

She sighed. "Ill-timed sky light nausea. I lost my concentration. Marshall, you could have been-"

He scowled and sat up. "I am very much aware of what could have happened, Sparks. The possibility was quite clear to me as I headed face first towards the ground."

He smirked. "I wonder if I'd have been like a lawndart."

She looked stricken. "Marshall! That's-"

His expression softened. "It didn't happen, Twilight. You came through. Let's move on."

She frowned, but decided to drop it. For several minutes neither of them spoke. He simply concentrated on evening up his breathing, and she let him have a moment, feeling increasingly guilty, despite his assurances that he didn't blame her.

After a solid ten minutes of this, she finally broke the silence.

"So... did you see anything?"

He grinned weakly. "Aside from my life flashing before my eyes? Not really. I kinda thought..."

He trailed off, looking at something in the distance that flashed and momentarily threw a shadow cross his face. She blinked, and then he grinned and pointed out over past her shoulder.

She turned, watching as soundless blue lightning crashed into the earth just barely over the horizon.

"I didn't see anything, but I'll bet you dollars to donuts that what we're looking for is that-a way."

She gave him a hard grin and stood. "No bet. Besides, I value donuts higher than dollars."

He sighed. "Same here."

The structure was in a small natural depression that made it difficult to spot from ground level. Marshall chalked his inability to spot it from the air up to bad luck. As they approached the two could see that it was a single story light tan brick structure sitting on top of a slab of what looked like concrete or stone.

Marshall stopped and motioned Twilight closer. He removed his scarf again, and crouched down to put his eyes level with hers, his eyes shockingly serious. Taking this as a sign that she should probably rein in her impatience, she watched him curiously.

"I know you're really excited about this building Twi, but we need to approach this thing with caution."

She frowned, but said nothing, flicking her ear in a "go on" gesture.

"I'd prefer to sit back and scope it out thoroughly from a distance for a day or so. We have the water, BUT... I can already tell that ain't gonna happen from the stink eye you're given me." he smiled wanely.

She sighed. "I just..."

He nodded. "I know. Trust me, I've had enough time to figure you out, Sparkle. If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it my way. That means no running ahead. You stay near me, and you keep your eyes and ears open. We are gonna scope it out with the binos from a couple of different angles before we approach, and that is nonnegotiable. I gotta tell you, I have a bad feeling about this."

She nodded. "Alright, Marsh. I get it."

He surprised her then when he gently put his hands on either side of her muzzle and looked into her eyes. She saw real anxiety there, and was transfixed.

"I MEAN it, Twilight. No rushin' in, 'til we're both ready. We treat this thing like it's full of Antarian brain spiders, ok?"

She blinked. "What's a-"

He nodded. "I don't know, that's the point. We have NO IDEA what's in there, yeah?"

She stared at him for several beats, then finally nodded and smiled, gently. "Ok Marshall. We do this your way."

As they approached to within sighting distance, several details became clear. They were obviously approaching it from the rear, and it sat at a very slight angle on the slope, as though it had been dropped into place and not built from the ground up. From here, the two could make out the cleanly cut edges of pipes in the block of concrete it sat on, and a few cut electrical conduits. They realized that what they were looking at was the backside of a building.

"There's somethin' damn familiar about this." He muttered. He scoped it out with the binos, passed them to her, and then they began to circle it, warily.

What Marshall identified as a dumpster and some trash cans rested in back, next to a small rear entrance. When they came to an angle that let them see around the edge of the building Marshall made a sound like he'd been gut punched.

Twilight looked at him, and realized he was now staring dumbfounded at the sight before him. She looked in that direction and noticed that the building did not take up the entire slab upon which it rested. There was a flat space, marked with faded white lines in a rectangular grid pattern. Several odd machines of various colors sat carefully positioned in several of these open boxes. They were of a wild variety of shapes and sizes, though all appeared to have the same function. They all had a glass section up front and sat on what were obviously wheels, but were unlike any vehicle she'd ever seen.

Marshall shook his head.

"Those are cars, uh automobiles... that's a Volvo... and uh... that's some kinda station wagon." His grin became very large.

"THAT, is a cherry red four by four chevy truck with aftermarket offroad tires and what looks like a gunrack. The transportation of choice of the greater North American Redneck."

She frowned. "What..."

He shook his head. "It'd take a while to explain, Twilight. Let's keep...."

He stopped again, staring at the front of the building in shocked silence. "Son of a bitch. I guess they really ARE everywhere."

She blinked, staring at what appeared to be a colorful storefront. She stared up at what was obviously a store logo.

"Ok, I know what coffee is, but what the hay is a Starbucks?" She asked.

He shook his head. "Just what it would appear to be, Twilight. We've found the starbucks coffee shop at the end of the universe. It's a franchise chain... hundreds of locations... what the fuck is it doin' out here?"

She scanned the storefront with the binoculars. "I can't see in... it's a bit too dark. Oh wait... Marshall, something's been at it. Look over to the left."

She passed the binos over to him and he scanned where she'd indicated. Sure enough, there was a sizeable hole torn out of the side, about the size of one of the windows and crumbled at the edges, as though someone had tried to shove a car through one of the large plate windows then wrenched it back out. He also noted another powder blue subcompact that had been hidden by the good five or six foot difference between the slabs edge and the desert floor that someone had rolled onto its side, probably from trying to drive off the concrete, misjudging the distance and trying to take it too slow. The side door pointed at the sky looked torn open and mangled, ballooned outward with terrific force.

Marshall shook his head, and bit his lip. "That don't look good."

She looked at him, now a little worried at the obvious signs of violence. "Should we...?"

He shook himself. "Let's get up on the parking lot... carefully. Me first, then you when I'm sure it's clear."

She frowned, but nodded. They aproached, passing the subcompact as they did so. From this distance they could see that the earth was torn up around it, with fresh earth turned in a strange circular pattern around the wreck. Marshall cautiously approached and looked into the rent in the side door, noting that the other door had been burst inward with about the same force.

There was no sign of any of the occupants, but there were suspicious brownish stains at the edges of the ragged, torn metal.

Marshall crouched against the cool concrete base, unslinging his carbine and putting it up on the edge of the parking lot before grabbing the edge and pulling himself up. Twilight watched him disappear over the edge with some trepidation, a sudden chill striking her now that her companion was out of sight.

He picked up the carbine and took cover behind the Volvo, scanning the roof, and the interior of the dark building, what he could see of it. It looked like someone had stacked some boxes up into a makeshift sort of ladder off around the central counter. If he remembered correctly, that was around where...

He frowned. Where the roof access usually was. Mostly only accessible for maintenance of the AC units and fans on the roofs of such buildings.

"Marshall." Twilight called softly. He eased backward, peeked over the edge and nodded.

"Ok, Twilight. Come on up."

She teleported next to him and took cover like he did behind the Volvo.

Neither of them noticed the slight bulge of earth that her hooves had been resting on before she teleported ease slowly back into flatness. They were too busy focusing on the engimatic coffee shop in front of them.

"Twilight, I want you to give me a boost up to the roof, before we go in." He said firmly.

She frowned. "Ok, mind telling me why?"

"Just humor me, yeah?"

She gave him the pony equivalent of a shrug and the two of them approached the Starbucks gingerly, as though they expected to be fired upon at any moment. It was immediately apparent that something untoward had gone down inside. Several of the tables near the hole torn in the side were smashed to kindling, and they both noticed the great dried streaks of brownish stains that streaked the faux marble tile floor. It looked as though something, or someone, who had been mortally injured had been drug out that hole and out into the desert, leaving a trail of gore behind them to quickly dry and harden in the desert heat.

Neither of them was reassured by this.

Pausing next to the entrance, Marshall readied his carbine and nodded to Twilight. She lifted him up slowly and smoothly, and he scanned the roof top. She brought him closer and he dropped down to the lip of a short wall that circled the top of roof.

He lowered the rifle and scanned the rooftop in disbelief, shaking his head.

"What is it, Marshall?"

He stepped off of the short wall and onto the roof proper, then disappeared from view.

"Marshall?"

Marshall stared down at the pathetic bundles that lay mummified in the desert heat. A scattering of empty plastic bottles and wrappers next to the remains told him most of what he needed to know. It looked like there were four of them. A woman in her twenties lay curled around a toddler in one last futile protective gesture. The three year old's withered tiny fingers clutched at her lank brown hair in a final death grip.

Not far away lay a teenage boy in a Starbucks apron and uniform whose rictus grin and empty eyesockets still held piercings at eyebrow and lip. His brown rooted hair was bleached blond and faded further by the constant sun.

His uniform tag read, "Ted".

All of the bodies lay curled against the small wall that ran around the roof top, as though seeking any shelter they could from the sun that inevitably had killed them, sure as a bullet or whatever it was they had been hiding from.

Disturbing and sad as those pitiful remnants were, they weren't the body that really caught his attention. They weren't the sight that held him riveted, or sent a buzzing sense of unreality in his skull, or sent a spike of fear through his gut that threatened to drive him to his knees.

No, at his feet was a man in half of a business suit, tie and coat removed and tied around his head in a sort of half assed turban held in place by a simple red silk business tie. Littered around the body were several casings for what looked like .308 rounds... big ones.

Half hidden by the body was a .308 hunting rifle with a somewhat bulky scope.

He looked out over the desert, looking at the what would have been this unlikely sniper's vantage point.

It was the rear of the building. The same direction of their original approach.

He shuddered. Remembered to breathe.

"Marshall! Answer me! I'm coming up!"

He shook off his sense of disconnection from reality and crouched, looking at that gaunt, desiccated rictus grin of death. The man was in his forties, but before he had met his end here, he'd been well preserved. Probably an executive or manager with the money and time to take good care of himself. His grey hair was clean cut and well groomed, despite his ignominous end here on the backend of nowhere, on the rooftop of a Starbucks he'd had the misfortune of visiting, probably for a lunch break, or a morning cup of joe. It hardly mattered.

Wrong place.

Wrong time.

"It's ok, Twilight. I found... I found the folks who were down in the store."

She teleported up and looked around, then gasped, her head whipping about from body to body in shocked horror.

"Marshall! They're..."

He stood up and looked over at the mother and child. Everyone up here looked like they'd been dead for at least... a month or more. Some quirk of the desert heat, the lack of moisture, and the sterile environment had turned them into the next best thing to people jerky.

There was barely even a smell.

"Dead." Marshall said flatly. He kicked away an empty .308 shell and it twinkled and jingled merrily as it bounced away.

She shook her head, obviously floored by this. "But... but why? They had shelter... they had vehicles! I mean, it even looks like they had weapons! Water... food... Why just... come up here and..."

He turned and looked at her, and a part of him couldn't help but focus heavily on her neck. The exact spot where, he was pretty sure, she'd been fatally struck in his dream.

He had a sneaking, a nagging, sanity shaking suspicion that, if a forensics team had examined the wound and found the slug, they would have matched it to a .308 winchester hunting rifle.

In fact, his mind treacherously told him, it could have probably been matched to this exact rifle, right here.

What did it mean? Did it mean anything? Should he even mention it?

"I don't know, Twi." He shuddered and turned his gaze forcefully away from her to look out over the desert, and a quiet, moaning wind began to howl around them, like the soft mourning noises of the departed.

"I just... I don't know."

Despite the amazing amount of new resources they'd found, Marshall found that he couldn't wait to leave this awful place.

He was suddenly absolutely convinced, they'd find no answers here.

Only death.

Thus concludes chapter 10, or as I have started to call it, that fucking musical chapter. I hope I haven't gone completely overboard with that, but screw it. I like it, and I think it's appropriate, so what the hell. I freely admit that there are several homages to some abridged series I like scattered in here, and inspiration for the effects of music on ponies was in some part received from this, but with my own take on it, of course. Still, credit goes to where it is due. Today QC Omake theater has a pair of short tales for you, once again by the indefatigable Nugar. Hope you enjoy!

OMAKE, or, What if part 2, by Nugar

It happened, as usual, without the slightest bit of warning. Just
like the blue lightning he’d put up with for years, only this time,
something was different.

Instead of random, soundless flashes, this was a very bright,
continuous streak across the sky. And instead of just being electric
blue, it had all the colors of the rainbow in a vibrant band that
zoomed overhead, chasing something he looked up too late to see.

For a few moments he just stood there, gaping at the riot of colors,
and then the wall of noise hit, knocking him off his feet. For a
moment all he could do was clap his hands over his ears and make a
kind of keening “….aaaaaaa,” sort of noise as the veritable explosion
washed over him. And then it was over, and he crawled back to his
feet, listening to the deep, rolling boom echo off the hills and
mingle with the startled cries of various aerial species disturbed by
what he was increasingly deciding was some sort of sonic boom. With a
rainbow. A rainbow boom.

Abruptly, there was an even louder boom, like a (nearly) unstoppable
force meeting an (actually) immovable object and reflecting off like a
wren hitting a patio door. And then he could see it, the normally
invisible dome that enclosed the god forsaken island, as a shifting
ripple of faint rainbow spread in a series of waves across the dome
from horizon to horizon. Oh, to have been on the mountain for this!

Marshall dug a tiny bug out of one ear and cracked it between his
fingers in an absentminded sort of way. Rainbow aside, that was a
sonic boom. Maybe there was some sort of plane that had additives in
its exhaust to cause a prismatic effect? He’d never heard of the Blue
Angels doing rainbows before, but he guessed anything was possible,
especially in this fucked up place.

Whoever it was, they’d obviously hit the side of the dome doing some
serious speed. He’d been too surprised and in too much pain to count
the time between seeing the rainbow and hearing the boom, so any
guesses as to the actual mach number would be on the order of ‘wild
ass’. But hey, you never know. If anything had a chance of knocking
a hole in the force field that kept the island sealed off, that had to
be it. And from both the direction of the rainbow streak and the
ripples that worked their way across the dome, he had a pretty good
idea of a direction to look in.

Time for an expedition!

He found the invisible force field, as he’d learned after a few
painful incidents on first discovery, when the end of his long whippy
stick suddenly bent sideways and wrenched his hand. Welp, dome was
still there.

A little tiny part of him was disappointed, but he’d never let that
part speak up so it didn’t bring him down much. With a little bit of
forced cheer, he made a little pyramid of rocks on the ground and
began his search. It’d only taken him about four days to both gather
supplies, (three terribly excited, shaking hours) and walk there.
Strangely, there seemed to be a conspicuous absence of burning
wreckage or scrap. Or even any kind of impact evidence on the ground.
Maybe it really had punched through?

What if the hole was up high?

Hmm. Scaffolding, or a really big ladder?

Such thoughts occupied his mind while he made a series of semi
methodical arcs, pushing aside bushes and looking for scrap, and
peering into the treetops, hoping for some evidence to show itself.
He knew he was getting closer to the actual impact site when he
started seeing broken limbs and even knocked over trees. The
shockwave from the impact itself must have been tremendous.

Still, no scrap metal, shorn off wings, fuel residue, nothing.

He did stumble upon the remains of a scavenger feed close to the
dome. Some shattered bone bits thrown around, and some tufts of
multicolored, but predominantly blue hair. Most of it was too
scattered to identify, having been consumed by little scavenging birds
and mammals, but he thought he recognized one scrap as a hoof, like
from a horse, sitting upright like a little rind of fruit with nothing
inside, not even an ankle bone.

Whatever it was had apparently had feathers, too. Long, pretty blue
ones, like flight feathers, or possibly crest feathers. Fur and
feathers? With a mental shrug he wrote it off as just one of those
things, though he did save the least damaged of the feathers and
tucked a small one behind his ear.

After several days of searching, he gave up, a little bit older, a
little bit sadder. Yet another tiny hope, smashed by the island.

He gave one final farewell to the being or beings that had made the
sonic rainbow, hoping that they’d made it home, and suspecting that
they’d escaped the only way any of them really could.

Oh man, the looks on your faces. Since, like Dusttraveller, I am a
whore for comments, I paid attention to the ones readers left for the
last chapter, and saw several people wanting side stories exploring
each of the cast of ponies being on the island. I have no plans to do
this, because omakes are born of inspiration, not formula. So, since
I'm NOT doing all of the other ponies with Marshall, I wrote this to
make you feel better. Better? Why, yes. Now that you've read this,
aren't you glad I'm not going to do it with the rest of them? Well,
okay, I might get more inspiration for one or two, but who knows.

Also, here's the real omake, in the silly spirit of the way omakes should be.

The pair of mismatched companions trudged determinedly along the hard
ground, their magical servant trundling along behind. Once again,
they had lapsed into a shared silence that was at odds with the free
flowing banter that took up their daily lives at home in the jungle.
Twilight was thinking deep thoughts, trying, for the umpteenth time,
to come up with a way of experimentally determining the nature of
their cage and captors.

Marshall… not so much.

“I like big butts and I cannot lie!” he bellowed suddenly, half
scaring Twilight out of her wits.

“What?!” she exclaimed, holding one hoof over her chest.

“You other brothers can't deny,
when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
and a round thing in your face
-you get sprung!”

Here Marshall started getting into it, boogieing a bit and shaking
his own ass with a move stolen from the twist. Marshall, like so
many men before him, loved that song, and could feel it in the deepest
of his feels.

Startled, and horrified, Twilight found herself up on her hind legs,
shaking her tail, literally, alongside him. “I do not have a big
butt!” she wailed in futile protest, her magical nature pulling her
into the song.

Kicking and screaming, as it were.

“...But that butt you got makes-“

“M-me so horny!” Twilight moaned, then blushed scarlet and held one
hooves over her mouth and one over the tip of her horn, giving
Marshall a slightly panicked and increasingly irate look.

Marshall just grinned like the deranged, sunburned maniac he was.

“'...Cause you ain't that average pon-e!”

“My flank is in the fifty fifth percentile for mares of my age! I’ve
measured!” Twilight protested, dropping to all fours and waving her
rump around in a move not unlike that she used to share with her
favorite foalsitter.

“I've seen her dancin'
To hell with romancin'
She's sweat, wet
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette”

“Six significant figures!” Twilight wailed.

“...Take the average black man and ask him what-
She gotta pack much back.”

Twilight found herself backing up against Marshall and grinding, who
looped one arm around in the air as if he was waving a cowboy hat and
mimed slapping dat ass.

“Sooo, fellas!”called, then suddenly leaned to the side, playing
the chorus of men as well. yeah!” Back. “Fellas!” Lean. “Yeah!
“Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)"

...Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!

Twilight shook her moneymaker with wild abandon.

“...'Cause silicone parts are made for toys.”

Twilight made a noise not unlike the squeak made by a chew toy, or a
child’s soft plastic doll.

“...But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna-“

“Uh!” Twilight gasped, shocked. Apparently, even their magically
moving water barrel had gotten into the action, sloshing itself back
and forth to the beat.

"...and I'm down to get the friction on!

So, ladies!” He did a double point at Twilight.

“Yeah!”

“Ladies!”

“Yeah!”

“If you wanna roll in my Mercedes,” he cried, hopping on their magical
water bearer and riding it around in a little circle.

“Yeah!”

“Then turn around! Stick it out!
Even white boys got to shout,
Twilight got back!”

And, in a scene not unlike the nightmares Twilight never knew she was
going to have, Twilight Sparkle, studious, serious, rather nerdy mare
she was, did indeed turn around, stick it out, and shake it all about.

When it was over, and Marshall could lay on his back and breathe again
instead of being helpless with laughter, Twilight lifted her head off
the hard, gritty ground and gave him a cold, cold glare.

“You are not allowed to come to Equestria with me. Ever.”

“What, you don’t think your Princess has got the back?” he asked.

“To the moon, Marshall! To the moon!” she yelled, her sense of
dignity rocked to its core.

“Aww, Twilight. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled.

“Darn it, Marshall! I show you something sweet and magical about
ponies, and the first thing you do is figure out a way to exploit it!”

“So, every pony in earshot, huh?” he asked with a grin.

“To the god damned moon!”

Chapter Eleven - Stand

-The Cave, Mumford and Sons

Marshall sat on the edge of the STTF (Starbuck's That Time Forgot), his legs dangling over a thirty foot drop, and stared out across the trackless waste towards the distant mountain he could just barely see in the haze. The clop of several hooves sounded quietly next to him and a quiet worried sigh reached his ears.

Without looking he reached up and scratched his equine companion's neck. It seemed to comfort the both of them.

"It's difficult to tell, but... I think they've been dead at least a month, Marsh. That means they were dead long before we ever headed up the mountain."

He grunted. "That first set of sky lights, to the east of where we were at. Back before the trip to the barrier. That was them, I think. They probably died... about when we were dealing with the MB, you think?"

She leaned against him and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. Actually that all happened pretty fast, so I'd think probably some time during the three weeks we waited to make sure it hadn't tracked us back home. What good does it do to dwell on it, Marshall? My point is, there's no way you could have known, and nothing you could have done."

"It don't feel that way." He observed flatly.

She nodded solemnly. "Of course it doesn't. These people didn't deserve this. Nopony deserves something like this, not you, not me... not these poor people... but WE aren't to blame."

He sighed. "Too far to be worth it, I said. So fuckin' wrong... stupid..."

"No Marshall, hear me out. If we had known, I mean RIGHT then, there'd have been no question. No waiting. We would have found a way to get out here, to save these people, or we would have died trying. You know it's true."

"You would have died trying." Marshall whispered.

Twilight blinked. "What?"

He was silent, and she finally looked at him.

He was CRYING.

"Marshall..." She whispered, spellbound. She had never seen the human cry. Not once. The closest he'd come to weeping had been during the first song they sang together. The Baby James song.

Now the floodgates were open.

He closed his eyes and turned his face away slightly as though he were ashamed. The tears slid down his sun battered cheeks silently. She watched him for a moment, then put her forelegs around him gently. He shook silently in her embrace, completely unable to move.

After several false starts, he finally scrubbed at his face fiercely and then looked down at his lap. "The night I... I woke up, that first night when I checked the camp, you remember?"

She nodded apprehensively.

"I had a dream. A fucking nightmare. I don't ever remember my dreams, Twi... but I think I'll remember that one 'til the day I die. I saw us comin'.... coming up on this fucking mess. I saw you take a rifle bullet right in the throat."

Twilight swallowed nervously, casting a glance at the discarded hunting rifle next to one of the withered corpses.

His voice was full of pain. "You were just... so happy to see other people... so happy, and they just shot you... and I couldn't..."

"Marshall... Marsh, it's... it's ok. It didn't happen. It couldn't have happened. The timeline of events just doesn't match up."

He shook his head. "It could have happened. It was within the fucking realm of possibility. Say we'd left for the mountain right away, instead of waiting to make sure the MB was gone, or I don't know... It may not have played out like that, but it COULD have happened. The worst of it? If that's what WOULD have happened if we came across these people still alive, then I'm GLAD we found them... like this."

She frowned, staring at the side of his profile, the scarred side. He looked tired and deeply ashamed.

"You don't mean that."

He turned his face to meet her gaze and she saw something change in his pale blue eyes. She was absolutely transfixed by the cold, hard, determination in them... and...

Something else.

Something she didn't think she could identify. Something she didn't know if she WANTED to identify. Something fierce and sharp as a blade, and more than a little alien.

Human.

"You look me in the eye, Twilight Sparkle, and you tell me I don't mean it. You tell me I don't mean it, when I say that I would sacrifice these poor sad, miserable bastards a hundred times over if it meant I never had to see something like that happen to you again."

She felt a lump heavy in her throat, and swallowed it down, but she refused to look away. "I... wouldn't want-"

He shook his head slowly, resolutely, his gaze never leaving hers. "I don't care."

She broke the moment then, looking away, more than a little frightened at the idea of somepony who would KILL for her. Certainly she'd seen him kill before, and while she didn't LIKE that he did so, she was realistic enough to realize that his options were much more limited than hers. He didn't kill callously. He killed to survive, whether it be for food or self defense. Still, to kill FOR her... not merely to defend the two of them, but in an abstract way...

She already knew they would both die for the other's sake. They'd saved each other at the risk of life and limb too many times not to have deeply internalized that. This wasn't the same. She could give her life for him.

Kill? Could she... do that? Was it even RIGHT that he was willing to...

It was too much. Too alien.

She could feel his eyes on her for a few moments longer, then he threw his legs back over the wall and set his boots firmly onto the roof, pushed himself to his feet, and walked away from her. He raised his head upwards and just howled obscenities at the great big nothing that was the darkening cloudless desert sky.

Twilight watched silently in a strange mix of nervousness, morbid curiousity, and sympathy.

Finally, he lowered his head, took a deep breath, and grinned weakly at her. "I'm sorry. I needed that. This whole trip, this fuckin' tomb... this desert... THIS FUCKING ISLAND. I must sound like the biggest fuckin' asshole that ever walked the earth."

She looked at his back and smiled, softly. "Maybe a mid-sized asshole. Upper-middle sized, tops. If it makes you feel any better, you're probably the biggest asshole on the ISLAND."

He snorted, letting out a shocked sound of amusement. "You don't think the MB has that title locked down?"

She shook her head, getting into it. "That thing just wants to eat me. You don't even have the common decency to do that, but something tells me you're going to be chewing my flank for the rest of our lives."

He let out another choked sound of amusement and shook his head. "Fair enough."

Her grin faded slightly as her eyes passed over what was left of the humans who had found themselves displaced here. Her ears drooped momentarily, and she lowered her head a bit. She considered the bodies for a moment, then shook her head.

"Something... somepony, has a lot to answer for." She mused darkly.

Marshall turned to her and caught her staring at the mother and child tangled together in final repose.

"Yeah. You got that right." He said, his voice grim.

Never mind that they couldn't even figure out a way to breach the barrier. Never mind that whatever it was that had them trapped here apparently had powers that dwarfed the most powerful beings in Equestria. Twilight felt something stirring inside her, something that resonated powerfully. It felt like... like anger, but that wasn't a pure enough term. Sure, she was angry that something so senseless had been committed. No, it was... it was the sheer INJUSTICE of it.

It was strange. Something equally as terrible had happened to her and Marshall, but in some strange way, she'd come to the probably erroneous conclusion that, if something like this had to happen to somepony, at least it was her and Marshall. They were both tough and resourceful, they could take it. That muted the anger she felt at her situation, at least somewhat.

These people though... a mother and daughter? A teenage boy?

These poor people had apparently never had a chance.

What was being perpetrated here was either cruelty, or the most sickening lack of empathy she'd ever witnessed. Either way, if it was possible...

At all possible...

Twilight Sparkle was going to see it made right.

She frowned. "Should we bury them? Is that... something humans do too?"

Marshall sighed. He stared at them for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Not today, though. Before we leave."

She nodded, and he turned back to her, took a deep breath, searched her face for a flickering moment, found what he was looking for, and nodded back.

Marshall turned, considering the well dressed corpse in front of him for a moment before he reached down and gingerly pulled up the hunting rifle from underneath it, examining it and the scope carefully for damage.

It was a matte black hunting rifle of a specific brand that he didn't recognize, but it was obviously a high end firearm. He worked the bolt and caught the unfired round it ejected, inspecting it. Then after a short examination, he ejected the magazine, noted that it had one round left from what was probably a five round mag, inserted the round he'd ejected from the breech into it and reinserted the magazine, setting the weapon to safe.

Twilight watched grimly, but said nothing.

He slung it over his shoulder, on the opposite side of the carbine. Looting the dead it might be, but there was too much hard practicality beaten into Marshall's survivor soul to ever let a useful weapon go to waste out here.

"Put us back on the parking lot, if you please, Sparks. There ain't nothin' up here I wanna see more of than I have to."

She nodded, and teleported the two of them to the parking lot with a flash of purple fire.

Twilight Sparkle stared dubiously at the monstrosity in front of her. She cocked her head to the side, staring with confused befuddlement.

Marshall hadn't noticed her confused state. He was too busy having a truck-gasm, clambering over the thing like the primate he was.

"Oh man! It's got a rollcage? Holy... that's a controllable spotlight! And that's a suicide knob... that's... a winch... Twilight! It has a fully stocked tool-chest... POWERTOOLS! Is that a goddamn COMPRESSOR I see?!"

Twilight shook her head slowly from side to side. She was focused somewhat lower. Oh there were some absolutely bizarre things to be seen on this "truck". It had, for instance, an odd little picture of a mischeviously grinning little boy urinating on the words, "gun control". Across from it was a legend that read, "You can have my gun when you pry it from my cold dead fingers". She shook her head, mystified.

The front window, or "windshield" as Marshall had absently called it, had the words, "Crimson Maverick" across the top in red letters. As far as she could tell, that was the name the human had given his truck. She found the idea of a person naming their vehicle to be bizarre and nearly incomprehensible.

Frightening, even.

In addition to this, the bumper had several bizarre stickers, some faded with age, that said things like, "Vote Ryan, '08", and a newer sticker that read, "Say No Moore, vote Trump '12" and "Bennet/Romney 2016". Nestled in among these was a red and yellow sticker that read, "Retired United States Marine Corps, Semper Fidelis" with a globe, anchor, and eagle next to it. She could only begin to guess at the meaning of those stickers.

That wasn't what had caught her immediate attention.

"That" was somewhat lower.

"Marshall, what in Tartarus is... is that what I THINK it is?" She pointed a hoof.

Marshall hopped down off the back of the truck and looked for a moment where she was pointing, then chuckled and shook his head. "It's a novelty item, Twi. Pair of fake testicles to show that the guy who owns this truck thinks that it has "balls". I'm really starting to like this guy. He seems to have embraced his roots so hard he might actually have turned into a tree."

Twilight shook her head. "Stallions. That is so typic-"

She caught sight of the sudden change in Marshall's expression and frowned herself. "What is it, Marsh?"

Marshall had his head cocked at a considering angle, examining the bumper stickers. He looked... odd. As though he was having trouble parsing what he was seeing.

"That's not right..." He mused.

"What?" Twilight asked, curious.

"Those are political endorsement stickers, for the presidential elections that happen every four years. Problem is, they're all wrong. I'm assuming that this guy is a Republican, but even if he was a Democrat, the 2008 election was John McCain versus Barack Obama. There wasn't a Ryan involved at all... and... when I was taken it was April of 2012... that was an election year, but it would have been Obama versus someone else. This implies... that the President of the United States was someone named Moore... and that Donald Trump would be running against him... that's just..."

He shook his head. "This truck has a valid 2017 registration, you can tell by that sticker right there... and... it has Arizona plates. It's from the US, but..."

Twilight shuddered, on the verge of something, but not sure exactly what it was.

"But?" She asked hoarsely.

He gave her a disturbed and slightly scared look. "Maybe it's not from... MY United States."

Seeing her dubious look he continued. "Twilight, these might be joke stickers, but why? This kinda guy, he does NOT kid around about political stuff. Not someone with two decals against gun control on his rear window and a retired Marine Corps sticker on his bumper. That kinda guy takes a very serious attitude where politics are concerned. Especially someone who obviously takes great pains to make his truck look the best it can, but leaves old political stickers on it... that's someone who wants you to KNOW who he's supported, damn it."

Twilight frowned, considering this for a few moments. Then she nodded. The cultural concept of elections was a little alien to her, but she could follow his logic. What he was saying made sense, she just didn't WANT it to. Which of course meant that she was letting her own bias get in the way of absorbing the situation. She let go of her assumptions and reexamined the situation.

After a moment, she nodded grimly.

"Alright. I get it." She took a deep breath and let it out.

"It makes a certain amount of sense, Marsh. We could already extrapolate that it was possible we weren't in our respective universes anymore. There are certain universal constants which would appear to be vastly different by our different accounts. This would appear to support that, indirectly... but if it's true..."

She looked at him anxiously. "Marshall, if the infinite universes hypothesis is... even kind of accurate, as this seems to suggest, how in Tartarus are we supposed to find our way back?!"

He returned her look, then closed his eyes, thinking. Then he shrugged. "Because we have to. We'll keep trying until the attempt kills us, or we get home." He grinned sadly.

"Binary solution set, yeah?"

She considered this with a pained expression for a few seconds, her ears flat against her skull, then she visibly rallied, drawing strength from the human's tired but serene expression of confidence. She nodded.

"If it's possible for things from other universes to come here, then it's possible for them to go back. It's just a matter of finding out how."

Marshall grinned hard and nodded decisively.

She stopped, blinking as epiphany struck her, then her mouth dropped open.

"That's how you do it." She whispered. "That's WHY you do it. Why you turn everything into a you versus them situation. How you've lasted this long. You turn everything into a binary situation, then count everything, every little goal, every small victory as fuel to keep you moving."

He cocked his head slightly, and watched her.

"You haven't lost because you're still alive..." She whispered, shocked at how simple it was, but how FUNDAMENTAL this was to understanding him. "Everything bad that's happened is a hurdle. A setback to overcome. Marshall-"

Whatever she was going to say was immediately lost. He suddenly gave her an obviously exaggerated horror-filled look.

"GASP!"

He didn't gasp, he actually SAID the word gasp.

"She's onto me! Evasive action!" He dove away from her around the far side of the truck.

Twilight shook her head, exasperatedly. "Marshall, you are such a lost cause."

Marshall groaned from the ground, out of view. "Fuck... I forgot how hard asphalt was... I think I broke my goddamn funnybone."

He stood up and walked back over, rubbing his right elbow and flexing his hand with a sheepish look of pain on his face.

She rolled her eyes. "Another moment of pain sacrificed on the altar of lame jokes."

He let out a pained chuckle. "I'm like a comedy marytr or something. Does this mean I get seventy two virgins?"

She frowned. "What would you want seventy two virgins for?"

He snorted. "For strategic de-virgining purposes, silly."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Celestia have mercy."

She considered him as he got to his feet, nursing his right elbow. "Don't think I didn't notice you being evasive either."

He blinked. "I would hope not, I'd hate to have to hurt myself again to drive the point home."

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant."

He stared at her for a moment, then his expression became an odd mix of amusement and seriousness. "You're wrong though, Twi."

She blinked. "I am?"

He nodded. "It isn't me against them. It's US against them. Us versus this island, Sparks."

She blinked, touched by this sentiment. She couldn't help but think this was one of those watershed moments that she should take note of, because there was something very HUMAN about the way he'd defined his position. Before she could ponder this he reached over fondly and scratched the base of one of her ears. It never even occurred to her to think it was odd. Ponies were very touch oriented. Her eyes involuntarily closed.

That was something magical that ponies COULDN'T do.

"Come on, Twi. We have a whole Starbucks to explore. After as long as this has obviously been out here, I doubt there's anything edible that ain't nonperishable, but there might be some cookies or something that're still good, if kinda stale." He sighed.

"We could both use a morale booster, to be honest."

She hmm'ed her agreement gently, and he stopped scratching her ear, which a large part of her was not entirely pleased with. That was a morale booster right there, dang it.

She followed just a step or two behind him, watching alertly as he unslung the carbine and scanned the dark glass windows as they approached. He reached over with his off hand, the hand he used to support the carbine, and opened the glass door a crack, then shoved his boot into that crack and opened the door with his body and leg, sweeping the interior with his weapon from left to right as he stepped in. He frowned.

"Twi, I need like... four light orbs, see if you can project 'em well into the interior. Dark as a cave in here, with the daylight fading."

"Right. Will do." She concentrated, then four hovering orbs of soft white light winked into existence and speed to the far corners of the admittedly not very square room. Marshall scanned the interior with the carbine at the ready, then relaxed slightly, lowered the weapon and stepped in. Twilight followed suit, peering around his leg dubiously.

Marshall frowned. "Well... looks like nobody's home. I-"

Twilight froze suddenly, head lifting and eyes widening slightly. Her muzzle twitched.

Marshall half raised the weapon and stared at her.

"I smell..." She frowned, shifting her head slightly in a line across the interior, like someone scanning with a handheld motion tracker, sniffing delicately.

"I THINK I smell..."

Marshall frowned. "What is it Sparks?" He asked, a little anxiously.

Her face slowly broke into awed wonder and joy. Marshall raised an eyebrow.

"Chocolate." She breathed.

Marshall rolled his eyes and lowered his weapon again. "Twi, any chocolate you find in here is going to be a nasty mess. Desert heat for weeks on end with no air conditioning? It'll be all over the-"

"Don't care." She chimed happily, following her nose.

Marshall wrinkled his nose and followed her towards the counter, his expression bemused.

"What are you going to do, lick it off the counter?" He asked wryly.

She considered this for all of a second. "Uh huh!" She chirped.

He let out a chuckle, then froze.

"I'll be damned."

Being more familiar with a Starbucks layout than Twilight, his eyes had immediately searched the counter top where most of the impulse buy candies and treats tended to end up. There, an open cardboard bulksellers box with the Godiva chocolate logo sat forlornly amidst several healthier impulse buy oriented treats. He was expecting it to be half full of a soup of denatured chocolate and dripping down the sides of the counter, but it looked... pretty normal.

"That's not right."

Twilight looked up at him expectantly. "What? Did you find it?"

He answered without thinking. "Yeah Twi, I did. It's up there on the counter. Looks-" He paused, as it suddenly occurred to him that he himself hadn't had chocolate in over five years.

"You think-"

They both froze, staring at the counter. They looked slowly at each other. Marshall's eyes narrowed. Twilight's eyes widened, then took on a steely determined glint. Marshall suddenly caught the look of absolutely focused avarice on Twilight's normally friendly face and blanched.

Several weeks of hard earned friendship and trust suddenly deflated with a noise not unlike a tire going over a porcupine.

Made of steel, and razor wire. Perhaps also on fire.

They both darted forward at approximately the same time, though Twilight was a very slight amount slower since she wasn't actually completely sure which box held her precious. Marshall feinted towards one of the granola bar boxes and she lunged eagerly in that direction, overextending herself. Seeing her fall for his ruse, Marshall adjusted his angle and sprinted for the Godiva box. Twilight realized her mistake quickly, skidded to a sliding halt on the faux-marble tiles, then wheeled and galloped after him, her teeth gritted. Spotting a box fallen from the rooftop ladder, she wheeled again slightly and bucked it in his direction. Marshall half tripped over the obstacle in the still not terribly well lit lobby, and she shot past him with a whoop of triumph.

That turned into a startled yelp when he grabbed her tail and drug her behind himself as he pushed forward, her hooves scrabbling for traction on the slippery tiles.

All seemed lost, then Twilight remembered a very important factor that had been eluding her notice in her haste to get at the gooey treats.

She was a fucking unicorn.

Crinkle crinkle crinkle. Chomp. Smack smack.

Marshall studiously looked away, his expression a strange mixture of disgusted, irritated, and envious. He crossed his arms.

There was an almost sexual moan of satisfaction from next to the counter.

"Oh... soooo good."

Marshall risked a glance and grinned quite despite himself. If it were possible to make the act of devouring something a sensual thing, then Twilight Sparkle was making sweet love to an only slightly deformed chocolate bar, her eyes closed in absolute gustatory ecstasy. She had several smudges of melted chocolate around her muzzle, having devoured one of the semisolid treats in an unseemly degree of haste.

Marshall sighed and shook his head mock sadly. "So it's come to this, Sparkle. I take you in, I feed you, I teach you how survive in a hostile environment, and this VILE act of betrayal is how you repay-"

Twilight opened one eye and glared at him. "You don't understand, Marshall. Cake and candy are a vital part of the Equestrian diet. The Equestrian Economic Bureau uses the baked goods market as a snapshot of where economic growth is at any given time. Ancient ponies invented confectionery before they invented the WHEEL. There's a well documented and bitter war which broke out between Preunification tribes of Pegasi and Unicorns over a stolen recipe for apple fritters. Did you think I was joking when I said I'd kill for baked goods?!"

Marshall snorted. "So... secure in your victory and at least partially sated on the spoils of war, would you mind letting me down?!"

To her credit, she blushed, and the mild glow around her horn faded as she lowered Marshall from his time out corner.

Near the ceiling.

He dusted himself off and sauntered over, a somewhat hopeful look on his face.

"Any chance-"

Her ears laid back and the box telekinetically scooted across the ground behind her forelegs protectively.

"Marshall, this is it. This is all the chocolate on the island. I have to ration it carefully, or-"

He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "Never mind."

Twilight watched him for a moment, then stared down at the chocolate bar she had unwrapped and was about to consume. He hadn't had chocolate in five years. Her initial overreaction had largely been due to HIS reaction, which she was beginning to suspect was mostly just him goofing off anyway. She began to feel the first twinges of guilt.

Little ones, admittedly, but Twilight was a conscientious mare, when she wasn't overreacting.

The chocolate bar bounced off of his chest and he juggled it awkwardly before fumble fingering it and allowing it to plop onto the ground.

He stared at it disbelievingly for a moment.

"I'm NOT going to eat it off the-" He stopped suddenly, considering.

After a long moment he snorted, then shrugged. "Five year rule."

She grinned in amusement. "Five year rule, what's that?"

He glared at her, then picked it awkwardly off the ground, leaving a smear of melted chocolate behind, then sat down next to her with his back against the counter.

"If you haven't had chocolate for five years, it doesn't matter where the fuck it's been."

Marshall took a bite, and then closed his eyes and groaned. Twilight considered him, then the Godiva box, then gave into the inevitable and unwrapped (just ONE more) another bar. Twilight's grin turned into a more gentle expression of shared pleasure.

"Oh, man. I regret nothing." He said around a mouthful of gourmet milk chocolate.

"Yup." Twilight said happily.

Marshall took another bite, a smaller one this time, and considered the Godiva box. He swallowed and considered the bar he was holding.

"You realize there's no way these chocolate bars have spent a month in the heat, right?"

She frowned, considering the bar she was holding telekinetically in front of her. It was slightly deformed, and soft (hence the chocolate stains around her mouth from her enthusiasm) but it was the damage of a few hours in the heat, not several weeks. It still retained a large amount of its original shape, and had not gained the patina of granular sugar that repeatedly melted and resolidified chocolate took on. She shook her head.

"How did I MISS that?!"

He grinned at her.

"You were pretty distracted at the time, Twilight. A little laxity of attention is probably inevitable, if not entirely forgivable." He said with an air of overexaggeratedly sardonic humor.

She glared at him, then nodded. "But..." She trailed off, her eyes widened, and then she stood. "Is there an icebox where they keep the drinks and such?"

He sighed, nodded, and stood himself, gesturing at the cold box.

She raised up on her hindlegs and supported herself with the counter, staring at the contents of the dark glass fronted refrigerator.

Her ears laid back and she narrowed her eyes.

"Those miserable..." She breathed.

"Let it go, Twilight." Marshall said softly.

"But!" She exclaimed.

"It's not worth getting steamed about. It's fucked up, and it's wrong, a tragedy... but it's also pretty par for the course."

Inside the dark cooler were several rows of canned drinks and bottled water, obviously replaced by the Sky Lights just that evening. Just like the trees which had been resupplied to the Rootscrapers, and the chocolate bars they'd just consumed.

"They could have come down off the roof and..." She dropped back off the counter and hung her head as the weight of the entirely senseless tragedy struck her.

He sighed. "Yeah, they could have. They didn't know. Whatever it was that scared them up onto the roof, it scared them badly enough they didn't even check. Of course, depending on how effectively they rationed their supplies or not, they might not have been in good enough shape TO check, Twi."

She looked at him, her expression bleak, and he ran a hand through her mane, his own expression resigned and a little sad.

"It took four days for us to prepare for the trip out, and what... four, five days to get here? We just saw the Sky Lights this early evening, which means if they're on some kinda schedule, it's about nine days between intervals. That's enough time for panicked folks who aren't properly rationing their very limited water supplies to get too weak to react to the building gettin' struck by blue lightning."

He frowned. "Well, not in any way that woulda been productive."

She nodded, but didn't look up. Marshall moved his hand to her chin and lifted her head so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

"Twi... let it go for now." He said gently. Then his expression firmed. "But don't forget."

He dropped his hand, then stared down at his fingers and snorted. He wiped them off on his pants.

"Also, you might want to find a napkin, Twi. Your mouth is smeared in chocolate."

She blushed, then proved that pony tongues were quite a bit longer and more dextrous than the human equivalent. Marshall actually blinked, and his mouth dropped open.

"Did I get it all?"

He just laughed and shook his head, turning away. "Yeah. You did, Sparklebutt. Real classy, by the way."

She batted her eyelashes at him coyly, poorly imitating something she'd often seen Rarity do with effortless grace, then stuck her tongue out at him and blew him a raspberry.

The two busied themselves with exploring the interior of the Star Bucks. A stack of boxes filled with filters, coffee and other supplies lead up to the roof top opening, a ladder built in haste to escape whatever had attacked the coffee shop. For the most part, other than that, the interior looked relatively clean. The exception was a shattered window, broken glass, smashed table, and dried streaks of gore leading out of the hole bashed into the wall.

Marshall stood to one side of the hole and stared at it, frowning. The edges had a worried look, as though they had been forced inward and then ripped back outward with great force. If he didn't know any better, he'd say it almost looked as though a gigantic fist had reached in, grabbed some poor soul and then ripped them back out into the night.

That seemed insane. The size of that fist would have been comparable to a good sized truck, like, Crimson Maverick sized. The hole wasn't just the window, it was part of the wall and interior as well. He shook his head, unnerved by his own morbid curiousity.

An almost ultrasonic squeal of delight caught his attention. Marshall's gaze flicked back towards the counter and he smirked. Twilight had apparently just discovered the little baked goods section of the Star Bucks front counter. She was beginning an absolutely adorable, excited little hop in place, perhaps one part happy, one part eager, and a fair amount counting coup. She began to babble excitedly, her cadence such that, had she been so skilled, might have resulted in a proper rain dance.

"YesyesyesyesYESyesyesyesyesYESyesyesyesYESyesyesyesYES!"

Marshall crossed his arms and assumed a stern expression. When he spoke it was in a measured, Injun Joe sort of cadence. "Ah yes, Dances Like Dying Moose. You have found the baked goods counter. Once the baked goods roamed freely across the land, and were plentiful. Now, only this case remains. The People mourn the loss of our way of life."

Something about the way he said it reminded her of the Buffalo Tribe. She stopped her victory dance and shot him a wry look. "Thank you for that insight, Chief Pain In My Flank, but even your crappy attitude can't put a damper on this!"

A slight squeaking noise interrupted any reply he might have given as she pressed her face up against the glass side of the display case. He rolled his eyes.

Twilight Sparkle was in heaven. Oh, she loved chocolate, certainly. She actually hadn't realized how much she missed the guilty treat until it had been denied her for around two months. Still, chocolate was a once in a while treat, something she used to reward herself. Baked goods, for Twilight Sparkle, as most of ponykind, were not a reward, or even a habit. They were a way of life.

As much as she had missed chocolate, it couldn't hold a candle to simple pastries, or cakes, heck, even a bagel, at this point, if she was anything, it wasn't picky. She hadn't had so much as a piece of toast, or a donut in two months!

Even prisoners got fed better than that! Granted that she was probably in the best physical shape of her life, but there was surviving, and then there was LIVING.

Besides, if she wasn't mistaken, that was a cheese cake in there, right next to a slice of carrot cake and a half a blueberry bagel. She was aware that the clock was ticking on that little beauty. It might already be a bit off.

"I'll rescue you, little cheese cake!" She whispered fondly. Marshall scratched the back of his neck under his keffiyah scarf, more than a little weirded out at this point. She'd been staring for thirty seconds without moving. Her backside had been to him, of course, but he was pretty sure she hadn't BLINKED.

She backed up a couple steps to take a wider look at the counter and exactly how you got into it.

Her rear hooves crunched on broken glass as she did so, and she considered the case. She could break the glass, but why risk getting pieces of broken glass all over her precious desserts?

Marshall sighed. "Hey Twi, you can usually get into those cases from the backside easiest. Unless your plan was just to stare that food into your stomach."

"What would be the fun in that?" She said dreamily.

Its species had no equal. On the cloudy blue orb that it and its ancestors had inhabited for countless eons, it was peerless. The absolute apex predator on land. If it walked, crawled, or slithered on the ground, large or small, it was meat.

Pure and simple.

If it ran or flew, in the end...

It was merely very tired meat.

By necessity, its kind were patient. It was an ambush predator, devoting a majority of its time to lying in wait, conserving its energy for the proper moment. It was aided in this by a metabolism which synched to its surroundings, slowing in times of scarcity and speeding to a terrifyingly fast pace in times of plenty. It could hunt in packs, but this was not typical behavior of it... as it did not need others of its species to breed, nor for protection.

It could accomplish these tasks all on its own. It was not a slave to the necessities of a biome.

It WRECKED biomes.

It could move fast, incredibly fast, considering its typical mode of travel, burrowing under the earth, but it did have limitations. It could not sustain itself above for long, it was incredibly ungainly and slow there. It could not burrow through hard earth. Thus its species had learned cunning. To set traps, to lie in wait, to strike quite literally as lightning.

Well, lightning from below. The metaphor is still quite apt.

Despite its patience, this one was getting rather desperate. It had gone through a moment completely alien to its experience, having never been in a state of... not awareness before. It did not have eyes, it sensed the world through "tingles". The meat that inhabited the sunlit world above it were tingles, large and small, their every foot step or movement a wealth of information, a cascading, rippling explosion of sensory data that shivered along its skin like a tiny voice whispering,

"Eat me, eat me..."

For a moment the world had gone still. All of the tingling had stopped, and then...

It had very limited senses. Touch it had in abundance, of course, No sense of smell. Certainly no sight. Slightly more sensitive hearing, but this sense was so integrally linked to its sense of touch as to be merely a facet of that sense anyway. Taste it most certainly had.

The earth through which it moved was its world, and it tasted... wrong. Where before there were hints of life, scarce though they had been, the earth had been alive.

Now the earth was dead. There was nearly not enough water to sustain ITS hardy constitution, and that was almost unthinkable. It was one of the most water efficient species in existence.

When it had first noticed the change in its world, it had been young. Very very young, just out of its initial, nymph-like, surface jumping state, only fifteen feet long or so. There had been another, an older one of its kind. Larger. Its species did not practice cannibalism often, usually only the damaged ones did, the ones that could not reproduce, or in extremely desperate times when prey was truely scarce. Still, it was not without caution, and the change in the world was startling enough that it did not want to tangle with its superior brethren. It had kept its distance from those delightful, life giving tingles.

The meat-tingles above had taken shelter on a piece of hard earth, thwarting them.

Still, they were patient. They had waited.

Their patience had been rewarded. The large one had fed well. Then there was a tingle to end all tingles. A tingle so great in its intensity that it had been painful, shocking... terrifying. A tingle-that-was-agony. It had fled the painful, blinding tingle, and so had the large one.

The large one had not returned. It had thought perhaps that the large one had been injured. Certainly it had been closer to the tingle-that-was-agony. It thought that perhaps the large one had gone off to die. The younger had not known at the time. In any case, the large one seldom moved now, and its movements were erratic and strange. The younger was cautious enough to avoid it, despite how hungry it was. It was a simple case of mathematics. It ate the meat-tingles, which were smaller than itself. The large one was bigger than it, even if it WAS injured.

It did not want to become a meal itself.

It had gone back to the hard earth, and with the large one gone, it had been rewarded. Being relatively small for its species, young and undernourished, it retained some of its quicksilver ability to move ABOVE as well, and it had used this to great effect, snatching the unmindful meat from the top of its hard earth hiding place.

That had been glorious. The best meal it had ever known.

Then it had waited, but the meat was devious, oh tricky, treacherous meat. It had escaped, somehow.

The tingles had ended, in any case.

It had gotten increasingly desperate, then. It had quickly learned that its world was nearly devoid of meat-tingles of a sufficient size to sustain it. Worse, there was a great shell of hard earth on one side of its territory that maddenly held a great wealth of tingles. Teasing, hateful, spiteful meat-tingles, only just out of reach. A smorgasboard of precious, lovely meat, held tantilizingly close.

On the other side of its stomping grounds was.... nothing. A great, wide, endless wall of nothingness. It was completely alien to its experience, that nothing, like the earth in which it swam merely... stopped.

It avoided that side of its territory.

It had eked out an existence, a pitiful existence, slowly starving, sustaining itself only on those meat-tingles that came just a bit too close, or better yet, strayed fully into its territory. It patrolled its border fiercely, desperately, both looking for a way through the hateful hard earth that seperated it from the feast beyond, and snatching what little sustenance it could.

It had only grown a little in that time, currently only about 24 feet long, nowhere near its full adult growth. It was dying. It was at the stage of growth when it NEEDED food to reach its full adult length and it was not getting that. Even its robust metabolism, its hardy constitution, had never intended that it be without sufficient food for this long. It had taken to long periods of inactivity, punctuated by sudden lethal jolts of violent action as the very small amount of opportunity meat-tingles braved the rocky shelf, for whatever reason meat-tingles did.

If it were capable of despairing, it might have. At this rate, it would die before it reached full maturity. It was... sort of hermaphroditic, in that it required no partner to breed, its reproductive process having more akin to a doomsday clock than anything shared by the meat-tingles. Still, lack of food slowed this process.

Dying, of course, would stop it altogether.

Then had come an exciting time. It didn't really measure time in terms of days and nights, as the concept of such things were mostly foreign to it. It could discern temperature, and it was aware that there were periods of warmth and periods of cold, but this was the extent of its temporal understanding.

The border it "patrolled" was vast. It was inevitable that some meat-tingles would enter and leave. Usually this meant wandering a ways into its territory then wandering back over the rocky shelf, oblivious to the danger beneath it. That something would wander out into that lifeless earth was unthinkable, nearly inconceivable. It was hardly to be blamed if it could not predict the madness of meat-tingles in their small, surface world.

In its inattention, a set of meat-tingles had passed by it. At first it had come out of its semi-hibernation groggily, as though from the great depths of the earth. By the time it had become fully aware of its surroundings, the tingles had stopped.

It had slipped back into its state of unawareness.

The tingles had come back, and though they were fainter, further away this time, it had awakened enough to begin searching.

Thus had begun a maddening round of tingle, stalk, stop, search, tingle, stalk, stop, search. It had narrowed down the meat-tingles progress and while it was not truely sapient, it was terrifyingly intelligent, all things considered, and it was able to extrapolate where the meat-tingles were headed.

The hard earth. The place where it had had its first and most glorious meal. Oh precious meat.

There were three distinct meat-tingles. The largest was one of the same meat-tingles as had been on the hard earth in the beginning, though bigger than the meat-tingle that it itself had taken down. The second was smaller, more... spread out. It bore a resemblence to some of the meat-tingles it had snatched from the edge of its territory on occasion. The third was... strange. It did not slither, as some meat-tingles did, but neither did it produce the repetitious banging on the earth that the other two meat-tingles performed.

This curiousity had distracted it enough for the spread-out-meat-tingle to escape. It still was not entirely certain how the spread-out-meat-tingle had accomplished that. It had been about to snatch it down, when it had suddenly just ceased to be there. Tricky meat.

In any case, the third meat-tingle had remained foolishly off of the hard earth, though it likely thought itself safe, having stopped moving, and remembering where the strange meat-tingle had last been, it had taken full advantage of this, questing up quickly with its grasping tentacles. It had deviously snatched it down quickly and quietly, in an effort to avoid scaring the other meat-tingles.

It wanted them all!

Only to discover that what it had devoured was NOT meat. Treacherous meat. LYING meat.

It had... a taste, strange, chemical, but it was not meat. It was full of WATER! More water than it really needed. Certainly more than it wanted. It had spit out the not-meat tingle in disgust, swimming, circling in furious impatience, the maddening caressing tingles of meat emanating from atop the hard earth, safe, out of reach above it.

Then... opportunity. The large-meat-tingle was very near, so very near the opening it had snatched its glorious meal. It was not, however, in the optimal location for a lunge. The spread-out-meat-tingle had gone through a period of furious, excited tingling, clearly marking its location with its beats against the hard earth. In fact, the spread-out-meat-tingle now approached very... very near the location it had snatched its first glorious meal. It was bigger now... slower to return to the earth's embrace if it were to leave it. It could be dangerous to risk itself above. It was hardy, but it could be hurt.

The large one and its apparently devestating encounter with the tingle-that-was-agony had proven that.

Still, it was desperate, and so very very hungry...

Desperation lending it a perhaps foolish courage, it crashed from the earth in a startling display of force, its jaws opening, spreading like a grotesque flower eagerly to snatch and consume the spread-out-meat-tingle, and the large-meat-tingle, if it was lucky.

Its writhing nest of grasping tentacles preceded it.

The barren, lifeless soil outside suddenly EXPLODED upwards in a fountaining spray of debris as a writhing mass of thick, python-like snakes errupted from the ground and boiled over the broken glass, stretching wide in an oddly coordinated dance of twitching muscle. The mass struck through the hole in the wall and slid whip fast across the faux marble floor. A stench so overpoweringly foul that it made Marshall's eyes water and triggered a momentary gag reflex struck him. He reeled in horror, then saw that one of those python-like things was headed straight for his crotch.

"HOLY SHIT!"

Marshall reacted much like his primate forefathers, leaping backwards over the snapping tentacle and onto the top of an uncollapsed table. His boots sliding on the smooth table top, he performed a leap born of desperation that would have had a ballerina weeping with envy, though his dismount needed a little work. Stumbling into the cash register hard enough that his shoulder would be bruised for days, off balance from the purely reflex action, he stared in horror as the python-things darted in a coordinated lunge for Twilight...

Who simply teleported out of their path, reappearing behind the counter with a pop of displaced air and a flash of purple light. She spun around, slightly singed and out of breath from the emergency teleport her now FINELY developed "something is trying to eat me again" sense had screamed was necessary RIGHT NOW. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in disbelieving horror as the creatures (creature?) wrapped around the baked goods display and, with a wrench of overstrained metal and a tinkling of shattering glass, ripped it bodily out of the floor and began dragging it across the ground towards the opening.

Her left eyebrow twitched. The left corner of her mouth began fluttering as though a small animal was trapped in her mouth as her cheek muscle developed an involuntary spasm.

"THAT IS IT! I HAVE HAD IT!" She bellowed, her face twisted in a maniacal expression of rage and rapid onset dementia. Her horn burst into scintillating purple brilliance, fully illuminating the inside of the Starbucks.

An aura of telekinesis wrapped around the baked goods case.

Marshall's warning died in the back of his throat at the scene in front of him.

"EVER SINCE I SHOWED UP ON THIS BUCKING ISLAND, EVERYTHING HAS WANTED A PIECE OF MY FLANK, AND I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!"

"Holy shit..." Marshall breathed, his eyes widening. Twilight had begun exerting so much magical energy that she had begun to levitate off the floor, held aloft by sheer force of will. Sparks flickered and spat angrily off of her horn like a Fourth of July sparkler, dancing for flickering moments on the floor behind the counter before vanishing from sight in an instant.

The case... stopped moving, then jerked towards Twilight suddenly.

Something immense and very displeased lurched into the Starbucks from outside. It was a massive worm-like thing, long enough that a good portion of it was still in the desert sand, its mouth opened in a trifurcated grimace like nothing Marshall had ever seen before, those three straining, muscular tentacles stretched taut in their collossal effort to defeat the Element of Magic in a game of tug of war. It jerked, reared back, and began straining backwards. A belch of angry noise errupted from the thing's throat, along with a renewal of that overpoweringly bad stench.

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" Marshall jerked back, now horribly aware that this mass of tentacles and that THING out there were one immense creature.

The case resumed its inevitable slide towards the desert.

Twilight Sparkle clenched her teeth, and then BURST into a raging inferno, like a fireball given pony form. The wave of heat struck Marshall like a palpable fist and he recoiled back, now clutching the cash register like a talisman against evil to his chest. The flames of her living mane extended upwards far enough to singe the ceiling tiles.

"HOLY SHIT!" He screamed.

"I FINALLY GET A BREAK, A LITTLE TASTE OF HOME, AND YOU BUCKING THINK YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE IT FROM ME WITHOUT A FIGHT?! I DON'T THINK SO, BUSTER!"

The case ceased its movement backwards, then amazingly... impossibly began to retreat back towards Twilight. The creature out there in the desert gave a confused mewl of... (was that terror?!) dismay as it was bodily dragged completely out of the desert sand like an enormous impacted molar out of the jaw of a particularly recalcitrant patient.

It let go of the case. The python tentacle things shot backward like they were on fire. They may have been. The bitey parts of them were smoking at least. The thing awkwardly lurched backward, then turned, its armored beak slamming one corner of the building into rubble in its haste to get the fuck away from whatever just had a grip on it. It rolled clumsily off the the Starbucks foundation slab like a very fat man getting out of a hammock, rolling a short way onto the dirt before coming to a rest.

Twilight collapsed to the ground and the fire went out, save for a little flickering flamelet that danced on a flaming granola bar display on the counter before fading into a smoking blackened curled wisp of incinerated cardboard.. She stood there, breathing hard, her sides heaving with the effort of her impossible tug-of-war. She stepped over the broken, crunching, and slightly smoking pieces of shattered glass, nudged her way carefully inside, and gathered a slightly misshapen but MOSTLY unharmed cheese cake to her furred pony breast. The strawberry topping matted her coat.

She did not care.

"This is MY cake, and I am going to EAT it!" She announced in a voice which would not be denied. It was the sort of voice that was immediately followed by Yul Brenner announcing in a sepulchral tone, "So let it be written, so let it be done."

The thing outside rolled about awkwardly, like a blind maggot, before it finally got its bulk into position where it could get rear up and push its armored beak back into the earth. Within twenty seconds or so, it was gone, leaving only a slight depression of disturbed earth and a lingering stench.

Marshall stood up, glanced down at the heavy cash register in his arms, wondered for a moment when the heck he ended up hugging it like a teddy bear, then let it drop with a clang to the floor. Twilight had begun chewing grimly on a levitated slice of cheese cake, her eyes watching the hole out to the desert with a sentinel's purpose. She stuffed the remains of that slice into her mouth and removed a second from the slightly deformed dessert.

Marshall cleared his throat. Her eyes flicked in his direction, and she blinked as though aware of him for the first time, and looked down at the cheese cake.

"Oh... sorry." She said, awkwardly swallowing her mouthful. "Did you want some?"

"No. I'm good." He assured her a little too quickly.

"It's ok, Marshall. We have to eat it now or it'll go bad." She stuffed another slice into her mouth.

Marshall looked out the hole into the desert, shuddered when he saw the depression the thing left in its haste to escape, and shook his head.

"You have at it, Sparklebutt. You wrestled a sandworm for it, it's all yours."

She resumed happily chewing on the cheese cake. A bit of blackened and singed ceiling tile collapsed behind her, but she didn't appear to notice.

"You pro'ly." She swallowed. "You probably should have shot that thing while it was up top, Marsh. It's not going to give up."

Marshall glared at her flatly. "Excuse me if I was a little distracted by my unicorn friend suddenly deciding to be ON FUCKING FIRE!"

Twilight frowned and took another bite. "What are you talking about?"

He stared at her disbelievingly for several beats before shaking his head slowly and wandering away.

Twilight's frown deepened. "Where are you going, Marshall?"

"Bathroom. Because someone put shit in my pants."

He kicked open the swinging door and stalked in grumbling under his breath and still shaking his head.

Twilight frowned in confusion and cocked her head still chewing, considering the grumbling human as he disappeared. She swallowed another mouthful of delicious cake.

"Geez, what's eating him?"

A jar of maraschino cherries resting on a scorched bag of what was probably filters or napkins or the like behind the counter finally gave up the struggle against the internal pressure of its still boiling contents and exploded with a muted pop, startling her.

Marshall's first reunion with modern plumbing in five years was dampened somewhat by the lack of water and absence of toilet paper in either stall. Fortunately, the place hadn't gone so green as to have only warm air hand dryers, and had a full stock of cheap brown paper towels. A half-full canteen and the diet the desert had forced on him meant what little there was to clean up was easily dealt with, anyway. Still, it meant that he had damp damn pants. He hadn't bothered with undershorts, and hadn't for years. The jungle and that first tense year on the island had seen to those.

Which sucked, because he HATED damp clothes, but that beat the alternative.

Despite the realization that the sink probably wouldn't work either he tried the faucet anyway, more out of habit than any real expectation that it would produce any water. He glanced down at the lack of running water in dismay, then stopped, frowning, and stared at a small rectangular silvered object about the size of a slim wallet, sitting on top of a folded note resting on the edge of the sink.

He picked up what he immediately identified as an Iphone of a generation he didn't recognize and the folded piece of paper.

He unfolded it. "Password: 5014 Play video1" was all it said, in hastily scrawled, barely legible block letter english.

Something shifted out of his grasp from where it had been folded up in the note bounced and skittered into the sink and he snatched it by reflex before it could go down the drain.

It was a small, plain wedding ring. The sort a man would wear.

He frowned and pocketed the Iphone, note, and ring, washed his hands with the remains of the canteen at the sink, then walked out into the Starbucks interior.

Either Twilight had eaten that whole damn cheese cake, or she'd stuffed the remains in her saddlebags. Either way, the dessert was long gone. Twilight was in the process of cleaning strawberry topping off of her neck and chest with some napkins. When she heard Marshall step out she smirked but didn't look up from her task.

"Did you catch whoever put shit in your pants?"

"Nope. Got away from me clean. The fiend." He remarked blandly.

Twilight glanced up at this unexpectedly thoughtful tone from him, raising an eyebrow.

"What's up, Marsh? Worried about that thing coming back?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, but I figure you at least put the fear of overextension into 'em, for now. This is a big slab a' concrete, and this far into the interior, I think we're probably ok. No... I found something in the bathroom."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Marshall, I am curious about human anatomical differences, but not THAT curious. Besides, you should know what THAT'S for already."

He gave her a stricken look. "What?! No! I didn't-"

She smirked.

He frowned in consternation, then shook his head and grinned faintly. "Well damn... Ok, that one was pretty good. You got me, but stop distracting me. I think someone left us a message."

Her expression turned serious, and more than a little curious. "Really? Can I read it?"

He shook his head. "Oh there's a note, but that's not the message. It doesn't work that way. Remember when I told you about media data storage and video playback?"

She stood up, her interest truely piqued at this point. "Yes, yes I do. Did you find-"

He sat down next to her near the shattered counter, removed the Iphone from his pocket, and set the device between them.

She stared at it, lips parted in surprise. To the unobservant, or to those not familiar with technology, it didn't look like much. Just a small silvered rectangle with a dark glass front. However, Twilight could tell just from looking at the exotic materials involved in its construction, and the manufacturing level necessary to fit something so fine together so seamlessly, that this level of technology and the infrastructure it implied was beyond the capability of even the bleeding edge of pony science.

Knowing there was no magic involved in its construction made her even more awestruck. If it could do what Marshall said it could...

"It's so small..." She whispered.

Marshall smirked. "Not what a guy wants to hear after he pulls something out of his pants."

She scowled at him, then shook her head and smiled ruefully.

"Dang... that was a good one."

He shrugged and picked up the Iphone, frowning. "I hope this thing still has battery power..."

He hit the button and the familiar apple logo came on. Twilight crowded exceptionally close, staring in fascination at the graphic. She smiled wistfully.

"Applejack would get a kick out of this, seeing something like her family's style of Cutie Mark on a piece of alien technology."

Marshall grinned. "Better not let Apple Corporation get wind of that. They'd probably sue the pants off of her for trademark infringement."

She snorted. "I don't think she owns a pair of pants."

Marshall gestured imperiously. "Then Apple would probably buy her a pair just to sue 'em off of her. No messin' with big business, Twilight."

She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the screen.

"What's it doing?" She asked.

"It's probably going through a boot up sequence. This thing is basically a tiny computer, so I imagine it's a self-check for errors and the like, though it's not really something I've ever given much thought to. It's a program. You remember what I said about programs, right?"

She nodded. "It's like a series of instructions that it performs in sequence that eventually results in it displaying or doing something with information, right?"

He grinned. "Yup, only its performing thousands of operations faster than a person can think."

She shook her head, mystified at human ingenuity. What she could have done with that kind of raw data processing capability... After a moment, the small device finished whatever checks it was doing and four blank boxes appeared over a grid of the digits one through nine and zero.

"What's this... some kind of guessing game?" She asked.

He grinned. "Sort of. It's a security prompt for a password. Think of it as a locked door, keeping your personal data and the device itself safe from tampering."

She made a little oh of realization and his finger danced across the display with practised ease, inputing the four digit code from the note. Twilight marveled at how well optimized the device was for fingers.

"How-" She started.

He preempted her, having expected her next inquiry. "I'm a little iffy on the EXACT how, Twi, but this is a touch screen. Basically, as I understand it, my bare fingers are conductive, which changes the capacitance of the specific portion of the screen that I touch. That change in capacitance is detected by sensors built into the screen, which accepts those touches as input."

She nodded thoughtfully, riveted by what was happening on the screen.

A colorful series of small pictures scattered across the display. Marshall made a grunt as he checked the battery indicator. "Hmm... got about ninety percent battery charge left. Baby's got some juice left in her."

When he twitched a finger across the screen, the icons scattered to the side as though he were flipping a page. She shook her head at this display of raw science turned into a consumer good.

"These things have a camera that can capture video and store it in onboard memory... I'm guessing whoever this belonged to decided to leave a video message for anyone who might find it."

He grimaced. "Whoever they were, they figured they weren't gonna be around to tell anyone coming along what happened themselves."

Her ears dipped a bit, and she unconsciously leaned harder against him. He tapped the video in question, hit play, and held the device at a distance they could both see comfortably.

An image appeared on the screen of the bathroom floor and a pair of black work boots, slightly scuffed but servicable. The image resolution was much clearer than Marshall was used to from such devices, but then, that registration tag had said 2017, and five years of development was a lifetime in electronics advancement.

The video swayed dizzyingly, the camera having been flipped from the ground to point upward. A man's face appeared in the camera's view. He was slightly chubby cheeked and lantern-jawed, probably in his forties or so, with a high forehead and dark brown hair cut into a "high and tight" Marine Corps haircut. His hazel eyes focused on the camera and he stared for a moment, then his eyes shifted away.

"Ellie bought me this dang thing for Christmas last year. Didn't have no idea what the hell I was gonna use it for. I don't need no damn smart phone. Hardly know how to use one anyway. It took me five minutes to figure out this damn camera thing. Smart phone ain't no good if it's smarter than you are. Hope its recordin' right. Only gonna do this once. Don't think I could do it again." His eyes flicked back to the camera and he shook his head wistfully, a hint of a sad smile on his face. He had one of those bulldogish faces that became more pronounced as the individual got older.

"If yer one'a them folks on the roof wonderin' what the hell I just did, then I suggest you hang tight. I'll get to that."

He sighed. "If you AIN'T one of them folks on the roof, then I'm gonna assume you got really lucky and that thing out there let you through for some reason, or I actually managed to kill it. Either way, if you got no idea what I'm talkin' about, then stay as far away from the edges of the dang concrete as you can. There's this thing out there... big damn thing, burrows under the ground, like some kinda mongolian death worm or somethin'. Senses vibrations, and it's got some kinda tentacles that give it like a six to eight foot reach. Damn fast too. At least, forty, fifty miles an hour... but that's a guess... didn't see it move long enough to be sure. Either way, it's... it's damn fast."

The camera jerked for a moment as the man in the image lowered the hand holding it, scrubbing at his eyes with his other hand. After a moment, he reoriented the camera to something approximating its former position, but a little closer. From this distance, Marshall and Twilight could see that he looked tired and a little ill. Dark circles were visible under his eyes, and while there were high spots of color on his cheeks, the rest of his complexion was pale under a skin tanned and rough from many years working outside.

"Anyways, if you did stumble on this, then those folks followin' Mr. Winters might still be on the roof. They're gonna need help. I figure they got about four days a' water, the way their goin' through it."

He scowled. "Damn foolish if you ask me. Winters has 'em all convinced that help is comin', that help has to be comin'."

His voice became an embittered impression of someone else. Someone he obviously thought was an idiot. "No way someone is gonna gas a bunch of folks, then pick up a damn Starbucks and move it into the middle of the desert without someone noticin'. I'm an important person, they have to... Christ."

He shook his head. "Now it's been a long time since Boot, but those ain't the stars I'm used to, and that sure as HELL ain't the goddamn moon. So..." He chuckled. "I don't think Mr. Winters knows his asshole from his elbow. An' if this is some kinda government experiment... well... then there ain't no help comin' anyway. Not after what they let happen to..."

He sighed. "They're all scared, an'..."

He looked down. "Not that I blame 'em. That nice couple made a run for it in their compact. Damn Japanese piece a' shit didn't even clear the fuckin' edge of the concrete. They never even made it out of the damn car. That's how we found out about that worm. That... was not a pretty sight."

He looked away, then rolled his shoulders and leaned back, shifting the camera to watch himself. He was obviously sitting on the toilet.

"You know... I spent my whole damn life preparin' for this kinda shit, pardon my french. Picked Arizona because it was out in the middle of nowhere, as states go. Back at my house, I have years of supplies. MRE's... cases of bottled water. Medical supplies... guns... ammunition."

He shook his head and scowled. "My damn insulin... Stupid Marine. Piss poor goddamn planning on your part."

He took a deep breath. "Figured them Democrats were gonna screw the pooch sooner or later. This damn economy's been on life support since that socialist asshole Moore took office, and it's been down hill from there. Been plannin' ahead for bad times, nothin' wrong with that. Ellie thinks I'm crazy, but... no matter how damn paranoid I was, I never figured I'd be teleported in a Starbucks to an alien desert. Gimme some credit..."

He chuckled. "I mean, that's crazy, right?"

His smile faded and he sighed. "So without my insulin, my time is... pretty limited. Them folks on the roof don't understand that this desert's gonna kill 'em before that thing out there does. We CAN escape from it. I KNOW we can. The Crimson Maverick's got more than enough horsepower to get'er done. I tried to compromise with that asshole... gave 'em my rifle to make him feel better... but..."

He sighed. "A man like Winters just takes because he thinks he's entitled. Givin' him that rifle just made him push to see how much more he can get. He's got them all scared and thinkin' I'm some kinda crazy survivalist asshole, tryin' ta make things seem worse than they are. Like I WANTED to be inna situation like this."

He bit his lip. "Thing is, all they can see is what that thing did to that foreign piece a' crap out there. They ain't gonna budge... not unless... not unless that thing is good and dead."

"So... here's the deal folks. I've got a gallon propane tank in my truck. Now I watched the way that thing eats... how it hunts. They don't chew their food, if you get me. Swallow 'em whole, hell... it's big enough... thirty feet or more."

His expression turned haunted and very sad. His brow lowered as he contemplated his next words. Marshall and Twilight watched, transfixed. Marshall already had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next.

Sadly, he was not disappointed.

"So since I DON'T think help is comin', and they AIN'T gonna move unless somebody does somethin'... I'm gonna take a roll a' duct tape, one of my roadflares, my Desert Eagle... and that propane tank... and I'm gonna go for a little walk."

He closed his eyes. "I figure... I mean, I know that Mythbusters show said that a bullet alone won't set fire to a propane tank an' thank God for that show... but that .50 AE will put a hole in a tank from point blank, and the roadflare'll light that propane."

He grinned sickly. "My buddies an' I used to go out blow up tanks in the desert like that all the time as kids..."

He shook his head.

"You know, I bought my .50 Desert Eagle because it's the most powerful Desert Eagle in production... liberal pussy lawmakers spent a lot of time bitchin' that nobody needs a .50 caliber handgun for protection. They sure changed their tune when that mallshooter asshole in the body armor pulled that bullshit in San Bernadino, walkin' through the cops fire like it was nothin'. That .50 Action Express plus-p-plus'll punch through the body armor that crazy asshole was wearin', sure as shit."

He grimaced. "Now here I am facing somethin' using the goddamn range backstop as body armor. There's no such thing as too much gun; you either kill it, or you don't. Unfortunately that bugger looks like it's gonna be in the don't category."

He shuddered a bit, contemplating what he was about to do. His eyes opened again, and there was a vulnerability to his expression, as though he were barely holding it together. "That .50'll pop that tank. It has to. I figure I just don't stop firin' til I run outta bullets or..."

He winced, and took a shaking breath. "I'm not... I'm not scared. Not really. Well I am... I mean, I don't wanna die, but... what I'm really scared of... what really... I'm scared it won't work."

His expression was agonized, a man in the grasp of indecision. "I just don't want it... I don't want it to be for nothin'."

He looked down. "If you find this... don't assume it's dead. You pack as much as you can into the Crimson Maverick, and you git. Head towards that mountain. That should be safe from that thing... if it can't burrow through six feet a' concrete I doubt it can get through granite, or whatever that thing is made of... Not to mention, there might be somethin' there. Water... food... somethin'. Gotta be somethin'. More than this wasteland, anyways. It's where I'd go, if there was any fuckin' point. I'm gonna leave the keys on the front seat before I... well, you know."

His expression broke suddenly, and he sobbed. A tear made its way down his cheek. "If you get outta here... if you get back... give my wife my wedding ring, and tell Ellie... tell my wife and my little girl that I love 'em. Tell 'em... tell 'em that I tried to do somethin' right... that I..."

He shook his head. "Do that for me, please. I don't know ya, but I think... I hope... you know what it's like to be..."

The camera shook, as if the man in the view was in the grip of a powerful emotion and his hand was shaking. "My address is 324 Greenwood Lane, Benson Arizona 85602. It's about 45 miles out of Tucson, on the I-10. You can't miss it. I was... well, I was in Tucson on call when..."

He chuckled, one of those disbelieving noises, half a laugh and half a cry of denial. "Worst cup a' coffee I ever got."

He sobbed again, a choked noise. As though he were somewhat ashamed. Marshall heard a similar sound from the mare next to him, drawing his attention. Tears rolled down Twilight's cheeks as she stared riveted to the drama unfolding. She shook her head in quiet denial of the truth in front of her. Marshall's mouth tightened into a grim line and he turned his gaze back to the Iphone. He put one arm around Twilight and hugged her. She shoved her cheek against his side and let out a louder sob.

"Welp... I figure I done stalled long enough. Take care of my truck, whoever you are. She's a good machine. Full tank'a gas, just had her checked out."

He rubbed the tears from his eyes and snorted a few times before straightening and composing himself.

"This is Timothy Michael Wright, Staff Sergeant, United States Marine Corps, retired. Husband, and father... signin' off. Good luck... and God bless."

He saluted with machine-like precision, holding the gesture for several seconds. Then he dropped his arm and looked upward, his expression firming as though he were preparing to do something very difficult.

Then the video froze, as the recording finished its playback.

Twilight Sparkle buried her face in Marshall's side and sobbed hard. This man's last message had put a face on this tragedy, given a name to the ghosts. Timothy had undoubtedly walked out there into the desert, alone, knowing what was coming, and determined that if he was going to go down, it was going to be on his own terms.

Either he had not succeeded, or there had been more than one of those worms. Either way, the chance he'd tried to buy with his own life had not been enough.

Not for those poor souls on the roof.

Marshall turned off the Iphone to conserve the battery and put it in his pocket, then shifted Twilight carefully so that her face was buried into his chest. He put his other arm around her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

His expression was hard as he whispered. "Hard core, devil dog. Oorah."

Later that evening, snuggled in Marshall's sleeping bag as far away from any edges of the concrete slab as they could get and still be inside the Starbucks, Twilight and Marshall rested quietly, not quite ready to sleep, contemplating the strange day's events.

They had discovered, to their intense displeasure that their wormy antagonist had apparently made off with their water supply while they had been distracted with exploring the Starbucks. A few tossed bits of broken Starbucks walls and a little careful experimentation had further revealed that said harasser had not quit the field of battle. It was still out there, and it was paying VERY close attention to their little concrete island. Fortunately the Starbucks had been almost completely restocked by the Sky Lights, including its bottled water on hand. The two of them were not in any danger of dehydration.

Yet.

Marshall rested on his side, Twilight resting against him with only her head poking out of the sleeping bags opening, her back resting against Marshall's chest. He had his head propped up by his pack and one arm, and was currently alternating between scratching each of Twilight's ears gently, first the whole ear, then the notched one, then back again.

She had been mostly silent after her breakdown. She'd taken the ex-marine's failed sacrifice hard... very hard. He supposed it was a culmination of things really. Marshall had a lot more experience with death, and it shook him a little to know what had happened. He couldn't imagine how the little unicorn was taking all of this. She'd followed his directions in preparation for settling down for the evening on autopilot, in a state of... well, it felt like emotional shock.

She had shivered for several minutes when they'd climbed into bed. It had taken almost an hour of gentle attention before she'd finally relaxed against him.

He was worried about her. He was considering how to tentatively broach the subject of her wellbeing when she startled him by speaking.

"I'm sorry Marshall." She said quietly.

He blinked, and his hand stilled on the base of her ear.

"What?"

She cocked her head slightly to look at him with one sad eye. "I'm sorry I pushed for this trip so hard. You were right, Marsh. This isn't the answer to our problems. It hasn't taught us anything. It's just another pile of questions, and another monster trying to eat us. I'm sorry. I pushed and pushed, I was so impatient... you... you ran yourself so ragged trying to accommodate me, and I was so..." Her breath hitched.

"I just..."

Marshall let out a deep sigh and shook his head. "Twilight, you didn't hold a gun to my head. I didn't say it was useless. I STILL don't think it is. We've learned a couple more things. Maybe not what we wanted to find out, but we did gather some new data."

He brushed her mane back a bit from her face and one of her ears flicked lazily, staying mostly down, the half cocked position he noted, which if he was reading her right from these many weeks of constant contact, meant that she was sad, and only sort of half attentive to what he was saying. He adjusted himself so that he could more comfortably look her in the eyes.

"Twilight, we are sitting on a huge pile of new resources, and we know a little bit more about how the Sky Lights function, and why they do what they do. We know it's likely that whatever is bringing us here is doing it to multiple universes. It makes sense, I mean... that thing ain't native to earth, not outside of a monster movie anyway."

She sighed. "But..."

"Twilight, you DO push incessantly. You DO constantly strive for more data. I've used more ammunition in the last two months than I usually use in four. I've lost count of the number of times we've almost died. I didn't make a habit of pissing off a new something more or less immune to bullets every week 'til you showed up."

Her ears flattened. She started to open her mouth and he shook his head, shifting his hand to rest on her cheek.

"Let me finish. Those things are true, but do you know... as much as I made this a war between myself and this island, I was in a holding pattern until you showed up. For... hell, I think the last year and a half, I had fallen pretty much into the same routine, day in, day out. I'd GIVEN UP, Twi."

He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "I can put any kind of spin on that I want, but I was on the fast track to crazy town, or..." He shuddered. "Or worse. It's a negative sum game, Twilight. Sooner or later this island was gonna catch up to me."

He smiled at her. "You gave me the kick in the ass I needed to start fightin' again. You did that. So we didn't find what we were looking for here. So what? This isn't the end. This is just another step on the road."

She considered this, her expression a mixture of doubt and indecision.

He shocked her out of this state when he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. "You gave me back something I thought I'd pissed away forever, Twi. You gave me hope."

She blinked and stared at him, unsure of what to say to this, or even how to feel. Of how to react to this suddenly thoughtful, philosophical Marshall. How many facets did one man HAVE?!

He chuckled at her expression and looked past her, at the night time desert. A wind was whistling faintly through the large hole in the side of the Starbucks where the thing had made its dynamic entry and subsequent exit. It was cold inside the building and getting colder.

"Way I see it, that's worth a few red herrings... and some bodily harm. And some National Geographic chases."

He paused. "A few manglings. Some wasted bullets."

He smirked. "Putting up with your dried hay farts in the sleeping bag."

"Hey!" She exclaimed in protest.

"The constipation that eating nothing but dried meat and fruits is inflicting on me. Oh, when I'm not shitting my pants in terror at my unicorn's sudden transformation into the goddamn Kwisatz Rapidash, that is."

She blinked. "The what?"

"Nevermind, Twi. The point is, none of this has been useless. We've learned more about this island in the last two months than I've learned on my own in five years, in no small part due to you."

She smiled faintly. "I... I guess. Thank you, Marshall. I guess I'm just sorry I got us into this mess. That thing isn't going to stop until it gets us both."

Marshall grinned. "Now, as to that, I wouldn't worry about it too much. I have a plan."

She blinked. "Um..."

He shook his head. "Get some sleep, Twi. We'll talk about it during breakfast. We have a helluva lot of work ahead of us tomorrow."

With that he snuggled her closer, wrapped his arms around her like she was a big pillow, and settled in.

She was silent for several beats.

"Well now I can't sleep. I'm trying to figure out what your big plan is."

"I know." He said matter-of-factly.

"You realize this is going to keep me up for hours, right?"

He chuckled. "Yup."

"You're a dick, Marshall."

He let out a full blown belly laugh. Privately, he had been keeping a seperate score tally for every time he got Twilight to swear at him. "Mwahaha."

She responded after a moment by breaking wind vindictively in his general direction.

Marshall shot out of the sleeping bag like he had discovered a honey badger in it with him and onto his knees, staring at Twilight in disgust as he held his nose. "Oh Gawd..."

She grinned maliciously without moving. "Mwahaha."

He waved his other hand in front of his face as though trying to clear the air, his eyes actually watering. "You know, if anyone had asked me what I thought unicorn farts would smell like before this trip, I'd have probably said rainbow skittles or somethin'."

He paused. "That AIN'T skittles."

Twilight remained silent, savoring her victory.

Marshall stared down at her, full of a burning need for vengeance. Or at least one-up-manship.

He cocked his head, considering the now mostly empty sleeping bag.

Then he muttered two words.

"Dutch oven."

Twilight blinked and started to turn. "Wha-"

Marshall grabbed the edges of the sleeping bag and dragged them up over Twilight's head, twisting the bag so that it was tightly sealed.

Twilight was an unmoving lump in the fabric for about ten seconds, having been confused into immobility, before the smell finally hit her.

Then the struggle started.

"Marshall! Help! It's... it's not going away."

He grinned evily. "Yeah, thick enough Gore-Tex'll do that, Sparks!"

"Marshall! I give, I don't know an air freshner spell!"

He nodded thoughtfully. "I bet your eyes watering makes it hard to teleport too."

"Yes! Uncle! Gah! I can taste it!"

"Mwa. Ha. HA!" He crowed triumphantly.

He opened the bag and dumped the stricken unicorn out. She panted and glared at him hatefully.

Marshall whistled a jaunty victory tune (it kind of sounded like the synthesizer part playing during the chorus line from The Final Countdown) as he stood and flapped the bag like he was beating out a rug, waving away Twilight's warcrime. "...And that's why the Geneva Convention forbids the use of poison gas weaponry."

After a bit more sullen glaring, and Marshall's decidedly half hearted apology, the two slipped back into their respective positions in the sleeping bag.

Marshall waited until she was comfortable, then let rip with his own flatulent contribution to the evenings entertainment.

Twilight froze, then shifted to glare at the now studiously innocent looking human. "Geneva Convention, huh?"

He grinned. "It does specifically allow the use of gas weaponry in retaliatory strikes when a nonsignatory party attacks a bound member with it first."

Twilight just sighed, turned, and let the matter lie. As she settled in, ignoring the lingering... unpleasantness, she realized that once again, Marshall had managed to take her mind off of her sorrows by applying a metaphorical boot upside her flank.

She gently smiled to herself and snuggled closer.

Marshall performed several jumping jacks, then ran furiously in place for about five seconds, his dogtags jangling. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead and splashed on the hot asphalt of the parking lot. He looked hot and sweaty.

Twilight performed the pony equivalent of furious activity next to him, stomping her hooves and galloping back and forth a short distance.

Her mane looked a bit damp as well.

Marshall and Twlight ceased their bizarre antics in the blisteringly heat blasted parking lot near the edge of the concrete slab when they noted movement of the deserts surface near their activity.

"Go." Marshall intoned sharply getting ready. He held the Iphone in his right hand with the stopwatch app open, left ring finger poised over the start button.

There was a simultaneous flash of purple light as Twilight Sparkle teleported herself and one of the ruined tabletops (sans legs) out precisely one hundred seventy six yards (five hundred twenty eight feet) into the open desert.

Early in their association they had discovered that there were slight differences in their cultures respective distance measurements. Twilight had even discovered, to her bafflement, that his OWN people had two distinct measurement systems. When she questioned him on how this came to be, he mentioned something about Americans being stubborn.

This also explained why they were using his measurement standards for most of their work.

Marshall himself was an American. Which apparently meant always right.

Stupid humans.

Marshall watched her intently.

She proceded to dance (badly) on the tabletop for about three seconds. This was the amount of time they had determined (through dangerous and sometimes hilarious trial and error) to be the worm's approximate reaction time to their chosen stimuli. The stimuli in question was also a private joke for Marshall, who had concluded that given the proper context Twilight would do ANYTHING for science.

Up to and including naked tabledancing, apparently.

Ponies were always naked, of course, but it was the principle of the thing that made it hilarious.

Marshall noted a sudden dust spurt from the edge of the slab and tapped the start button on the stopwatch app.

"MARK, TWI!" He called.

Twilight teleported back, watching the desert intently.

Several seconds later, the sand erupted as the thing swallowed the tabletop whole.

Marshall stopped the timer.

"13.44 seconds."

Twilight frowned. "Its reaction time is improving, and it's not getting tired. How many samples does this make?"

"Fifteen." Marshall responded. "Not including that one time I forgot to start the timer, and the time you fell off the tabletop."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Can you average the results?"

He smirked. "Already on it. It averages... 14.24 seconds."

She nodded thoughtfully. "One hundred seventy six yards is one tenth of a mile, so move the decimal point, and..."

He nodded. "It averages roughly one hundred and forty two seconds per mile, or..." He tapped on the Iphone furiously.

She frowned, doing the math in her head and beating Marshall to it. "About twenty five miles per hour. That doesn't factor in its reaction time of course, or varying response levels."

He nodded seriously and bent down, ripping some of the plastic enclosing a case of bottled water to make a bigger hole. Removing two bottles, he tossed one over towards Twilight and uncapped his own, taking a deep swig. "That's what the statistical spread was for Twi."

She shook her head in thought, absently removing the cap from the lukewarm water with her telekinesis and taking a long, slow drink. She gasped, licked her lips, then turned to Marshall. "Still, we should include an error margin."

He nodded again, considering. "Say, plus minus five miles per hour?"

She smirked. She had been thinking that exactly. "So between thirty miles per hour and twenty... that's still incredibly fast. We can't outrun it."

He grinned tiredly. "That's for damn sure. Moot point anyway, Sparks. I don't know about you Fifth Place Leaf Runner, but even at my best I couldn't manage a full on sprint for three days, give or take anyway. Even if it wasn't more'n twice as fast as me, it'd catch us eventually."

Something blasted out of the desert from about twenty yards out with incredible force, coming in at a high ballistic arc. Marshall calmly sidestepped the flying, slime covered table top as it passed through the space he had been occupying and clattered noisely, sliding across the parking lot to rest against the volvo's rear right tire. He nonchalantly finished the water left in the liter bottle and tossed it in a small pile of empties.

"Its aim is improving too." Twilight noted dryly.

Marshall grinned. "Pretty nice of it to keep giving us our test bed back. We were gonna run outta tabletops."

She cocked her head curiously. "You don't seem too badly concerned that it's so fast. You obviously have some kind of plan which involves us being able to outrun it long enough to get to the rock border." She frowned. "Or kill it."

He sighed. "Oh I DO wanna kill it, Twilight. Believe you me, this thing has it fuckin' coming... but if an exploding gallon propane tank, a high powered rifle, and a Deagle ain't enough to do this thing in, then short of tricking it into swallowing C4 we didn't bring with us on a timer or remote detonator I would have had to make out of electrical parts that have been through one crash and badly neglected for five years, and that we don't have ANYWAY, I don't see how we CAN kill the damn thing."

"So you don't plan on killing it..." She mused, considering. "Timothy seemed to think that truck could pull it off..." She sighed, shaking her head at the realization. This was the secret plan she'd stayed up all night trying to figure out. She had obviously been giving him too much credit.

"That's your big plan isn't it?" She asked glumly. She irritably finished her own water and tossed the empty plastic bottle next to Marshall's.

He grinned. "Bingo. Just like the man said. We strip everything we can carry from this carcass of a franchise store and tie it down nice and tight with my good ol' buddy paracord, then we go hellbent for leather 'til this goddamn desert is just a very bad memory."

Twilight frowned. "Well... CAN we outrun it? I mean, I know you said that trucks are fast, but fully laden, can it make that trip fast enough?"

Marshall grinned evilly and patted the Crimson Maverick. "Twilight Sparkle, this isn't just a truck. This is a man's honest pride and joy. This thing is so far from stock I don't think it can even see stock from where it is. A lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into this truck. It is a vehicle he put his heart and soul, and a not inconsiderable amount of cash into. This truck is as much his baby as his little girl. It is an offroad monster. It doesn't find paths, it fucking MAKES them. It probably has a cargo capacity of around two tons."

She blinked.

"More importantly, this truck was made in 'Murica. If it can't give that damn thing a coronary trying to keep up with it, I'll eat my fuckin' hat. That monster doesn't have a 6.2 liter V8. It sure as HELL doesn't have over four hundred horsepower. I know none of that makes sense right now, but believe you me, Sparks. The only way that bitch is gonna catch us is if we try to make the run for the border in reverse, and even then, I'd lay even odds on it."

She cocked her head. "Well... I'm through being skeptical about human technology, Marshall. If you say that the Crimson Maverick can do it, then I believe you." She sighed.

"I guess that means we have a lot of... packing to do."

Marshall grinned. "The term you are looking for is looting, actually. Then we drive like we stole it. Come on, Sparks. Let's strip everything that ain't nailed down."

Twilight smirked. "Everything that isn't nailed down, huh? That's a remarkable amount of restraint you're showing. For you, I mean."

Marshall chuckled. "Good point, Sparklebutt."

He ruffled her mane and she glared at him. "Why stop at the shit that's not nailed down? I got just the cutest little pry bar this side of forever, yes I do's."

Twilight kicked him in the shin.

Hard.

The unseen predator in the dirt outside circled furiously around the concrete block, impatient for its meat.

A sound of celebration from her human companion caught Twilight's attention and she turned, carefully setting down the seven car batteries she had removed from their various vehicles after some instruction from Marshall. She had been lifting them into the bed of the Crimson Maverick when she heard the noise.

She trotted over curiously to find Marshall opening a small dirty plastic bag of some sort of green grassy looking substance. A strange fragrance filtered past her and she frowned.

"What's that, Marsh?"

Marshall grinned lopsidedly at her and sealed the bag back up. "Remember when we found Ted's Ipod?"

She nodded, confused as to what that had to do with anything. "Oh... I was just thinkin', what kinda teenager with that goatee, and THAT much Jimmi Hendricks and Grateful Dead in his Ipod library doesn't keep a little somethin' for relaxation purposes? Sure enough, our friend Ted had him some weed stashed away in the same place I used to hide it in my first car, bless his predictable little heart."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Ok, but... what is it? I don't understand why you're getting so excited about a weed."

Marshall folded the bag with precise care and stuck it into his pocket. "It's not A weed. It IS weed. Marijuana to be specific. Just a little medicinal herb. It's good for my glaucoma, Twi."

Twilight wrinkled her nose in confusion. "You don't HAVE glaucoma."

He smirked. "Yes, Twilight that's right. It's very good for my glaucoma, which I don't have."

She blinked.

He rolled his eyes skyward. "It has a few other uses."

Twilight stared at him skeptically, then sighed. "It's a recreational drug isn't it?" She said flatly.

Marshall looked skyward and adopted an innocent expression. He failed quite miserably. "Maaaybeee."

Marshall frowned at the load stacked in the Crimson Mavericks bed. It was a crazy combination of apparent junk. Stripped car parts, mostly wiring, fuses, lights, hoses, and batteries from the other vehicles in the parking lot, wiring they'd stripped out of the Starbucks, including the speaker system the store had used to pipe smooth commercially appropriate jazz at their patrons. The store's undamaged glassware and what limited cooking utensils as were available. Bags of the sort of supplies necessary to keep a coffee shop running from day to day. Various odds and ends from the other vehicles they could reach. Several five gallon buckets of floor wax and cleaner they'd dumped out, cleansed as best they could, then refilled with as much gasoline as they could manage. They'd even broken both of the mirrors off the wall in the bathroom.

Marshall was currently trying to figure out how he was going to fit the fire extinguisher from the Starbucks into the mess. It was packed pretty dang tight.

"Twi... can you shift..." He muttered.

She sighed and concentrated, using telekinesis to try and shift the load over slightly enough that he could shove the fire extinguisher into place. He shoved it in, hard, then nodded in satisfaction. He wiped sweat off of his brow and looked over at Twilight.

She nodded, then helped him slide the large blue plastic work tarp that Timothy had in the rear of his cab. They finished by tying everything down as securely as they could with Marshall's paracord.

Marshall nodded, stepping back. "That should do it, Sparkle."

She nodded. It had taken them the better part of the day to get the whole load stored. It had also taken a large portion of their water supplies, working through the day as they had. It was probably ill advised, but neither of them wanted to stay in that Starbucks another evening, if they could avoid it.

Twilight frowned and tried to shift the whole load with her telekinesis, testing its security. Then she nodded finally and looked over at her human companion.

"So... what now? Do we just leave?"

Marshall didn't answer. He was staring at the Starbucks, his expression somewhat pained. Twilight followed his gaze and realized that he was staring towards the roof. She sighed.

"Marshall, we can't bury them. That thing won't let us."

Marshall shooks his head as though coming out of a daze and sighed, smiling ruefully at Twilight. "Was I that easy to read?"

She grinned back at him sadly. "You made a promise, even if you never said the words, Marsh. I know how you operate." Her expression turned serious and she put a hoof on his leg.

"There's no way to do it safely, Marshall. I think they would have understood."

He nodded with a shadowed, somewhat regretful expression, and turned away. Shaking his head as though clearing it, gestured for Twilight to follow him.

"Come on, Twi. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

She smiled and nodded.

"Right!" She chirruped. She followed him to the passenger side of the Crimson Maverick. Marshall opened the door and gestured with his other hand.

"Your carriage awaits, Madame," he said in a bad French accent.

It took a bit of wiggling to hop into the tall truck, but with some assistance from Marshall, she was able to arrange herself on the seat. She sat on her haunches, watching with mild interest as Marshall pulled the safety belt out and considered her.

"Hmm." He muttered. "You don't exactly have a lap, Sparks. Not sure this is gonna work too well..."

He frowned.

His expression cleared. "Got it. Put that BDU blouse on backwards, Sparks."

She blinked. "What?"

He sighed. "Safety first, Sparkle. Just do it."

She frowned quizzically at him, but complied. Marshall took the shoulder sash portion of the belt and ran it through the back of Twilight's shirt, buttoning up two of the buttons so that the belt was trapped against her back by the shirt. Then he ran the lap belt across the tops of her haunches against her belly. Twilight grimaced as he did so, but he was done too quickly to be worth commenting on it. He buckled the belt.

He stepped back, frowned, then shook his head. "Not secure enough. Be right back."

She watched as he left, silently wondering what he was up to. He returned with a roll of duct tape from Timothy's toolbox.

Stretching out a length of tape, he ran it around the belt and Twilight's barrel, further reinforcing his improvised "doggie" seatbelt.

He stepped back. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "No... I don't know how much good it's going to do in a crash though."

He frowned. "It's better than nothing. It should keep you in your seat, and the passenger side airbag should do the rest. If you have to get out of it quickly, just rip the tape and snap the buttons. It's not ideal, but it's the best we've got, unfortunately. You just weren't built for human seatbelts, Twi."

She nodded. "I trust you, Marshall."

He smiled. "I know."

He slammed her door shut, then walked around the front of the vehicle and got in himself, snapping his own belt in place. He looked over at Twilight.

"You ready?"

She nodded seriously. "Ready."

Marshall turned the key in the ignition the truck started up with a throaty growl. The truck immediately settled into a rumbling purr. Twilight frowned somewhat nervously. She could feel the barely restrained power of the vehicle under her hooves.

Marshall blinked, then fished in his pocket for the Ipod he'd found in the teen's car. He turned it on and plugged it into the slot on the Crimson Maverick's dash. Timothy hadn't spared any options, and the dash of the truck could recharge apple devices and direct their music to the truck's excellent sound system.

Marshall fished through the Ipod's library before grinning evilly.

"Oh yeah..."

He hit a button, and a strange complicated guitar refrain began. Twilight looked at the display, squinted, then frowned.

"What's AC-"

Marshall raised a finger and hushed her. "Quiet..."

She glared, impatiently shifting as some sort of repetitive riff started building, increasing in volume.

"Ah-auh aaa aauh aaa-ah," he said quietly with a manic grin.

She blinked, then give him a confused look. "What?"

"Ha-uh aaa aauh aaa-ah."

"What?" she asked again, wonding why her friend was apparently freaking out.

"Wa-uh aaa aauh aaa-ah,“ he said again, louder now.

"Marshall, I don’t understand-"

"Ha-uh Aaa aauh AAa-ah!"

"Is this some sort of tribal-"

"HAuh AAa Aauh AAA-ah!"

"War-chant thing hu-"

"Thun~Der!" He barked loudly, startling her.

She blinked. Marshall now let the disembodied voice provide the chant, his only contributions now a repeated exclaimation of 'Thun~Der!', removed his aviator sunglasses from where they hung on his blouse pocket, flipped them open with one hand, and settled them on his face.

Suddenly, a hoarse, growly voice began to sing. Marshall rolled down his window and stuck his head out the driver side to see behind him, as the load had blocked his view behind them. He shifted the truck into reverse, and backed out of the parking spot.

"I was caught
In the middle of a railroad track (thunder)
I looked 'round
And I knew there was no turning back (thunder)
My mind raced
And I thought, what could I do? (Thunder)
And I knew
There was no help, no help from you (thunder)"

Marshall manuevered until he had the back of the truck facing the Starbucks entrance, and a clear shot down the center lane of the parking lot through to the back of concrete slab. He put the truck in gear, and held his foot on the brake.

"Sound of the drums
Beating in my heart
The thunder of guns
Tore me apart
You've been
Thunderstruck"

Twilight glanced over at him and and cocked her head, confused. "Wha-"

"Rode down the highway
Broke the limit, we hit the town
Went through to Texas, yeah, Texas, and we had some fun
We met some girls
Some dancers who gave a good time
Broke all the rules
Played all the fools
Yeah, yeah, they, they, they blew our minds"

Marshall, who had been waiting for his "cue", narrowed his eyes and let a hard little grin grace his lips. The song seemed to be building up to something.

Then he jammed his foot down on the accelerator and the truck roared in fury, peeling out for a moment, before accelerating at an absolutely LUDICROUS speed towards the end of the concrete.

Twilight's eyes bulged in terror. "MARSHALL!!! TOO FAST! TOO FA-"

"And I was shakin' at the knees

Could I come again please.

Yeah the ladies were too kind"

Marshall let out a harsh victorious howl and shook his head. "YOU'VE BEEN!"

The truck shot off the end of the concrete slab with a small spurt of dust. Tentacles shot out of the ground and snapped at the truck as it past. Something bounced brutally off of the rear fender.

The truck sailed through the air for a heartstopping second. The weight of the engine block and cab caused the heavy truck to tilt nose down a bit, which to the unexperienced Twilight was rather terrifying. Fortunately, as there was a hell of a load on the bed, and it was going very very fast, it didn't enough time to tilt far before...

"THUNDERSTRUCK!!"

It slammed into the desert, bouncing on the excellent offroad shocks, the whole thing rattling like it was going to fall apart. Twilight yelped as she bounced up from her seat hard enough to hit her head against the interior. The rear wheels fishtailed for a moment before Marshall got control of it again. Twilight heard a discordant whine out of tune with the song and was confused for a moment, before she realized it was her.

She tasted blood.

The truck shot across the open desert, a stream of dust billowing in a crazy roostertail behind it. A smaller roostertail followed behind as the thing in the desert sand followed, trying in vain to keep up with the Crimson Maverick.

Marshall bellowed. "HA HA HA! Eat my dust you slimy fucker! How you like THEM apples, Twilight?"

"I think I bit my tongue." She said weakly.

"Ah, you'll be fine. Told you she was fast enough." He crowed.

She pointed desperately with a hoof. "Marshall, we're going the wrong way!"

Marshall gave her a chillingly evil grin again. "Why, I do believe you're right, Miss Sparkle."

She gulped at his expression. "Mar-"

"Now we're shaking at the knees

Could I come again please."

Marshall watched the side mirror for a moment, gauging the distance, then frowned in concentration. His nostrils flared, and he nodded to himself.

He smirked, then hit the selector to turn off the four wheel drive, shifting the truck to a rear wheel drive. He shifted into second gear, slightly reduced speed, then flicked the wheel in one direction, before jerking it hard in the other. His hand grasped the suicide knob, allowing him to spin the wheel quickly and still maintain a firm grip.

Twilight found herself thrown against the passenger door by centrifugal force as Marshall performed a flawless bootlegger turn, changing the trucks orientation one hundred and eighty degrees in an instant. He shifted back into gear and floored the accelerator.

Twilight howled louder than the growl of the music. "MARSHALL!!!" At this point, if she ever heard 'ha-uh aaa aauh aaa-uh' again she was crawling back in bed and pulling the covers over her head.

"Thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Yeah, yeah, yeah, thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Yeah, yeah, yeah, said, yeah, it's alright, we're doin' fine
Yeah, it's alright, we're doin' fine, fine, fine"

They shot past the roostertail of dust that marked the worm's location, literally running over one of its questing python tentacles and smashing it against the dirt.

It released a howl of frustration and rage that blasted a cloud of dust.

Marshall began laughing. ""WaaaaHAHAHA!"

Despite the terror, Twilight began to laugh as well, shaking her head. The danger didn't seem to be bothering the human much, he still had a maniacal grin on his face. They shot past the concrete slab and the now empty forlorn Starbucks, once again leaving a billowing trail of dust in the desert air.

Twilight couldn't believe how fast they were going. She just shook her head, and continued laughing at the sudden release of tension until tears gathered in her eyes.

"Thunderstruck, yeah, yeah, yeah
Thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Thunderstruck, whoa, baby, baby
Thunderstruck, you've been thunderstruck
Thunderstruck, thunderstruck
Thunderstruck, you've been thunderstruck"

Well folks, there you have it. I hope that it was worth the wait. Thematically speaking this is a different chapter than the last one, as you will no doubt notice. When I blatantly steal creatures from other fandoms, I try to give the source material a nod, from a thematic perspective. Capturing the feel of the movies those creatures come from was... interesting, to say the least. Now without further adieu, a trio of short omakes for you, two by the esteemable Nugar, and one by newcomer Predhack. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Omake 1: an alternative and entirely reasonable explanation of why there was a man on the roof of a Starbucks with a high powered rifle and several other people who could have been hostages in a slightly different situation. This was inspired by Heretical Zed’s comment on the last chapter where he thought the Starbucks had been transported to the desert in the middle of some sort of shootout. I’m NOT making fun of you, dude, and I’m glad you’ve been commenting on Dust’s story here, but the idea of a shootout/hostage situation on top of a starbucks and the possible reasons for it inspired this.

A Whole Latte Rage, by Nugar

*POW* There was a sliding noise of metal on metal and the tink-tink-tink of an ejected cartridge bouncing across the roof. *POW*

“Take that you sons a bitches!” the man howled. “I’ll kill every fuckin’ one of you pigs, and then I’ll start killing hostages if my demands aren’t met!”

“Sir, please, be reasonable!” a very scared but passably attractive young female barista begged from her position on her belly behind him. “It’s a seasonal item! It’ll be back next year!”

“You can’t lie to me!” he screamed, frothing at the mouth not unlike an over steamed latte. “Pumpkins grow all fucking year!” With another loud POW, another hole was punched in the side of a police car, sending the cop on the other side scrambling to hide behind the engine compartment, arguably the most solid part of the car, given the engine inside.

“I don’t want to die!” the barista cried

“I don’t understand it! Why do you liberal pussy hipster communist barista pinko motherfuckers hate freedom?!” he screamed at her and the world in general.

“All I want is some pumpkins and some coffee and some god damned freedom! Pumpkins that taste like freedom! BRING BACK PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES!”

An Alternative and Entirely Reasonable Alternative Plan To Escaping the Graboid Infested Desert, by Nugar

“Alright, Marshall, I give. You’ve been stopping to giggle to yourself off and on all day, and I still haven’t figured out how to get across miles of desert without getting eaten by that thing,” Twilight said, her ears slumped in defeat. “I’ll admit it, I’m stumped.”

“Oh? The mighty genius unicorn Twilight Sparkle can’t figure out a solution?” he asked deviously. “And it’s so obvious, really, we’ll just use a weapon. But we need to choose” He unslung his M4 and laid it on a car roof, then put the hunting rifle on the hood of Red Maverick on his other side. “We’ll need to choose… a weapon of choice.”

“Marshall, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“We could go with this,” he said, pointing at the M4.

“You said it lacked the penetration to punch through the dirt,” she countered.

“We could go with that,” he replied, pointing at the bolt action rifle.

“You said it couldn’t penetrate either!”

“We could go with this,” Marshall said again, swinging his forearms around in a weirdly disjointed circle while his upper arms didn’t move, pointing back at the M4.

Twilight was thoroughly confused now.

“Or we could go with that,” he said spinning his arms again and twisting his upper body slightly to point back at the hunting rifle. Suddenly he leapt forward and seized her neck in a kind of one arm sideways hug and gestured at the horizon. “Or you could go with us!” he said in a sing-song voice, looking back and forth comically.

A funky beat sprang up out of nowhere, tugging on both Twilight’s magic and her hooves. Her eyes widened.

“You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with-“

Twilight nearly stumbled, as she was getting into the dance when the music suddenly cut and Marshall leapt onto the trunk of a car.

“Really? You’re gonna use Equestrian crowdsinging against me again?” she complained as he actually started leaping from car to car and she was magically dragged along in free-form dance.

The music started up again, louder and more bombastic than before.

“It was funny the first time, I’ll admit, but it’s just getting tired now…” she complained, watching him boogie around the parking lot.

He jumped down onto the concrete as the music started a fast riff, then cut back to the bass beat as he began a strange, shuffling, hip bumping arrhythmic sort of walk. “Walk without rhythm… and you won’t. Attract. The worm.”

For some reason, she was attempting to do the dance right alongside him, though of course she danced beautifully and gracefully and he was still doing some sort of spastic shuffle.

“Walk without rhythm… and it won ’t. Attract. The worm.” He shuffled around some more, now clearly doing some sort of dance move. Twilight knew she was had, dancing right along beside him on her hind hooves, her forelegs folded hooves down.

“If you walk without rhythm,” he scolded Twilight, “heh, you never learn!”

Her ears lay back and she glared at him.

“Be careful, we don’t know them!” he warned, dancing along again.

“Be careful, we don’t know them!

Be careful, we don’t know them!”

He danced back over to the guns.

““You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with this
You could go with that“.

“You could go with us!” he cried, panning his head back and forth between her and the big pickup.

““You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with this
You could go with that
You could go with-““

And Twilight was once again left in dance limbo as the music cut and shifted suddenly. Marshall started dancing again almost immediately, doing several dancing twirls that covered ground as he quite deliberately danced along with the punctuating music to the edge of the concrete slab-

And threw himself off into the jaws of the waiting sandworm below.

“MARSHALL!” Twilight gasped, her horn lighting up immediately to envelop him in a soft purple glow and snatch him from the jaws of death, sending him tumbling into the sky.

“Organically grown… through the hemisphere I roam… to bring love to the angels of light…” he sang, absolutely delighted as Twilight levitated him gracefully spinning through the air. “Yeah, and my girl,” he sang down to Twilight.

Twilight glared up at him.

“She just don’t understand, it’s gone beyond being a man. As I drift off into the night, I’m in flight!” Marshall stood proudly in the air, looking over the land with considerable satisfaction.

The music finally rose to a crescendo and peaked, then cut as she sat him back on the ground.

“Eat your heart out, Christopher Walken,” he said proudly.

Nothing Pithy Comes to Mind, by Predhack

Spike and Marshall watched in silence as the large section of jungle burned with the emerald flames of dragon fire. Occasionally the smoke and flames would move in such a way as to allow Marshall to catch a glimpse of the spot where his palisade had been. In addition to being one of the first pieces of the jungle to have been set fire to, it had the advantage of being well seasoned wood, so it had burned up quickly.

“Y’know,” Marshall said thoughtfully, breaking the silence between the two, “If this wasn’t burning up my home it would be kind of pretty.”

Spike nodded and continued watching. “Yeah.”

Several moments passed before Marshall blinked and looked at the baby dragon again with alarm.

“Did you just talk?”

Spike looked at Marshall like he was an idiot, and answered sarcastically, “No. My roars just sound like I’m talking when I asked if anyone was home. And sounding like I was crying for help while you shot at me that was totally coincidental. And now your mind has snapped and is hallucinating my continued ability to speak after the loss of your house.”

Marshall blinked and considered that. “That does kinda make a lot of sense.”

“Except for the part where I set fire to the entire jungle?” Spike asked in a deadpan tone.

“No, I could have done that during a psychotic episode,” Marshall answered reasonably.

“You can make green fire?” Spike asked.

“Well, you’re the one who suggested I was hallucinating.”

“Ugh,” Spike groaned and rubbed his face with his clawed hands, “This place sucks.”

“See, now that sounds like something my brain would say,” Marshall replied, bending down and patting the dragon on his back, “There there, hallucinatory talking mutant murder turkey. You only have to endure it until we starve to death.”

Marshall stopped and thought a moment.

“I really need to come up with a shorter name for you.”

“My name is Spike,” Spike said, aggrieved, “And I’m not a turkey, I’m a dragon. So the only person going to starve around here is you.” Spike told him, bending down to pick up a rock and tossing it into his mouth like a piece of candy. “Good luck with that.”

Chapter Twelve - Expanding

-Runnin' Down A Dream, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

The night was cold and silent, save for the faint whisper of a chill wind as it blew over the dead earth. Small creatures hunted and fed and mated, and performed all the myriad little manuevers necessitated by the gloriously complex ballet called survival.

A faint vibration caused a few of the more perceptive critters to pause, searching for what threat or food was responsible. There was a rhythm to it, almost sensual, a looping coursing, undefined quality that the ignorant creatures of the desert couldn't, and simply wouldn't, understand.

The vibration became a noise. A faint buzzing sound. Some of the more self preservation oriented critters began to scatter.

Gradually, the faint buzz resolved itself into a thundering roar, shaking the earth in a way the small creatures had no context for, in their small universe. Fleeing suddenly in panic, they scattered from the vibration, which finally resolved itself into-

A scorpion which had paused in confusion became little more than brownish paste as steelbelted, heavy duty off-road tires ground it into the cracked earth in an instant. The stain became a sandy bit of residue which blurred around and around on the tire's surface, before the constant repetitive smashing of the splotch against the desert hardpan wore away the evidence of the brutal anthropodal murder.

"LOOOOOVE OF TWO IS ONE. HEEEEERE BUT NOW THEY'RE GONE." Marshall bawled at the top of his lungs, as the Crimson Maverick blazed through the night, an oasis of light and noise in the otherwise blackout dark desert.

The excellent shocks and offroad tires took the mostly flat, cracked desert hardpan without protest, despite the reckless speed of the, admittedly somewhat rusty, driver. Twilight winced as Marshall hit a particularly sour note in his singalong rendition of Blue Oyster Cult's, Don't Fear the Reaper. It was admittedly out of his vocal range, but what he lacked in vocal acumen, he tried to make up with balls to the wall enthusiasm.

"A BIT MORBID, ISN'T?!" Twilight hollered over the blasting musical accompaniment to Mr. Bailey's Wild Ride.

Marshall blinked, his eyes shifting momentarily over to Twilight, confused at the seeming non-sequitur.

"WHAT?!"

"THE SONG! ISN'T IT A BIT MORBID?"

Marshall grinned. "I KNOW, RIGHT?! B.O.C. IS FUCKING BADASS."

Twilight rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking worriedly over at the speedometer, then out the now somewhat bugspattered windshield at the cone of light ahead of the roaring 4x4. There were very few details to make out, as small variations in the desert surface were simply blurs as they rushed by.

Twilight bit her lip.

Marshall caught the movement of her head in his peripheral vision and grinned softly, then turned down the music just as the Ipod (currently on random) cued up Slow Ride, by Foghat. He bobbed his head slightly in the groove of the music.

"Take it easy, Sparklebutt. I'm doin' about sixty, which by my estimate means we should hit the jungle in about fifteen minutes. Sure beats walkin', yeah?"

She glanced at him wrly. "By "hitting the jungle" I hope you don't mean, at sixty miles per hour."

Marshall gave her an affronted look. "And ding up my new ride?! Check yo' self, foo'. I'm only doin' sixty because I want to make sure we leave the Frank Herbert's Dune reject in the dust, Sparks. Once we get about five minutes out, I'll slow her down to something... marginally survivable. In the meantime, chill, take in the music, and enjoy the climate control."

Dave Peverett's growly voice crooned in her ear, telling her to “slow ride, take it easy.” Whatever the buck that meant. She relaxed against the seat, let out a sigh, and glanced at Marshall. The human was in his element, a wide grin on his face, head bobbing along with the music, leaned back against the headrest with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting idly on the gearshift. He caught her bemused expression and smirked.

“Twi-light.... take it easy.” He sang along with Dave. If the Foghat singer disliked his misquote of the lyrics, he gave no sign.

She smirked.

“Twi-light... take it easy.” He repeated, and this time she joined in, only replacing her own name with “Mar-shall”.

They both chuckled, and some of her apprehension drifted away. The sunglasses had drifted down Marshall's nose a bit, and his pale blue eyes twinkled at her above them in the faint illumination from the dashboard. He pulled the aviators up to rest on the top of his boonie hat, and turned his attention turned back to the road.

“Marshall, how are we going to get this thing back to the encampment?” She asked seriously.

He sighed. “It's gonna be a real bitch, Sparklebutt, make no mistake. No roads, I mean. Thing is, I know a few game trails that might let us squeeze through 'til we hit the foothills. Things widen out a bit once we hit them. I figure we follow the game trails as best we can, muscle through where we can't. This baby can take it.”

He frowned. “Worst comes to worst, you can blast us a path, yeah?”

She sighed. “I CAN... but I'd rather not. These trees are a part of the ecosystem, and I'd rather not start blasting them to flinders.”

Marshall gave her a puppy-dog pouty look that looked ridiculous on him, with his five days worth of beard and peeling cheeks and nose from the sun. She took one look at it and giggled, giving up.

“I guess if the Sky Lights are just going to end up replacing anything I remove anyway, it isn't too much of an issue.”

He grinned and pumped a fist in victory, before resting it back on the gearshift. “That's the spirit. We just have to clear a path, Twi. The alternative is to ditch all this cool stuff. I'd really rather not do that.”

She smirked. “Especially since you went through all the trouble of stripping that Starbucks of anything remotely valuable. Or even just kind of shiny looking.”

He chuckled. “You helped, Sparklebutt. I'm a little amazed at how much damage a little unicorn applied TK can do to a perfectly good Starbucks. I still wish we could have figured out some way to get the A/C unit off the damn roof.”

Twilight sighed. “This again? I told you, Marshall... we could have cut it loose, sure, but with the damage that worm thing did to the structure, there was a very real worry that the building could come down on us.”

He pouted. “Bah. Say that again when you're sweating your balls- er... flank.. off...”

She chuckled again. “Wow, you really butchered that one, Marsh.”

“Put a sock in it, Snarkle.”

The two were silent in the wake of this exchange as the Ipod switched to something with a complex melody that drew Twilight's attention enough that she drifted off a bit on the music. She found that she really LIKED whatever this was. Even Marshall had a slight smile on his face, nodding in tune with the intricate rhythm. Twilight glanced at the Ipod and resolved to remember... Rush, Cygnus X-1 Hemispheres: Prelude, so that she could check it out later.

As Marshall would say, it was pretty “badass”. Although what naughty donkeys had to do with music, Twilight couldn't fathom.

The song changed tempo suddenly and a high pitched male vocalist began singing about bringing truth and understanding, something with which Twilight could relate. Marshall frowned as though something had occured to him, his attention now focused on the illuminated ground ahead of him... well, sort of. He was obviously paying attention to where they were going, but he was also gazing rather distantly, as though focused on something she couldn't see.

Twilight watched him curiously. When whatever thought he was puzzling over was not immediately shared, she cocked her head.

“What is it, Marsh?” She asked.

He blinked, shot her a glance, then turned his attention back to the road. When he spoke, his voice had a bemused quality.

“Just thinkin'. One cargoplane with all hands disappears while on a logistics mission and it's a mystery, maybe becomes part of a Discovery channel Bermuda Triangle kinda entertainment segment, but it ain't gonna raise too many eyebrows. It was a combat zone, folks go missing in one a' those all the time. Conspiracy theorists MIGHT have a bunch a' cockamamey ideas as to what happened, but ultimately, me and my boys 'er just a statistic.”

He let out a sigh. “Nobody back home is gonna give a crap that I disappeared. Leastwise, not enough to raise a stink, I 'spect. Sassy an' her folks didn't get along too well. The other boys, I ain't sure. Point is, one C-130 can disappear and it'll barely make a blip on the radar... er... barely make ripple in the pool.”

She frowned, then nodded at this. “Right...”

“Likewise, I get that there are folks that are going to miss you Sparklebutt, but if you DID go missing, there are any number of perfectly rational reasons you might disappear that don't involve you being kidnapped from your very plane of existence, yeah?”

She sighed. “True.”

He shook his head. “A whole Starbucks though? Just... up and vanished? That just don't HAPPEN. It had to have been durin' business hours, I'm guessin' right in the middle of the day, 'cause it was full a' customers. Maybe early morning, worst case scenario. Then the whole building, including the foundation AND the parking lot just plain disappears. SOMEONE is GOING to notice. Hell, all you'd have to do is go to Google Maps, er... basically a map of the planet constantly being updated by orbital manmade satellites, and do a frame by frame, and you could probably see the exact moment the damn place just vanishes.”

Her head whirling with the idea of a global mapping system and artificial orbital satellites taking pictures of the planet below, all without the aid of magic, Twilight shook her head.

“Where are you going with this?” She asked.

“Well, that's the thing, Twi. How in the HELL can we, I mean, the places we came from, not have noticed this kinda crap before?”

She frowned at this. “You're not thinking big enough, Marsh. We're not talking about one world being sampled here. At the bare minimum, we're talking three. Mine, yours, and where ever that Starbucks came from. You're pretty sure it's not from where you come from, correct?”

Marshall nodded. “Yup. We keep pretty good track of who is and isn't the President of the United States of America, Twi. Like I said, I suppose Timothy could have been playing some kinda obscure joke with those stickers, but I just don't think he was the sort.”

She nodded at this. “Ok, so minimum three worlds, probably more, maybe even at different historical intersections. You said you thought a lot of the wildlife on the island is extinct where you come from, yes?”

Again, Marshall nodded. “Yeah... and I've never seen or heard of anything outside of maybe science fiction or fantasy that matches up with the MB or that sandworm. So unless those things came from your neck of the woods...”

She shook her head, frowning. “I'm pretty sure something like the MB or the sandworm would have been noticed by SOMEPONY. So either that's yet another couple of planets that whatever put us here is sampling from, or these things can take specimens from anywhere, anyWHEN. You and I, and the people we found at the Starbucks, are the only intelligent life that have ended up on the island, at least, that we know about. The Starbucks is the only building, again, that we know of. That's an infinitesimally small subject group, considering the vast number of possible targets that could have been chosen from.”

He blinked. “Actually, yeah. If we're talkin' infinite worlds at infinite temporal intersections, that means infinite target possibilities. Hell, what's here is just a drop in the bucket.” His shoulders slumped.

She sighed, watching as terrain flashed by in the darkness at the edge of the headlights. “Not even a drop in the bucket, Marsh. We're barely... molecules. Atoms.” She smiled, remembering a term he'd discussed idly with her back at the encampment. “Quarks.”

He frowned, his expression moody for a moment as he contemplated this, then he sighed. “I just...”

She smiled sadly. “I know how you feel, Marshall. It FEELS like it should matter more, because while we may have been one out of an infinite number of possible captives, this whole thing has been a very personal ordeal for both of us. To US, it matters more than anything... but really, in the grand scheme of things, we're very small.”

She shivered, slightly. Marshall took his hand off of the gear shift and rubbed the back of her neck comfortingly. She sighed.

“Well, you might be infinitesimally small, Twilight Sparkle, but you're very important to me.” He said fondly.

Twilight found herself blushing slightly at the sentiment. “Marsh...”

“I mean, seriously... you know how much work you save me? TK fucking rocks. I have so much more time to goof off, I can totally focus on the important things, like contemplating how much being stuck on danger island sucks the big donkey dick.”

Twilight grimaced at the mental imagery and shot him a deadpan glare. “Thank you for that sentiment, monkey boy. Celestia knows what I would do without your indiscriminate sense of humor shoving itself into my personal space.”

She smirked. “Honestly, you're lucky that hands are so awesome, or I probably wouldn't have put up with you for this long.”

Marshall grinned, then reached over with one hand and vigorously scratched at the base of her nicked ear. Twilight sagged against the seat and groaned, leaning her head for a better angle. “Oh, you have no idea how-”

BA-BUMP.

Marshall cursed and both hands went to the steering wheel as the Crimson Maverick cleared the foot and a half step between the desert and the rocky lip of the barrier seperating it from the jungle. They flew over the ten feet or so of rock before hitting the vegetation on the other side. Trees flashed by at terrifying speeds and the cursing human somehow avoided them by a combination of luck and skill. Marshall slammed the brakes and the truck skidded a final twenty feet or so on a carpet of crushed vegetation, coming to a halt just as a staggered line of trees suddenly reared up in the headlights.

Twilight discovered suddenly that the improvised seatbelt functioned, but had a bit more give to it than was probably ideal. The lap belt portion suddenly chafed hard against her sensitive belly and the front of her hindlegs before she slipped half way out of it, and she ended up suspended by the shoulder sash and her BDU top with her head somewhere under the glove box in the passenger side leg room area and her flank suspended skyward, her hindlegs kicking feebly, trying to find purchase to right herself. She wiggled frantically, but the position was incredibly awkward, and she couldn't seem to get her forelegs under her at all.

“Shit... shit.” Marshall cursed. “Shit... sorry, Twi, I-” He paused.

“Marshall! Help me up!”

She heard a suspicious sound from the human's direction. Her struggles increased exponentially.

“Stop laughing at me and help me up, you jerk! This lap belt is twisted up and it's cutting into my legs!”

“BA HA HA!” He guffawed, reaching over to try to help her. Her struggles did not make this any easier.

“Oh man... you look like my buddy's kid this one time, when he got flipped around in his kiddie bouncy seat. Never could figure out how the heck the little guy managed to get his little feet up over his head, but he did, and he got all tangled up in it. He was just kinda bobbin' there like a yo-yo. I was like, mark my words, that kid's gonna be a gymnast someday... or you know, one weird specialist in fetish porn.”

“That's very fascinating and all, really Marshall, I'm happy that I could share this trip down memory lane, real- GET ME OUTTA THIS!”

“Ok ok, sheesh, stop squirming.”

She complied and he got her right side up. She glared at him, ears flat. Her expression promised murder.

He raised both hands up defensively. “Hey, hey... I'm sorry, ok? The jungle came up on us a lot more suddenly than I expected. Had to brake like that, or we'd have pancaked our way through the jungle. Come on, Twi. This is probably a good spot to stop for a bit, stretch our legs, see if anything came loose or broke.”

“Break my hoof off in your-” Twilight grumbled just loud enough that he caught it, giving a sharp shake of her head to settle her disheveled mane.

She struggled briefly with the duct tape and BDU blouse straitjacket that Marshall had concocted for her, before finally telekinetically ripping the thing off of herself. She winced as she lost what felt like a strip of hair from the coat on her back where the tape had missed the BDU blouse and adhered to her directly.

Marshall opened the door, grabbed his M4 and quickly stepped out in the humid jungle night. He closed the door behind him, stepped outside of Twilight's sight line around the side of the truck and then doubled over with laughter, hands on his knees, wheezing in mirth.

“I HAVE VERY GOOD HEARING MARSHALL, AND I CAN HEAR YOU LAUGHING! THAT IS EXTREMELY UNPROFESSIONAL, YOU KNOW!” She shouted.

This only made him laugh harder.

Her dignity in tatters, Twilight made the best of it, opening the passenger door telekinetically and hopping down the not inconsiderable drop to the jungle floor. The sauna mugginess of the jungle at night struck her in a palpable wave, and she marveled at how radically different it was from the environment literally less than twenty feet away.

Just one more example of things that the creators of this island had either gotten wrong, or couldn't be bothered to care about hiding.

One more example of immense, but almost negligent power.

She met Marshall around the end of the pickup and the two of them began a careful inspection, her naturally looking low, and him naturally looking high. Every once in a while, Marshall would reach up and test a rope or insure a piece of gear hadn't shifted or come loose. Twilight examined the tires and lower edge of the truck for damage. She seemed to recall a thump as they evaded the sandworm.

Sure enough, there was a small ding in the rear fender belled slightly outward, dripping a nasty smelling viscous orange goo, where a snakehead had come up under the truck and been struck by the inner edge of the rear of the chassis. She pointed it out to Marshall, who grimaced and spit, but said nothing.

Then she noticed something else. She smirked.

“Marshall, it looks like the Crimson Maverick lost something important.”

Marshall scowled and looked where she was looking. “Where? I don't-”

She shook her head mock sadly, a trace of mirth dancing in her eyes. “I'm sorry Marshall... it looks like the Maverick is a gelding now.”

Marshall blinked, then noticed the missing vanity item from the rear of the truck.

The look of mournful sympathy on his face as he removed his boonie hat and held it against his chest was so comical that Twilight burst out in peals of laughter.

After a moment, Marshall joined her. It became another moment of loosening tension.

Marshall frowned and cocked his head at her quizzically. “Wait a minute... how the heck do you know what a gelding is? Isn't that kinda...?”

She blinked. “Well how do your people deal with male rapists, Marsh?”

Marshall paled. “Wow... that's pretty hardcore for a buncha technicolor ponies.”

She snorted. “Yeah it was... over four thousand years ago. The ancient unicorn culture Mesoponytamia led by the great Queen Hammareabi wrote the first codified law structure, and detailed it as the punishment for rapists, but it hasn't been done in a long long time. You don't even want to know what the punishment was for mares.” She shuddered visibly.

She paused. “It really hasn't been necessary since-”

Marshall shook his head, heading off her lecture at the pass. “Well, learn somethin' new every day, I guess.”

She nodded cheerfully. “Isn't ancient history fascinating?!”

He nodded idly, put his hat back on his head and scratched his chin. He considered informing her about the startling coincidences piling up between her world's history and his own, but decided to leave it for later, as this wasn't the place for the comparative discussion this would inevitably invoke.

After a solemn moment, he reached out and patted the deballed truck fondly.

“Well Maverick... it's a cryin' shame, but just so you know... you'll always have huge balls in my heart.”

Twilight winced. “Oh ew....”

Marshall nodded slowly. “Yeah, I probably should have thought that one out a bit better before I blurted it out.”

If Twilight had thought that traveling by vehicle at night in the desert was bad, nothing had prepared her for the jungle. The big truck was designed for offroading, and it could handle the terrain variation with little difficulty, but that certainly didn't make it any less of a harrowing experience for the neophyte. Twilight winced at every massive, jerking bump, and the sounds of foliage crashing or scraping against the exterior certainly didn't help matters. Marshall had the high beams, fog lights, auxillary lights (the extra lights on the rollcage), and the controllable spotlight on to provide as much illumination to the task at hand as possible, which really, was a ridiculous number of lights, when one thought about it.

Marshall's fumbling under the dash had found a nest of extra switches that was truely staggering in scale, and the resultant experimentation had ellicited both crows of amusement from the entertainment starved pilot, and a truely awe inspiring amount of illumination from the Crimson Maverick. This accomplished, he manuevered the big truck through the limited space the jungle provided with consummate skill.

Bumping and rumbling down a game trail, leaves and branches smacking against the exterior on either side, Twilight turned to Marshall and considered him. He was very focused on the task at hand, but he didn't appear worried, his eyes flicking with practiced ease to the side and rear view mirrors to get some gauge of the clearance available to him. He was supremely confident in this marvel of technology that human hands had produced on a world incredibly distant. Twilight considered the mindset that was implied by that supreme confidence. Some might call it hubris, but if it was... it was justified, and hard won. The massive collaborative effort that must have gone into the endless iterations of design necessary to produce something so supremely suited to its task was mind boggling, and perhaps, if she were honest, a little frightening.

She smiled a little, as she considered it. If Marshall was any indication, then humanity was a species that had the determination to thrive in spite of the harshest conditions. There was a great deal to admire in that sort of attitude.

Even if it did make them more stubborn than Applejack.

“How far do you think, Marsh?” She asked curiously.

He sighed. “Well, I can't say as I'm happy with the damage this is probably doin' to the paint job, but I had to bypass the creek and the cliffs, so I swung out a ways. That added about twenty minutes, but we're headed down the backside of the ridge now. You should start to recognize stuff if you look around. I'd estimate, maybe ten minutes? This thing is big enough and scary sounding enough, most of the nastier critters have left us alone, so that's one less thing to worry about.”

She hmm'ed in agreement and watched as several murder turkeys fled ahead of the Crimson Maverick before darting off the trail and into the dense undergrowth.

“It really is amazing, how much smaller the island seems now.” She mused.

“Hmm? What, because of the truck?” He commented idly, eyes flicking over the terrain.

An exposed root bounced them up a bit, but she was used to it by now.

“Yup. That was a journey, that trip through the desert, one that took a week of planning and almost two weeks to carry out. It was exhausting, and it took a toll physically and mentally. Here we are almost back to the camp, and it's been what... two hours? Three at the most?”

“Better part of four, actually.” He mused. “I see your point though. This isn't going to be nearly as useful for short trips in the jungle. Too tangled for that, you understand. Still, you can't beat it for transporting a ton of stuff considerable distances.”

“It reminds me of the first time I saw a train in action. I thought... nothing could beat this.” She mused. “What used to be a week long trip took less than a day. All that metal, and wood, and ponies, just barreling along, propelled only by steam... an application of physics. Breathtaking, you know?” She looked at him for affirmation, and he nodded.

She continued. “But this... this isn't even something sanctioned or maintained by the government. For all intents and purposes, this is just someone's personal conveyance. Almost a toy.”

Marshall grimaced. “It's a work truck, and make no mistake about that, Twi... the guy put a lot of love and care into the Maverick, but you don't put a full load of tools and construction stuff in the back of a truck you only go muddin' with. Still, I see your point. Most folks back home had this, or something similar.”

He paused for a moment, considering the absurdity of that statement. “Well, let's say that most people had some kinda automobile and leave it at that. We all just kinda take it for granted. I know I did.”

Twilight shook her head mutely, unable to come up with a response for this.

Marshall had to drive a bit around their compound's wall, but it was with great relief that the gate came into view, brightly illuminated by the many headlights of the Crimson Maverick. Rather than get out, Twilight simply unbarred and opened the gate with her magic, an act which made Marshall smirk.

“Better than a garage door opener. Unicorns sure are convenient.”

She smirked at this, and he drove the truck into the courtyard of their current habitation. She carefully shut the gate behind them, barring the inside. Marshall put the truck in park, leaned back in his seat and stretched, rubbing his eyes and cracking his neck in a furious cavalcade of pops and crunches. Twilight wrinkled her muzzle in disgust at the noise, then TK'ed off her uncomfortable “seatbelt” and opened the passenger door, dropping down to the ground with a dainty thump of four hooves against the soft dirt.

After a moment, Marshall joined her on the ground, the truck still idling, and the headlights still on. A few insects attracted by the illumination buzzed and bounced off of the headlights, some big enough to make pinging and ticking noises as they careened from the hard plastic.

He sighed. “Good Lord I'm tired. It has been a long day, Twi.”

She nodded. “I hear you, Marsh.”

She frowned, looking at the truck. “Don't you have to turn it off?”

He smiled tiredly. “That's the thing... if I turn it off, and keep the headlights on, we'll run the batteries down quick. Maverick's got two, but while the engine's running, the batteries are recharging even as they're being used. Turn it off, and the charge depletes.”

She nodded, that made sense, and was pretty ingenious. “What do we need the...”

She trailed off as she thought about it for a second, then groaned. “Are you serious?!”

He sighed. “I wanna get as much of the breakable and perishable stuff indoors out of the potential weather as soon as possible. I'm not talking about the stuff we packed IN the truck, not tonight. We have to go through some of that stuff anyway, remember, we didn't bother checking it when we looted the place because it was already loaded in the truck. We do have to move all the stuff ON the truck, though... and the sooner, the better.”

She sighed. “I want to argue with you, but... I can see your point.”

He patted her back companionably. “Come on, Twi. With your “TK-oh-my-gawd-hax” bullshit it won't take too long.”

Twilight shook her head sadly. “I suppose the days of you giving magic the proper amount of gravitas it's due are long gone, huh? Just a month ago you were all google-eyed every time I cast a spell. Now you make fun of it. THAT sure didn't last long.”

Marshall smirked. “Welcome to the Human Experience Express, I'm Marshall, and I'll be your conductor. Keep your hooves and forelegs inside the conveyance at all times, and those of you in the front, a note of caution, you WILL get wet. We at the Express hope that you'll enjoy your stay here, but due to the critical scarcity of fucks given, your experience may vary.”

Twilight blinked.

It took them well into the wee hours of the morning to get everything stowed, but stow they certainly did. Amazingly none of glassware had been damaged in the trip, as they had taken a great deal of care in wrapping anything fragile to protect it. Having accomplished the mind numbing and backbreaking task of stowing all of their booty, Marshall finally cut the engine, turned off the lights, and threw the great blue work tarp over the vehicle, securing it carefully.

Marshall hit the electronic lock fob and the Crimson Maverick honked its horn and flashed its lights once, signaling that it was locked. Twilight, exhausted and not too terribly attentive, started at the unexpected burst of noise. She glared at Marshall with her ears laid back.

“What was that for?!” She asked, irritated.

Marshall blinked. “Uh... sorry, Twi. I wasn't thinkin'. I just locked it is all.”

She stared at him for a moment, baffled at his statement, and too tired to process it fully.

“Lock it from what? Marshall, we're behind a ten foot palisade wall in the middle of an island full of prehistoric alien predators lacking opposable thumbs. If something breaches that wall, we've got bigger problems than murder turkeys taking the truck for a joy ride.”

Marshall shrugged. “Force of habit, Twilight. Besides, that kind of attitude is the sort of thing that leads to last thoughts like, I'll be damned, I wonder how that little fucker managed to reach the gas pedal?”

“You don't think maybe that's a LITTLE paranoid?”

Marshall groaned. “I don't know, Twi... you're the one with the flank steak everything on this island wants a piece of. How paranoid is too paranoid?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then scowled, squinting at him in frustration. “It is a testament to how exhausted I am, that I can't think of a witty and scathing response to that.”

Marshall grinned tiredly and staggered off towards the cave. “Come on, Miss Grumpy Pants. It's way past BOTH our bedtimes.”

Twilight sighed and followed him meekly, her hooves dragging just a bit.

Twilight lay on her pallet, staring at the dark ceiling and tried to will herself to sleep.

She had been attempting this for what felt like the better part of an hour, with no success. She couldn't figure out what it was. Tossing and turning, she tried to make herself more comfortable, but she wasn't exactly uncomfortable. It was a tad warmer than was strictly ideal, but not too warm. This was actually not the norm for the jungle; often she and Marshall didn't bother with covers, and it was still usually somewhat stifling in the cave. The human was a vaguely Marshall shaped lump on his canvas hammock style bed, his breathing easy, slow, and even. He wasn't on his back, she could tell because he wasn't snoring. Marshall slept like a lump most nights, rarely moving if ever. She knew this because of their time in the desert.

Twilight groaned and shifted, turning over and staring at the wall. Why couldn't she sleep? She was at least as exhausted as Marshall. Probably more so, magical exertion was tiring, dang it! She couldn't recall a time when she was more exhausted than this. Completely frustrated with her insomnia, she finally slipped to her hooves and created the dimmest light orb she could see by, wandering towards the workroom containing the thaumic field fluctuation detector. Ten minutes of careful telekinetic activity was enough to recharge the battery with the crank from its depleted state. They had forgotten to turn it off when they left for the trip, and it had run completely dry. A check of the display showed a set of coordinate values off from neutral.

She blinked, then nodded to herself. It must have caught a field fluctuation before it finally lost power. Considering the limitations of the device, it might have caught more than one. She diligently recorded the x and y coordinates, and after a moment of deliberation regretfully wrote a question mark in the time recorded block of their log, having no idea when this particular fluctuation was recorded. She made a note to ask Marshall if there was some way to add a calendar function to the detector. After this, she reset the display and checked to make sure that it reset to zero. Verifying that it had, she slipped into the room and went to the improvised whiteboard and set about plotting the new recorded coordinates.

When she finished, she frowned, then checked the log.

Then she checked her math again, cocking her head quizzically, staring at the results.

That was... very peculiar. Her exhausted mental state was a bit slow on the uptake, and so she was completely unable to make heads or tails of the shape beginning to form out of the mathematical gibberish in front of her. Still, the well honed instinct for recognizing patterns was nagging at her. She stared at the board for what felt like an incredibly long time, before with a start she realized that she had been dozing lightly on her hooves. She shook her head, looked longingly at the whiteboard one last time, then chuckled to herself as she imagined Marshall chastising her and put the grease pencil up. She wrinkled her muzzle in disgust as her eyes fell on a particular symbol, but the look in her eyes was one of fond remembrance.

It did NOT look like a monkey having sexual relations with a coconut. Ok, she could see the monkey, and even see the supposed coconut, but why did it have to be fucking? Maybe he was bowling.

Yes, bowling, and not very good at it. It was a big bowling ball after all, too big for the monkey.

She sighed. Nope, that monkey was going to town on that bowling ball... coconut, dang it, and there was no mistake about that.

She slipped out of the room and back to her pallet. Her mind picked at the math of the mystery taking shape on the board behind her, puzzling and teasing at it, but no great revelation came to her, merely the nagging feeling that there was something important there that she was missing. Perhaps with more data, she'd see it. Perhaps in a state not so close to complete mental shutdown, she'd see it.

She wasn't sure when she managed to slip into an uneasy, exhausted slumber, but slip she did.

Her body still twitched and turned even in sleep, her muzzle lifting occasionally, as though questing for something that wasn't there.

It was adorable, but there was no one there to see.

The smell of toasted bagel mixed with the smell of hot metal and the oddly sweet smell of burning rosin flux caught Twilight's sensitive muzzle and she sat up blearily, her notched ear flicking idly as she caught the hissing sound of a soldering iron. Shrugging her makeshift covers loose, she gathered her hooves under her and trotted over to the kitchen table, where Marshall was currently deep in the guts of... something.

He had one of the optima gel batteries from one of the scavenged automobiles, along with a rats nest of wires, part of a fuse box, and various bits and pieces from the Starbucks internal soundsystem, along with what looked like several pieces of one of the other automobiles electrical systems and a dismantled lighter and charger plug in for the Ipod. She stared quizzically at it, before snatching the untouched half of Marshall's partially consumed bagel and taking a bite. Marshall blinked, set the pensized soldering iron down in its little cradle, then looked down at her irritably.

“Mmmm. Strawberry and cream cheese. Nice, Marsh.”

He smirked wryly. “I'm glad you think so, Twi, really.”

She smiled at him, then something occured to her. “You probably shouldn't be eating and soldering at the same time, Marshall. Lead is not a part of this balanced breakfast.”

She took another bite of her purloined bagel and made appreciative noises.

He shook his head in amusement and went back to the job at hand. “I hope I didn't wake you. You looked kinda out of it, Sparklebutt.”

She sighed. “Couldn't sleep last night, for some reason.”

At his incredulous look she chuckled. “I know, right? I don't know what happened. I just couldn't seem to get comfortable.”

He smiled slightly, picked up the iron, wetted it on the sponge, tapped a small dab of solder to the end, then touched it to a connection on the circuit board he was toiling over. A small streamer of smoke released that sweet rosin flux burning smell again, and he set the iron back in its cradle, then set about cleaning the residue from the board with some alcohol and a small brush from the toolkit.

“Happens sometimes, when you radically change environments. We went from the Sahara to the Amazon in less than twenty four hours. Bound to cause a few hiccups with your sleep schedule.”

“It didn't seem to bother you any.” She groused.

He gave her a sardonic look. “Twilight, I was in the military. I can sleep anywhere, any time.”

Shaking this off, Twilight used the table to balance herself on her hindlegs and looked at what he was working on. Marshall gave her an irritated look.

“Hey, watch it, Sparklebutt. I don't wanna short this.”

“Sorry. What is it, Marshall?” She finished off the bagel, careful not to get crumbs on his workspace.

“This, is going to be a sound system for the cave when I'm done with it.” He said proudly.

She stared at him for a moment. “So... you woke up this morning, made yourself breakfast, and then felt a pressing urge to make a stereo? Why?”

He gave her a level look. “Because tunes, Twi. Because tunes.”

She shook her head. “Fair enough. How close is it to done?”

“Oh, I haven't even wired the speakers up for it yet. I figured I'd wait until I was sure it was working, plus I doubted you'd have appreciated me testing it and hanging up speakers while you were asleep. That being said, most of the rewiring is done. Nothing too special, all the stuff I needed was here, I just had to make it workable without a car's internal wiring to support it. Plus I added some “oomph” to it.”

He cleaned and retinned the soldering iron, then connected the battery terminals and plugged the stereo jack into the Ipod. Scanning the list, he eventually selected a song and tapped play. With a considerable amount of background buzz, the sound of Toby Keith and Willie Nelson's “Beer For My Horses” began playing. Marshall got an irritated look on his face at the annoying hum, and his eyes searched over the mess of wires before his expression cleared and he touched the Ipod case to some of the metal on the amp. The hum cleared up a bit, but not entirely.

“Ground loop. Gonna have to isolate that, when I get chance.” He said, by way of explanation. His expression, however, was one of satisfaction, having successfully built it, and then troubleshot a potential problem.

“Hmm.” She acknowledged, smiling fondly. Marshall in his element as an engineer was a captivating sight.

He shut the song off and unplugged the Ipod, stowing it in his pocket. “I can get to that later. Well, enough dickin' around. Since you're up now, let's take stock of what's in the Maverick, shall we?”

“Huh, well that'll come in handy.” Twilight looked over at Marshall from the magazine she'd been paging through. Marshall was currently staring at a box that contained a styrofoam block with numerous little shiny cylindrical items in it.

“More .308 rounds for the hunting rifle, so that's a bonus. Also I haven't given it a good look over yet, but apparently that thing has something called a smartscope, if this owner's manual is any indication, and it's got a calibration app that explains the “Sureshot Scopeplus” icon on Tim's smartphone, so neat.”

Twilight made a noncommittal noise, as she was currently deeply engaged by the magazine.

“Also, I found some kinda .45 caliber handgun in the glovebox, which explains the ridiculous number of .45 ACP in the cab. I have no idea what this thing is, though.”

Twilight glanced up at it, and blinked. “That's a Jericho 941 double action/single action semi-automatic pistol developed by Israeli Weapon Industries. It features a ten round capacity magazine, combined safety/decocker mechanism, a polygonally rifled barrel, and has apparently been “upgunned” from .40 caliber to the venerable but tried and true .45 ACP cartridge.”

Marshall blinked slowly once, with the air of someone who has just been sucker punched in the breadbasket. He cautiously reached over and pinched Twilight on the flank.

“Ouch! Hey, what was that for?!”

Marshall stared at her, and with a faltering, half wondering tone asked. “Are... are you real?”

She glared at him. “Yes, I'm real! I've been reading this gun magazine for the past ten minutes! I couldn't help but notice the article on the Jericho, it's all dog-earred and highlighted.”

Marshall blew a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. For a second there I thought I was the unicorn.”

She telekinetically passed the magazine to him. “Here, this talks all about it. Be careful though, it's a little sticky.”

Marshall froze in the process taking it in hand. “Ew...”

She glared. “I'm sorry! I was eating a chocolate bar while I was reading it and I got a little on the page.”

Marshall blinked, once again relieved. “Right.”

He scanned the article, his eyes flicking over the contents. Twilight smiled.

“It's pretty informative actually, although there are some cultural references I don't get. What does, it's Israeli made, so it's +5 versus Arabs, mean?”

Marshall's eyes widened comically and he stared at the article in shock. “Whaaaaat?!” He asked in a rising tone.

She blinked. “What-”

Marshall whistled. “Daaaaamn. The military is notoriously un-PC where I come from, and we'd have been burned at the stake if we said something like that where it could be quoted... not to mention being outted as nerds. What kinda fucked up world did he come from where it's ok to say something like that in a reputable gun magazine?”

His expression cleared as he remembered something, and he continued in a flat tone. “Oh yeah, one where they elected Michael Moore as President. I don't know who those other assholes were, but I'll bet they're just as fucking insane.”

Twilight shrugged, not really understanding most of this, but gathered that it likely had something to do with the silly human practice of electing one's leaders. “If you say so.”

Marshall tossed the gun magazine onto the driver's seat and continued his perusal of the contents of the late Mr. Wright's truck cab. The back had yet another small tool box, this one obviously set up to do minor repairs on guns and the like, someone's well stocked “tinkerin'” box. In addition to this were several MREs and a few other odds and ends of the sort of things someone thought they might need if the world suddenly descended into godless anarchy. Survival stuff, mostly. Marshall's eyes passed over a forlorn, seemingly forgotten black can in the back corner of the cab. It caught his attention because it had a red and green ribbon taped to the top of it, as though it were a gift.

He read the label and did a double take. “What the... hell?”

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. “Tactical bacon?”

Twilight looked over curiously. She squinted at the legend printed under the words tactical bacon. “Smoke flavor added, fully cooked. I firmly believe that bacon has the potential to bring about world peace, Anonymous. What does that mean?”

Marshall slowly turned the can in his hands as though in a dream. It was so strange, even... sort of gift-wrapped, although it was undoubtedly a novelty gift given to Tim as a joke. He stared at the instructions on the back. It had two steps:

1.Open can.

2.Receive bacon.

He stood up and walked numbly back towards the cave without saying a word. Twilight blinked. After a moment, he came back, still in a daze, grabbed the can opener from Timothy's tinkerbox, and walked slowly back into the cave, still without speaking.

“Marshall, are you ok?” She asked. She dropped out of the truck and followed him worriedly.

“I think... I'm better than I have been in a very long time.” Marshall said in a small tremulous voice.

She watched as he carefully opened the can, and unwrapped a piece of what looked like oddly colored hay bacon from the fatty packet contained inside. When he ate a small piece of it, she further watched as a genuinely delighted smile eased onto his face like the dawning of a glorious sunny day.

“It's bacon. It's honest to god fucking real bacon. Timothy Wright, if you weren't dead, and your political leanings didn't likely make you a raging homophobe, I would totally have your manbabies.”

He jerked up excitedly and grabbed his M4 carbine before heading out the door. Twilight followed, somewhat worried again.

“Marshall, where are you going?!”

He looked back excitedly. “We have a ton of stuff that's just going to go bad if we don't use it, Twi. Bread, dairy stuff, that bacon... I'm gonna go out and rustle me up SOMETHIN'S eggs, and then I'm going to have me an honest to god breakfast for once!”

She blinked at this, than a small enthusiastic smile appeared on her face. “It's a little manic, Marshall... but I think I like the idea.”

Considering the ridiculous number of reptilian animals and birds plaguing the island, it didn't take them long to find something appropriately egg-like, although there was a comical misadventure involving something that had the attitude of a honey badger chasing Marshall into a thorn bush, and another beehive for Twilight.

On a positive note however, they now had breakfast dino-steak and fresh honey to add to their late morning feast.

Their various scratches, scrapes, and occasional bee stings aside, Twilight sat happily watching as Marshall cooked her a three egg omelet to order, with all the fixin's. The smell of cheese, toasting bread, and cooking bacon mixed oddly to her sensibilities, but it was not an unpleasant scent, considering its origin. Though there were still occasional bursts of background buzz, Marshall had mostly nailed down the problems with the nascent sound system in the cave, and now a growly voiced singer was cheerfully asking a little girl to come on a magic carpet ride.

Marshall bobbed slightly in tune with the music, obviously happy as a clam, with a huge pile of cooked bacon next to him. He was apparently even saving the grease.

In his own words, because who DOESN'T want the awesome power to make every future meal taste like bacon?

The sound system gave a burst of background hum and he hip checked the table in tune with the song, which made the hum stop. Twilight giggled at this, and Marshall waggled his eyebrows at her, grinning.

The two of them dug into breakfast eagerly, chortling over their sudden largess with almost criminal giddiness. Twilight was aware that this was a one time thing, that this sudden bounty was very very temporary, but Marshall was extremely happy with events, and Twilight found his mood infectous.

Watching him crunch through a rasher of bacon making “om nom nom” noises certainly didn't lower the entertainment value of the breakfast.

“How's the omelet, Twi?”

She smiled happily. “Oh it's amazing! I can't believe how much I missed this... it really is the little things...”

He nodded. “Yup. Music, being able to just go to the store and pick up what you want... you don't realize how much a part of your life it all is, 'til somethin' up and shanghai's your ass.”

She nodded. “So... what's on the itinerary for the day, Marsh?”

He grinned. “Well, since we got all the important stuff packed away last night, I figured we could take the rest of the day off, if you wanted. It's been a hard week, Twi. I think we're due some R n' R.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I'm all for that, Marshall. Do you think we could head down to the pools and clean up? I have dust in places it doesn't bear mentioning.”

He snorted. “Yeah, we're both a little ripe after all that. Alright then, it's a date. When we get back, I'll get that ground loop figured out and hang the speakers. What do you wanna do?”

She smiled. “Oh, I still haven't finished reading the demolitions manual, and I need to make some new entries to my journal. I thought I might take a look at your leg wound while we're getting cleaned up. It's been about eight days, and those stitches will probably need to come out soon. We didn't have any of the absorbable kind the manual talked about.”

Marshall grimaced, but nodded. “Fun. Ok, Twi. Let's go ahead and do this. Grab the stuff for washing up and the medkit.”

She nodded seriously. “I'll grab the manual too, for reference.”

He smirked. “That's probably a good idea. I wouldn't want you to sew my asshole shut.”

She rolled her eyes. “If I was going to sew anything shut, it would be your mouth, doofus.”

He chuckled. “There a difference? They're both talkin' shit.”

Now clean and contented, Marshall and Twilight lounged in the cave, the quiet sounds of Rush's Lakeside Park chugging along in the background. Marshall's wound had indeed healed well enough for the stitches to come out, perhaps a little ahead of schedule, truth be told. Still, she trusted the manual, and the “operation” as it were, had gone without a hitch.

Marshall hadn't even complained about any pain.

True to his word, Marshall had successfully troubleshot whatever issue was causing that annoying buzz in the sound system he'd cobbled together, and now the full might of the Starbuck's speakers had been deployed in their little...

Twilight frowned, an ear flicking as she stared at the words in front of her, not really seeing them. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't think of the cave as “home”. A part of her whispered that to even THINK of it as home was to acknowledge that there was a possibility that she would be staying here permanently.

She just couldn't accept that.

She knew that Marshall never had. Not in his heart.

Having completed his little quality of life improvement project, Marshall was currently reading through the little owner's manual of the smartscope attached to the .308 hunting rifle. Every once in awhile he'd shake his head in amazement at something. From what Twilight could gather, whatever gadgets had been commercially available when Marshall had been abducted, the smartscope wasn't among them.

“Humidity, temperature, windspeed, bullet drop, spin drift, the god damn coriol- this fucking scope is smarter than I am.”

Twilight grinned. “That isn't exactly difficult. I bet it gives me less of a hard time than you do.”

“Ha ha ha ha, fuck you.” He said flatly.

He grinned to show he meant no offense, and by this time, Twilight had given up getting ruffled over the endless obscenities that Marshall graced her with. There just wasn't any point.

“Still, I can't wait to try this thing out. It wouldn't stop a charging Rootscraper, but if it's as accurate as the owner's manual claims, I bet I could kill one that wasn't movin' around a whole lot.”

She frowned. “Not that you'd WANT to...”

He sighed. “Well, I admit to a certain curiousity as to what one would taste like, but that isn't a good enough reason by itself to justify hunting one of the damn things down. That would be a criminal waste of meat for one thing, not to mention dangerous... they're never alone, and for another... I kinda feel like I owe the dumb fuckers. Nope, I was just using them as an example.”

She looked over at the matte black rifle the gun magazine had identified as a Sig Sauer SSG3000, curiously. “Is it really that accurate?”

He grinned and tapped the owner's manual. “According to this thing, it automatically compensates for all variables and puts an augmented reality crosshair on the selected target that can be as accurate as point five MOA, if properly calibrated.”

Even the small amount of reading she'd put into the gun publication familiarized her with the term, MOA. Minute of Angle, or a measurement of deviation from an aim point. As a standard of measurement, an MOA of one was equal to one inch deviation at one hundred yards.

She did a quick conversion in her head, then blinked in amazement. “One and a half inch deviation at three hundred YARDS?!”

He smirked. “Yeah, I find it pretty hard to believe too, but I'm definitely interested to test it out.”

She nodded in mute agreement. She wasn't terribly fond of firearms, but this she had to see.

He frowned. “That is if I can figure out how the damn thing works.”

“You're not going to try that out tonight, are you?” She asked.

He grinned and set the owner's manual down, putting his hands in his pockets. “Naw, no point. Somethin' for later, frankly. I don't plan on-”

He stopped, frowning as though discovering something unexpected. He dug around in his pocket and came up with a plastic packet full of shredded plant matter. He blinked.

“I'll be damned, I completely forgot about you!”

Twilight wrinkled her muzzle. “Isn't that the recreational drug you found in Ted's car?”

Marshall nodded. “Yup. Hey, there's an idea-”

Twilight scowled. “Oh no, leave me out of that.”

Marshall gave her a stricken look. “Oh come on... pot's no fun if you can't share it with your friends! It's harmless, Twi!”

Twilight shook her head. She wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, in principle. If she were perfectly honest, she was even a bit curious. Advanced unicorn magi were known to use some herbs to enhance certain magical rituals, some even claimed to gain insight into advanced magic after such an experience. There were even stories, admittedly largely accepted as apocryphal, that Starswirl the Bearded had experimented with what he'd referred to as “perception enhancing” herbs, and she'd always hoped to perform her own experiments one day.

That, however, would have been in a properly controlled environment, with the proper meditative atmosphere, and her tools and arcane symbology to enhance and guide the resultant trance in the right direction. Not with a plant she wasn't certain wouldn't have adverse effects on her biology. In a cave. With an alien who would be more likely to laugh at her than help her if she got foalish under its influence.

“First of all, you have no idea what, if any, effect it is going to have on me. Secondly, why would you want to give the individual with magic something that in any way impairs her judgement?”

Marshall nodded seriously. “Those are both perfectly logical and rational arguments that I don't care about, Twi. I fail to see how magic and pot mixed together wouldn't equal awesome. Come on... it'll be fun!”

She shook her head resolutely, valiantly attempting to ignore the nagging pangs of thwarted curiousity. “Nope.”

He sighed, but rather than being disappointed, he tried a different angle. Perhaps he was getting good enough to read when her resolve was weakening. “Ok, on your first argument, I grew up in Kentucky, home of the Derby races. There were two farms within walking distance of my house... hell, I had friends who grew up on 'em. If you think a bunch of teenagers didn't try to get a horse high once or twice, you're crazy. They just got a little goofy and uncoordinated is all.”

Twilight frowned. “First of all, I'm not a horse. Second of all, even if we have comparable biologies, they are easily three times my size. It'd take a lot more of the same toxin to cause them problems than it would me.”

Marshall crossed his arms. “I didn't want to have to point this out, but you do owe me.”

She scowled. “How do you figure that, Marshall?”

He stared at her. “Remember the Truth or Dare? Not only did you fail to meet the Dare, you sliced my face up.”

Her mouth dropped open, then she sputtered indignantly. “Slice?! Slice?! T-that was a scratch, AND an accident! I apologized, and you forgave me! You...”

He raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed. He tilted his head slightly, fixing her with a level look.

She met his gaze and stared at him, stubbornly. “It was just a game, Marshall. It didn't...”

She trailed off, as he continued to stare at her. He was using her own finely developed sense of fair play against her, dang it.

“Come on, Twi... you aren't even curious? Not even a liiittle bit?”

She looked away. He had her there. “Well... we test it first, for obvious toxicity issues... you know, rashes, numb lips, really FOUL taste, and then... only a little bit, and ONLY because you'll be impossible to live with if I don't.”

She tried to remain annoyed with him, but the resultant impromptu victory dance he engaged in, culminating in him spiking the bag of weed on the ground, waggling his legs, and making fake crowd roaring noises was so ridiculous, she couldn't help but giggle at him, helplessly.

She sighed. Twilight had a suspicion that this was probably a mistake, and she was probably going to regret it.

Marshall had a suspicion that this was probably a mistake, and it was going to be hilarious.

Their initial experiments with the plant produced no worrying symptoms, and so, with some small lingering misgivings, Twilight watched as Marshall rolled a small amount of the drug into a tube made of repurposed lens paper. Licking the edge, sealed it and twisted the ends, he inspected the result of his efforts with some satisfaction.

“Wasn't sure if I still had the knack. I haven't had pot since highschool... I wasn't going to play around with the military's zero tolerance policy where drugs were concerned. Less worried about it, now...”

He grinned sadly.

“So... now what?” She asked.

“Now we light it, and smoke it, that's what. What did you think it was, a suppository?”

She rolled her eyes. “We couldn't have burned it in like a brazier or something, breathed in the smoke?”

He stared at her. “Sure, if we were the fucking Oracle of Delphi... this is pot, Twi. If a joint was good enough for Carl Sagan, it's good enough for me.”

“Alright, alright. You first.” She urged.

Marshall grinned, lit the joint with the flame from one of the alcohol lights, took a drag, then held it in, holding out the joint for Twilight to take.

She accepted the joint from him dubiously with her magic, and he finally let out a stream of smoke, with a slight cough at the end. “Dang... that stuff is rank!”

She stared at him, and he made urging motions. “Take a drag, then hold the smoke in your lungs. Your lungs don't want you to put smoke in them, so they're going to try to make it leave. Ignore that, your lungs aren't the boss of you.”

Her first attempt at a drag resulted in a coughing fit as soon as she inhaled, with Marshall fishing the joint up from the ground from where she'd dropped it and patting her back.

“S'ok, it's like I said, the first time is a little rough.”

“Gah! It's like breathing fire from the southern end of a northbound dragon!”

She wasn't sure she wanted to try this again, but Marshall was giving her THAT look, and so she sighed and tried again.

Her second attempt was much more successful, and produced only a muted coughing fit at its conclusion, as the strange smelling smoke drifted away from her.

“Now...” She let out a cough, then continued roughly. “Now what?”

He grinned, turned on the Ipod, and put Jefferson's Airplane's White Rabbit on. “Now it's a bit cliche, but them's the classics for you, and we wait for the fun to begin.”

He took another drag, and passed it back to Twilight. They took turns, waiting for the effects to hit, and finished off the joint.

Being perfectly honest, all Twilight felt was a little nauseous. “I don't think it's working, Marsh.”

He frowned. “Well give it a bit. Some times it takes a little while.”

She shook her head. “I don't think-”

She stopped. Marshall was staring at a point just past her shoulder. She looked in that direction, then back at him quizzically. His expression turned at once confused, then alarmed, then outright horrified.

"Ohhh shiii-" He slurred.

Twilight blinked at this, and the stunned, terrified expression on his face.

“Marshall... what's-”

Then the world rannnnnnn assssss thoooooughhhhh soooomepooneeeyyyy weeeerreeee smeearinngggg theee coooloooor palaaaate....

Nuts.

Marshall found himself on a vast pale pinkish white plane, extending out as far as the eye could see. Towering, strangely flaking and striated purple stalks rose hundreds of feet into the dark sky, tapering into fine points somewhere distantly above. The ground suddenly rolled gently underfoot, and a great vibration he could feel deep in his chest and in his testicles shook the earth, like the warning growl of some inconceivably massive antediluvian crocodile.

Marshall put a hand out and grabbed one of the flaky purple redwood sized stalks, steadying himself, as the tremor ceased.

“What... in the blue fuck?” He whispered.

Something in the dark sky caught his attention, some great pale object at an incredibly massive distance. He squinted. It looked like some oddly shaped, strangely textured moon... where in the hell...

The world rolled and dipped again, and he almost went down this time. With a sudden horrified start, he realized he was staring at an incredibly distant, incredibly massive human face, with eyes the size of seas, a nose that dwarfed mountains... a grand canyon of a mouth, parted slightly in horrified shock, showing teeth like glaciers. A face the size of a moon.

Only it was no moon.

It was Marshall's own face. He could even make out the great trench of a scar on the cheek.

He found himself starting to hyperventilate. He forced himself to knock that shit off.

“That... wasn't marijuana.” He said hoarsely.

“You think, whitebread?” Said a deep, very familiar, dignified voice.

Marshall turned very slowly, blinking, and stared into the calmly amused face of Morgan Freeman.

Marshall decided to lose his shit.

She was a band of color, a purple thread in a twisting, turning, repeating ribbon of fractal chaos extending into infinity. Each individual band distinct, but similar, repeated endlessly.

Branching and rebranching a multitude of times, folding on itself. She was terrifying and incomprehensible, everywhere and nowhere. She was the very essence of harmony itself, a recursive rainbow, both it's entirety and a part of it.

Oh sweet Celestia, she WAS the rainbow! One part of the spectrum, the rest careening through her skull, backfiring its way through her hindbrain like a freight train full of color and...

She was breathtaking.

On the edge of some revelation that would either lift her up or drive her into screaming insanity...

She sneezed.

Just like that, her awareness shattered in an explosion of soundless color and light. She could see everything, everywhere, everywhen, the myriad twisting and turning quantum variations resulting in a webwork of nth dimensional patterns.

She couldn't perceive the math... SHE WAS MATH.

Glorious...

Marshall was doubled over, breathing deeply and evenly, his hands on his knees. He had his eyes squeezed shut.

“Believe it or not, that isn't the first time someone has had that particular reaction to seeing me.” Came that very familiar voice.

“Sorry about that.” Marshall said weakly.

“I'm somewhat surprised at the exact pitch of that shriek, but not the shriek itself.”

Marshall slowly eased up and stared at the age creased and freckled visage of the epitome of African American dignity and sighed.

Morgan Freeman smiled at him, his eyes twinkling with wry good humor.

Marshall smiled back weakly. “So... are you god or something?”

Mr. Freeman chuckled richly. “No son, and again, that's not the first time I've gotten that reaction. I'm Morgan Freeman.”

He held out a hand, which Marshall shook.

“As you pointed out earlier, that was not in fact, marijuana. I'm not sure what neck of the woods you happen to come from, son... but I find it difficult to believe anyone would mistake Salvia Divinorum for marijuana.”

Marshall scowled. “Gimme a break, it's been over fifteen years since I've even SEEN pot, much less smoked it. Also Salvia Whatsawhosit?”

Morgan smiled. “Salvia Divinorum. Diviner's Sage. Ska Maria Pastora. Several cultures view it as a divine plant. It produces visions and hallucinations in its users, and it definitely isn't pot.”

Marshall squinted. “How do I know all of this? If you're a hallucination, how do I KNOW all of this shit, because I've never heard of Salvia in my life.”

Morgan gave him a knowing tilt of the head. “Maybe you read about it once on wikipedia and have since forgotten that you knew. Maybe somewhere out there, there are a billion Marshalls and the law of averages says at least one of them has heard of it before.”

He leaned in. “Or maybe, I know about it, and I'm telling you. What does your gut tell you, Mr. Bailey?”

Marshall shook his head, his expression spooked. “This is fucked up.”

Morgan looked towards the distant Marshall Moon, casually checked his watch, then shrugged.

“Slide.” He said quietly. Then he seemed to glide away, zipping across the vast pale-pink landscape with its fucked up purple forest as though he were on the world's quietest pair of jet assisted rollerskates.

Marshall let him go, but he did cry a little.

The world ran with color, and Twilight found herself staring at her drooling companion. She blinked.

Marshall suddenly flopped and twitched, a brief spasm hitting him as all the muscles in his face jerked in a different direction.

“Titty sprinkles!” He slurred.

"M-Marshall?"

He winced, then raised his hands and tried to balance. "Not so loud, Sparklebutt. You'll make me fall off."

"What?"

"Shhh. I..." He paused. Shook his head as though clearing it.

“Marshall... you didn't mention anything about visions. I thought...”

He shook his head emphatically, then pointed accusingly at the innocuous packet on the table.

"That AIN'T pot. That... is something infinitely more biblical." He stared at the small amount left in the packet as though it were a snake.

"I don't know... I liked it." She said. "Want to-"

"FUCK NO!"

She backed off. “Ok, ok... sheesh. Was it really that bad? What did you see?”

He shook his head. “I think I was on your face. Morgan Freeman gave me shit. I'm pretty sure he's my spirit animal.”

Twilight paused, not sure what to say to that.

Marshall's expression crumpled with sadness for a moment, and he sat down heavily. “I forgot to tell him I loved him in Driving Miss Daisy.”

He looked so distraught, Twilight put a tentative, comforting hoof on his knee. “There there, I'm sure he knows, Marshall.”

It may not have been pot, exactly, but the afterglow of the intense out of body visions the two of them had had was similar enough as to be indistinguishable from it. The only hiccup being when Twilight became convinced something was in the cave with them, only to discover, to Marshall's crippling hilarity, that she had in fact been chasing her own tail. The two were currently in a time honored stoned philosophical discussion, as Pink Floyd played in the background.

“I think that's bullshit.” Marshall said flatly.

“Princess Celestia would totally beat Superman in a fight. It's not even a contest!” Twilight exclaimed.

“He's faster than a speeding bullet.” Marshall ticked off on his finger.

“Teleportation.” Twilight said flatly.

“He can leap tall buildings in a single bound!” Marshall continued.

“She can FLY!” Twilight crowed.

“So can he, and he doesn't even need wings! He's strong enough to punch planets out of orbit, and he has laser eyes!”

Twilight smirked.

“LASER eyes, Twi.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Marshall, I'm just not impressed. Besides, I have irrefutable proof that Celestia would win.”

Marshall stared at her with a stubborn set to his jaw. He crossed his arms, then gestured with a “go on” sort of motion with one hand. “Proceed, madam.”

She paced back and forth as she elaborated, in full on lecture mode. “From your own words, Superman is an alien from planet Krypton, given his godlike powers from Earth's yellow sun, correct?”

He nodded. “You got it so far.”

She nodded. “I freely admit, he's incredibly powerful, completely lives up to his reputation as the man of steel, if the comics were real, all things being equal, he would give any Alicorn a run for her money.”

Marshall nodded, following.

She stopped, and laid out her final proof. “BUT... the problem with your position is exactly this; he gets his powers from the SUN, Marshall...”

She grinned. “And WHAT IS IT that Princess Celestia controls the rising and setting of?”

Marshall opened his mouth to retort, then stopped. His eyes flicked around as though seeking some escape from her ironclad logic.

Her grin widened.

Marshall sighed. “Ok. You got me. Princess Celestia would kick Kal-El's ass.”

Twilight lifted a hoof in triumph. “Son of Jor-El! Kneel before Sparkle!”

She heard a burst of buzzing static and noises seemingly unrelated to the music from the speakers and frowned.

“I thought you fixed that, Marshall.”

He grinned. “Naw, that's just part of the song, Twilight. That's Wish You Were Here. Just listen.”

So she did.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell?
Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Her breath caught in her throat as the song swelled, a feeling of intense melancholy striking her.

Marshall smiled at the reaction, nodding in understanding.

Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk-on part in the war
For a leading role in a cage?

It was so poignantly THEM, for a moment she could picture it. A tear ran unnoticed down her cheek.

How I wish, how I wish you were here...
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year. Runnin'...

She blinked suddenly, a thought flickering on the edge of her awareness. Something...

“Wait, what was that?” She cried.

Marshall blinked. “Huh?”

“Replay that last bit, Marshall.” She said, her expression frantic. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the Salvia, but there was something about that...

He shrugged and fiddled with the Ipod again, looking somewhat confused.

How I wish, how I wish you were here...

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year-

It echoed in her head. Two lost souls...

Swimming in... in...

She shot to her hooves and rushed to the workroom, slamming the door against the wall in her haste to get it open.

Marshall scowled.

“Hey! You probably just threw off the goddamn calibration of the detector, you psycho!”

“Sorry!” She called back distractedly.

Marshall frowned, but didn't really feel like getting up. Actually he was kinda hungry. “Where's the fire, Sparklebutt?”

“Not fire, Marshall. MATH!” She called back, sounding mildly frustrated.

He shrugged, and resolved to enjoy the rest of his night in peace, and damn the OCD unicorns, full speed ahead.

The first day after Twilight had her math related freak out moment during a Pink Floyd song, Marshall was willing to let bygones be bygones. He hadn't heard her go to bed by the time he'd passed out, having eaten the rest of the bacon, even though it was well and truly cold by this time. She'd also apparently woken up before him, and he decided not to bother her, upon seeing how focused she was on... whatever the fuck it was she was doing.

He mostly passed the day with the numerous mind-numbing little chores meant to keep them afloat and relatively comfortable, although the small addition of music when he wanted it did help as a balm against the monotony. Her absence at dinner was somewhat disheartening, but she was deeply engaged in her pursuit of...again, whatever the fuck it was, and he simply left her a plate of food on the workbench without interrupting her in her storm of paper and writing implements, continuing about his business.

He was mildly concerned on the morning of the second day, when he realized that Twilight's bedding was untouched. He decided to wait it out a bit. She missed dinner again, but the previous plate was clean. His efforts to get her to take a break were met with, at first, a distracted, slightly manic glare and muttering, and then an outright GROWL when he became more insistent.

He backed off. Mama Bailey didn't raise no fool.

On the third day, he'd finally had enough. He resolved that if she didn't talk to him by bedtime, then he was going to go in there and do something about it. He was now pretty sure she hadn't slept in three days, and she was starting to look somewhat crazy eyed.

Her ears flicking out of sync with one another was also supremely disturbing, to say nothing of the eye twitch.

When bedtime finally rolled around, Marshall girded his loins, and stalked in there with determination in his step and blood in his eye.

She was just staring at the whiteboard, which was an absolute mess of scribbled out and erased equations, something that looked like a wire frame blob, and a series of ray traces that he couldn't make hide nor hair of.

Especially because they appeared to curve.

She just sat there, staring blankly, with a stub of a grease pencil hovering in midair, staring.

For ten minutes.

He counted.

Finally he'd had enough. Whatever Blue Screen of Death Twilight Sparkle's brain had fallen into, Marshall wrapping arms around her barrel and heaving her up with her legs pointed skyward at the ceiling snapped her out of it.

“Hey...” She protested weakly.

The grease pencil dropped to the ground with a muted tick.

“Alright, I've tolerated this for long enough, and I'm puttin' my foot down. Whatever it is that's got you playing whackamole with the forces of the universe, it can wait until you actually get some sleep.”

“Marshall, put me down! I have to finish this, I'm so close...” It was quite telling how exhausted she was that she apparently didn't even think of teleporting or TK'ing herself loose.

“You were staring at the board without moving a muscle for ten straight minutes, Twi. That is not productive.”

“I was not...”

“You were. You totally were, I was watching you. Not to mention, yesterday, you growled at me.”

She blinked, her expression confused, then it lapsed into sadness. “I... I can't sleep. I've tried. I-1 just...”

He carried her over to his bed and set her down gently. When she tried to scrabble up and get her hooves under her, Marshall slipped into the metal and canvas hammock bed with her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her in close to his chest like a big pony-shaped pillow.

She squirmed.

He put his chin resolutely on the top of her head and began petting her mane.

“Marshallll.” She whined, her voice muffled by his chest.

“Don't make me start singin', Twilight. You are going. To. Sleep.”

She almost squirmed loose by dodging under his armpit, but she was really out of it, and uncoordinated, and he shifted, getting a firmer grip on her. He moved his attack to the base of her ears, scratching gently.

She sighed, and her squirming quieted.

“That is incredibly unfair.” She muttered into his chest again.

“You are absolutely exhausted, and I am fully aware of what it looks like when the hamster done slipped the wheel, Twilight Sparkle. If you think I'm going to sit here and watch as you self destruct, then you're still high.” There was a hint of reproach in his voice, but it was gentle. Even the feel of his voice rumbling against her ear in his chest was lulling her to sleep. It suddenly occured to her, that she'd MISSED this.

She sighed again, but stilled.

“What if I lose it? I really am close...” She said, plaintively.

He squeezed her gently. “Then you'll get it back. I can't guarantee that, Sparklebutt, but I have faith in you. A decent night's sleep will do you absolutely nothing but good, of that, I am absolutely positive. Look at it again tomorrow, with a fresh perspective, and maybe somethin' will shake loose.”

She murmured something unintelligable against him again and stilled, breathing deeply and peacefully. He watched her quietly for a few moments, and then closed his eyes.

He followed soon after.

“HAHAHAHA!”

Marshall jerked into awareness, sat up, and gazed blearily around the room. Twilight was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear her, somewhere, making joyous noises. He shook his head and stood up.

Twilight galloped out the door of the workspace and stared at him excitedly, her sides heaving.

“MARSHALL, COME HERE, I WANT YOU!”

Marshall gave her a blinking, shocked sort of look and opened his mouth. “Wha-?”

He was suddenly enveloped in a purple sparkly field and lifted off of his feet. Twilight galloped back inside the workroom, Marshall floating in tow.

“Now hold on a sec, goddamn it! What's the fuckin'... Twilight, put me down!”

Twilight pranced in place, looking for all the world like she had to pee.

“Walking too slow. Look Marshall, look! LOOK!”

She floated him over to the whiteboard. He stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Do you see?! Do you see it!?” She crowed.

He squinted. “Man, that monkey is REALLY going to town on that coco-”

She growled at him. “No you... NO! Just NO! ENOUGH WITH THE DANG MONKEY, OK?!”

He glanced at her with an irritated expression. “Twilight Sparkle, put me the fuck down on my own two feet, and then explain to me what you've discovered like a rational goddamn adult, and NOT like a fucking Dalek on Methamphetamines.”

She blinked, then eased him down to his feet and took a deep breath.

“Sorry. I'm just excited.”

“Why, I never would have guessed.” He said dryly.

She shook her head emphatically. “No, you don't get it yet, Marshall. It's still very preliminary, there's a lot of guesswork in it, too many gaps in the data, you understand... but I think... I think... I have the waveform function of the expanding thaumic field that occurs with every sky light incident, and a working model of the metaphysical stress points created by its interaction with realspace!”

He stared at her for a moment, then cocked his head. “Ok... that's... encouraging. That's great, really Twi.”

She shook her head, groaning in frustration. “No no... you still don't get it! Marshall, don't you see? I THINK I KNOW HOW WE CAN GET OFF THE ISLAND!”

Author's Note: The drug scene underwent significant changes, probably more than any other scene. Mostly because I had a minor derp. Having previously researched Cannabis and it's effects on equines (man the silly ass shit I end up researching for this story, the FBI must think I'm a nutball) I was reasonably confident that it would at least have no adverse effects on Twilight, and thus could be used without unduly stressing the willing suspension of disbelief. Then I came across an article, I think it was from the University of Minnesota, which mentioned that Cannabis is in fact a Central Nervous Depressant to both equines and canines, causing nausea, lack of coordination, disorientation, and in some extreme cases, unconsciousness and death. Now let's be clear, what this means is that for horses, marijuana acts more like alcohol than pot... but it was still a bad bit of research on my part. It isn't a very good idea to feed marijuana or blow smoke from a joint into a dog or horses face. They probably won't die from it, that takes a much more massive dose, and it really isn't THAT toxic, but... it IS toxic. So... yeah.

I had pretty much written off the pot scene when a friend of mine suggested an alternative, Salvia Divinorum. After my own research, (online research, sillies) I realized that some of the material I had WANTED to include in the desert was now possible. Early in my planning, there was some discussion before I wrote the Graboid into the desert scene of instead of a Graboid, the creature that menaced them actually being a Shai Halud from Frank Herbert's Dune series. This would have given Twilight access to the spice Melange, which I personally think would have been hilarious, but was cut because a) Sandworms are too big, b) Melange is highly addictive, and c) kills you if you stop taking it. Some of the whacked out vision sequences I had planned were now theoretically possible, and needless to say, I jumped on that bitch like a trampoline. In addition, Salvia is completely safe for dogs and horses, so bonus. It's also mildly addictive, where humans are concerned, but I doubt they have enough of it for it to be an issue.

In case you were wondering, the slight delay in the chapter's release was due to me discovering that Nugar actually had an Omake mostly finished, and so I delayed the release of the chapter so that it could be included. That was my decision, Nugar would have been fine with it not going out, but I thought you guys would appreciate it, as much as I did.

Author's Note: Well, my first impulse was to write a variation of the recreational herb scene above where it really is marijuana and Twilight dies. But Dust seems to think that’d be too ‘dark’ and ‘sad’ and that his readers are all too ‘pussy’ to handle it. So he wouldn’t let me, even when I pointed out Marshall that it was only a little sadder than the sonic rain-splorch. I mean, after the comedy of this chapter and the general hope and feel good, I just thought it needed something a little darker to set it off. Little darker?! LITTLE darker?! Heh, yeah, like comparing a firecracker to the Little Boy and the Fat Man. -Dust

Who doesn’t enjoy dark bitter chocolate after a sweet bit of ice cream? Philistines.

So yeah. Here’s your ‘happy’ ‘feel good’ Omake.

It took Marshall a while to notice. Although he considered himself to be in tune with the natural rhythms of the jungle he spent most of his time in, the island changed too much and had too many different creatures making up its crazy, kludged together ecosystem for there to be any true pattern. So when the first birds and half pound bulbous eyed insect things flew, ran, and hop-glided past his hunting blind, he didn’t think much of it.

The next dozen death-pigeons, tiny, gray-purple bird things with clawed fingers at the bend of their wings and a scaly beak full of needle sharp teeth, that scampered by, flapping their wings for bursts of speed as they ran through like a pack of roadrunners, got a little more attention. And when the ankle-biters, furry chihuahua things that moved like iguanas and multiplied like cats at a post menopausal woman’s house, came charging through his shooting lane hooting distress calls the entire time, he really knew something was up.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the sight of a mildly panicked Rootscraper stampede, though, crashing through the forest, scattering flocks of murder turkeys and bear-pigs and other, larger predators before them. That made him worried. Unfortunately, his decision to climb down out of his makeshift tree stand and hurry back to camp came just a little too late for him to act on it.

The first sound was low, a muffled thump that, while not heavy enough to resonate through his chest the way a big Rootscraper would when it dropped back to all fours, was made all the more alarming when it was immediately followed by a crack of tree limbs and the rustle of a palmtop.

Marshall froze. That had been about two hundred yards away.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered very, very quietly to himself, freezing in place. Dimly, he hoped it had like, movement based vision or something. Or that his digicam was good enough to fool it.

There came another treetop rustle, followed by another ground thump as the unknown critter pushed further through the jungle.

Cold sweat beaded on him. Whatever it was, it had to be at least thirty, maybe even forty feet tall.

Fuuuuuck. Even a herbivore that size would just as soon kill him as look at him. Marshall wasn’t nobody’s fool. Big plant eaters were often meaner than the meat eaters. And if it was a carnivore?

Thump, thump, treetop crash. Crash, rustle, the snap of a tree limb, loud as a gunshot. Another thump.

It was literally coming right for him. None of the trees that shook violently seemed to be falling, but even if it was agile enough to snake between, even a shoulder rub would probably scrape him off his tree like a barnacle.

A squishy, squishy barnacle.

For a moment, the sounds seemed to pause their advance, still happening regularly, but no longer moving towards him. Marshall peered through the trees, trying to get an eye on it. The trees weren’t that dense, you’d think you’d be able to see a 30 foot hellbeast stomping around in them less than a hundred yards away. All he caught was a flash of something, maybe a tree branch falling. It was accompanied by a thump. The final thump. No more loud sounds followed.

Had it scented him? Or saw him? Was it frozen out there, eyeing him, waiting for him to break and run?

As he stared at the treetops, , sweat dripping and eyes straining to see the monster lurking out there, he completely missed the light gray, blonde maned little pony that trotted through the trees, shaking her mildly sore head slightly and muttering to herself.

“Ohhh no. Oh no. Not again. Rapid Delivery told me I’m gonna get fired from the Pony Express if I keep going on transdimensional adventures and missing work. And here I am again, lost in a primeval jungle full of alien plants and animals that don’t want to be friends, like always.” She sighed. “I just don’t know what went wrong.”

Marshall, his eyebrows raised to their fullest physical extend, carefully leaned over and stared down at the talking gray and blonde figure. His pale blue eyes met one enormous wandering amber eye, which widened. Wings, incongruously small for something her size, spread, flapped, and lifted her off the ground, flying over in a second to briefly bounce off the edge of his platform and hover unsteadily in the air.

“Hi! You’re a tool user, right? Are you intelligent?”

“Haaa… what?” Marshall asked, his brain short circuiting.

“Oh good! You speak a similar language to equestrian! Hi! I’m Ditzy Doo, and I seem to be lost. Would you like to be friends?” She held out one front hoof.

Marshall gaped, then slowly nodded, reaching for and gently shaking her hoof. “Y-“ he choked, coughed, then swallowed. “Y-yes. Yes, I would like to be friends.”

“Yay!” Ditzy said happily, grabbing him into a hug. Unfortunately, she was so excited about making a new friend in this hostile alien jungle that she forgot to keep flapping. The resulting fall, dragging Marshall along, of course, gave him the first set of many new bruises he could directly attribute to his wandering eyed new friend.

“Sorry!”

For Marshall, the next few days passed in a blur. A blur of non sequiturs, references to things he didn’t understand, and the occasional pegasus collision with his face. Ditzy was friendly, hard working, and earnestly helpful.

She was also clumsy in a kind of comedic, pratfall sort of way. Falling fifteen feet out of a tree onto gnarled roots should have broke his neck, or at least an arm. Instead it left mildly annoying bruises that faded in a day. Ditzy’s discovery that some sort of wood borer beetle had weakened the rafters of the first external storehouse he’d made, an event followed naturally by her crashing through it, should have resulted in her impalement by shards of wood a dozen times over. Instead she merely smelled like sawdust and fern-tater roots for a day. Later, she’d given him an exuberant hug when he’d casually assured her that he didn’t mind the destruction, especially since he would happily trade everything he had for some companionship. Unfortunately, it proved too much for the back legs of his homemade chair and sent him crashing backwards into a stack of ammo bricks and personal knickknacks, which of course dominoed around the room. Realistically, one of them should have been stabbed by something. Or his lamp should have tipped over and set the whole mess on fire. Instead, he got a mouthful of pegasus fur when she ended up stuck on top of him, and she came out somehow wearing the old keepsake pair of his copilot’s panties on top of her head, each wandering amber eye peering out through the leg holes.

Even though it took hours to clean up, it made him laugh so hard he got a cramp and had to cry for mercy.

He listened to her explain an oft used and not entirely unaffectionate, but also not entirely wanted nickname others had given her.

Derpy.

He totally understood, and explained his own personal nickname of Rainman, which had Ditzy rolling on the floor laughing, her hooves in the air. She was glad he understood. Sometimes, there are nicknames that remind you of embarrassing things, but it’s okay when friends use them. It’s funny, it’s a friend thing to do. But sometimes other people use them, and it turns it from something you kinda like into something that just makes you feel bad. Marshall nodded. He didn’t call her Derpy. She didn’t call him Rainman. But they did relax a bit more around each other, and Marshall gently introduced her to the idea of military humor. He’d been repressing a lot of jokes because he was afraid it’d hurt her feelings.

She had her annoying personal quirks though. Apparently, something like 99% of her life revolved around muffins. Marshall, who hadn’t had a muffin in more than six years, mostly since he honestly wasn’t that fond of them to begin with, was rapidly discovering that he would be willing to donkey punch a nun for one since it was yet another luxury from home he was denied. The only real way to deal with such cravings was to ignore them until they went away, but Ditzy just would not shut up about her muffins.

She was such a nice, well, pony, though. Always cheerful, always optimistic. She was sure her doctor friend would come rescue them, even though Marshall had pointed out the unlikelihood of such an event, she seemed to have complete confidence in him. But that muffin obsession. Her clumsiness he could deal with. She obviously had some sort of visual impairment that caused her problems. She was aware of it, would even joke about it. They had shared jokes over how difficult it would have been for her to get a pilot’s license on earth. They bonded over a shared love of flying and the embarrassment that followed a crash, though she had arguably more experience with the latter than anyone he’d ever even heard of short of Launchpad McQuack.

The resulting discussion of Ducktales and other cartoons really made him wish they could sit on a couch together back on earth and watch TV until they fell asleep.

But the muffins, man. The muffins. He changed his mind. With as much as she talked about them, he was actually coming to the conclusion that being on the island, away from them, was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Fuck muffins.

If he’d brought her constant yammering about muffins, and the unlikely adventures muffins seemed to get up to when not under her watchful if unsteady eyes, up sooner, a lot of pain could have been prevented. But she was so nice, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings over something she obviously cared a lot about.

So he repressed his irritation.

Until he blew up at her and told her to stop talking about her god damned muffins. She flew away after that.

It took him three days of fairly frantic searching to find her, including one rushed and highly inadvisable climb up the mountain. It was only when he finally got suspicious about a tiny cotton ball of a cloud and looked at it through his binoculars that he spotted the dangling blond tail hanging off the edge.

Then he had to pick the tallest tree near it, climb to the top as far as he dared, wrap his legs around the trunk, and yell for her attention.

“Ditzy! I’m sorry!” he yelled. If he hadn’t been looking through the binoculars, he wouldn’t have seen her tail twitch. “Ditzy! Can you please come down here and let’s talk about it?! I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings! I’m a big stupid jerk and you’re right to be angry with me but please! I want to make it up to you!”

But she ignored him.

He pleaded, cajoled, begged, and groveled. But nothing seemed to make her want to talk to him. It almost made him irritated at her again. It was just some stupid muffins. But… she was his friend. Literally his only friend in the world. Maybe they hadn’t know each other very long, but still. If he had to listen to the adventures of the cutest muffin in the world all day and night, forever, it was still worth it to keep the first friend he’d had in five years.

But Ditzy was well and truly not willing to budge.

Finally, a thought hit him.

“Ditzy! If you don’t come down here and let me apologize face to face, I’m gonna go all John Cusack on you!”

That, at least, got a tail twitch.

“Fine! I’m doing it! I'm going Cusack all over you!” Marshall warned. Lacking a boom box, or indeed the appropriate jacket, he had to make do. Holding his binoculars over his head with both arms, he started singing.

“Love I get so lost sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart”

Singing as he was with his binoculars over his head, he couldn’t see the cloud nearly as well, so for a while he wasn’t sure she was listening to even his singing. His singing voice was scratchy and unpracticed, but he put all his apologetic heart into it. He almost lost it when he got to the chorus, having honestly began without much of a plan and he’d forgotten exactly what the song was about.

It was either going to be appropriate as anything, or unforgivably offensive, given the circumstances.

“In your eyes
The light, the heat (in your eyes)
I am complete (in your eyes)
I see the doorway (in your eyes)
To a thousand churches (in your eyes)
The resolution (in your eyes)
Of all the fruitless searches (in your eyes)
Oh, I see the light and the heat (in your eyes)
Oh, I wanna be that complete
I wanna touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes”

He knew he had her when she poked her head over the edge of the cloud and stared at him. Hesitantly, she flew down, and added her sweet voice to his own. He didn’t ask how she somehow knew the lyrics to a Peter Gabriel song. It really wasn’t the time for that kind of thing.

At the end, when they’d finally finished singing and they were both seated on a fairly thick, level branch, he hesitantly put his arm around her and she leaned into his chest and sighed. For a while, he kept his mouth shut and just rubbed her ears gently.

Eventually, however, guilt overwhelmed him and he had to apologize again.

“Listen, Ditzy, I’m really, really sorry. I just… I think I know how much muffins mean to you, and I didn’t want to say something. I just… I’ve been on this island for five years. There’s a lot of foods I want and the only way I can stay sane is to just not think about them. I’m sorry I blew up at you. I really am. And if you want to talk about muffins, I won’t stop you. I missed you. I want to hear you talk about muffins some more.”

Ditzy pulled back from him, both wandering eyes wobbling around to give him a rather fixed and somewhat penetrating stare. It was actually rather intimidating.

“Marshall… I think you misunderstood me. I’m not talking about muffins, though of course I miss those, too. I’ve been talking about MY muffin.”

Marshall looked confused.

Ditzy sighed and put a hoof over her face. “Marshall, I meant my foal. Dinky. She’s my muffin.”

“Oh.” Suddenly a lot of the ‘muffin adventure’ stories made a lot more sense. Marshall kind of felt like the biggest, stupidest asshole in the entire world.

Of course, he was, so it wasn’t an inappropriate feeling.

“Derp,” he said. And fell out of the tree.

vooorp vooorp vooorp vooorp

Marshall didn’t hear that. He also didn’t really see it when the police call box materialized in the middle of his camp. It didn’t seem at all out of place when a light brown earth pony with an hourglass cutie mark walked around, fiddling with some sort of metal stick.

“Doctor!” Ditzy squealed happily. “I’ve been worried about you! You’re usually able to find me quicker than this. Is Dinky okay? I’ve been so worried!”

Marshall dropped the piece of fruit he’d been nibbling on, suddenly actually noticing the big blue phone booth looking thing and the newcomer.

“There you are, Ditzy!” he said in a pleasant British accent. “Oh, you would not believe the trouble I had getting here. The timey wasn’t overly wimey, but the spacey… Dinky is fine. Actually, she’s-“

“Mom! Mom!”

“My muffin!”

Marshall stared as a tiny unicorn foal with the same coloration as Ditzy came charging out the door to a big blue phone booth thing and was swept up to a two legged and two winged hug.

“And don’t worry about your job, there’s…” he trailed off, realizing he was being completely ignored by Ditzy as she focused on her long awaited reunion with her foal. He noticed Marshall, who was quietly tearing up. “Oh my word! A human?”

“What? Oh, er, yes?”

“Oh! Where are my manners. Hello. I’m the Doctor.” He transferred his sonic screwdriver to his mouth and held a hoof out for Marshall.

“Marshall Bailey,” he replied on autopilot, shaking the hoof.

“Oh! A Marshall Bailey! How delightful! I don’t suppose we’ve met yet? No? Well, allow me to be the first of me to greet you!” He pumped Marshall’s hand just a little harder before letting go.

“What?”

“Well, if you’re ready, we should probably go as soon as possible,” he said, turning to Ditzy. “The beings that built this don’t operate on a timeline you would be familiar with, but they… “

“Doctor, we’ve got to take Marshall with us! He’s been trapped here for five years!”

“Trapped? Oh, that makes much more sense. Really, I shall have to have words with… Oh, but of course. Mr. Bailey? If you’d like to come with us, you’re more than welcome. I can drop you off at the world of your choice as soon as we get out, or even… well, as I said, not really the best place or time to have the discussion. If you’ve got any personal items you’re attached to, you should grab them now.”

Marshall looked around. Blinked. “Hold on, I’ll get my sunglasses.” His heart beating faster as he moved, he ducked inside his bedroom, grabbed his aviators and web harness, then slung his M4 over his shoulder as he ducked back out. “I’m ready,” he announced.

Part of him feared they’d already be gone. His fears were unfounded. Ditzy was waiting on him with a wide grin, her foal tucked between her front legs, and the doctor, doctor who he still wasn’t clear on, was waving his tool around and muttering to himself as he made adjustments with it.

“Muffin, I want you to meet my new friend, Marshall Bailey. He helped me when I got lost here.”

Shyly, Dinky crept forward and stared up at him with big watery eyes. “Thank you for helping my mom, Mister Bailey.”

“Hnnng.”

The Doctor eyed Marshall. “Well, if you must bring a gun, I suppose. But mind yourself around Dinky. I’ll not tolerate any irresponsible behavior.”

Marshall gave him an even stare. “I’ve just decided. So long as I live, I will not allow any harm to come to that child.”

After a moment, the Doctor smiled and nodded. “Good enough, I suppose.”

To Ditzy he added, “Dinky and I have already put a batch of muffins in the oven, they should be getting ready any moment now. I’ll be along shortly, this is actually rather difficult to calculate you know…” he went back to his work.

“Muffins!” Ditzy cheered, and began dragging Marshall inside the blue box, Dinky prancing along beside them.

Marshall eyed the brain warping surplus of space inside the open door dubiously. He blinked.

“It's bigger on the inside.” He said dazedly. He didn't know why this kind of shit even surprised him anymore.

The Doctor grinned. “You all say that.”

Marshall shook his head at this, then smirked. “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”

“Wrong doctor, I’m afraid,” the Doctor said cheerfully, bringing up the rear. “But you’ve got the right idea.”

Ending song, Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel. Because grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.

Chapter Thirteen - Hypothetical

The Math Song, The Darkest of the Hillside Thickets

Twilight Sparkle was ready for just about any reaction about her statement from Marshall. She'd been steeling herself for it. She knew he'd tried for several years to get off the island. She knew that, after failure time and again, he'd eventually given up, and had settled for simply not dying to spite whatever power had placed them here.

He might have denied the possibility, unable to hope and have it crushed again. He might have grown excited. He might have cried. He might have gotten angry, or descended into extreme skepticism.

Skepticism was her expectation, honestly.

She'd noticed that Marshall seemed to thrive on playing Discord's advocate, it was one of the things she found the most useful about him. He forced her to think of things she might not otherwise have considered. For all of his joking and irreverent attitude, Twilight was fully aware that Marshall was a very intelligent and perceptive man.

She braced herself for his reaction to her statement.

Marshall stared at her for several seconds, his expression mild, bordering on vacant. He sniffed, pursed his lips, and then closed his eyes, running a hand through his badly sleep matted hair.

She blinked. "Mar-"

He raised a finger, a stifling gesture she'd come to recognize. "I heard ya."

He let out a long suffering sigh, then abruptly stood up and shuffled out of the work room into their combination bedroom/kitchen/dining room.

She scowled and closed her eyes, her eyebrow twitching madly. Of course he'd do something completely unexpected. This was Marshall she was talking about. Even TRYING to predict his reaction made the prediction unreliable.

Just as she was about to act in response to his shameful display, she heard him clanking about near the "stove", and decided that he wasn't ignoring her. He just wasn't completely awake yet.

Being perfectly fair, she had levitated him out of bed. She decided to be magnanimous. She could be patient. If he was expecting a reaction from her, then he would be disappointed.

She wrinkled her brow in annoyance at a repetitive tapping sound. She realized it was her right rear hoof tapping involuntarily against the ground and forcefully set it down with a clop. She blew a fringe of mane from her face with a snort of annoyance.

The smell of coffee permeated the room. A little while after that, she heard the painful sound of wood being dragged laboriously through their living space.

She narrowed her eyes. So... not as sleepy as she'd thought. Marshall was making a point.

The bucker.

The door opened and Marshall came in, Starbucks coffee mug in one hand, the other dragging one of his homemade chairs behind him with a wince inducing screech of wood against stone. Once he was almost to her location, he deliberately picked it up and set it in front of her, his cold, imperturbable stare meeting hers the entire time.

Twilight gave him her best unimpressed expression.

He blinked very slowly, and gave her a half lidded gaze that was ALMOST lazy. He stepped in front of the chair, and absently pushed the chair backward a bit with his right heel, then settled down into it with a sigh, arranging himself fastidiously.

She rolled her eyes at him. As she opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, he raised ANOTHER finger.

Her eyes widened in outrage.

He raised the mug to his lips, incidentally hiding the smile on on them, and slowly took a drink. He kept the finger up until he'd completely finished the motion, cup up, long deliberate slurp, cup down, an exaggerated swallow that caused a bob of his Adam's apple, a slight sigh of contentment, eyes closed. Then he opened his eyes.

"Do go on, Miss Sparkle."

Twilight glared at him for several seconds, her mouth slightly open in a dumbfounded expression, unable to find her train of thought, her opening statement strangled to death by his egregious provocation.

The bastard just kept STARING. Then he smirked, his eyes displaying the full and deadly knowledge of the abuse he'd just put her through. He KNEW. The bastard KNEW, that if there was ever a moment that Twilight could hardly contain herself, it was in the near orgasmic throes of scientific discovery and sharing that knowledge. It was... it was... the damned facial expression version of a cock tease!

If a facial expression could have a physical impact, this one did. Twilight Sparkle imitated a particularly apoplectic landed mackerel.

Finally, she closed her eyes, sighed, and looked mournfully skyward. "I suppose I deserved that."

He nodded, taking another sip. He cocked his head, thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow.

"I assume your previous statement has something to do with your descent into madness, these past few days?"

"It hasn't been-" She started.

"Madness!" He barked.

"I wasn't-" She started to protest.

"Bullshit, you were pants on head retarded toward the end." He said flatly.

She scowled. "I don't wear pants."

He nodded sagely, taking another sip. "Kinda makes it worse, don't it?"

She didn't have a response to that.

Subject change, ho!

"What do you think?"

He blinked in mock confusion, the expression somewhat ruined by the hint of a smirk returning to his lips. "What do I think about what, pants?"

She stomped her hoof and scowled. "NO, you bucker! What do you think about what I said?"

"Twilight, you made a single declarative statement, backed by a buncha esoteric sword pony mathemagic on a whiteboard that, while impressive looking, doesn't tell ME jack shit, no matter how many exclamation points you put next to your results."

She frowned, and he sighed, taking another sip of coffee. "If you want to excite me, you're going to have to translate. I'm an engineer. I like math just fine, but I don't wanna make sweet theoretical love to it."

Twilight continued frowning for a moment, then turned back to the whiteboard and bit her lower lip in thought. She came to a conclusion quickly, and with a flurry of papers, she began transcribing what was on the board into her notebook. Marshall waited patiently, occasionally taking slow sips from his coffee mug.

He was about half finished with it when she turned back, her notes hovering magically just a bit to the left of her face.

"This is going to take some explanation, which means a lot of background information that is intended to frame my hypothesis. A final conclusion isn't going to be immediately forthcoming, so I ask that you be patient, okay?"

Marshall nodded. "I can do patient. With the caveat that if your explanation goes over my head, I will ask questions."

Twilight smiled. "I'd expect nothing less."

She took a deep breath, collected her thoughts, then proceeded.

"There are some things I mentioned previously about magic that I would like to reiterate. On a basic level, magic is the manipulation of thaumic energy fields for given effects. These manipulations most commonly take the form of spell matrices, which again, on a general level, represent frameworks by which thaumic energy is manipulated."

A light appeared in her eyes as though something had occurred to her. "Actually, now that I think of it, a spell matrix is a lot like a program. It carries a set of instructions which directs the thaumic energy into a given effect."

Marshall nodded at the analogy.

"Thaumic energy that is not actualized as a spell or effect is called mana. It is essentially, untyped thaumic energy. It exists in two basic forms. Auras, and patterns."

She cleared her throat. "The simple explanation is that auras are thaumic fields created by living things, and patterns are thaumic fields that are either ambient, like say, the thaumic field for a planet, or which exist in nonliving things, like rocks and what have you. This is an extreme simplification, mind you, as any nonliving material which undergoes considerable chemical change internally has a pattern so complex it might as well be considered an aura-"

Marshall raised an eyebrow and took a obnoxiously noisy sip of his coffee.

Twilight blinked, pursed her lips for a moment, then sighed. "Right. Moving on."

"Auras are always in flux, because there are constant changes occurring inside a living being. Patterns on the other hoof, generally speaking, are stable, at the very least, they change much more slowly than an aura does. When a spell is cast on a living being, it enforces a kind of pattern on to it, and forcing an aura to conform to a pattern is more difficult than trying to enforce a pattern onto another pattern."

Marshall nodded. "You mentioned somethin' like that once, up on the mountain. That I ain't got an aura, so spells are more efficient when cast on me, yeah?"

Twilight winced. It was a wince Marshall had become extremely familiar with. The wince of an expert confronted with an oversimplification so gross it might as well have been wrong, but that correcting would get into minutia that wasn't germane to the topic of discussion.

"Not exactly. You're obviously alive, Marshall. What your existence implies is actually kinda scary. Equestrian science has taken for granted that mana generation is inherent to life processes, and that all matter has some mana, as it is necessary for it to exist as matter. Magical energy reinforces an objects position in space/time. Experiments have been attempted to remove all mana from an object in the past. While an absolute zero mana state has never been recorded, objects which are ALMOST completely drained of mana become grey and then indistinct, in some cases, even vanishing entirely. Living things deprived of mana..."

She bit her lip. "Well... in the early stages of mana deprivation, they become weak and lethargic, apathetic, even despondent. If the deprivation continues... well, they die well before complete mana deprivation is ever achieved."

Twilight started to pace slightly, obviously distracted by the tangent. The notes followed obediently bobbing along like a loyal pet balloon.

"My current hypothesis is that your universe utilizes a different energy spectrum, for lack of a better term, one that simply isn't observable or quantifiable by current thaumic scale. I'm sure your scientists have studied the phenomenon a lot more thoroughly than I have, but this probably isn't the time to try to build a cohesive physics model." Twilight looked a trifle disappointed at this.

Marshall rolled his eyes and shook his head, his lips curved into an exasperated smile.

Twilight continued. "So to answer your question, the reason that spells are more efficient when used on you is because there is literally no aura that I have to overcome in order to enforce a foreign pattern, a spell matrix, on you. Spells are actually MORE efficient on you than if I cast them on an inanimate object, because your inherent pattern is... well, nonexistent, or at the very least, it can't be detected due to lack of observable thaumic potential. As soon as I superimpose a matrix on you, and "charge" it with typed thaumic energy, it snaps right to you."

Marshall nodded. "Okay, gotcha. So it's like I said. No aura. Easier for spells to be cast on me."

Twilight shook her head emphatically. "No no... that's exactly what I was trying to say earlier! You DO have an aura... or you probably do, but it's at an undetectable magical spectrum. At least, that's what I..." She trailed off.

"You're fucking with me, aren't you? You totally already get the distinction." She said flatly.

Marshall grinned evilly behind his coffee mug. "Even got you to swear. That's a two-fer."

Twilight snorted.

"In any case, back to the matter at hoof. The Sky Lights. The reason that I had difficulty understanding the phenomenon is that it breaks a long held convention as understood by current Equestrian science. Namely, that mana cannot be manipulated AS mana, it has to be actualized into a typed thaumic field, even if that field is only a temporary construct. What I mean specifically by this is that you can't just pull the mana out of a living thing or an object AS mana. You can remove it, but in order to do so, you have to change it into an actualized, or typed, thaumic field."

"Archmagi have theorized for years that it should be possible to move mana around directly, the math DOES bear it out. It's considered to be the philosopher's stone of magical study, and mages have tried to create untyped thaumic fields for centuries, because the closer to the theoretical untyped field you get, the less waste in the form of bled off energy is generated by that energy transfer, but the closest they've gotten is nowhere NEAR untyped. The problem is that the closer to an untyped field you get, the harder it is to get it to DO anything, other than conform to its preexisting pattern or aura."

"As soon as mana, or untyped thaumic energy, starts moving, it's not mana anymore. At that point, it gains a type, meaning that it has polarity and vastly different field dynamics; a lot of properties which I'm not going to get into now, because they aren't germane to the explanation. That's where this breaks down, because what we have here DOESN'T HAVE THOSE PROPERTIES. You can measure the type of a thaumic field by measuring its aetheric bleed, which is how much energy is wasted bleeding uselessly into the environment as light or sound or heat or what have you. The glow around a unicorns horn when they cast a spell is a good example of this."

"The higher or lower its type, the more energy it bleeds, and this aetheric bleed is a constant. That constant means you can measure a thaumic field's bleed rate to determine what type it is. After considerable study of the phenomenon we have here, what I can determine is this; there is no energy LOST in the form of bleed. It is, as far as I can determine, untyped, or near enough to it that my diagnostic spells and matrices aren't sensitive enough to measure its aetheric bleed."

She grinned, and the love of her craft shone in that expression, making her appear particularly cute.

Marshall nodded seriously to hide a grin.

"That's why it took me so long to correlate our results. At first I thought that it was an error with our equipment, but experimentation revealed that it is functioning correctly, indeed, more efficiently than even the thaumic field fluctuation detector they have with the thaumic field collider in Canterlot University. Once I got past my assumption that our measurements were in error, it was actually quite simple."

Marshall snorted. "Right. Simple. This wouldn't happen to be around the time I came in with lunch and you were sittin' there with your face against the whiteboard rubbing it back and forth, chanting, "WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG. It's WRONG! IT'S WROOOONG!" Over and over again, would it?"

Twilight blinked. "I... don't recall-"

"Twilight, you don't remember I found that puddle on the workroom floor, and I made you go outside because just pissin' on the floor is unsan-"

"No... No... I think I would have remembered THAT." Twilight said firmly, her eyes slightly quirked in embarassment. "I mean, I remember tripping over a cup of water or something." She frowned uncertainly. "Vaguely."

Marshall shook his head. "I figured out after the fact that you'd just accidentally kicked over a mug, but at the time... I was really worried about you. I mean, that is some WOW addict troglodyte pooping in a sock level kinda shit. I mean, what few containers we have we need for potable water, and really shouldn't be repurposed-"

She groaned in exasperation and embarrassment. "I... alright! I admit that sometimes I get a liiiittle too focused on a problem."

Marshall gave her a disbelieving look. "Twilight, on the second day, when I brought you food, you GROWLED at me."

She blinked.

Marshall smirked. "You don't remember THAT either. If you really want the evidence, look in a mirror, Sparklebutt. You've still got dry erase marker streaks in your face hair. Looks kinda like frustrated scientist pony warpaint."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then sighed. "Alright. Okay, I get it. I was frustrated..."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Imagine a monkey actually TRYING to fuck a coconut."

The marker bouncing off of his forehead was a complete shock to both of them, and in retrospect, completely unavoidable.

Really.

What was unexpected was the way it landed in his coffee mug with an unsubtle "plup!"

Marshall and Twilight stared at it for several seconds, and then both got the giggles. Eventually he fished it out, flicked coffee off of it, and returned it to her solemnly. In a way, this benediction told her that he'd forgiven her for her trespasses, a forgiveness she hadn't realized she'd actually been dreading trying to obtain. He seemed to realize what she was groping for before she reached for it, and made the whole thing easy for her.

Well, after taking his pound of flesh in the form of teasing and petty annoyance. This was MARSHALL she was talking about, after all.

"All jokin' aside," Marshall said, rubbing away the tears at the corners of his eyes, "I don't want this to lead to a crazy sidetrack, but I'm curious about somethin'."

Twilight frowned. "Go on..."

"Is the difference between a mana field and a typed thaumic field just... well... motion?"

Twilight opened her mouth, closed it, considered, then shook her head slowly. "Sort of, but no... not exactly. Again, that's an oversimplification. Mana can be looked at, essentially, as potential thaumic energy, but, an actualized thaumic field, at least as far as Equestrian science is concerned, IS a typed field, and as a result, there is some degree of energy lost through... translation, I suppose."

She began to pace back and forth. "That's why a spell matrix that isn't being directly powered by a mage with their own thaumic field has a duration. The spell matrix is being powered by a thaumic field which the mage imparted upon casting, and some of that energy is going towards the given effect, however, the science of magic has come a long way since the early days of the unicorn Archmagi."

Twilight glanced at him to make sure he wasn't lost, and Marshall nodded thoughtfully.

Twilight continued. "To put it in other words, the efficiency of our programming languages, and the skill with which they are used in their various applications, has increased exponentially. At this point, what causes the most degradation in spell matrix thaumic fields is simple aetheric bleed. The thaumic field powering the spell is typed, and some of it is bled into the environment. Eventually, the thaumic field is no longer strong enough to maintain the spell matrix and the spell collapses. Hence, spell duration. The only way to increase the duration of a spell, conventionally, is to increase the amount of the thaumic energy which powers it, and THAT, more than anything else, is what sets an Archmagus apart from a regular unicorn."

Twilight met Marshall's gaze steadily. "A unicorn who has trained extensively in manipulating thaumic energy generally has a larger mana reserve than one who simply uses magic in their day to day life, and as a result, they simply have more power they can draw on to actualize more powerful, and longer duration effects. The reason that the discovery of a method of creating an untyped actualized thaumic field, in other words direct mana manipulation, is the philosopher's stone of Equestrian magical study, is that if it were possible to create a spell matrix powered by an untyped thaumic field, a mana field, there would be no energy lost over time due to aetheric bleed. The duration of the spells created would increase by orders of magnitude, AND... it would be possible to attach a spell matrix to an object or pony who ISN'T a unicorn permanently, by simply using their aura which regenerates through normal life processes, to power the effect."

Marshall whistled. "Talk about your post scarcity economy."

Twilight blinked, considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, very astute. The ability to create objects out of thin air and simply power them with the planet's mana field indefinitely..." She shuddered, her expression dreamy.

"THAT'S magic."

Marshall nodded. "Anyway, sorry for interrupting yer flow. Where were we again?"

After a quick summary of the initial discussion, she leapt back into her explanation.

"The way the typed/untyped convention was broken was actually rather elegant. It has ramifications that are quite fascinating from a theoretical standpoint, but I digress. The expanding thaumic field starts as a bump, for lack of a better word, that causes a ripple in the ambient mana field. It isn't moving the mana, it's displacing its expected position. By somehow adding mana to the ambient field of the island itself, it generates an expanding waveform which RESEMBLES a thaumic field for all practical purposes, but isn't, because as I said previously, it isn't typed. In effect, this ripple is a wave of potential energy, a kind of..." She paused, considering the terminology that would be appropriate.

She failed.

She backed up a bit to approach the problem from a different angle. "This wave propagates at the speed of magic, and isn't blocked by any objects precisely because it lacks any thaumic typing. It's not a spell, it's simply pure thaumic potential rippling outward. A thaumic field that both IS and ISN'T a thaumic field." A light went on behind her eyes, and she gasped in sudden comprehension.

"To borrow a term from human science, it is a QUANTUM thaumic field!"

She basked in classification afterglow for a moment, then frowned and continued her spiel. "But WHY? What purpose does it serve? Additionally, why the nausea? Just being in an expanding field wouldn't do it. Why the disorientation? Why does that disorientation get WORSE the closer to the center of the island you get, and the higher up?"

Marshall nodded. "Yeah, I remember you sayin' you thought it was worse up on the mountain. So...?"

She turned to the white board and raised the grease pencil. "The answer was simple; because that thaumic field is doing something it SHOULDN'T EVER do. There are no recorded instances of expanding thaumic fields causing disorientation that I've ever read about, so what is occurring here has to be something more than just a thaumic field expanding."

Marshall frowned. "But didn't you say this was a field expanding in a manner that it's not supposed to? Couldn't that cause it?"

She smiled. "No. What's happening here isn't something that normally happens, yes, but it actually simulates something that happens all the time, every day. An untyped potential thaumic field, ambient mana in other words, doesn't expand into a pony, true, but ponies walk INTO mana fields every day. So whether the pony hits the field, or the field hits the pony, the effect is essentially the same, right? No disorientation, so that can't be the answer."

Marshall nodded. "Right."

"The answer is this."

She smiled triumphantly and drew a perfect curve on the whiteboard, like half of a perfect circle with the bottom half not drawn yet. She put an "X" at the top of the curve.

"This is the barrier in cross section as it appears in the air. The "X" represents the point at which the Sky Lights appear, which is a good reference point for where the thaumic field fluctuation propagates from. By visual observation, we know that the barrier appears perfectly spherical, and logic would dictate that it continues this pattern underground."

Marshall nodded.

Twilight drew in the ground, including the mountain at the center, under the dome. Marshall noted that the point of Sky Light emission was almost directly under the mountain. He frowned.

"What I have determined is as follows. The perfect sphere pattern is NOT continued underground. The math doesn't bear it out. Our readings don't bear it out. What it actually looks like..."

She carefully drew in the bottom of the barrier. Marshall's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Well son of a bitch. It's a god damned parabolic dish."

Twilight blinked. "A..."

She cocked her head and looked at it, then nodded, bemused. "Yes... that's... exactly right."

She raised an eyebrow at Marshall in askance.

Marshall nodded. "We can talk about it later, go on, Twi, but I think I know where you're goin' with this."

She grinned, and continued drawing. "Okay. So the quantum thaumic field starts expanding up here. It expands at the speed of magic. It heads downward, and by the time it reaches the ground floor, it contains the entire landmass INSIDE the barrier."

Marshall nodded.

"It goes underground, and it hits the barrier. Logic dictates that it would continue outward. Magical THEORY says that what it's doing is already unachievable by any known means in Equestrian science, but what it actually does is, according to our understanding of physics, impossible. It BOUNCES."

Marshall nodded. "The shape of the parabolic curve causes the entire field to be reflected backwards and focused on the emission point."

Twilight crowed excitedly. "EXACTLY! Essentially the field heads out, hits the barrier, bounces back and because of the angle at which the wavefront impacts the base of the barrier, ALL of it is reflected so that it hits the initial entry point as a focal point! The point that we can visually see, because later, it becomes the entry point of the Sky Lights! This whole process, the initial emission, the passage through space and intervening matter, the reflection, and the return to the entry point takes place in an infinitesimally small increment of time. Microseconds, maybe. The disorientation isn't from being hit by an expanding thaumic field..."

Marshall grinned in sudden complete understanding. "It's from being hit almost simultaneously by what is, in effect, two thaumic fields, or near enough simultaneously that yer magic sensa-ma-thingie can't tell the difference.."

Twilight pranced over to Marshall and nuzzled his lap, overcome by the excitement of discovery and his sharing of that discovery, his almost immediate understanding of what she'd had to work so HARD to get through her head.

Marshall raised his cup out of her way and made an undignified noise. "Hey Sparks, watch the package."

Twilight tilted her head from his lap to look up at him, grinning like a foal and completely oblivious to any embarrassment he might be feeling. Marshall sighed and dropped his free hand, scratching at the base of her good ear.

"Alright, I'm proud of you, egghead. Good job."

She smirked and pulled back. "Of course, it is a LIIIITLE more complicated than that, but that's the basic premise. The disorientation is actually a result of being hit by a stream of the expanding mana field at a point so concentrated, and so divergent from the initial contact point. Unicorns are sensitive to field changes, they have to be, in order to do what we do, and while this isn't a thaumic field, remember, it's a mana wave, the effect is similar enough that it makes little difference. The best way to describe it would be what would happen if for a split second your vision went upside down, mirror imaged, and jolted suddenly in an unexpected direction."

Marshall winced. "So... what's the purpose of this? Is it a byproduct of the Sky Lights?"

Twilight shook her head. "I don't think so. That's actually something I thought about for a long time. It's a little too neat... too manufactured to be accidental. I'm not absolutely sure, but I have a strong suspicion as to its purpose."

"I'm listening, Sparklebutt."

She nodded. "Remember what I said about this mana field propagating like a wave? Well I think the reason they didn't just type it into a thaumic field is pretty simple; typed thaumic fields are affected by objects. Depending on the type, some fields will pass through certain objects unhindered, and be absorbed completely by the pattern of others. I think an untyped wave was chosen because it would propagate through all objects without being absorbed. The thing is, the speed of magic is a constant, in arcane mathematics it is represented by the symbol Mu. The thing about that constant, is that Mu is the speed of a ten positive thaumic field moving through a vacuum. This particular type was used because its properties are extremely well known, seeing as it's responsible for the properties of light and heat as they pertain to Princess Celestia's magic. When working with Mu, there are variables added which represent how far from ten positive the type field is, and what density of an object it's passing through. This is necessary because-"

Marshall interjected. "Because magic propagates through different types of matter at different rates." At Twilight's slightly poleaxed expression he shrugged.

"In my world, light has a similar property. They call the measurement of that speed the index of refraction."

She nodded. "Exactly. So back to our mana wave. The wave heads out. It touches every physical object, bounces off the parabolic bottom of the barrier, and is focused into a tighter beam of thaumic potential that then hits the top of the barrier, where the Sky Lights come from, and it disappears. That's another reason I think it's intentional. If it were just a side effect of the Sky Lights, it would just bounce around on the inside of the barrier until it finally speculated so randomly that it lost all of its cohesion. It doesn't do that, so it must have a purpose."

Marshall expression of thoughtfulness suddenly exploded into a grin of understanding as the implications of this clicked. "Son of a bitch! It's like echolocation, or.... like RADAR."

Twilight grinned back. "EXACTLY! I remembered our conversation about aircraft systems and the like, and something must have stuck, because that's immediately what my mind focused on, only it's a little more impressive than that. As you described it to me, radar simply gives distance and the approximate size of an object. I think what this "system" is doing is it's taking a three dimensional snapshot of the island and everything on it using the time delay between energy that passes through more matter as opposed to energy that passes through less matter to create its image. I think it DOES that, because it needs to know what is due to be replaced to keep the various biomes viable."

Marshall nodded. "Ok. I'll admit, it's a neat hypothesis. Question."

She frowned. "Okay?"

He raised a finger. "What does this have to do with us getting off the island?"

She grinned. "To borrow an idea from thermodynamics, the problem I had with this island at the beginning is that for all intents and purposes, it's a closed system."

Marshall shook his head. "It's not a closed system at all, Twilight. We get sunlight, that's near constant energy in."

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Okay, okay, good point. It's not a CLOSED system per say, but it is an unsustainable one. The energy in is much less than the energy out. That means we have a system with ever increasing entropy."

Marshall frowned, thinking about this, then grudgingly nodded. "Okay, I concede that point."

"In order for the system to be maintained, the scales have to balance. Something has to put food, energy, into the environment, or animals like the Rootscrapers would have starved to death ages ago. There simply isn't enough living space for their specialized diet. Part of the puzzle was revealed when we realized that at least one of the functions of the Sky Lights was to replace some of that material."

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing.

She smirked. "What I didn't realize at the time, what I hadn't considered, was that at least part of the time, even if it's only a very narrow window, energy other than light comes in... and OUT of the bubble."

Marshall frowned. "If that's the case..."

Twilight's grin was feral. "That's why I got so excited when I heard that one part of that Pink Floyd song."

"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year...." She quoted hurriedly.

He nodded.

"It got me to thinking... if you have fish in an aquarium, a sealed aquarium, they can't get out, but if you leave it alone, if you keep it completely sealed, eventually they'll die, because their environment is unsustainable. That means you have to open the aquarium. When you open the aquarium, what happens if the fish jump?"

Marshall took a deep breath, considered, then frowned. "Uh... they get out of the bowl, flop around on the carpet until they get noticed and tossed back in, or until they asphyxiate and die, start to stink, and THEN get noticed and flushed down the toilet."

Twilight blinked.

He snapped his fingers. "Or the owner has a cat, then they don't get noticed until the owner wonders what happened to his fish, and why his cat looks so smug."

She frowned. "I think you're carrying the analogy a little far..."

Marshall shook his head. "I don't think so. It's a valid point, Twi. What if this IS a fish bowl? What if we jump at the right moment, I'm still not entirely clear on HOW, by the way, and find out that outside the barrier is just as hostile to us as a living room carpet would be to a fish?"

She frowned, considering this.

"It doesn't LOOK hostile..." She said, a little dubiously.

"Twilight, how many times has this island looked harmless only to be anything but?"

She considered for a long time.

Finally she turned, and wiped her visual aid off of the white board. "Before we can even be in a position to determine that, we have to come up with a way to breach the barrier. I'm not ignoring your concerns, I'm simply pointing out that once we have a tried and true method for breaching the barrier, THEN we should worry about what the outside of the barrier is like."

Marshall frowned, but nodded his agreement slowly. "Okay. I concede the point."

Twilight smiled. "Okay, first things first, getting through the barrier. We're not talking about a teleport. In order to teleport, I have to be able to sense the area I'm about to teleport into, and I can't do that, not through the barrier. I believe that the window of opportunity, when the barrier is magic permeable, is approximately twenty minutes long, the amount of time between the initial pulse and the Sky Lights arrival, and occurs in a thirty foot area at the highest point of the barrier. I say thirty feet because that is ten feet lower than the lowest variable calculation I was able to make for the diameter of the return ping of the Sky Lights."

Marshall nodded. "Seems reasonable."

She nodded, turning back to her notes. "Anyway, we couldn't just hit the barrier at the right spot and expect to pass through. I don't believe the barrier is matter permeable in that window. There's no reason that it SHOULD be. The only way to pull this off, would be to transmute the object passing through into thaumic energy, and ride the wave through."

Marshall frowned. "Is that even possible?"

She nodded. "Theoretically. Teleportation spells are basically thaumic energy conversion and back again. Most unicorns that bother to learn to teleport can teleport short distances, say line of sight, without too may problems, though it is taxing. Long distance teleports are devilishly tricky. The further the distance, the more the unicorn in question has to rely on complex mathematics for distance and timing. It's hard enough that most unicorns don't bother. One of the easiest mistakes to make is to goof the distance and time variables up. Usually this just results in a really bad case of bed mane and an exhausted unicorn who didn't get anywhere near where they wanted to be. A serious error can cause the teleporting unicorn to take an energy form and stay that way for up to a couple seconds. That's really dangerous, by the way. Practicioners call it a stutterport, and fortunately it's a very very RARE condition. Anything more than a second or two and the flub causes a sudden introduction of the unicorn's complex aura into the spell matrix, and the resulting chaos causes the whole thing to collapse. The unicorn in question usually just becomes a big aetheric bleed, at that point."

Marshall winced. "I take it that's sword pony magical scientist speak for, the unicorn 'splodes."

Twilight nodded, seriously. "Catastrophically so."

Marshall blinked. "I wasn't aware that there was a non-catastrophic way to explode."

Twilight smirked. "You've never met Pinkie Pie."

Marshall shrugged, his expression bland, and Twilight continued. As she talked, she began pacing again.

"In any case, with a fatal stutterport, most of the energy gets aetherically grounded, that's built into the basic long distance teleportation spell matrix as a safety measure, but even the relatively minor percentage of energy converted into light and heat still leaves a considerable mark on the landscape. The amount of energy that is released when matter is converted is phenome-"

Marshall nodded. "E equals M C squared. We've got a pretty good handle on that one, Sparklebutt."

Twilight's mouth gaped open, and she stopped her pacing, then she turned her head slightly, obviously intrigued. "E equals M C squared... E has to be energy, M is... matter? No... a unit of measurement... not magic, hmm.... mass then? What does C stand for?"

Marshall shook his head ruefully, aware that he'd likely just gotten the ravenous beast that was Twilight's intellectual curiousity's attention. "The speed of light in a vacuum. You're getting off track. So you're saying the only way to pass through the barrier would be in that twenty minute window, and in order to do it, you'd have to purposefully induce a state of catastrophic energy cascade that could result in a miniature nuclear explosion."

Twilight blinked, shook her head, then grunted, jerked forcefully back into the discussion at hand.

"Well, if you can do it accidentally, that means it's possible to do it on purpose. Obviously I'd have to perfect a way to induce the state in a controlled fashion, and prevent the matrix collapse. I think it's doable, I'd just have to experiment a bit."

Marshall snorted. "Twilight, you wanna run experiments to perfect a collapse that involves direct matter to energy conversion explosions?"

She winced. "Well... not if I do it right."

He gave her a flat look. "On the first try, huh?"

She sighed. "Okay okay. Experiments... a good distance away from camp."

Marshall just sighed. "Ahhhh fuck it. What else?"

Her eyes slid to the board. "Our theoretical barrier breachers would need to retain their velocity, since it's more of a partial matter to energy transformation than a teleport. Teleports require a destination, and I can't sense anything past the barrier. Even though I can see right through it, it even blocks line of sight somehow. I've... thought about trying to teleport past it, but for reasons that should be pretty obvious, I didn't want to risk it without being absolutely sure of my destination. I'm not even sure it would work, honestly... and teleporting is not something you want to leave to chance."

Twilight's scarred ear twitched momentarily, like a facial tic that had gotten out of her control. Marshall's eyes flicked to the movement, and his mouth tightened slightly, but he said nothing.

"Additionally, since I can't pull off an untyped energy transfer, it would have to overcome a certain amount of natural resistance, the velocity achieved would have to be... considerable. My current calculations suggest that the magic number, the minimum speed necessary to breach that resistance, is approximately eighty three miles per hour, with an error margin of about plus or minus five miles per hour."

Marshall smirked. "For the sake of safety, let's call it eighty eight miles per hour, yeah?"

Twilight nodded seriously. "That's probably the safest..." She trailed off, frowning.

"Why are you giggling like that?"

"It's human thing, Twilight. Eighty eight miles an hour is when the serious shit happens."

She eyed him oddly for a bit, then sighed and turned back to the board.

Marshall interrupted. "Can you fly up there with your cutesy-fly wing spell?"

She shook her head, turning back around to look at him. "It's just not capable of those kind of speeds in a direct vertical climb, which this would almost have to be. It's also a liiiitle too close to direct sunlight. The spell is of a very particular typing that's extremely vulnerable to disruption by direct sunlight. A small mountain, under good cloud cover isn't too risky, but higher than that..."

He nodded. "Hot air balloon wouldn't cut it either. Even if we had the materials to make a balloon big enough, it might not fit, and probably wouldn't be fast enough."

Twilight snorted. "Not even close. The fastest vertical climb I've ever gotten out of a hot air balloon is about..." She thought for a moment, doing the conversion in her head.

"Twelve miles per hour, and rate of climb in lighter than air transport decreases with altitude."

Marshall sighed. "So, getting this straight... your hypothesis states that the barrier is breachable under very specific conditions. Conditions which involve getting ourselves to eighty eight miles per hour in a direct vertical climb almost thirty thousand feet in the air, by way of a method we don't currently possess. Namely, transforming ourselves into an energy state that's probably the none-too-distant cousin of a nuclear explosion that hopefully stays in the theoretical but not yet proven infant stage."

Twilight twitched. He continued ticking off points with merciless accuracy.

"Then we slam, at eighty eight miles an hour mind, into a hitherto impenetrable barrier in the hopes that this time we pass through it, into an unknown environment that may or may not be survivable, and which we have no way of verifying the status of at this time."

Twilight's ears drooped and she hunched at his level, matter-of-fact run down of her hypothesis and plan.

"Well... when you put THAT way..." She said weakly.

He shook his head. "There are easier ways to commit suicide, Sparklebutt."

She grimaced. "It's a work in progress..." She countered defensively.

He watched her steadily, his expression neutral.

She turned and looked at the whiteboard, her ears still in their flat position, then stared. After a moment, her ears slowly perked up again.

"It... FEELS right, Marsh." She said, her voice quiet.

"Ever since I was a foal... math... magic... sometimes I would know things without really knowing them, you know?"

Marshall raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, letting her spool out her musings. He was aware that interruption at this point could disturb her delicate train of thought.

"Like I could... feel when an equation or a matrix was right."

Marshall nodded.

"I know a couple of things for sure. Whatever you were back home, you are the most competent engineer that I've ever met. You don't just come up with engineering solutions, Marshall. You come up with solutions that utilize the limited materials that you have available. I KNOW how hard that is."

He smirked, touched by her praise.

"I'm not just a mage, Marsh. I am the bearer of the Element of Magic. My talent IS magic. I know that between the two of us, we can make it there. We CAN get up there. Whether we can get through, I don't know, but it FEELS right."

Marshall leaned forward a bit and put a hand on her back, causing her to twitch slightly. She had been staring at the whiteboard. Her ears swiveled backwards toward him, her notched ear flicking slightly in a nervous jerk.

"What's the next step after you make a prediction based on a hypothesis, Twi?" He asked gently.

She stilled, then relaxed a bit. "You test it. Try to see if the reality matches up with your prediction." She mused.

Marshall nodded. "Right. So now we experiment. We come up with a way to test your barrier permeability hypothesis without putting ourselves at risk. Experiments don't do us any good if we ain't around to record the results."

She sighed. "I'm not sure how, Marsh. I mean, I don't-"

He patted her back and she stopped.

"As it happens, I think I do." He announced. There was a very slight undertone to his voice. A sort of unholy GLEE.

An undertone that actually made her shudder a bit.

She wasn't sure if she was scared, or excited.

Six frustrating weeks of preliminary planning later, they had the breakthrough they were looking for. The key that would make experimentation possible.

Despite this, Twilight was disappoint.

"I can't believe I MISSED that." Twilight groaned. Her head rested miserably against the "desk", as though the weight of self-recrimination in her already ponderous noggin was too much to bear.

Marshall shrugged, his feet up on the table, idly walking a green marker back and forth across his knuckles. His complete aplomb in the face of Twilight's dismay would be punished, oh yes.

"Twilight, it's the difference between someone trained to analyze data and recognize repeating patterns, and somepony who's just very good at math. At all the maths. It doesn't match the twenty four hour cycle that both of our worlds keep, and we weren't recording our times and dates by hour elapsed, or as any sort of visual representation. Now that we have a chart, the pattern's pretty clear. There are several outliers, but those might just be parts of other schedules, or even "unscheduled maintenance" as it were."

Marshall glanced at a massive grid representing hours on the whiteboard with "sky light events" marked out on it in green. Now that they were looking at a visual reference, it was easy to see a pattern emerge. The green marker dropped from his knuckle and he caught it absently. He turned his attention back to the still face-planted unicorn.

Twilight grumbled slightly. "I get it. Still, I-"

"Twilight, before now, you didn't have a big enough sample size to determine patterns. You don't have to commit sudoku just because you aren't good at something math."

Twilight jerked and turned to glare indignantly at him for a moment, then scowled. "Sudoku? Sudoku? Did you mean seppuku? You are such a-"

"You're teasing me." She said flatly.

Marshall snorted and rolled his eyes. "Ya think?"

She rolled her eyes, but she also stopped fretting about it, which was probably Marshall's goal in the first place.

Probably.

Her attention properly regained, he tapped the board. "According to this, there is a Sky Light event every three hundred seventy nine hours. That's about one every fifteen and three quarter days. Again, those aren't the only Sky Light events, but if you look at it, it's pretty clear. Our first recorded part of the pattern was about a month and a half ago, at 5:55 PM. Our next recorded event happened about fifteen days later at 12:55 PM. Finally, our latest one happened fifteen days after THAT at 7:55 AM. It's a pattern so broad that the hours it seems to happen on appear random. Unless you were keeping accurate time records, and looking for patterns, you'd never see one. Hell, I've been here for five years and never noticed any patterns until now."

Twilight nodded. "This is good news. If there's a set schedule, we can plan. We don't have to scramble around when I get dizzy all of the sudden."

Marshall nodded sagely. "As steps go, this is pretty important. I think our first set of experiments are a go."

Twilight frowned. "Speaking of, I still don't..."

Marshall winked, smirked at her, then turned to the white board and began sketching something out, humming something classical to himself as he did so. Twilight blinked, watched for a moment, her eyes flicking over his drawing, and the mathematical calculations he was doing. Then her eyes widened and a small smile slowly blossomed on her face.

Marshall turned to her and held out the marker for her.

"That's the gist of it, Twilight. My part is pretty simple. I've laid it out, as you can see. The end goal is-"

She flicked an ear at him, distracted with calculations. "I know what the end goal is. What you want is theoretically possible, light is far easier to convert into thaumic energy than physical matter, the problem is range. Light scatters over distance pretty heavily, we'd need-"

Marshall rolled his eyes skyward and assumed an innocent expression. "Something producing a collimated light beam, maybe all the same wavelength? Something that's already a part of a rangefinding system?"

Twilight stared at him for a moment, nonplussed, then groaned and smacked her forehead with a hoof. She winced.

"Right. The smartscope. I forgot. Yes, that would be pretty much perfect. The range calculation circuitry will be off, because the speed of magic is a different mathematical constant than the speed of light, but I can do the conversion pretty easily based off of what you've told me about it."

Marshall nodded sagely. "This is just a preliminary experiment, you understand. If we're successful, it should generate some pretty convincing evidence that your parabolic dish AND magic escape hypothesis are correct."

Twilight sighed. "I know it'll bear out, Marshall. Math... doesn't lie."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "That's a very dangerous attitude from a scientist, Sparklebutt. The universe has a nasty habit of punishing that kind of hubris. Remember what I said about the universe, Twilight-"

"It must be a cartoon, or you'd have had way more ass by now?"

Marshall never skipped a beat. "Naw, the other thing. Dickass."

Twilight grinned. "Trust but verify. I remember. If it's all the same Marsh, I REALLY hope I'm right about this, because if I'm not..."

Marshall sighed and nodded, tossing his boonie hat onto the table and scratching his head with both hands. "Then it's back to the drawing board."

Marshall made minute fine adjustments to the frankenstein conglomeration of smartscope and gemstone as Twilight concentrated, her tongue sticking out slightly in a half grimace of effort.

"Two point five. Two point four. One point five. Too far, too far, back... back... stop."

Marshall took his hands away from the scope and picked up a small container of nail polish taken from one of the deceased Starbuck's patrons purses, dabbing a slight amount on the set screw to stake it in place. He blew on it gently and waved his hand in front of it, careful not to touch the tripod or the contraption mounted on it.

He raised an eyebrow at Twilight, who frowned back, and then shrugged as the light from her horn died. "It's not perfect, but it's... REALLY close."

Marshall nodded. "I haven't got the tools for perfect, Sparklebutt. The point is, is it accurate enough for our purposes?"

She sighed. "There will be a great deal of loss in the system, but we only need a very small amount of return thaumic energy to hit the conversion matrix. Then it becomes a matter of how sensitive your detector is, and how well boresighted it is."

Marshall sighed. "Only one way to find out. We should wait for the stake to set, though."

Twilight nodded. "I REALLY hope we don't have to go through that again. Holding an active charge of that magnitude while altering a crystalline spell matrix is HARD, Marshall."

Marshall looked at her with concern. "You look really tired, Twi. Are you okay?"

Twilight blinked for a moment, then sighed. "Is it that noticeable? High level magic is exhausting, Marshall, and precision thaumic tuning of that nature? I feel... brain sore, I guess. I'm surprised you could tell, though."

Marshall gave an expressive shrug, his expression full of sympathy. "It's mostly in the voice, Twi. I mean, you are a little hoarse."

Twilight nodded tiredly, then blinked and narrowed her eyes at him.

Marshall raised an eyebrow and held an innocent, slightly befuddled expression for a few seconds, then the cracks began to show. Finally the dam burst, his face creased into a shit eating grin, and he began to giggle.

Twilight jabbed him in the knee with her horn.

After a two minute impromptu bit of ass-grabbery that bore a remarkable resemblance to the bastard child of a fencing match and double-dutch jump rope skipping, they got back to the matter at hand.

Marshall set down his tools and took up his preliminary position.

"The principle is simple, Twi."

Marshall scanned the ground around the test area, kicking large rocks out of the way and generally attempting to make the area as level as possible. Eventually satisfied, he walked over to the bundle of equipment and picked up what appeared to be a bundle of aluminum rods. Fiddling with this, he spread them into what was obviously a tripod, spreading the legs out evenly and ensuring its proper balance.

"The rangefinder has a laser built into it. As we discussed earlier, lasers are light, and light speed is a constant, modified by the medium through which it travels, in this case atmosphere. So when a given laser pulse is fired, a timer starts. The pulse heads out, hits an object and speculates, or scatters. Some of that laser light bounces back and is picked up by the detector, which due to a bandpass filter can only "see" the wavelength of infrared light the laser is comprised of. It stops the timer."

Marshall went back to the bundle and carefully unwrapped the second object, which looked like the bastard child of a rangefinder, a telescope, and a science fiction prop someone had cheaply greebled with a bedazzler to make it look more interesting. He began inspecting it carefully without touching it. This of course brought his attention to the back end of the light conversion matrix. He shuddered.

"Twilight, I've said it before, and I'll say it again-"

She rolled her eyes. "And again and again and again. Yes Marshall, it absorbs all light that hits it. I can't differentiate between wavelengths in any other than the grossest of ways. Equestrian scientific advancement hasn't quite gotten to that level of accuracy where light is concerned."

"Twilight, it is a void from which no light escapes." He shuddered again. "I mean, I know it's three dimensional, because I watched you make the damn thing. I know it's got facets, hell it's a crystal, but after you enchanted it it absorbs all light, so it looks goddamn two dimensional, and that's fucking creepy. It's like an eye staring into my soul."

Twilight's eyes widened in mock horror. Her absolutely flat tone belied the illusion of existential terror. "Monkey frighten by thing he not understand. How unicorn do?"

Marshall scowled and raised his fist in mock defiance. "Curse this inky void abomination brought forth from the terrifying abyss of your brain loins, mare!"

Twilight made a gagging sound. "Eww... brain loins? Seriously, Marshall?"

He shrugged carelessly, but was still careful with the device in his hands. "I thought about going with mind-gina, but it just didn't have the same ring to it."

Twilight resisted the urge to smack him, but only just.

He grinned "Anyway, a calculator inside the system takes the amount of time on the timer, multiplies it by the speed of light in atmosphere, then divides it by two, because that timer is actually measuring the time it takes for a laser pulse to hit the target, and then come BACK. The end result of this calculation is a measurement of the distance to the target within a very very fine margin of error."

He turned towards Twilight and nodded. "Alright Twi. Take her up, gently."

Twilight frowned. "You don't have to tell me twice. I do NOT want to have to calibrate that thing again."

Her horn glowed and a similar field encompassed the modified smartscope device. Marshall backed away and moved to the tripod, allen wrench in hand. He knelt to eye level with the gimbal at the top of the tripod and motioned with his hands.

"Slow, Twilight. Slow. Alright, bring her down, slowly. Slight left, your left sorry, stop. Alright continue bringing her down. Even her out Twi, there's a little negative pitch angle, that's it, stop. Ok bring her down... slowly...."

Twilight's brow furrowed in concentration and she licked sweat from her upper lip absently as she maneuvered the device carefully at Marshall's instruction. His litany of instructions continued until the device settled at the top of the tripod, then he nodded.

"Alright, hold it steady 'til I get this tight. Good work, Sparklebutt."

He went to work quickly, and Twilight let out a sigh and relaxed, holding the device rock steady until Marshall stepped back and gave her a signal. She dropped her telekinesis.

Marshall sighed, and wiped his brow. "I think we've taken all reasonable precautions against jarring that fucking conversion matrix, but we'll take a couple test measurements just to be sure."

Twilight nodded, took a deep shaky breath, then let it out slowly. "Right."

Marshall caught something in her tone and eyed her curiously. "You're allowed to be wrong, Twilight. Hell, I've been wrong most of my life."

Twilight started at his immediate grasp of her disquiet and shook her head. "I know a scientist isn't supposed to be biased, Marshall... but I can't help it. If I'm wrong, it's back to the drawing board. Literally. We could be waiting years for more evidence. I..."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Marshall. That was really insensitive. You HAVE been here for years."

She was momentarily startled when he bent down in front of her and met her gaze, pale blue meeting amethyst.

"You don't have to apologize to me, Twilight. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me on this island." He gestured behind him expansively.

"You think I would have gotten this far without you?" He gave her a lopsided smirk.

"You've given me the opportunity to fail in new, exciting ways. Ways that no other human being has had an opportunity to fail."

His expression became serious again and he hugged her. "Thank you, Sparklebutt. I mean that."

She relaxed into his hug, some of her tension leaking out of her with a tired exhalation. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, his hair tickling the tip of her notched ear and making it involuntarily flick.

"If you're wrong, we'll pick ourselves up and try again. That's how this process works. Even if we're wrong, we'll learn something about this island we didn't know before, even if all we learn is that our current mode of thinking is dead wrong."

He released her and stood up, and she rose as well, taking a position by his side, and retrieving a notepad and pen she'd tied a thong to, so it could dangle from her neck when she didn't need it.

Marshall called it a nerd-dallion. Twilight retaliated by drawing a picture on the cover of Marshall with a butt for a head. Unfortunately her artistic talents weren't the best and Marshall thought it was some kind of weird alien thingie. Rather than face teasing, she'd simply agreed.

She suspected he knew better and was fucking with her.

Stupid Marshall.

"Alright, Sparklebutt. Our objectives with this experiment are threefold. We have assumed that the barrier passes light, because if it didn't, we'd be in the dark right now. We should therefore get no reading when we fire a laser at the barrier, indicating no return signal or distance beyond measurement. We have already conducted this experiment, and the results were consistent with our prediction."

Twilight nodded, taking notes.

"We also predict, due to your initial work, that magic is reflected by the barrier due to the nature of its assumed function. Therefore, firing our test fixture at the barrier will result in a reading, indicating that the resultant laser converted into a coherent magic pulse has speculated from the barrier and some of that energy has returned to the conversion matrix, been converted back to infrared light and said light has reached the detector."

He looked at her. "Objective one: Ascertain if our test fixture is functioning properly, and if the barrier functions as we predict."

Twilight wrote this down dutifully, and muttered. "It BETTER be functioning properly."

Marshall grinned and continued. "We have also deduced what we think is a pattern in the Skylights, sufficient that we can predict, within a reasonable margin of error, days we can expect a Skylight. We predict that we can expect a Skylight in..."

He consulted the smartphone. "Eight minutes."

"Objective two: Verify our pattern for Skylight prediction is correct."

Twilight wrote this down as well, scowling slightly.

Marshall smirked at this and continued. "If our Skylight timetable is correct, it should result in a twenty minute window during which a portion of the upper area of the barrier will be magic permeable. Therefore, a magic pulse aimed at that location will give a reading before the Skylight opening begins, and no indication afterwards for a period of approximately twenty minutes, after which the Skylight phenomenon will occur, and the barrier will once again become reflective to magic in that area."

"Objective three: Determine existence of a hypothetical magic permeable portion of the barrier during aforementioned twenty minute window."

Twilight finished jotting this down, then let the notebook dangle from the thong around her neck, tucking the pen into the pages. She looked to Marshall tensely.

"You ready?" She asked, after a moment.

He nodded and took a position behind the magical conversion rangefinder, carefully adjusting the dials to swing the scope upward. Twilight frowned.

"It's reading infinite distance." She mused.

Marshall nodded briskly, working the little crank wheels with careful diligence. "I wouldn't expect it to pick up a signal from the angle it's at, Twi. Where it's at right now, there's probably more than eighty to a hundred miles between us and the barrier. This jury-rigged piece of shit probably doesn't have that kind of range, even with the magical conversion, plus we're swinging it to hell and back."

She frowned and watched, then a small grin lit her face. "We've got a return signal!"

He nodded. "Finally got it near vertical. I think we're hitting somewhere on the top of the barrier. What were our target coordinates again? Fifteen fifty by thirty six?"

Twilight consulted the notebook. "As near to dead center as I can gather from this position would be fifteen fifty by sixty three. You had it backwards."

He snorted. "Right. Number dyslexic, my bad."

He carefully adjusted the rotating wheels to read the appropriate number, then stepped back and checked the rangefinder display.

He blinked. "There is no way the barrier is that tall."

She shook her head. "The conversion's all wrong. Magic has a different constant speed variable, remember? Of course the rangefinder's off. The only thing we're trying to verify here is that we have a return signal from the top of the barrier, which we do."

He nodded, chewing on his lip. "Riiiight. So right now, the barrier is sealed. According to our calculations, that should change in..." He glanced down at the smartphone again.

"Three minutes and thirty six seconds." Marshall glanced at Twilight and smiled.

"Pretty exciting, huh?"

She scowled, prancing slowly in place. "Try nerve-wracking. I hate this."

Marshall snorted. "You think this is bad? Back home a bunch of scientists once tested a device that they theorized had a minute chance of igniting our atmosphere like a frat boy's fart. Bet there wasn't an unstained pair of undies in the bunch."

Twilight stopped prancing and stared at him, horrified. "Why would you... what possible use could such a device be!?"

Marshall sighed and glanced at the smartphone. "Not exactly a proud moment in human history, Twi. Let's just say, we like big bombs and we cannot lie."

Twilight shook her head. "Something tells me I don't want to know anymore." She frowned. "Did you... did you use it?"

Marshall gave her a serious look dead in the eyes that brought her to complete stillness. Something about that stare reminded her that this was a predatory species, and very much alien.

"Knowing what you know about humanity, Twi... what do YOU think?"

She gulped. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed in a heap.

Marshall started, then rushed to her side. "What the fuck, Twi! It was like seventy years ago! For fuck sake, I-"

She groaned. "Marshall, the display. Look at the display."

Marshall blinked. "What?"

She forced herself to a semi-seated position and growled at him. "It's the fucking manapulse fucktard! Look at the thing! The goddamn thing!"

He blinked, then understanding flooded into his expression and he sheepishly jumped back to the device, looking at the display.

She shakily came to her hooves. "What's it say?!"

Marshall let out a slow breath. "It says infinite. We've lost signal to the top of the barrier."

She was right next to him in an instant. "Pan it over, Marsh! Make sure it's not an error!"

He adjusted the horizontal axis knob carefully, working it millimeter by torturous millimeter.

She waited, tense, almost unwilling to hope...

A slow grin crept onto his face. "Signal. Verified. Number's just about the same."

She let out her breath and sagged to the ground like a deflating balloon. "Work it back to center just to be sure."

He nodded and worked the knobs to bring the alignment back to center. "And... we lost it. I think this is pretty good evidence that your hypothesis is correct, Sparklebutt."

For a long moment she just lay there, recovering. Marshall slowly sat down next to her and began to stroke her back slowly. He could feel the shakes of released tension and spent adrenaline.

She frowned. "Did you start the timer?"

He nodded. "Yup. At the twenty minute mark it'll chime and we'll check to see if the hole has closed."

She frowned, trying to think of anything they were forgetting. Marshall's petting intensified.

"Who's a good filly?" He cooed.

She snorted. "I am." She said dryly.

"That's right, you are!" He grinned.

Slowly her OCD quieted under his teasing and gentle ministrations. She let the matter rest, but she was going to GET that cookie he promised, even if he WAS just teasing.

Good fillies got treats, motherbucker.

He smirked. "I have a question."

She sniffled, tears of relief threatening to fall from her eyes. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Fucktard?"

She blushed and let out an involuntary gasp of shocked laughter. The tears started their way down her cheeks. "You caught that, huh?"

He smirked. "Caught it? Hell, that's worth points. I'll make a sailor out of you yet, Sparkle."

His smirk faded and he looked at her seriously. "So... are you okay? I kinda figured you'd be performing your usual murdering of the art of dance over this."

She smiled weakly at this and sighed. "I don't know, Marsh. I thought I'd be really excited about verifying this but... I guess the magnitude of what we still have to accomplish just kind of... struck me."

He nodded. "One step at a time, Twilight. We've gotta learn to crawl before we can waddle the fuck outta this bitch like a toddler who's figured out how the nursery doorknob works for the first time."

She chuckled, then sniffed. "So..."

He nodded. "You were right. The barrier isn't impenetrable all the time. There IS a way through it. Next step is obvious, Twi. You said the only way through is to be mana when we hit it traveling fast enough. You need to figure out how to make that happen, then we need to test it. Hopefully without endangering ourselves, first."

She bit her lip, considering. "That's a pretty tall order, Marsh. How?"

Marshall nodded. "As usual, I have no idea about the magic side, Twilight. That's your baileywick. As for getting something up there at the right speed, I might have a few ideas."

Her ears perked cutely in response. "Yeah?"

He grinned. "Tell me, Sparkle. You think you could get your hooves on a decent supply of hydrogen peroxide?"

She grimaced. "Your chemistry terms and my chemistry terms aren't exactly the same, Marshall. It would help if you had a little I could identify so I know exactly what you mean."

Marshall nodded. "As it happens, I do. Among other interesting qualities, hydrogen peroxide is also a disinfectant. There's some in our first aid supplies... sadly, not enough to do us any good for what I have in mind. Medical grade peroxide is like, three percent actual chemical and ninety seven percent DI water. Way too diluted to work for what we need."

She frowned. "Okay. Assuming I can identify it, how concentrated do we need it to be?"

Marshall sighed. "I think... around at least eighty five percent. Honestly, the purer the better."

She winced. "Well... I'm going to need lab space. Ventilated. The work room would do. And I'm going to need all the glassware we picked up from Star Bucks. The less I have to transfigure, the better. That is assuming I CAN identify it and that I know some way to produce it."

Marshall grinned. "I have every confidence in you. We'll figure it out. All we have is time, Twilight. Well... time and a really big fucking truck."

Twilight snorted, her notched ear twitching slightly. She gave him a suspicious look. "Assuming that we CAN make this stuff... what are you going to use it for?"

Marshall chuckled maniacally. "The inevitable, really. We just found out our alien overlords occasionally leave their backdoor wide open. It'd serve them right if we jammed it full of something phallic and on fire."

Twilight stared at him, then her ears swiveled down and back. "You were right."

She sighed in mock misery and rolled her eyes skyward.

"With you involved, surprise butt sex was always an inevitability."

"You're damn skippy, Sparklebutt."

Set up chapter is set up. It should come as no surprise to any of you that, personal difficulties nonwithstanding, this was a hard chapter for me to write. I kept feeling as though I had to include some kind of action, I was desperate to do so, but I found that every time I tried, it stood out like a Monty Python sketch in the middle of a funeral, and not in a good way. I beat my head against it over and over again, ever more distracted by real life, and months turned into years and well... you get the picture. The truth is, having a story as successful as this is scary. A part of me keeps thinking, this is it. This is the chapter where they finally figure out I'm a hack. I can't possibly keep it up.

But I think that's doing you all a disservice, and me, I suppose. See most of the people who have stuck with me this far know what Quantum Castaways is. They know I'm not just going to author fiat explain shit away. If Twilight says she has a plan, she has an actual plan, based on observations and data she has made and gathered, and goddamn it she and Marshall are going to talk it out because that's what they DO. It's what they always do. They figure it out together. And more importantly, gentlereaders... both you and I ENJOY them figuring things out.

Still, I am aware that this chapter won't be to everyone's taste, especially after the very long hiatus. I can only respond with the reassurance that this was necessary, and that there is far more adventure in the story to come.

So in other words, trust me, I guess. If you're still here after all this time, you've already extended me the benefit of the doubt a thousand times over. Trust me a little further. I have more snake oil to sell.

In any case, what follows is an Omake of my own creation. Nugar is recovering from surgery at the moment, and it is WAY too short notice to ask any of my other regulars to provide you with extra entertainment, so as the nature of the delay and its sudden end is my fault, I'll take responsibility. This Omake really got away from me, I'll admit. The interactions are a little raw, a little less polished than I like to go with, but... heartfelt, especially toward the end. Well, you'll see.

Of Castaways and the Crown - Sunbutt edition Part 1

Jangle. Jangle. Jangle.

Marshall quietly groaned to himself and started at the sound. He frowned, shifting his M4 Carbine on his shoulder, picked up his makeshift spear, and contemplated the ringing of the bell.

It was his snare again. He supposed he should be happy, he'd only just set the damn thing on the game trail, but there was something odd about it. A small animal that had been successfully killed by the snare caused the bell to ring at regular intervals like that, as it dipped up and down, but this was...

Just a little too strident, really. It sounded like there was something BIG in that thing.

He sighed. "I'm comin', I'm comin'. You better not be another goddamn Squid Panther eating a piggie out of my trap or I swear-"

He stopped as the trap came into view. His mouth dropped open. He couldn't help it. There was just no rational explanation for what was in front of him. The spear dropped unnoticed from his hand.

Standing in front of him with a regal, unquestioningly intelligent bearing, its light amethyst eyes glimmering with quiet dignity and power, was a fucking white... unicorn... thing. It stood about a head or so over his own five feet, ten inches, perhaps just shy of six feet four inches tall. A long brilliant white horn adorned its forehead, wickedly sharp, from what Marshall could see. Its coat was purest white, broken only by a pair of brilliantly white wings, currently folded and at rest. A golden tiara adorned its head, and filigree golden horseshoes adorned its hooves.

The most startling things about it were its mane and tail. These were like fine smoke in a shifting pastel rainbow of flowing colors, like an aurora borealis, ethereal and haunting in its beauty. It was like something you might see under the effects of LSD, catching your attention and holding it, awestruck, while everyone else wondered why the fuck you were staring at the streamers attached to a swamp fan.

It... she, nothing that supremely girly could call itself a male, was watching him quietly, a half eaten star fruit hanging in complete disregard for the laws of physics near her head. The snare's bell whipped up straight, jangled a bit, then stopped, as whatever power the creature had over gravity ceased yanking on it. She cocked her head, curiously, examining him, just as he was examining her.

This quiet standoff continued for several seconds before the horse... unicorn... pegasus.... whatever, raised an eyebrow in a curiously human expression. The expression said... "Well? Your move, primate."

Marshall blinked, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out, then opened his eyes slowly.

The horse thing wasn't just still there, it had apparently approached him while he was trying to get his wits about him. The equinoid's eyes caught his like a snakes would a mouse, freezing him.

She was, perhaps, three feet away.

She leaned a little closer, stretching out that long, graceful, seemingly delicate neck.

"Boo." She said in a gentle, regal voice nonetheless tinged heavily with good humor and mischievousness. Then she crossed her eyes, stuck her tongue out at him, and blew him a raspberry.

Marshall blinked again. His mouth closed with a snap, and he cocked his head.

"Are you fuckin' with me, horseface?" He breathed.

She giggled, like a tinkling of bells. "Yup."

Thus did Lieutenant Commander Marshall James Bailey make the acquaintance of Princess Celestia, diarch of the land of Equestria, and custodian of the rising and setting sun.

Marshall sat with stone face, observing his companion of three months. He raised an eyebrow.

Princess Celestia, her mane drifting diffidently in a wind that could not be perceived in the small cave dwelling, picked up five small berries with her magic and tossed them into the center of the table.

"I see your two, and raise you three."

Marshall raised an eyebrow. "Bullshit. You are bluffing your puffy white ass off. Bunch a' nothing on the flop, seven of clubs on the turn, jack of hearts on the river...."

He mused, eyeing her carefully.

Princess Celestia closed her eyes and grinned at him in that maddening display of utter unruffled dignity she had. She hummed quietly to herself.

Marshall scowled and tossed a few berries in to match her bet. "I ain't got shit, but I gotta see this."

Princess Celestia turned her cards to reveal the jack of diamonds and the jack of clubs. Marshall stared at this, and at his own hand of near garbage (he had a seven of spades and an ace of hearts), then sighed as the diarch picked up her winnings and deposited them on her side of the table. She grinned at him.

"It would appear that this puffy white ass is going to get puffier, with all these sweets I'm winning."

Marshall frowned darkly, his expression sour.

"Don't be that way, Marshall! Sweets are bad for you. I'm looking after your health."

Marshall's frown turned into a scowl. "You better not be pulling any kinda Jedi mind tricks, horseface."

She chuckled. "Though I cannot speak for its integrity, your mind has remained unmolested by my person, Commander, I assure you. Your defeat at this poker was merely the result of several thousand years of experience reading ponies. With very little difficulty, I might add. It would appear there is considerable crossover between our species' facial expressions."

Marshall considered this for a moment, then smirked. "So do senior discounts ramp up every millennium, or do they just kinda level off after awhile, grandma?"

Princess Celestia picked up the deck of cards telekinetically and began shuffling it, her expression unruffled. "Marshall, I'm a Princess. Paying for things is usually optional."

She leaned over the table a bit and half-lidded her gaze, lowering her eyelashes at him demurely. She was a bit out of practice with the physical nuances of flirting, but the old reflexes kicked in properly. "Besides, if I'm so decrepit, why do you keep staring at my flank?"

Marshall blinked at this, then actually reddened. Embarrassment yes, but also a small amount of confused interest. Apparently some things were universal.

She let this one go without reminding him he was getting further behind. No need to grind her hoof in, as it were.

The mid-day heat was a blistering weight on her face and neck. Sweat formed in beads on her brow, dampening the hairs there. They weren't quite saturated enough to begin dripping moisture into her face, but it wouldn't be long.

She closed her eyes in concentration, reaching. Nothing. Emptiness. She opened her eyes, squinting up at her tormentor. It was there. She could SEE it, plain as... well, plain as day.

Why couldn't she reach it?

Something metallic and cool touched her overheated neck, causing her to start at the unexpected contact. Her involuntary jerk caused the contents of the object to slosh.

"There're easier ways to go blind, Princess. I take my afternoon shit around the same time every day."

She snorted and finally tore her gaze away from the treacherous orb of this alien sun, to gaze at her fellow companion in isolation. "With what you eat on a daily basis? I'd rather not lose my sense of smell in the bargain."

She grasped the battered canteen with her magic and removed the cap, taking a long swig. It was cool, which meant he hadn't pulled it from his own water reserves, as the stored liquid tended to be lukewarm by late morning. He'd walked all the way down to the river and filled it, then brought it back up.

It was a small gesture but she was touched nonetheless.

She passed the canteen back to him and he tilted his head back and drank. She watched as his Adam's apple twitched, still fascinated at how alien his biology was. He wiped the excess liquid from his lips with his sleeve, screwed the cap back on tightly and set the canteen down between them on the worn planks of his "observation post".

Celestia leaned back and grinned, remembering their Poker game the night before. "So... eight to one, Marshall. You're going to have to step up your game if you're going to beat me."

He sighed and reached his arms over his head, grasping one wrist with the other and stretching. The crunch pop noises fascinated Celestia, as they had every time.

"I'm startin' to regret telling you about that game, Sunny D."

She cocked her head quizzically, her expression sharpening into curious interest. "Sunny D? That's a new one. I don't have any immediate objections, but I'd like to know what that is."

Marshall blinked, like he'd called her that absently and hadn't given it a moments thought. "Uh, it's a drink back on Earth. Kinda tastes like what would happen if an orange were used to beat a tangerine to death and then the murderer hid the evidence in a glass of sugar and water."

Celestia blinked at the description. "Sounds pleasant. What does the "D" stand for?"

Marshall gave her a somewhat reticent look, then crossed his arms and smirked. "Dick."

Celestia, in response, raised one regal eyebrow. She cocked her head slightly and lowered her facial angle so she was making direct eye contact. It was a very expressive bit of body language that Marshall translated to, roughly, "You regularly drank something called Sunny Dick?"

Marshall cut his eyes to the side and actually reddened a bit, caught out. After a moment, he sighed. "Yeah... really didn't think that one through. Delight. It's called Sunny Delight."

Celestia's expression grew ever so slightly playful, with just a hint of pleasure. She got the impression he hadn't even thought about the connotations of his absent nickname, and that just made it all the more delicious.

"That's very flattering, Marshall. I like it. It... has been a long time since anypony felt comfortable enough with me to give me a nickname. Ages, I think. My sister occasionally calls me Tia, in private." She frowned.

"Though... less often, since her return."

Marshall cocked his head. "You miss her, don't you?"

Celestia sighed. "Indeed. I am... very worried about her. About all my little ponies, really. I can't imagine how hard it must be-"

Marshall snorted. "You know exactly how hard it must be, Sunny D. Didn't you tell me you handled everything by yourself when you sister went a bit... you know?"

Celestia frowned. "Well... not everything. Nopony could handle EVERYTHING involved in the governance of an entire race. I had subordinates."

Marshall nodded. "Right, I getcha. Luna then, she's still weak from sittin' in the moon all those years? She can move the moon, but the sun..." he trailed off in a questioning tone.

Celestia shook her head. "In some ways my sister is stronger than me, now. Magically speaking, she has more than enough power to handle both functions."

Marshall shrugged. "If you say so. I find the whole thing ridiculous, but I'm from a universe where that kinda shit just CAN'T happen. In any case, worst case scenario, if some threat pops up, you not being there will mean a serious dip in Equestria's, defenses?"

Celestia looked down. "Actually, the last several threats which "popped up" as it were, were dealt with by my student and her friends. I had very little to do with any of..."

She looked up, her expression rueful. "I see what you're doing there, human. I appreciate the gesture, but logic alone isn't going to alleviate my concerns."

Marshall gave a kind of surrender gesture with his hands. "I'm not doin' nothin', Princess. I'm just pointing out that the hallmark of a good leader is how the command functions in that leaders absence. You don't micromanage, right?"

She frowned. "I believe that ponies should have the ability to chart their own destiny, Marshall. I try to stay as hooves off as possible, though an occasional nudge or reminder is sometimes necessary."

Marshall smiled. "If I can make an observation?"

Celestia copied a gesture she'd seen him give occasionally, gesturing with a hoof for him to proceed.

"You don't run your government like a Princess, you run it like a momma."

She blinked.

"It's in the little expressions, Sunny D. My little ponies, and such. You view them like your children, and it's not hard to see why, or to imagine that they might view you as a kinda mother figure."

She frowned. "I fail to see-"

Marshall met her gaze easily, his expression gentle. "Everyone should have one person in their life that loves them unconditionally, and accepts them for who they are. Someone to turn to when life is too fucking unfair. The great tragedy of mothers, Tia... is that one day they're gone. That is a cold hard lesson that everyone learns someday. The thing that mothers have to learn, is how to let go. You gotta let your loved ones learn to stand on their own two feet, or four hooves as it were. If you try to shield them from too much pain when you're here, you'll force them to endure worse pain when you're not, at a time when they're already hurting because you're gone."

His expression turned distant, introspective, as though something about his words had occurred to him only as he spoke them.

Nevertheless, the words shocked her. She didn't like to consider the ramifications of what he'd said.

Not one bit. She narrowed her eyes at him, the very act of her increased focus on him snapping him out of his introspection. He stared back at her warily, but said nothing as she raised her neck upward, stretching to her full height. From this vantage she was able to, just barely, stare down at him, her expression cold and mildly furious.

"I have lived for more than two thousand years, human. Weathered disasters natural and otherwise. Faced armies down and routed them without a single drop of blood being shed. If my ponies need a constant, a foundation ever present, then I WILL provide it."

He raised an eyebrow, but he didn't back down. In fact, he advanced a step and met her gaze. Deep amethyst met cold faded grey blue and held.

"How'd that work out for your sister, horseface? Were you always there for her?"

She reared back as though physically struck and, rather than obliterate him with the sudden surge of rage and pain that struck her, struck the deck of the observation point her her hoof. One of the planks snapped with bright crack of abused wood and she had to struggle to keep her balance. She stared down at her hoof as though she'd never seen it before, appalled.

Marshall continued, his voice merciless but strangely soft. "You might be immortal, princess, but you aren't infallible. Your advantage is you have experience on everybody else. Mounds more than anyone else can boast, but tell me this; have you ever been alone?"

Her gaze jerked back to his face. For once he was unreadable. "I-..."

"Really alone? Have you ever been so alone that you talk to yourself so you can hear another voice?"

She stared at him.

"Have you ever been so alone that you answer back? Whole conversations playing out and it was all you? Have you ever reached the point where even THAT doesn't work, and you just quit with it all together? Ever wondered if you could even deal with other people again, if you ever found them?"

She shook her head. After a moment, softly, she said. "No. No I haven't."

He nodded. "This is as close as you've ever come to it, Princess. If there's a merciful god, and I very much doubt there is at this point, it's the closest you OR I will ever come to it again. You have to accept, Celestia, that there are some things you can't control. This sun, how your subjects will do in your absence, and how well your sister will pick up the slack. There is no point in standing here out in the blistering heat staring at the sun and courting heat stroke."

She found her ears turning down slightly, appalled that this being a tiny fraction of her own age was scolding her, and worse, making sense. Anger drained out of her, leaving a kind of bitter frustration at the impossibility of her situation, stuck on an alien island with her sole company an irascible alien primate. He snorted at her expression.

"You don't have a monopoly on wisdom, Sunny D." He snorted. "Well okay, you DO, but you've only got like three houses on it. Four tops. You definitely don't have a hotel yet."

She shook her head, completely lost. He continued, his tone exasperated. "Immortal. Lord save me from strong women who think they can just bull-neck their way through all of life's problems, health or otherwise. Made the mistake of believing that would work once, and it didn't go too well."

There was a surprising amount of bitterness in that statement. Despite the rawness of their interaction today, she found herself curious in spite of herself.

Celestia blinked away tears. "When did you learn that lesson, Marshall?"

He blinked, hesitated at first, obviously reluctant to answer, then let out a sigh. "When I was fourteen, my mother was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer. It's a disease where cells grow out of control in certain areas, causing tumor growths that interfere with organ function and eventually lead to death."

Celestia's ears drooped. "We have something similar... but the condition is easily remedied through magic."

Marshall smiled grimly. "Well... we don't have that option. Stage three is serious, but it's managable. The treatment is... well it's pretty fucking horrific. She spent most of the next year sick as a dog, lost her hair... lost weight. They ended up amputating her breast, what's referred to as a mastectomy, but for all that did, it was basically locking the barn door after the horse got out and the barn burned down. It was... well it was horrifying. My mother was the strongest person I'd ever met, Celestia. She was invincible. Her will was absolutely iron. Watching her breakdown..."

He shuddered.

Celestia closed her eyes and let out a sad breath.

"She held on for about two years. Doctors called it an "extremely aggressive case", which is pretty much doctor speak for, well, I've got nothin'. The pain got really bad. At the end she couldn't eat, could barely speak... used to think I could literally see her wither away. In some ways that might have been preferable."

He looked down at the table. "Long story short, I think she hung on as long as she did because we needed her. My dad fell to pieces without her. When she died, Celestia, our family just fell apart. Dad disconnected emotionally. I mean, he went through the motions. He worked, he brought home the bacon, but he spent most of his time in his chair watching fucking TV and drinking beers 'til he fell asleep. Nothing we did really mattered anymore. Mom was one of those people who took care of everything. I think he just got so lost he gave up even trying to find a way back."

Celestia shook her head. "And you?"

He grinned mirthlessly. "I tried being the good son at first. When that didn't work, I tried being the bad son. Was always better at that. It took me an unfortunate amount of time and trouble with the law to figure out that he just didn't care one way or the other, any more. My mom might have died, but really... my sister and I lost both of our parents that day. So I said fuck it, took the first option I could find that could get me as far away as possible. Never looked back."

He sighed. "The point is, Sunny D... that if you are a responsible leader, and I believe you are... that they'll have the tools necessary to keep things moving along. Hell, sheer inertia will help at first, then it'll get easier. Maybe not as smooth, maybe there will be a few bumps, but they'll soldier on. They'll miss you..."

She took in a deep breath, then let it out in a gust. "But they'll get by."

Marshall grinned at her. "The question is, will you? Have you ever been in a position where you weren't an essential cog in the great machine?"

Her immediate response would have been to change the subject, but they were past petty distraction tactics. It would have been cheap to respond in such a fashion, and so she examined his question carefully. "I... no. No I don't think I have. You don't need me, do you?"

Her question came out in a bit more vulnerable a tone of voice than she was comfortable with, but he didn't tease her.

Instead he shook his finger at her. "I like having you around, Celestia. This is a far more tolerable place with you in it, if you'll forgive me for saying so, but I got by for five years without you. I don't NEED you..."

She smiled half-heartedly. "Am I wanted?"

Marshall gave her an, "are you shitting me?" look. "Of course you are. Is that so rare for you?"

She blinked, then blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Yes, actually. I'm not used to being... wanted. Necessary, certainly. Needed, sometimes. Wanted... not so much."

He blinked. Then with typical Marshall irreverence, merely shrugged. "Well. Get used to it. You brighten up the place, Sunny D. Besides, you match my couch."

Celestia gave him a deeply offended look. "You don't HAVE a couch."

He looked pointedly at her rump. "You ARE a couch."

Celestia reared up in mock outrage. "Well I never! I am not a couch, Marshall. I am at the very LEAST a bean bag chair."

Marshall looked intrigued. "You guys HAVE those?"

She shrugged. "Had. It was... a phase. An awkward phase. We don't talk about it."

"Amen, sister."

And they both laughed. The tension disappearing like clouds after a storm.

Try as she might, she wasn't sure who had come out on top of their little verbal encounter.

She decided it was a tie. That seemed equitable.

End Part 1

Chapter Three - Being

Deadman's Gun - Ashtar Command

(Incidentally, if you were wondering what song I would use if I were trying to represent Marshall, this would be the one.)

Marshall was quite familiar with the dangers of panic mode. It happened to all pilots during their career at some point. Up there, things could change in an instant, whether you were a combat pilot or not. His first moment of panic; real, gut-wrenching, mind destroying terror, had happened while flying emergency relief supplies over Iraq, at approximately a thousand feet. Everything about the flight had been routine, and while it was technically unsecured territory, he'd flown this exact mission three times previously, and it was beginning to take on the trappings of the dull and mundane. Suddenly, his concentration on the upcoming landing was shattered by the blare of the missile launch warning on his annunciator panel.

An insurgent had taken an opportunity shot and launched a MANPADS (man portable air defense system) as he had come in for a landing. For a split second he had completely frozen up, aware that, at that altitude, in a C-130, there was no such thing as evasive maneuvering. In fact, at that critical stage in a landing, evasive maneuvering probably would have resulted in a crash. The instinct, however, was to put some distance between him and the missile, by any means necessary. Fortunately standard procedure had the Northrop-Grumman built Nemesis DIRCM (Directed Infrared Countermeasure) active at anything less than ten thousand feet, and the automated system had spoofed the missile before it became a problem. In this case, indecision had actually saved his ass, as in morbid fascination he watched that deadly contrail spiral wildly off on a tangental ballistic arc, curving widely in vain to find a target it could no longer "see", before running out of fuel and crashing into the wreckage specked desert.

The landing proceeded without incident, he penned a nice "thank you" email to NG Laser Systems, thanked his lucky stars for technology, and got very drunk the next time he visited a drinking establishment. Still, it stuck in his mind, that incident. The moment when his indecision had saved him. He'd wondered quite a few times since, what would have happened if some action had been NECESSARY on his part.

Panic could kill, in the right conditions, and being no stranger to it, he could recognize it in others.

Even if those others were cutesy little equines.

Fear is the mindkiller, indeed.

"Easy..." He said evenly, slowly lifting his hands up. "Easy, Twilight-"

She edged back from him, head tossing slightly, her flanks quivering, on the verge of bolting. Twilight had definitely turned inward in the wake of whatever sanity blasting revelation she'd had, muttering a stream of nonsense, something about the Princess abandoning her, the stars were wrong... and some extremely complex mathematical equations...

She was about a step away from toppling backwards over the edge where the railing was cut away so that the platform could be accessed.

He made a snap decision, one that he hoped wouldn't haunt him later. Snapping forward, he caught the first available handle, in this case the unicorn's horn, and jerked her remarkably light frame back from the drop behind her. With no traction from her hooves on the smooth boards, she slid easily toward him.

For the second time that day, Twilight Sparkle went bugfuck. Instinct told her that a predator had a hold of her head, so she attempted to twist away, rear legs cocking for a buck, dancing, practically pirouetting on that little four foot platform.

"CALM DOWN, DAMN IT!" Marshall roared, adrenaline and fear surging in him.

Acting on his own instincts, he released her horn, advanced a step and instead wrapped an arm around the unicorn's neck, coming in low and putting his shoulder into her chest. Moving like he hadn't moved since an aborted and somewhat embarassing attempt to join his High School wrestling team, he bodily lifted her off of the ground, spun on his heel, then slammed her down against the boards and used his superior bulk to cram her up against the tree in a sort of half-assed wrestling move that was only really effective because he was a grown man trying to subdue someone with the mass of a midget or half grown girl. She got one good kick in with those surprisingly strong hindlegs, and pain flared through his left leg as her hoof impacted hard with the meat of his thigh.

"AGH, FUCK!" That was going to leave a mark.

Gritting his teeth, he slid his right leg back for traction and his boot caught on the support for the guardrail. The stout board held, and he braced against it, angling his left leg away from those scrabbling hooves. He braced himself up and shoved harder, desperately attempting to restrict the unicorn's movements further. Anything to take away the space she needed to chamber those deadly, cute, blunt little hooves again.

"LET ME GO, LET ME-"

"TWILIGHT SPARKLE, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" He roared in her face, jerking his face back from her horn as her head swiveled wildly. It wasn't really sharp, but no one wanted the equivalent of a hard finger in the eye, either.

"LE-"

"LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN! LISTEN TO MY VOICE, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!! YOU CANNOT FREAK OUT UP HERE! OKAY?!"

Her wildly rolling eyes met his suddenly, still panicked, but no longer focused on the middle distance.

"Shhh.." He crooned. "Shh, calm down... easy... just... easy."

Either she was getting tired, or she actually was listening. Her breathing was ragged, she couldn't exactly take a full breath with his bulk crushing her into the corner formed by the intersection of the tree and the platform.

"Ow." She managed in a small voice.

"Are you calm?" He asked.

"I... yes. I'm sorry."

He slowly eased back from her, ready to surge forward again if her struggles renewed.

After several seconds, he finally brought his legs under him, eased backward against the rail support, then shifted his legs in front him when he was sure of the support at his back, breathing hard. He watched her carefully.

She looked back, shaking, but no longer panicked. His dogtags had been pressed pretty hard into the left side of her muzzle. So hard, in fact, that he imagined he could read his name, serial number, and "no rel pref" even through her short fur. As for her overall state, she looked both frightened and completely exhausted. She was sprawled out on her belly, watching him from her peripheral vision, breathing hard, all four legs stretched out.

He took a deep breath.

"I don't know, what the fuck that was..." he said, slowly. "But you cannot freak out in this place, Twilight. Not like that. Not ever."

She just watched him.

"Every decision you make here..." He closed his eyes, remembering things he'd really rather not remember, but pressing on despite the pain. "Everything you do has to be considered. If you had fallen off this platform, or you'd managed to knock me off of it... then chances are we'd have broken something... and that's it."

"That's..." He winced and massaged his bruised inner thigh. "That's all she wrote."

"You hurt me." She mused.

He opened his eyes and glared at her, still rubbing the charlie horse she'd given him. She actually blushed, looking a little guilty.

"I'm sorry." She looked down. "It's just-"

"You panicked, and I reacted, then you panicked at my reaction and I overreacted, to keep us both from getting hurt. It was a fuckery feedback loop. It's been a long day, and it's been one insanity after another, for both of us." He said tiredly.

She nodded, eyes still downcast.

"Are we cool?" He said finally.

She nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"We're cool." He said with finality. "Nothing else needs to be said, Sparks."

She glanced back at the night sky. "It's wrong, Marshall. The sky, it's all wrong."

"I got that impression," He said dryly, paused, then admitted. "It's wrong for me too."

Her eyes darted to his and she opened her mouth.

"I didn't say anything..." He said, raising a hand to still her protest. "Because I didn't know if it was the wrong sky for you, too... and I didn't want to... worry you, on top of everything else. To be honest, I was kinda hoping you'd know where we are. That some part of this might actually make some fucking sense, for once."

He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "In hindsight, a bad call, I guess. I'm sorry."

She was silent for a time, then nodded, head drooping down to the wooden boards beneath her.

They sat like that for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The droning of night insects and random noises in the undergrowth beyond the palisade wall, and the flickering of the meager torchlight below made for a surreal scene. Some distant jungle predator made an alien noise of triumph and Twilight shivered, ears flicking.

He stared off into the night sky, brooding silently on past failures. After a moment he realized she was speaking to him.

"... not Equestria, and it's not..." She frowned.

"Earth." He offered, helpfully.

"Earth... where IS it?"

He chuckled tiredly. "That's the million dollar question, ain't it?"

She frowned at the unfamiliar currency, but appeared to understand the sentence by its context. It was amazing how many of their idioms crossed over with one another.

He looked at the night sky again, considering the question more carefully. "I don't know, Sparks. None of the stars are in the right spots, and while I might not have nearly enough land-nav schooling to be confident of finding my way around by celestial navigation, I know enough about the constellations to find the dippers and Polaris, and none of the stars is bright enough or in the right place to be the North Star." He paused.

"Plus, the moon is wrong. It has no visible geographic features, and..."

He shrugged helplessly. "It looks... fake."

She nodded. "The constellation names you mentioned don't mean anything to me, but I agree with your reasoning. I HAVE actually spent a decent amount of time studying the night sky, and nothing is recognizable. It's like Princess Luna was in a rush to get it up and just, I don't know, threw everything up there randomly... which is something she'd never do. She's quite sensitive about the night sky."

Marshall gave her a slightly blank look. "What?"

Twilight gave him a quizzical look. "You know, Moon Princess? Responsible for the night sky? Raises the moon every night?"

"Did I hit you in the head or something? What are you talking about?"

She frowned, then comprehension dawned. "Oh! That's right, you're from this... Earth, which, if it has a different night sky, must be a different planet! So you must do things differently, there!"

He nodded. "I'll say. I've never heard of a Princess Luna. Although, the moon is sometimes referred to as Luna where I come from."

Her face took on a delighted animation that was quite charming, and definitely much better looking on her than depression or fear. She clopped her front hooves together, sitting up straight.

"So, who raises your sun and moon?" She asked eagerly, "Oh, I wish I had a notepad!"

Marshall winced. "OK... this is gonna take some... explaining."

Twilight Sparkle was about as close to an infophile as you could get, though it wouldn't have occurred to her to describe herself in such terms. Still, flush with new discovery, head spinning, heart racing, for the moment, she had completely forgotten about the horrifying events leading up to this conversation.

Bruises and all.

"So, let me see if I understand this correctly. Gosh, this would be so much easier if I had notes... All of these planets are just whizzing around your sun because it produces a massive gravity well, resulting in these elliptical orbits, and your moon does the same thing around your planet due to its OWN gravity well, and the apparent rising and setting of the sun and the moon are really just optical illusions caused by the spinning motion of your planet as it rotates the observing face away and then back to the sun?"

"Yup."

"-And, the stars... those are actually suns, with planets of their own, too?"

"Most of 'em."

"-All of them just spinning and hurtling through space, from a single point billions of years ago, when the entire universe was compressed into a tight point and then exploded outward in a Big Bang?"

"Pretty much."

She sat back, eyes shining, looking up at the sky, imagining all that movement, all those collisions, the massive hidden machinery of the celestial heavens spinning and spiraling and continuously dancing in a huge intricate pattern of...

Of... well, chaos. "That's so... so disorganized!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose you could look at it that way, but then again, we don't have to worry about a slow lingering demise by heat death if one of our world leaders wakes up on the wrong side of the bed."

She gave him a sour look. "She only tried that the one time, and she got better. Nopony holds it against her." She paused.

"Well, much, anyway."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'll take your word for it. I still find this whole immortal princesses raising the sun and moon sorta hard to believe."

She stepped forward a bit, eyes locked on him like a hawk seeking a small mammal.

"I could show you the math!" She said eagerly. "It's actually an elegant bit of spellwork, you see-"

He raised a hand. "Hold your fire there, Sparks. So what did you guys do before the Princesses?"

She sat back. "Oh, before the Princesses were born, a group of twelve or so unicorn archmagi did the duty in synch, but it was much less efficient."

He nodded. "And before them?"

She frowned. "History doesn't really say... that was during the reign of Discord, you see... and things were a chaotic mess back then. Written history doesn't get really accurate until about eight hundred years ago, when-"

She suddenly startled herself with with an interruption in the form of a huge yawn.

"Oh, sorry..." She giggled. "Guess I'm a lot more tired than I realized. I just get so focused on new things."

He smiled, thinly. "It has been a long day, and I still have to carry you down, Sparks."

She blinked, then smirked at him.

Then vanished in a flaring flash of purple light.

The teleport was short range enough that she actually caught the tail end of his startled curse. That shaggy head with the shapeless tan range hat appeared over the edge, looking about wildly.
He oriented on her.

She waved a foreleg at him.

He scowled. "So you can teleport, too?!"

She nodded. "I am the bearer of Magic. There are very few spells I can't perform."

His eyes widened in realization. "Wait a minute, if you can teleport, why didn't you-"

She smirked at him. "Three to one. You're not very good at this, are you?"

He stared at her disbelievingly for several seconds, then shook his head and grumbled something about damn cheating teleporting purple unicorns as he trudged his way down the ladder.

She very politely refrained from laughing at him as he did so. She had been raised better than that.

It took the human a few minutes to locate the ragged remains of a parachute that he'd opened up for fabric at one point, but that combined with various other bits of fabric and materials it was thankfully too dark to identify he was able to make her up a crude pallet with pillows and a blanket. It certainly wasn't her bed at home, but it was miles ahead of sleeping in the jungle with nothing but the cold ground for comfort. Marshall stripped down to his short pants, stripping off the boots to reveal feet that, to her surprise, looked a far cry from the hand-like appendages she'd have expected to see in a large ape primate. The toes had diminished in size to the point of being nearly vestigial, serving only as a method of further balancing that odd two legged gait. Twilight Sparkle got the impression that humans didn't so much walk forward as they did unbalance themselves and continuously catch their balance as they fell on their faces.

She decided to keep these observations to herself, for the time being.

In any case, after ensuring that she was settled in for the night, Marshall extinguished the flames of the alcohol lights and banked the fire before settling with a creak and a groan into his own bed. Before very long, the squeaks and creaks of the canvas and metal frame contraption he'd jury rigged into a bed diminished into nothing as he completed the quest to make himself comfortable.

Silence and pitch darkness crowded in on her. As was common in situations like this, she found that she could not sleep, the thoughts in her head racing a mile a minute. In fact, thoughts circled mercilessly, like vultures waiting to pounce on some poor desert traveler. Initially just digesting the fantastical things she'd learned from Marshall about his homeworld, or was it home universe? She wasn't quite sure yet, then gradually, insidiously, other thoughts crowded in.

Less pleasant ones.

It started innocently enough. She thought about how much she lamented the fact that she'd had no way of taking detailed notes. This led to thinking about how much easier collating her nonexistent notes would have been if she'd had Spike around. The little dragon was almost more obsessively organized than she was. With a pang, she realized that he would have NO idea where she went. Had he woken up, and spent all of today searching for her? Were her friends panicking even now?

She thought about all of them. How frantic they would be, especially right after that mess with the Changeling Queen, Chrysalis, and her brood. Princess Celestia would be worried as well, though of course she would carry on, as she had to and would, for time immemorial. They'd have no idea where to look... would it even have occurred to them that she could have been smuggled so completely off her world?

A lump began to form in her throat. What if... what if she never found her way home? They certainly weren't going to find her if they weren't even aware she'd left the planet. How was she going to get back, anyway? Would they ever give up? Would they search for her fruitlessly their whole lives, growing more and more hopeless as the years pressed in? Would they give her up for dead? Would they give her a funeral? Mourn her, then over the long years forget her, like an old photograph, fading into obscurity?

She was completely unable to decide which eventuality was worse.

The first indication that she had that she was, in fact, weeping, was when an attempt at a deep breath turned into a full throated sob. Suddenly the floodgates broke, and she found herself crying desperately, like a forsaken child. Heaving, aching, heartbroken sobs that she tried to stifle into her pillow.

Marshall groaned. The human shifted restlessly on his creaking bed.

"I-I'm sorry." She sobbed miserably. Where had this come from? She'd thought she had it together, and now she couldn't seem to stop.

She was unaware that he'd moved at all in the darkness. Those soft human feet and years of creeping in the jungle made him eerily quiet for such a large being. One minute she was sobbing alone in the dark, the next a large shape crouched with a shotgun pop of crepitus in both knees and sat next to her pallet in the dark. She scrubbed furiously at her aching eyes and attempted to stifle her sobs.

"I'm s-sorry. I have no idea where this is coming from." She said, before a fresh bout of silent shaking overtook her. It hurt, being that miserable.

"Yes you do." He said tiredly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Sparks."

She started when a large calloused hand found her neck and the back of her head. She shivered as those alien digits combed their way through her slightly sweaty mane, back and forth.

She started to say something, then collapsed again under the weight of her grief. What was she grieving for?

The loss of her whole world.

He just sat there with her, petting her gently, combing his fingers through her mane, never too rough, or too fast. It really was soothing, in an odd way. Not exactly the warm nuzzling of a parents muzzle, or even the sheltering, all-encompassing curve of an immortal's alabaster feathered wing, just... nice. She wondered, even now in her loneliness and grief, if he'd ever had children. Oddly enough, she got the strangest feeling that he derived almost as much comfort from comforting her as she did receiving it.

Then he shocked her for the second time. So badly she actually stopped shaking for a moment. Listening in a sort of stunned state of silent wonder.

He began to sing. Hesitantly, shyly, his voice rough with lack of sleep and hesitation. If she were being honest, not all that well either, he was a little too quiet, a little flat and he kept pausing at the oddest moments.

"If I had words... to make a day for you. I'd give you a morning... golden and true. I would make... this day, last for all time. Give you a night... deep in moon shine."

It was such a charming little song. It didn't appear to have any other lyrics than that, just a slow repeat of the same refrain. After awhile, he stopped even making sensible words all together and just hummed it, gently soothing her in the darkness. For the first time she internalized, really, honestly understood that this wasn't an alien, unknowable, incomprehensible enigma, but just another soul. A compassionate, lonely, world weary traveler. In the darkness their differences simply faded into unimportant little details sublimated in the warmth of that understanding. Pony, human, herbivore, omnivore, it simply didn't matter.

Just two lonely, soul weary beings. One recognizing the pain and suffering of the other on the incomprehensible path that was this crazy life journey, and carrying them for a time until they could get their hooves under them again.

She wasn't aware of the exact moment when she slipped into slumber, it was so gradual.

She dreamt of home.

Sounds woke her from her slumber the next morning. Well, sounds first... the sound of distant thunder, and the pop and hiss of something sizzling in a fire, combined with atonal whistling. The next sense to hit her was smell, and her stomach made a feeble attempt at insurrection, rumbling in a sort of sabre rattling protest that she was hungry, damn it, and that smelled good.

She sat up on her haunches and searched for the source of what had awakened her. The human had his back to her, fiddling with a makeshift skillet of sorts; again, obviously hammered out from some of that metal that he appeared to have gotten from somewhere. Standing and letting the blanket fall away from her, she trotted over, mindful of staying out of his way. Whistling cheerfully to himself, he turned on his heel, spotted her, stopped whistling, then continued his breakfast making dance.

"Good morning, my little pony. How'd you sleep?" He asked, whimsically.

"Well, thank you..." She said hesitantly. That was just WEIRD coming from him. Princess Celestia was the only one she knew that used that phrase. It sent an odd pang through her, but the feeling soon passed. She supposed that meant she was coping.

"Wunderbar!" He wiggled his eyebrows at her and stepped around her to a low table he'd obviously constructed out of some of those wooden pallets and a piece of sheet metal.

Several makeshift wooden dishes, bowls, a pitcher, some cups, and surprisingly enough, some cutlery, had been set out on the table. He scraped some of the contents of the skillet onto one of the dishes, then scraped another portion onto another dish. He then set the skillet in the middle of the table, picked up the dish, and turned back to the fire.

"Have a sit down, Sparks, and tuck in. There's a local tuber that's close enough to a potato that you'd need a gourmet to tell the difference, so I fried you up some wild taters, onions, and mushrooms. One hundred percent vegetarian, just a little bit of wild pepper and sea salt for seasoning. Nothin' fancy, but I 'spect it gets the job done."

He grinned at her and did something at the fire. The smell was very odd.

"Oh, and there's some fruit already on the table." Something sizzled and he cursed, then sucked at a finger.

She frowned. "What are you doing over there?"

He turned with his bowl and sighed. "Nothin', Sparks. Just adding a little murder to my portion." He gave her an ironic, "gonna argue?" sort of look.

She sighed and said nothing.

She took her place at the table and scanned the offerings.

"Did you make all this tableware? It's... pretty good, actually." She considered them. The level of expertise was uneven, and the most rough looking pieces were also the oldest. That made sense.

"Yup. One of the things you'll learn on this island is that it's a good idea to keep yourself occupied. I definitely recommend a hobby. Mine's whittling."

She nodded absently and focused on the task at hand. Her plate had a large portion, and it smelled quite edible. Next to it was the promised plate of fruit.

As a matter of fact, it was a plate of exactly five star fruit.

In a little pyramid pattern.

Four on the bottom, one on the top.

She gave him an annoyed, flat, unimpressed look. It could best be translated as, "I see what you did there".

He chuckled at her expression and made an infuriatingly self-satisfied tick mark in the air with his fork. "Three to two. Hominid's catchin' up."

She rolled her eyes, then snatched one of the fruits up with her magic and took a large bite out of it. Her mood brightened immediately.

The two of them ate companionably. She felt... pretty good, considering. She hadn't realized just how famished she was, and filling her belly felt awfully good. The main portion of the meal had just enough spice to it that it wasn't boring, there was plenty of it, and it was filling. She surprised herself by getting a second helping.

She eyed her table mate during the meal. You really couldn't tell that what he was eating was at one point a living creature. Watching unidentifable brown and grey lumps disappear from his plate just didn't have the same impact as raw torn flesh and blood. She decided, with a slight twinge of guilt, that she could probably live with this.

He obviously enjoyed it, whatever it came from.

"What was that song?"

He started, his eyes flicked to hers, then slid away. He colored slightly. Interesting.

"Oh, nothing. It was just some whistling. Mindless, really."

She frowned. "No, not that. Last night. It was beautiful. Kind of like a lullaby."

He coughed slightly and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "It was... kind of a special song. For my people. Really important. It's not something we talk about. Seriously."

He was embarassed? She decided to drop it, but this was intriguing. Some kind of cultural thing? She realized that she had NO idea what his culture was like. Of what a culture of bipedal omnivores with no magic would even BE like. Nopony did.

Her heartbeat quickened just a bit at the thought of all that untapped knowledge.

He quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, it's raining pretty good right now, probably gonna keep up 'til around noon or so, then peter out. When it does, I've got some chores that need doing around the camp. You don't-"

She interrupted him. "If it's all the same to you, I wouldn't mind helping out. I mean... I'm going to live here, too... I should help out. Everypony has to do their part."

He shrugged. "Alright. No skin off my back. Could use the help, to be honest." He eyed her speculatively. "Does that floaty trick of yours have limits?"

She grinned at him. "Why don't we wait until there's something heavy to be moved, then we'll see on a case by case basis."

He shrugged. "Neat. Just as long as you don't strain yourself. I'd hate to see your brains squirt out your pretty little ears or something."

She gave him a horrified look. "That's... yuck."

He grinned. "Or you know, an aneurism. Can you get brain cramps? Do little veins pulse on your forehead?"

She growled at him. Actually growled. "I'm told sometimes my eyes glow, and sparks pop from my horn. Oh, and every once in a while, if I really overdo it, random bystanders turn into potted plants, but that's ancient history, I haven't done that since I was a filly."

He paled. "Wait, what... for real?"

She nodded solemnly.

He scowled. "You are totally fucking with me. That doesn't happen, does it?"

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He narrowed his eyes back her. "I'm going to be very upset with you if I find myself randomly growing leaves."

She grinned. "Duly noted. In such an eventuality I'll try to steer it more towards frog. What are your feelings about frogs?"

After a moment of glaring at her suspiciously, he started chuckling and she joined him good naturedly.

It felt surprisingly good to laugh. Suddenly, this didn't feel quite so bad.

Chapter Five - Discovery

Natural Science - Rush

The table (such as it was) was littered with gear. Twilight paced back and forth, scrap paper and ballpoint pen dancing in the air in front of her. She checked off an item.

Marshall shook his head discretely and grinned inwardly. Damn that little pony loved checklists. She'd have made a good plane captain. All the best ones had a touch or more of OCD.

"One and one quarter pound C4, cube, unprimed."

Only in Twilight's case, it was more like CDO, because that put the letters in alphabetical order. Christ.

A small clop of frustration sounded against the stone floor.

"Marshall!"

He grunted, clicked his heels, straightened and saluted with his hand held sharply outward. "Jawohl, List Nazi!"

She gave him an unimpressed look. He shifted to a sharp, mechanical parade rest stance and assumed the middle distance stare of attention.

"Verzeihen sie mir, mein Führer. Distraction ist unacceptable!"

"Marshall!"

He eased his stance and grinned at her. "Relax, Sparks. I'm just joshin' ya."

She narrowed her eyes at him. This was usually a sign that her patience was at an end.

"One and one quarter pounds C4, cube, unprimed. Check." He tapped the inoffensive white cube of putty-like substance.

She checked it off the list and frowned. "What is C4 exactly, and why do we need it?"

He scanned the remaining items on the table and considered how best to pack all of this stuff, seeing as he was probably going to end up carrying most of it. Twilight was probably capable of carrying a lot more than she looked, but every time he considered loading her out like a pack mule, he felt like a jerk. He generally just let her grab whatever she thought to bring with them, figuring she knew how much she could carry; which was considerably more since they'd rigged those saddlebags.

He wouldn't say it, but they were damn cute too. Kinda like putting an alice-frame military pack on a toddler, and egregious child exploitation was always good for a laugh. She probably wouldn't find that analogy amusing, though.

"C4 is an extremely stable form of explosive, Sparks." He mentioned. "Which is why we have to keep it separate from this."

Marshall picked up the already checked off IED (instantaneous electrical detonator) with its crimped safety fuse, and wrapped it carefully in a dry sock. Then he double wrapped it with the sock's mate.

"C4 is what's called a secondary explosive, meaning that it is extremely stable and requires another type of explosive, a primary explosive, to set it off. That's this bad boy. I'm being extremely paranoid, seeing as I'm no demo expert. Everything I know I got out of one of those training manuals they packed."

She frowned and looked at his meager book shelf. "Dang. I haven't gotten to that one yet." She mused.

Twilight was a voracious reader, but even a die hard infophile would find it difficult to get through a military training manual. The books were no frills "this is what you need to know and no more" stereo instruction-like monsters. She was still slogging her way through Battlefield Expedient Medicine, last he checked. Still, Twilight Sparkle was the sort of mare who would READ stereo instructions, the labels off of medicine bottles; anything, really. She had one of those minds that wasn't happy unless it was absorbing something new. She read almost constantly when not busy with something else. One improvement she'd already made to their living conditions were her little floaty light orbs. Much more efficient than his alcohol lamps, and definitely safer. He'd lost count of the number of small fires he'd started by knocking one over by accident.

"Actually that's a good point, Sparks. Add an item to the checklist. Field Manual 5-250: Explosives and Demolitions. It's been awhile since I've had to use that one, and it's better to be safe than sorry."

She quickly scribbled the item, floated the manual in question over to her saddlebags, a fact which caused him to smirk and her to primly ignore him, and checked it off the list.

She paused, cocking an ear at him curiously. "What do we need explosives for?"

He grinned slightly. "You'll see."

She glared at him and flattened her ears slightly, then bounced up on her hind-legs and made voodoo waving motions with her forelegs.

"Mysterious monkey is mysterioooous."

Marshall chuckled at her antics, any gap between them where pop-culture references were concerned disappeared almost as soon as he zinged her with them. The pony had a mind like a steel trap... in a singularity. No info, not even the most vacuous fact was able to escape its pull. He grinned at her and made the voodoo waving motions back at her.

"Curious pony is curioooous."

She clopped back to all four hooves and gave the pony equivalent of a shrug. Not all that different than the human version, actually.

"You don't honestly think there will be something dangerous enough out there that you'll need to use explosives, do you?"

He chuckled again, and began packing the items into his pack.

"Stop digging, Twilight. You'll know when we get there."

He made sure that the old crank megohmmeter was well wrapped before he put it in a side pouch, along with its trailing probes. He caught her frustrated curious look and decided to throw her a bone.

"It's a megohmmeter. It's basically for testing the insulation on wiring. You're familiar with capacitance, right?" At her nod of agreement he continued.

"The crank builds an electrical charge in a big capacitor, then you attach one probe to one end of the wire and start running the other probe up and down the insulation to test for breakdown of that insulation. Damaged insulation will get a reaction from the analog needle here. If you just touch the probes together you get a spark from all the built up voltage in the cap. I use it to produce a high voltage low current spark inside the blasting cap, which will set it off, and in turn set off the C4. Basically it's a jury-rigged detonator switch."

Her ears flattened. "That sounds dangerous."

It was his turn to shrug. "Needs must when the devil drives, Sparkanator."

She kicked his shin, and he laughed.

Even with the saddlebags there were limits to what she could carry. He really didn't mind, in any case. There were some things he HAD to carry. He'd casually broached the subject of her learning how to shoot, but she wasn't receptive to the idea. It was one of the few subjects they absolutely didn't agree on. He'd dropped it in the name of diplomacy, figuring she'd learn eventually.

He frowned at that thought. He was somewhat mystified to find that a large part of him didn't want her to learn that lesson.

"What's wrong, Marshall?" Her inquiry snapped him out of his introspection and he gave her a wry lopsided grin.

"Goin' soft in my old age, Sparks, I..." He paused, watching her idly pick up a bag of fruit with her hoof.

He shuddered. Man that creeped him out. He couldn't even really convey what it was about it that so bothered him. Maybe it was the thought of weird little ghost fingers at the end of those hooves, even though she'd told him several times that that wasn't really what they were anyway. That initial image stuck with him, little ghost fingers on the ends of hooves, so fundamentally wrong it was like... like a nose growing out the side of someone's arm.

"Ah man, I hate it when you do that, Sparks."

"Hmm?" She rotated the bag slightly, shifting it from one hoof to the other, her face a study of innocence. "Do what?"

He glared at her. "You know what I'm talking about, that... that hoof thing. It's creepy."

She rolled her eyes, but grinned at him. "I don't get you, Marshall. All day you watch me use my magic to move objects about in what has to be a blatant disregard for the physical laws of your world, but the little bit of innate... I hesitate to even call it magic, that all ponies are capable of is what creeps you out?"

He gave her a sheepish sort of grin. "To be fair, I've always been kinda creeped out by magnets, too. I mean seriously, how the fuck does that work?"

She sighed, knowing perfectly well that he knew EXACTLY how magnets worked, and yet what he'd said was also still true, and furthermore, knew that he knew that she knew. This sort of willful, obstinate, fundamental argumentativeness of thought, word, and deed characterized Marshall. He was just too stubborn to let things lie.

She shook her head, and rolled her eyes, and he was a bit surprised to see a hint of fondness about that gesture.

"Superstitious monkey." She grumbled cutely.

Still, she put the bag into one of the bulging side-pouches of her saddlebag.

The rest of the packing game went in silence, and while he was correct in that he ended up carrying the lion's share of the gear, her own load was not inconsiderable.

Twilight Sparkle would be lying if she said that the prospect of leaving their fortress of solitude didn't scare her a bit.

Part of this was simple familiarity. It had been home and schoolyard for the crash-course that was survival in this place, taught by an alien and occasionally capricious taskmaster who would sometimes let her make embarrassing (though harmless) mistakes because he thought that pain and embarrassment could be a good teacher, yes, but also because it was damn funny, and entertainment was at a premium, hereabouts.

This was NOT the sort of teaching method she was used to. Twilight Sparkle had always been a gifted unicorn. Her instructors in Princess Celestia's Academy for Gifted Unicorns had always been a bit wary of her enthusiasm for learning, maybe a little fearful, truth be told. Equestrian history had its fair share of powerful unicorn wizards who were brought low by hubris.

By contrast, Princess Celestia, who had never been intimidated in the least, was very much the sort of mentor who nudged, guided, and let the learner come to their own conclusions and share them.

Marshall was neither subtle, nor particularly sympathetic. His teaching method could best be described as, "Hurts, don't it? Bet you won't do THAT again."

This bothered her a bit until he showed her some of the scars.

She trusted his experience, but more importantly, she thought she had the human's measure. He was contrary, argumentative, and completely unapologetic where his survival methods clashed with her sensibilities, but... he listened to reason. His somewhat quirky sense of humor, a direct result of his contrariness, was a survival mechanism, and a coping mechanism, which he turned on himself more often than he turned on her. In this he was a lot like Pinkie Pie, in a way. Oh, no where near as random, or giggly, but then again, he didn't have much to giggle about. It was when he stopped joking that one had to pay attention.

When Marshall began to brood, it was an extremely bad sign.

The change in his personality when something actually dangerous was being contemplated was startling and total. He did NOT screw around when real threat of injury existed.

Still, all digression aside, she was a little nervous about the prospect of this trip. Marshall had assured her that the amount of time they would spend out and about at night, barring incident, was relatively small, and their planning had been meant to minimize these risks. Marshall even had a word for the practice, coming from Naval doctrine.

Operational Risk Management.

Which was really just a fancy term for what Twilight Sparkle had been doing her whole life.

She loved fancy terms.

Especially fancy terms that explained a new way of thinking about something she'd done without thought previously.

Which was the second point really. Yes, she was scared, any sane pony would be, but she was also excited.

This mysterious island, this sinister, threatening island, was about to get a little less enigmatic.

She was sure of it.

Marshall snapped his fingers and she shook loose of her musings and looked up into his face.

"You with me, Sparks?"

"Yes."

He frowned. "How's the bags? They too heavy? Lopsided? Chaffing?"

She shifted slightly, ran a few steps, back-trotted and spun quickly left and right. "Fine. It's a little heavier than I'm used to, but not too heavy. Seems balanced. As for chaffing, it's fine now, but when I start sweating we'll have to see."

He nodded. "Right. You ready?"

She took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded affirmative.

Marshall looked very different today. He still had that frumpy tan range hat, a style she was told was actually called a "boonie hat", and his rifle, but he'd made a few additions to his everyday gear. He was wearing full pants and a BDU top, for one. Still that same odd choice of camouflage colors. When she'd asked him about them, he'd said that the pattern had been optimized for the desert terrain the troops he was delivering it to were supposed to be operating in, and that he'd been hundreds of miles from any jungle that would have made a woodland pattern even remotely effective. The alternative was some pilot coveralls, which weren't much better.

Adding to this a heavy military pack, and the most ingenious thing, a tactical vest, which had a large number of little pockets and spots for things to be clipped if they were needed for easy reach up and down his long torso. Twilight had already made note of the thing as something to adapt for her own usage, the idea of having so many tools organized within easy reach anywhere she went was just...

Wow.

He snapped his fingers.

"Oh, almost forgot. One more thing..." He ran into the cave and she followed him with her eyes, puzzled. They'd gone over the checklist, and nothing was missing. At least, she THOUGHT nothing was missing. She suddenly itched to double-check the list again.

In this agony of OCD indecision he came back with a light green book about the size of a good sized graphic novel. He held it out to her.

She looked at it curiously. The cover read, in handwritten block lettering,

"Flight Log, LOT 166480 VR-62 "The Nomads" Opened: 23Apr2012"

He nodded to it, his expression curiously distant. "You've been bitching about not having any notes since you got here, Sparks. I remembered yesterday that we'd just started a new flight log before... this place, and we'd only used about four pages out of it." He grinned wryly.

"It won't last forever, so you'd better write small, but..." He shrugged.

She took it from him with her magic and opened it, noting that several pages had been cut out of the beginning, but nothing else. She looked up at him.

"Marshall... this... thank you."

He lost that distant look and waved his hand idly. "Pah. It's not like that old bird is ever gonna fly again, and what would I have written in it, these past five years? Woke up, killed something. Ate it. Maintained camp. Whittled another naked chick. Went to sleep." He grimaced.

She smirked at this. That explained his bizarre collection of vaguely sexually suggestive (at least, she assumed, for a primate) female human sculptures. Like the dinnerware, they also had varying levels of quality and... detail. She hadn't said anything because the way they were stacked in an alcove in the back of the cave had the air of a sort of holy shrine.

When he'd caught her examining the alcove once, he'd vaguely mumbled something about "yoga" and changed the subject.

He either didn't notice her smirk, or chose to ignore it. "That's pretty sad, now that I think of it. Anyway, you'll get some real use out of it, and who knows? Maybe one day you can give it to your Princess to show you've still been learning, eh?"

She tucked the green book and the pen clipped to it reverently in her saddlebag and approached him, nuzzling his hip gently. "This means a lot to me, Marshall. Thank you. Really."

He looked embarrassed, but he patted her head gently, just the same. "Like I said, it's nothin', Sparks. Come on. Daylight's wastin'."

She backed up, took a deep breath, and let it out. "Right."

Twilight had certain expectations where jungle travel were concerned. Having grown up with the adventures of Daring Do, she'd always pictured porters and machetes, blazing trails through the dense, virgin jungle. Sadly, reality did not match up with this.

For one, the jungle was most definitely NOT a virgin. She was a complete bitch-whore goddess who tried in any way possible to get into your pants, and once she had a claw in, refused to let go. You couldn't go more than five feet without something trying to mate in your face, or worse, burrow a hole into your flesh and make sweet sweet lurve to that. Parasites, Bot flies, fungus, poisonous insects, heat, humidity, everything wanted a piece of you.

For another, and perhaps it was merely Marshall's approach, but jungle travel involved very little hacking a path out of the jungle and a lot of picking the path of least resistance, which sadly was NOT generally a straight line. Nature abhors straight lines, which is why straight lines are a pretty good indication of previous intelligent inhabitants.

Still, Marshall seemed to know where he was going. He didn't look worried, at least, not until they came upon several yards of torn up earth near a few palm trees.

Then he paled quickly.

"Shit." He swore, and motioned for Twilight to stop.

"What is it?" She asked nervously. Whatever had done that to the roots of that palm tree was BIG. The furrows in the earth were easily nine feet long, and four to five feet in depth.

His eyes followed the brush, then he moved quietly towards a small rise, dropping to his belly and low crawling up to peek over the edge.

Twilight followed, hesitantly.

"Stay down." He ordered, uncasing his binoculars and focusing. He cursed and spat.

"What is it, Marshall?"

He lowered the binos and motioned her up. His expression was a curious mix of disgust and trepidation. "Stay low, take a look out there. You can't miss the fucking things."

She did, and gasped quietly. Wordlessly, he passed the binos over and she took them telekinetically to get a closer look. It wasn't necessarily the size of the creatures. She'd seen larger animals before. Dragons came to mind, for one. These were no dragons, but they WERE big.

Easily twenty feet tall and probably somewhere in the neighborhood of ten tons. Her eyes drank in the details. Towering bulky bodies hunched in a queer, bipedal, swaying, birdlike gait. A long, ridiculously thin neck with a tiny head up top. The dominating feature were their arms. Powerfully muscled, ending in huge, scimitar-like three foot claws, perfect for digging. As she watched, one of the creatures dug ferociously at the earth near another palm tree, tearing up earth and roots alike at its base to get at the tasty palm heart.

"There must be at least..." She did a quick calculation. "Thirty of them. Forty counting the little ones. No wait, there's another..." She mused.

"Yup. Rootscrapers. At least, that's what I call 'em. Besides big pains in my ass, that is."

She focused on something that stood out, a movement that wasn't placid and swaying, jarring in its slinky smoothness, then gasped.

"Marshall, there's something else-"

He raised an eyebrow, then shaded his eyes and glared in the direction she was focused.

Several of the younger animals were bounding along, blissfully unaware that a black shape was crouched over them in the trees. It was an awful cross between a hexapodal panther and some sort of undersea creature, at least, that's what it looked like. A large, six-legged panther with a pair of tentacles growing from its shoulders ending in squid-like pads, ready to pounce.

She winced as it did just that with a ferocious yowl. The weight of the creature bore one of the baby Rootscrapers to the ground, but the animal had misjudged the size and speed of its prey and instead of a quick killing bite it had to latch its claws and tentacles into the animal's rump to draw it closer. The other babies began running back towards the rest of the herd letting out piercing whistle-like trills.

He sighed, considering, then inched back and lay with his back to the rise, consulting his crude, hand-drawn map.

"Fuck, it's like National Geographic in our backyard... son of a bitch. Well, there goes any chance of trying to thread through them. Damn it!"

Twilight stared at the tableau in front of her, riveted. One of the larger animals crashed through the underbrush towards the panicked young, the bulk of which scampered past trilling in distress the whole while. The rest of the herd gathered in a circle, coming to their full height to protect the vitals, claws hunched forward threateningly towards danger. The young continued their charge between the animals legs, squeaking the whole while, and the herd let them do so.

They did not stop calling until they were in the protective circle of adults.

When the shadow of the cow rushing towards it fell on the panther-thing it took one look back at the furious charging female and abandoned its mauling of the baby Rootscraper. Unfortunately for it, while slow to start, once moving the Rootscraper cow was a juggernaut, and trees did not really hinder it all that much. Oddly, the first swipe of those massive digging claws missed widely, but it just kept scything with left and right swipes, swaying forward at a terrifying rush like some gigantic threshing machine, and Twilight winced as it finally connected with the frantically dodging beast.

It was a valiant evasive effort, but the Rootscraper only really had to connect once. After that, the results were entirely predictable.

The putty tat went splat.

After clawing and pounding the unrecognizable, pathetically tattered bloody black rag that was the panther thing into the dirt for an entirely... actually, ridiculously gratuitous amount of time, the creature finally snorted and stomped away, nudging the badly wounded baby along with its head in a surprisingly gentle fashion, considering what it had just been doing.

Twilight hadn't stopped wincing the whole time. "Wow. That was... brutal."

Marshall sighed. "Nervous buggers. Pretty tame, normally, but come near their young or harass 'em and they get very mean, very quickly. Those are digging claws, but as you can see, they'll paste you or me quick enough. Worse, those things hold grudges like friggin' honey badgers. Damn cows will hunt you for miles while the bulls protect the kiddies. I had to spend a half a day and a whole night in a tree once because of those fuckers."

"We're gonna lose a lot of time because of this Sparks, but it can't be helped. I'm not risking trying to sneak through a herd of those things, especially when they've got so many younglings running around and their dander up."

"Hmm." She mused absently, following the activity of the herd through the optics with avid interest. A new species, a completely UNHEARD of species. It was a naturalist's dream. She was loathe to... wait a minute...

"If we cut west, we can probably skirt their territory. That's lowlands, they don't like that so much; they tend to stay towards those freaky giant primordial palm groves."

"Uh huh." She muttered, dialing in the focus. Something about that activity sparked something from her memory. Something important, something she'd read once. Was it Star Swirl? No, not magic related. For some reason Fluttershy was associated with the memory. Something she'd looked up out of curiosity once. Her ears flicked forward, straining to catch the calls from the animals.

Marshall slowly lowered the map and looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She was both watching the animals and telekinetically jotting notes without looking in her new journal.

He blinked slowly, then rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"So I was thinking, Sassy had some really sexy underwear in her day-bag, nice stuff, you know, lacy, black, fancy stuff. Victoria's Secret or something. Who knows what she was planning to do with it on an FOB, I certainly don't. Maybe she just liked to feel sexy, I don't know. Anyway, I figure if we cut a hole in it for your tail, you could model it for me, you know, as a favor. Not that I'm a pervert or anything, but let's be honest here, after a five year dry spell anything starts looking good... and you've got a nice flank."

She made "hmmming" noises again, one ear swiveled back at him almost absently, while the other remained focused on the herd.

He continued blithely along with a straight face, maintaining tone. "I'm a little teacup, short and stout... here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up, then I shout, tip me over and pour me out. Why is it that cargo goes by plane, and a shipment goes by truck? Why is it we call them a pair of panties, but just one bra?"

"Marshall, would you shut up a minute? Something significant just happened, and I've almost got it. I get that you're trying to get my attention, in wildly inappropriate ways, but I'm kinda focused here."

He growled. "Oh good, you ARE paying attention. This is going to add time to our trip, my little purple unicorn, time we do not have. We're burning daylight here."

She turned from the binos with an exasperated look and sighed. "Marshall, I get that, generally speaking, you know better where survival is concerned, I get that, but I want you to wait a second, look at that herd, take a moment to think about the behavior that you've just witnessed, and tell me what that tells you?"

He blinked at her, looked over the edge again, then back at her, confused. His look of uncomprehending irritation was maddening.

"Um. Big claws swing at Marshall, go ouchie? Chase Marshall up tree, tree has fire ants... Wrong bad sting-y no sleepie night for Marshall?"

She sighed. So stubborn. "Ok genius, you like to whittle, so whittle me this."

She tore the quickly sketched diagram (with accompanying math and dimensional details) page out of the journal and telekinetically passed it to him. He glanced down at it.

Frowned.

Tilted his head slightly, then looked back at her, with a quizzical expression so innately primate based she almost burst out laughing.

"Okay... I think I can do this... but why?"

She grinned at him. "Oh no, after the way you've been lording over me all day about what we're going to go see, let's see how you like it."

He grimaced. "Twilight, I am not going to move forward with a plan that might get us both killed if I don't know exactly-"

She met his eyes seriously. "Just trust me, ok? This will work, and if it works, we're back on schedule, minus the prep time, AND we learn something new and possibly very valuable. Besides, if it doesn't, Plan B is I teleport the two of us a couple hundred feet backwards and we can run. I doubt they can follow us with no tracks and no scent, right?"

He frowned. "You can do that?"

She nodded, still staring into his eyes. "Do you trust me?" She repeated softly.

He didn't hesitate. "It'll take some time. Maybe twenty minutes?"

His immediate response both gratified and humbled her a bit. She nodded. "That's fine. I have some prep work to do anyway."

That and she kinda wanted to go poke the dead cat with a stick. For science, of course. She felt kind of bad for the animal, but it couldn't exactly get any deader than it already was, and she thought she'd noticed something interesting.

She sighed, gritted her teeth, then she dropped her saddle bags and proceeded to roll back and forth in the dirt.

He blinked at this odd new behavior, then shrugged and began hunting for some appropriate dead wood.

"Don't forget to get nice and dirty while you're at it." She called.

He sighed. "Right. Fuck baths."

"This is it, this is the plan?" Marshall said, as the two of them walked towards the herd, which had once again resumed a more relaxed posture.

"Yup." Twilight chirped confidently, carefully inspecting the freshly carved whistle. "This is good work, Marshall."

He nodded absently. "Yes, that will be of great comfort to me when we're homogenized red jelly between a Rootscraper cow's claws."

"Oh hush," Twilight said, taking the whistle between her lips. "Jus' get re'dy to run in the dires'sion of the herd."

Marshall sighed, shrugged, then approached with her. The baby Rootscrapers bounded about curiously, not recognizing the shapes in front of them, but smelling only dirt and the natural scents of the forest, they were only mildly curious.

Then Twilight sent a quick trilling blast through the whistle. She was quite correct, Marshall had done good work. The sound came out just as she'd predicted.

The exact pitch of the infant Rootscraper distress calls earlier.

The effect was immediate and impressive. As one the infants straightened, then all of the them took off and ran for the adults, trilling their little heads off. Marshall and Twilight ran with them, Twilight tooting the whistle like a mad thing all the way.

Marshall winced when one of the Rootscraper cows crashed through the underbrush, splintered a palm tree into flinders, and stepped into their path. He cast a frantic look at Twilight, who continued on her charge forward, eyes determined, blasting with the whistle. Fumbling with his own creation, he started blasting along with her, his eyes darting nervously towards the big claws scything left and right as the creature twisted to eye the group speculatively.

If his whistling had a hint of screaming desperation behind it, it probably only added to the illusion.

Probably.

They, along with the clutch of baby Rootscrapers, ran right between the behemoths legs and out into the clearing, where the herd had gathered in its "circle the wagons" defensive formation.

Trilling along with the rest of the group, they passed into the herds protected area and "safety". The babies all quieted, and Marshall and Twilight stopped blowing their whistles.

Twilight shot him a sly smirk. "Well?"

Marshall frowned. "Ok, I kinda think I get it, but... how did you know that would work?"

"I noticed that the babies made a very specific distress call when they were in danger, and the formation of the herds defensive posture suggested a completely instinctual response. Stimulus - response, see? Instinctive responses can be exploited. The rest was just a matter of educated guesswork, but with sound enough reasoning, all things considered. Considering the size of the head and positioning of the eyes, I figured that eyesight wasn't terribly important to them, but smell and sound probably were. Spoof their hearing, and give yourself a neutral scent, like pungent jungle muck for instance, which is ubiquitous, then trigger a "pull together - danger" response with the most hardwired instinct in the natural world, to protect the young, and the rest is just playing the part of a cute little baby Rootscraper in headlong flight."

He shook his head wonderingly. "I'll be damned."

She nodded happily. "The funny part is, this isn't even the craziest bit of animal mimicry I've ever pulled. I once spent two days and nights in a three pony dragon costume surrounded by hundreds of several hundred ton reptiles in the middle of a blasted wasteland complete with live volcano. After that, this was kinda tame in comparison."

Marshall gave her a dubious look. "Why in the hell would you want to do that?"

Twilight blinked. "Oh, my adopted baby dragon little brother had an identity crisis and decided to go on the Great Dragon Migration, and I wanted to make sure the other dragons didn't murder him."

Marshall nodded absently. "Oh well, since you put it that way, of course wandering into Mordor with a bunch of fire-breathing Godzilla wannabes in nothing but a flammable costume makes perfect sense. What was I thinking?"

Twilight flattened her ears and glared at him. "Your sarcasm is both petty and demeaning to us both, monkey."

He nodded. "It's what I do. So now what?"

She eyed the crowd of beasts speculatively. "Now we just hang out with the hatchlings until the adults stop looking for threats, then move on through, I guess. I'd really like to observe their behavior a bit more but I suppose we are on a time table. The great part is, because of the way herd dynamics work, we probably won't have to mask our scent anymore. They'll think we're just the really ugly stinky kids."

Marshall looked crestfallen. "Aw man, I don't wanna be the stinky kid. There was always one stinky kid in class, and he usually got made the butt of all the jokes."

Twilight widened her eyes. "Wow, humans too? I guess some things ARE universal!"

"Awww, Twilight, don't tell me YOU were the stinky kid!"

She snorted. "Please, I was obviously the nerdy kid. I probably would have gotten picked on too, but you'd be surprised how much of a deterrent it is when anypony who really messes with you finds out you can teleport them to the roof and leave them there."

He blinked. "Wow... that's... wow."

She grinned. "I like to think of it as teaching slow learners valuable life lessons about why it is important to treat others with dignity and respect."

They both chuckled at this.

After two hours Twilight Sparkle still had a bit of pep to her step and a cheerful expression. She'd even started humming occasionally. Marshall for his part just accepted his humble pie with wry amusement. She'd all but done everything but pranced a victory dance around him and shouted "in your face".

Which of course she wouldn't do, because she didn't have a petty bone in her body.

Finally after a particularly long bout of humming, Marshall snorted and shook his head.

"Oh sure, laugh it up, fuzzball. You'll come crawlin' back the next time you need an itch scratched that you can't reach."

Of course, she could be provoked into petty behavior. As a master of petty, Marshall reveled in the ability to drag others down to his level, where he had the home field advantage.

"What was that, Marshall? I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the overwhelming sound of my victory. I think that should be another point, by the way."

"Oh hell no. That was clever, but it in no way constitutes an application of trolljutsu. It would only count in this instance if I was in some way inconvenienced and made to look foolish by a combination of your direct action and my ignorance."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously? I made you roll around in the dirt for like, five minutes. It looked like you were having a seizure. That has to count for something."

"Nope. Sorry, doesn't count. The action was both necessary, and you had to do it, too. Now if you'd done something clever, like neglected to mention that the spot your equine companion had picked to roll in had a big patch of poison ivy or something, THAT-"

Twilight looked stricken. "Are you serious?! I can't believe-"

Marshall continued without stopping. "Like I said, if I'd done something like that, that'd be worth a point, but I didn't, because it would also be a pretty dick move, considering how far we have to travel and how painful it would be. Still, bet the thought puckered your asshole up pretty tight for a sec."

Twilight froze, then growled something under her breath and stalked forward, her stance now stiff and her tail twitching irritably.

Marshall grinned and blew her a kiss behind her back. "I love you too, Twilight."

Less then twenty minutes later, they literally burst from the heavy undergrowth onto the sunlight and sand of a boulder strewn beach. The source of the stone became apparent rather quickly, as the beach-line rapidly graduated into a steep cliff-side, with multiple cracks and dark holes that lapped with white foam with every charge and retreat of the tide. Water and wind had worn down the mighty edifice, leaving a natural promontory out into the clear blue expanse of seawater. Several midsized seal-like creatures scampered off into the water at the sight of the two of them, and a refreshingly cool breeze blew past Twilight, lifting her sweat and dirt streaked mane from her brow and teasing Marshall's beard into a rats nest of snarled curls. Marshall stretched to his full height and threw his arms out wide, letting out a magnificent yawn.

He cracked his neck, then looked over at Twilight Sparkle and grinned. "And we're here. Good time too, thanks to you, Twilight, giving credit where it's due. Wanna rest, or science first?"

Twilight gave him her patented "nigga please" look. He chuckled at the expression and nodded, then motioned her to follow, walking towards the promontory.

"I picked this spot because it's one of the few areas on our side of the island that sticks out enough that you can get close to what we're looking for without having to wade in seawater up to your ass. Neck, in your case, Sparks."

"Right." She said, eyes dancing over the details. It was a magnificent vista, certainly, but she didn't see anything that leapt out at her immediately.

He continued walking until he got to about half way out onto the promontory before he dropped the backpack and set the rifle next to it. Then he looked back to her.

"Ok, stay here a sec, Sparks."

She stopped, dropping her own saddlebags with relief before sitting back on her haunches and watching him with a puzzled look on her face. Marshall advanced forward cautiously, sweeping his hands widely in front of him and advancing in cautious, almost mincing steps. After continuing this odd behavior for about a minute or so he finally jerked, stopped, and reached forward deliberately, doing some strange, mime-like impression in the air in front of him.

Then he turned, leaned back...

And crossed his legs at the ankle, grinning back at her, his completely unbalanced posture supported by absolutely nothing.

"Neat, huh?"

Twilight stared at him for several seconds, as though in shock. Then she jerked into motion, trotting forward, looking at him with an incredulous expression. He jerked his hands up and gave her "wait a minute" motions.

"Hey, careful there, Twi. First time I found this thing, I broke my nose on it. You can't see it, but it's as solid as a stone wall."

She slowed, approached close to where he was, and reached a hoof out. She jerked in surprise when she hit unexpected resistance. There was no object to clop her hoof against. It made no noise, there wasn't even really a sensation of pressure, though perhaps Marshall's more sensitive fingers could detect something.

Just an immovable force.

An invisible wall that separated them from the rest of the promontory and the sea beyond. She looked back at Marshall.

"This is why a boat wasn't something I ever considered, Sparks." He said sadly. He rocked himself back to a standing posture and turned, pressing a calloused hand flat against nothing at all.

He looked wistfully out towards the far horizon, the wind blowing his hair back. "I spent a year walking around the outskirts, looking for a way out. The damn thing extends all the way around, high as I can reach. You can't swim or dig under it either... I tried. You wouldn't believe how long."

He flicked his gaze down to her and considered his equine companion for a moment before continuing. "Oh don't get me wrong, my efforts were in no way exhaustive. I guess it might have a hole somewhere, but you know what? I don't think so. You'll see why, in a bit."

He gestured at the sea, and at his own tousled and dirty hair. "It's selective, too. It seems to let in water and air just fine, and light and heat, obviously, but nothing else. I think animals can sense it, too, because I've never seen a bird hit it by accident either, otherwise you could probably spot it by the ring of dead birds and such."

She touched her more sensitive muzzle to it. The hairs of her coat flattened and she could feel her cheek deforming slightly as it was pressed up against the barrier, but there was still no sensation of pressure. It was like the air itself had turned solid.

She frowned, then tried pressing against it telekinetically. There just wasn't anything to grab hold of. She backed up several steps and fired a purple blast of magic at it. The energy washed out just like it had struck a wall and vanished, leaving no trace.

Marshall walked back to the bags and sat down, then opened his pack and fished through it. Twilight tried a couple more blasts at different angles, to no effect.

"Marshall, this is..." She mused.

He nodded. "I know. Imagine how I felt, the first time I encountered it. Well, aside from pain, I mean. I think I about knocked myself out, slamming into it face first like I did. Don't really want to imagine what kind of damage I'd have done to myself if I'd hit it at anything more than a brisk walk. Found out then, blood doesn't stick to it, or bead on it. It just runs down and pools at the base. Same with water if you try to splash it. It would seem to be permeable to large bodies of water, since I figure you'd see something kinda like a meniscus effect at the edge if it wasn't, but..."

Twilight frowned, then attempted to focus her magic on one of the rocks just beyond the barrier.

Tried and failed.

She felt nothing. She could see the rock in question, but her magic sense wouldn't focus on it.

"It's like there's nothing there." She mused.

"Hmm?" Marshall muttered, piecing something together.

"I tried to pick up a rock beyond the... whatever it is. It's like my magic just... stops. I can't sense anything beyond the barrier, but it's subtle, Marshall. If I didn't know what I was looking for, I don't think I would have noticed. That shouldn't be possible." She frowned, tapping the wall speculatively.

"You're taking this pretty well." He said, cautiously. "I was half expecting a freak out, like up on the deck."

"Well, it's like you said. You can't freak out like that out here. What good would it do? I mean, I can't imagine what it was like for you, Marshall. No experience with magic at all, and you had to encounter it with absolutely no preparation. Magically speaking, such a barrier is theoretically possible, so I at least have a basis to work from, but..." She paused.

"What?" He asked, softly.

"The amount of energy necessary to keep it stable indefinitely, the effort to make it completely invisible, the selectivity of it... and most importantly, its ability to just block magic... those things are... well, impossible. Or at the least, extremely unlikely."

She shivered. "Not even Princess Celestia could pull off something like this. Not for so long. Not... so complex. I don't think even Discord could... well, maybe he could, but it wouldn't be so... structured." She looked down, disturbed, but not panicking. After a moments thought, she turned back to him, her eyes concerned.

"Marshall, whatever we're dealing with, and I'm positive now that it has to be some intelligent agency, it's completely beyond us. I can't even begin to contrive a method by which something of this magnitude could be accomplished. Any one detail, sure... I might be able to pull it off myself. My brother can create a force field the size of a city, but that's his talent, his specialty... and it isn't unbreakable, completely undetectable, or... permanent."

"But assuming something that immeasurably powerful, Marshall... why? What could it possibly want with us?"

Marshall shrugged. "I don't have an answer for you, Sparks. Anything I could come up with would just be speculation, at this point."

Twilight looked back at the position of the barrier and stomped one hoof. "There are a few more things I'd like to try, magically speaking, but I don't have much hope of a breakthrough. If I can't sense it... if I can't sense beyond it... there's no way to teleport past it or dispel it. Even if I could disrupt it, assuming it is some sort of magical barrier, which I'm not entirely convinced that it is, the energy backlash from the spell matrix cascade failure of something that immense... nothing on this island would survive."

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "The island itself probably wouldn't survive. I have no idea how much energy is involved, so I can only guess."

He sighed. "Don't beat yourself up over it, Sparks. Even failed experiments are good experiments, if you gather data, right?"

She perked up a bit and nodded, gathering strength from his statement. "Right. Absolutely right. Just because I can't come to any conclusions now doesn't mean I won't ever be able to." She paused.

"So what now?" She asked.

He grinned tiredly. "I figure a wash in the sea on the side of the promontory is better than nothing, right? We take a rest, eat something, recuperate a bit, then we try a little experimentation. There's one more thing I have to show you."

He held up the demolitions field manual he'd pulled out of her saddlebags. "We're gonna set off some fireworks."

Chapter Nine - Progress

-The Boy in the Bubble, Paul Simon

"Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow."

Marshall rolled his eyes in amused annoyance. "You know, I've never even SEEN a beehive on this island before now. I've seen bees, but no beeHIVES. What are the odds that the one tree you pick to show me exactly what applebucking looks like would have one in it?"

Twilight sighed and winced again as Marshall very carefully tweezed the stinger out of her cheek. He was being exceptionally careful not to squeeze the venom sac still attached to them, but this meant that it took entirely too long.

"Sadly, bees and I have an on again off again relationship. I suppose it serves me right for showing off. I still can't believe you LAUGHED at me."

"Hey, hey... it is ME we're talking about here. You had a beehive on your head. I challenge you not to have laughed had our situations been reversed. Also to be fair, I was laughing while I was trying to help you get it off. I didn't exactly come out of this unscathed."

"Two. You have exactly two bee stings, Marshall. That is the extent of your injuries. Unless you gave yourself a hernia from laughing so hard."

He chuckled again and fished a particularly nasty one out of the side of her neck. "You didn't follow my advice."

Twilight winced again. "Crabapples that smarts. How exactly is "stop, drop, and roll, Sparks" being helpful? I was being stung, not on fire. I'm just lucky I've built up a tolerance for bee stings."

Marshall held her jaw gently but firmly as he carefully hunted stingers out of her face and neck. The worst of the stings was one that had occured on her right eyelid, and that eye had swollen shut. Fortunely for her, Marshall had very deft hands. She couldn't imagine how difficult it would have been to remove them all herself.

Marshall carefully eased another stinger out of her cheek. "It's not really your fault, Twi. We're both getting antsy, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You've been very patient with the situation, these past few weeks."

She gave him a frustrated look. "I know we need to restrict magic use until we can be positive the MB has really lost us, but what makes it worse is that we actually HAVE things to do."

He nodded absently, attempting to work another nettling sting out from under her mane, but it kept slipping out of the tweezers. "If it's any consolation, we haven't seen a sign of it's ugly ass for three weeks, and there've been plenty of sky lights since then. I think we might be in the clear."

She winced when he finally pulled it free. "I'm trying very hard to be charitable towards bees, but I'm really starting to think they have it out for me."

"This happens a lot back home?" He teased dryly.

She sighed. "More often than I 'd like."

He blinked. "If it's happened more than once, you might want to rethink your strategy on... uh... life, actually."

She gave him the stink eye. Mostly because only one of them could be opened at the moment.

Marshall giggled. "It has happened more than once, hasn't it?"

She rolled her good eye skyward and sighed. "A beehive, once before. The other time was just a swarm."

He put down the tweezers, released her jaw and doubled over with laughter.

She sighed. "Just get it out of your system, you jerk."

"The BEES! Oh god the bees! I beat not one, not two, but three elder evils, but those fucking bees, they confound me at every turn!" He howled.

She scowled. "Hey, to be fair, the third evil was actually defeated by my brother and his fiance. You know, you could show a little compassion. I could develop a complex."

He degenerated into giggles again, falling on his back and kicking his legs feebly. "B... is the most dangerous.... letter...."

She cracked a little grin at this one, and at the sight of him twitching on the floor. "Well ok, just let me know when you decide to be rational again."

"Bee rational?"

She groaned. "Ugh... that's terrible."

"Terri-bee?"

"That doesn't even make sense! I swear, I think you and Pinkie Pie were seperated at birth!"

Marshall grimaced and sat up. "Ok, that's gross, anatomically impossible, and not terribly flattering to my mother. You apologize."

Twilight narrowed her eye at him, then sighed and looked skyward. "I'm sorry your son is a jerk, Mrs. Bailey."

He grinned. "That's better."

Twilight scowled. "There is just no fazing you, is there?"

Marshall gave her a beautific smile. "Twilight, one of these days you'll learn that the only way to win this game is not to play."

She sighed and settled down again, wincing, her expression miserable.

Marshall lost his grin and gave her a concerned look. "Shit, Twi... I'm sorry. I imagine that hurts like a motherfucker. Is there anything I can do to take your mind off it?"

She perked up immediately. "You could tell me why I spent three days designing a self-sustaining polarized thaumic field sensitive mage crystal. I mean, I have some idea of what you might use it for, considering your specifications, but..."

He grinned. "I suppose I set myself up for that one. Alright, alright. Let's-"

He was interrupted by an explosion of excited glee and the rapid clicking of hooves as Twilight galloped into the cleared out chamber they'd been calling the "workroom".

Shaking his head with a smile, Marshall stood and carefully stored all of the first aid implements.

"Nerd pony is best pony."

"MARSHALL! GET YOUR PRIMATE BUTT IN HERE AND SHOW ME!"

Chuckling to himself, he followed the excited mare into the workroom.

"Ok, so what we have here are three LVDTs... that's a linear variable differential transformer, that I ganked from a throttle load sensor. Your little crystal sits here..."

He gestured at the small faintly glowing stone set in a curious framework of salvaged aluminum and electrical parts.

"...and the LVDTs are set at three points to form our three axes, x, y, and z. Theoretically, when your crystal is pushed in a direction by an expanding or moving thauma-thingie-"

She rolled her eyes at this. "Charged thaumic field..."

"Right, that thing. When it is pushed, it will displace the core on one or more of these LVDTs, which will change the voltage potential from zero to a certain amount of millivolts, positive or negative, depending on the direction of displacement."

She nodded, her eyes flicking over the scribbled circuit diagram and various odds and ends he'd cobbled together.

"This voltage is changed into a signal with this synchronous detector and analog-to-digital converter circuit, that relates to this displacement. This signal is then run through our circuit here, which checks for errors and converts it to a discrete distance measurement. This is displayed as a numerical value which is presented on the screen here as a positive or negative number next to the appropriate axis indicator. LVDT core goes out, negative displacement, negative number. Core goes in, positive displacement, positive number."

She gasped, looking up at him. She began to pace furiously, thinking. Marshall grinned at her. He didn't figure he'd have to spell it out for her.

She muttered to herself as she paced. "Which corresponds to the cardinal directions and up and down! So it detects an expanding thaumic field, and gives the intensity and direction of the field fluctu- Marshall... you just made a thaumic field fluctuation detector!"

He cracked his neck and stretched. "I admit wrapping my brain around a magical quartz crystal kinda threw me for a loop, but I don't have to know how the little crystal thingie works to use it. You tell me it'll do what I asked for, and that's good enough for me."

She blushed a bit and pawed the ground. "Well... it was pretty simple really. Basic magecraft. I've built more complex crystals than this when I was still in school. Marshall, you built a functional detector out of junk!"

He shrugged and smirked at her. "This assumes it actually works, mind. The electronics are pretty simple... my Bachelors project was way more complex than this."

She shook her head in wonder. "Marshall, I had something like one of these in my basement. It was something on the order of ten times the size of this."

He scratched his head. "We're just lucky the Navy sprang for a modernization of all the cockpit electronics in these old birds back in the nineties. I don't think I could have pulled this off with nineteen-sixties era electronics. I yanked all the electronics I could out of the old bird when I left, I don't know what I thought I was going to build, I guess the packrat in me just couldn't bear to let anything go to waste. Now I'm glad I did. Still, it's got some limitations."

She frowned. "Like?"

He gestured. "We've got no way other than a physical log to record data on, and I didn't figure we could afford to sit here and watch it all day. Basically what happens is, when it detects a displacement, it freezes the display at the highest recorded value in a given axis. So that means if there are multiple... er, field fluctuations before we get a chance to record it, we'll miss some data."

She sighed. "I suppose that's unavoidable."

He scowled. "Well it wouldn't be if I hadn't fried all the damn memory... can't get printed circuit boards made to order anymore, so I jumper wired the shit out of one of the more simple boards and hoped for the best. The first try didn't... work out so well. Trying to solder in a DIP without a proper solder station is not fucking fun. Originally I was going to install functionality that would store several readings and include a button that would run through all of the stored values, but... well, it turned out that without the right tools I just wasn't able to pull that off. Anyway, the other problem is these LVDTS are DAMN sensitive to vibration as well."

She frowned. "How sensitive are we talking?"

He frowned. "I would suggest walking around on tiptoes around the sensor, if you had toes, and if you have to enter or leave the workroom, don't slam the door. As it is... I built the display with an extra long cable connecting it to the sensor so we can have the display out here, and the sensor in there, isolated from where we move around a lot."

He showed her the cobbled together display box, which was part anunciator panel, and part grid coordinate display. The only part of the device which was actually completely enclosed.

"These are the axis indicators, and this here is the reset button, which will reset the display. If the LVDTs reset to neutral when the crystal stops being stimulated, this should be zero. If, after you reset the display, this value is NOT zero, then you have a calibration error, and any data you grabbed might be invalid."

He scowled. "But, it fucking better be zero. I spent three hours last night recalibrating those fucking things to within plus or minus point oh oh five millivolts."

She grinned. "So THAT'S how the screwdriver ended up stuck in the table this morning!"

"Twilight, the school of thought where I come from, calibration usually involves hitting it with a hammer. I don't take no guff from no fucking piece of shit electronics."

She rolled her eyes. "You are the terror of inanimate objects the worlds over." She said dryly.

"Anyway, I took apart a crank emergency radio from the kit for the battery and... well, the crank. With your "make shit work like there's a fucking poltergeist going to town on it spell"-"

She shook her head. "You mean the Come to Life spell? How hard is this stuff to remember, when you can remember electrical theory and the like?"

He grinned. "It isn't. I just like making up a new name for it everytime I talk about it because you get so worked up about it."

She face-hooved. "I should have seen that coming."

He nodded sagely. "Aye, ya shoulda."

"Anyway, the battery has got enough juice, fully charged, to run the detector for around sixteen hours or so. With the Unseen Servant spell-"

She glared at him, but didn't say anything. He continued, grinning.

"You're learning! You can keep the battery fully charged without one of us, probably me, cranking like a madman for hours on end. The sensor detects an event, and the indicator will buzz. We take a reading, reset the display, and that's all she wrote."

She grinned, turning the display over and over in her hooves examining it. "So where's the on button? Let's try it out!"

He froze. He turned to the hastily scribbled circuit diagram in consternation, then lowered his head and sighed.

She frowned. "What?"

"Uh... well shit. I knew I forgot something. I guess if you want it on or off, you just connect or disconnect the battery."

Twilight stared at him for several blinks, then erupted into giggles.

He took this with a vaguely offended air. "Everybody's a critic."

She took one look at his expression and burst out laughing, collapsing to the floor in helpless mirth.

Marshall crossed his arms and shook his head. "I swear, I build the first pony/human hybridized piece of technology and you lose your shit over one of the little bells and whistles that goes missing."

She rolled over onto her back, tears streaming down her cheeks. "HA HA HA! Bells... and... Marshall! It's the... ON switch! It's like... the FIRST thing you put on a device! That's not a bell or a whistle!"

"I suppose I deserve this for the bee comments." He said with utmost dignity.

Twilight finally managed to stifle herself back to a reasonable volume. "Sorry... it's just the look on your face... I swear it was like you were just about to take your first lick of an ice cream cone and the whole thing just plopped out onto the ground."

He looked at her seriously. "Twilight, at this stage if I had an ice cream cone, and I dropped it on the ground, I wouldn't even hesitate. You do not want to know what I would be willing to do for a klondike bar, right now."

She stopped laughing, considered this for a moment, then nodded solemnly. She didn't know what a klondike bar was, but it was probably ice cream, and thus she could understand the gist of it.

"Yeah... me too."

They both sighed at the same time, then immediately went about getting the device ready for a series of tests.

Marshall poured brine into the shallow pan, sweat dripping off of his forehead as the heat rose from the wide, thin piece of steel. Twilight stepped in next, telekinetically using a makeshift saltscraper to rake the salt crystals formed from the previous batch of brine as the water boiled away. While she scraped the salt into the bags they had for collection he added wood to the fire and stepped back to the beach with the now empty bucket, filling it with salt water.

"So I think our tests last night pretty conclusively proved two things." She said, scraping away. She had her mane tied back so that the constant perspiration of the hot, sweaty work didn't drip into her eyes.

Marshall came back with the bucket full and set it down, unscrewing a canteen and taking series of deep gulping swallows. Water dripped from his beard and mustache. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and considered her curiously.

"Yeah?"

Twilight finished scraping the salt pan clean, then stepped back, waiting for more crystals to form as the new brine added to the pan reached boiling temperature. Losing water from perspiring in the jungle heat was bad, but a more insidious and just as dangerous, albeit slower death, was the depletion of the body's salt levels.

Too much salt was bad for you, sure. Too little, and you could end up with cramps, dizziness, electrolyte disturbance, neurological problems, even death.

She set about cleaning the salt caked onto the rake's scraping end into the salt bags before absently taking a swig of water from Marshall's proffered canteen.

"One, we've proven that your detector is a success, and is, incidentally, considerably more sensitive and accurate than any Equestrian device of the same type, so... kudos."

Marshall gave her a brief bow, then shrugged. "What's number two?"

She set the canteen down and turned to him. "The MB might still be actively wandering around out there, but it hasn't found us. If the testing last night didn't tip it off, the water fight afterwards should have."

Marshall scowled. "I still think teleportation and creating doors for cover is fucking cheating."

Twilight smirked. "Oh my, is someone still butt-hurt about losing last night? If you can't stand the heat, don't bring opposable thumbs to a magic fight."

"That is NOT how the saying goes." He grumbled pettily.

She paused, considering. "Wow, you really ARE butt-hurt. I like that word, "butt-hurt". It has a nice ring to it. Very descriptive. You know what it describes? Eight to six, my lead."

He sighed. "Yeah, really glad I taught you that fucking word."

She grinned. "Annnyway, in conclusion, I'd say it's time to discuss the mountain trip."

He took a deep breath, let it out, picked up the rake, and switched jobs with her. Leaning on the salt rake, he stared moodily at the steam rising from the salt pan, considering his approach.

"I gotta be honest, Twi. I've been up there, and while I wouldn't classify it as a tough climb in and of itself, there are factors that make it pretty dangerous. This isn't even taking into account how we're going to get you up and down the damn thing."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I told you I had a plan."

He cocked his head slightly, acknowledging her point. "Ok, you've got a plan. That's great. It still doesn't change the fact that this isn't a simple day trip, Sparks. After what happened the last time, I'm not so sure an overnight is such a good idea."

She looked at him seriously. "If you had to make the trip by yourself, could you pull it off in a day?"

He thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "The best route up the mountain is pretty close, and it doesn't turn into anything more than a rough hike 'til about a third of the way up. The rough spot's in the middle, but it's really rough. There are... things nesting up there. It's not a climb I would have attempted if I knew what it was like about half way through. By that time, I just kinda powered through the rest. Bear in mind that you've seen the kind of shit I'll put up with when my dander is up. I still have a couple of scars from it."

She sighed at this. "Still, all of that aside, if you only had to worry about getting yourself up there, could you do it?"

He frowned. "Sure."

He closed his eyes, then let out a sigh and frowned, crossing his arms. "You might as well out with it Sparks, because unless this is a doozy of a plan, I don't see how we're going to pull this off. I CAN'T carry you up there on my back, not that far, and not safely. I'm in pretty good shape, best shape of my life actually, but that is a HELL of a lot of weight to carry up a mountainside, no offense."

She smirked. "None taken."

He continued. "There'd be no way we could fight effectively if we're tethered together like that. If we got attacked by something up there, we'd be screwed."

"Marshall, it's ok. I've got a spell JUST for occasions like this."

He frowned. "Unless it turns your asshole into a jet engine, I don't see-"

She shook her head mock seriously and looked him sincerely in the eyes. "Marshall, I would never cast a spell that turned you into an inanimate object without your consent."

Marshall gave her a confused look. "What are you-" His expression cleared. "Oh... oh wow, I walked right into that one. Zing."

She smiled happily. "Nine to six. Anyway, I don't have a spell that does that, but I DO have one that's appropriate, if you will allow me to demonstrate."

He made an overly elaborate gesture with one hand that she found vaguely fascinating (even after six weeks, human body language was still so alien) and lifted his chin imperiously. "Proceed."

She took a deep breath, let it out, and closed her eyes. Magical energy gathered and formed around her horn, bathing her face in a soft purple glow. A gentle wind swirled about her, and twisting bands of light began to hide her from view as the energies involved slowly lifted her from the ground.

Marshall raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms over top the salt rake, and adopted a stony neutral expression. Secretly, he was a little nervous, having never seen such an obviously extreme example of magical energy being manipulated. Whatever she was up to, it was definitely BIG.

The concussive blast of the spell's completion actually blew him off of his feet, but only because he wasn't expecting it at all. He landed on his back, tangled up with the rake, and somehow managed to give himself one of those nauseating taps to the nuts that reminded you just how vulnerable they were. Cursing, he tossed the rake aside and sat up, wincing.

He opened his eyes.

Stared for several seconds.

Blinked.

"W-Well?" Twilight asked, panting slightly. It really was an exhausting spell. Although... she wasn't sure, but she didn't feel QUITE as tapped out as she had the last time she'd cast it. That was interesting, but hardly surprising.

She had grown a lot since then.

Marshall continued staring at her for a few more seconds, then he smirked.

"Well shit. We have successfully achieved a cuteness singularity. The inclusion of girly-ass butterfly wings is causing the weight of your cute to collapse in on itself."

Twilight rolled her eyes, testing the wings out for the first time. She was curious as to exactly how the spell pulled off what it was pulling off. The wings were the spell matrix, actualized as a physical construct, but they were so thin and delicate as to be nearly useless.

After a thorough examination of the matrix, she realized it was actually a cunning workaround of the "Telekinetic Load: Drain Runaway principle". The principle stated that the more spell matrix actualized thaumic energy an object had, the harder it was to lift, telekinetically.

Since telekinesis caused an actualization of thaumic energy in a field around both the object AND the pony casting the spell, as evidenced by the slight glow around the horn, this meant that the energy requirements necessary to telekinetically lift one's self made it economically unfeasible as a mode of travel.

As they applied a telekinetic spell matrix around themselves, the amount of actualized thaumic potential generated as waste energy by their horn would increase, causing the telekinesis spell matrix to require more energy, thus causing more waste energy from the horn to keep up, and so on. The power requirements would eventually level off, of course, as the amount of waste energy generated couldn't exceed a certain fixed amount, and that meant that while it was possible, it was too prohibitively expensive, energy wise, for even a pony like Twilight or one of the Princesses to use in anything but a strict emergency, when teleportation wasn't an option. Which of course didn't prevent every unicorn ever born from trying it at least once.

It was still pretty darn cool as a party trick.

What this spell did was cunningly get around this, by attaching a physical construct as a discrete and seperate object, and using it as a focus point for a very complex weaving of pre-determined thought triggered telekinetic commands. The pony didn't even need to know how to fly, they just had to think about where they wanted to go, and the spell matrix executed the appropriate telekinetic commands for them.

Absolutely genius, but ridiculously complex, which made it awfully power intensive. She doubted more than one in ten unicorns could attempt it.

"Goddamn it, I can actually feel my penis inverting."

She blinked, startled out of her reverie, then stared at him flatly. "Gross. Marshall, you're reaching."

Marshall shook his head. "Can you blame me? I can't think! I am suffocating under inconceivable D'AW pressure. Subjective time is slowing down to a stand still as I approach your girly event horizon."

She smirked at this, nerdy jokes were probably hitting below the belt, but... well, dang it, she liked a good science joke.

"You realize that all you're doing is giving me more science stuff to pester you about, right?"

"Sparks, you are absolutely insatiable, you realize that, right?"

She grinned happily. "When it comes to what you've got, Marshall, I can never get enough."

He blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it.

She continued on, blissfully unaware that he was now giving her an odd expression.

"It's so exciting! Everytime I think I've plumbed the depths of it, you whip out something completely unexpected and surprise me all over again!"

He leveled a flat stare at her, raising an eyebrow. "You gotta be doing that on purpose."

She frowned quizzically at him. "Doing what on purpose?"

He chuckled and shook his head, standing up and brushing himself off. "Nevermind, Twi. It's too easy."

She frowned. "I'm not easy. It's just that you're so hard-"

He smirked and shook his head, letting out a chuckle. "Oh man, you-"

"Damn it, Marshall, do you know how frustrated you make me when you pull this?!"

Marshall stared at her intently for several seconds, then said flatly. "Bullshit, you're yanking my crank."

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously. I'm not exactly experienced, Marshall, but I know what a double entendre is. I was just trying to see how long I could mess with your head."

He shook his head. "Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is your dick ass purple companion being a fucktard."

She fluttered closer and batted her eyelashes at him. "You say the sweetest things, Marshall."

He edged a bit to one side, obviously a bit weirded out at this byplay. She landed and fixed him with a serious expression.

"So?"

He raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

"So are we going to climb this mountain or what? I mean, I could just... fly up there myself-"

He glared at her. "After the ass-reaming you gave me about doing stupid reckless shit together or not at all? That shit works both ways, marefriend."

She blushed. Truthfully, it was gratifying to see he was taking her words seriously. That actually warmed her heart a bit. Not that she thought he was going to go back on his word, but...

"I'm sorry, you're right. We'll climb it together."

He sighed. "I'M going to climb the fucking mountain. You're going to fly, apparently."

She clapped her front hooves together gleefully and fluttered off towards the basecamp singing something vaguely triumphant, and not particularly complimentary to him. Marshall could almost swear he heard some form of accompaniment to her singing.

He glared in that direction, then tied the two salt bags they'd collected to the end of the rake and put the fire out with what was left of the salt water. Propping the rake over his right shoulder, and carrying the bucket, he set off after the victorious mare, left with the unsettling feeling that she had somehow manipulated him into something.

"When did my life become a fuckin' children's cartoon?"

Twilight had settled down to a comfortable position, and had been reading for about an hour, finally having pushed through the last section of Battlefield Expedient Medicine. Marshall had spent the early evening fieldstripping and maintaining one of the many M4 carbines which had been in the C-130's cargohold. Having completed this, he was currently whittling a piece of driftwood they'd found on the beach to pass the time.

She finished the book and closed it, resting her forehooves on it and sighing. The fire let out a merry pop as some knot of moisture was found by the hungry flames. Marshall carefully teased another shaving stroke down whatever he was working on, letting the shaving drop into a small basket set aside for the purpose. It would later be used for tinder. Nothing was wasted, if they could help it.

She floated the book back onto the shelf and took up her journal, considering her words carefully. After several false starts in her head, she finally settled on a comfortable beginning to her tale.

There was really only one beginning that could have worked.

Dear Princess Celestia...

She grinned to herself, words flowing onto the page, the act of putting her thoughts on paper to what was, at this point, a largely theoretical future royal reader was such a boost to her morale that she could scarcely believe it. Before she'd realized it, she'd put at least four pages in tight, tiny script onto the pages. She paused for a moment and looked up at Marshall's back, prepared to thank him again for the journal, but he was so intent on what he was doing that she decided not to bother him.

Instead she smiled softly at him and closed the journal, stowing it under her pillow reverently. Having done this, she picked up the 5-250 Demolitions manual, opened it, and began a more thorough delving into the world of human military demolitions.

She'd already finished her read through the Battlefield Expedient Medicine training manual, and had even tested herself by answering all of the quizzes contained at the end of each module. She would have liked to practice some of what she had learned, but Marshall wasn't having any of that. At worst though, she figured all she had to do was wait a while. Marshall would do something dumb and hurt himself eventually, it was about as inevitable as rainfall on this dang island.

The Demolitions manual interested her because it was an insight into the military mindset that she didn't really have, even though her brother was in the Guard. What impressed her the most was the tone of the manual. It seemed to stress safety and using exactly the amount of force necessary to accomplish the task at hand; no more, no less. She'd always pictured military action as being nothing more than leveling as much force to bear as possible, as quickly as possible. The Demolitions manual called that notion into question.

She loved having her preconceived notions challenged.

Still, it was late, and eventually, by mutual agreement, the two of them went to bed early.

They would have a long day tomorrow.

"Five fifty parachute cord is some of the most badass stuff on the planet. Thirty percent stretch before it snaps, can sustain loads of up to five hundred and fifty pounds, no problem, with a weight of around two hundred and twenty five feet per pound, you just DO not get better bang for your buck, pound for pound. I admit, I might be biased here, because it's all I have, but Twilight... if I was cordage, I'd want five fifty to have my rope babies."

She rolled her eyes and smirked, checklist hovering in front of her along with her pen. "That is a very odd fetish to have, Marshall."

He continued coiling the parachute cord and chuckled.

"Oh come on, Sparks. You're not into a little rope play?"

She shook her head and muttered. "No, that's more AJ's schtick."

Marshall ignored this statement, not quite sure what to make of it.

He carefully stowed the now expertly bundled coil onto his belt with a black carabiners clip salvaged from his flight harness. He'd just finished inspecting it for frays or other indications that it wouldn't be a good idea to use. Having found none, he nodded to Twilight and she happily marked off the last box on her checklist. She looked it over again to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

Marshall straightened to an overblown military posture, smirked, and started to open his mouth.

"Nein." She said warningly without looking up.

Marshall blinked, cut off at the pass, then scuffed his boot childishly against the floor.

"Spielverderber." He grumbled.

She ignored him and stowed the checklist away, happily. "Ok, Marshall. We're all set. I pumped enough energy into this wing spell to keep it up all night, and now I'm actively maintaining it. I can probably keep it up for a another day, maybe day and a half, without strain, so we're good where that's concerned."

He frowned. "How much does it limit you, tactically? Like, what if you had to throw around a bunch of other magic?"

She frowned, thoughtfully. "I'll have to limit myself to simple telekinesis, maybe a weak shield. Nothing too flashy. Don't get me wrong, it IS a draining spell, but I can handle it."

He nodded consideringly, then reached over her and picked up his booney hat from the table. Putting it on, frowned, cracked his neck, then put on his pack and picked up his newly maintained and zero'ed replacement carbine.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road."

The journey to the base of the mountain was everything that their trip to the barrier's edge had not been. Namely, it was short, routine, and not full of large animals and predators out to kill them. Which was not to say that they didn't run into any difficulties. Just that those hazards they encountered, they were able to veer around with relative ease. The journey took them over a river running through a gorge, which Marshall was able to cut around in relatively short order while Twilight marveled at the unlikely natural beauty of it.

It was hard, sometimes, to stay angry at her situation. There were sights here that rivaled even the most amazing vistas on Equestria.

Within short order they reached the crumbling base of the mountain. Like most jungle edifaces, it was mostly covered with any sort of vegitation that could find purchase, up to and including trees and the like growing out the side of the mountain and arching upwards towards the sun's rays.

They stopped for a moment, considering the climb.

It looked a lot more intimidating close up.

Twilight looked at Marshall worriedly. "Are you sure about this? That looks... really dangerous."

Marshall, who had been chewing on a piece of salted meat he had cooked on a stick, wiped his mouth and stared at her levelly.

"It's a bit late for backing out now, ain't it?"

She frowned. "I don't know, Marshall. There is an awful lot that can go wrong."

He shrugged. "Sure. Bear in mind that I climbed it by myself, albeit a couple years ago. That was crazy. With you to watch my back, and your magic as a back up, this is merely ill-advised. We've worked up the crazy to stupid scale!"

She nodded thoughtfully, rubbing a hoof on her chin. "Yes, I can see it now. The Venn Diagram of Crazy and Stupid..."

She grinned at him. "One bubble is crazy, one bubble is stupid, and their intersection is Marshall Bailey." She said dryly.

He gave her a mock hurt look. "Twilight, you wound me through statistical analysis. That's informative AND painful."

They both chuckled at this.

He sighed, stood up, wiped his hands on his pants, then snugged his gloves on. "Well, sooner we get this done, sooner we can head back. Try and keep up, Sparklefly!"

With this, he started a mad dash over the cracked and broken ground, skipping from one shattered boulder to another. For a moment she was intensely annoyed with him. It was reckless, and dangerous, but almost immediately her annoyance turned to outright awe.

It wasn't often that she actually caught glimpse of Marshall in motion like this. He was naturally cautious in the jungle and took a long time considering where he was putting his feet, for good reason. Here he was leaping and bounding along, scrambling up trees and pulling himself up using little more than momentum and every limb he could bring to bear, and he was doing it with at least thirty pounds of gear on his back.

It was... well, for lack of a better word, beautiful. Humans had a major advantage in their bipedal stance and high center of gravity in that while they were much more prone to falling, they also had a much better developed sense of kinesthesia. In addition to this, they had the ability to change direction much more quickly than any pony possibly could except perhaps the more agile pegasi, and in directions even a pegasus would find difficult to match without flying. Thus, obstacles which a pony would have to approach carefully lest they hurt themselves, he flowed around effortlessly, or seemingly so.

Twilight had no way of knowing of course, but if she thought THAT was amazing, she would have been absolutely blown away by a real master of the art of parkour.

She fluttered along behind him, marveling at the show of atheletic prowess. He really seemed to be enjoying himself as well, and she found that his mood was more than a little infectious.

They lost themselves in it, advancing steadily up the mountainside. Before too long, the climb became far too vertical for Marshall to continue at the pace he had been keeping, and things slowed down.

Then they started to work together, her directing him to hand holds and occasionally helping out with a telekinetic boost, while simultaneously giving him good anchor spots to use his paracord with for safety. All in all, it ended up being a pretty entertaining experience for both of them. As they ascended, the air gradually got cooler, and before too long, they found themselves on the edge of the cloudy parts of the climb.

Which was when she got an idea.

"Twilight, I really don't know about this."

"Do it."

"Sparks-"

"Just do it, you wimp! We tested it on that rock, and it worked just fine."

"Yes, but rocks lack important things. Like pain receptors. And testicles."

"Marshall, just trust me, ok? I swear this will work."

He let out a sigh, then nodded. "Ok, cast the fuckin' spell. For the record, if I die, or end up with anything less than the number of chromosomes that I had when I started, I'm going to be very put out with you."

"Duly noted." She said dryly, then cast her spell on him.

He winced, eyes shut, felt himself over, then frowned. He opened his eyes. "Did you cast it?"

"Yes, you big wuss."

He frowned. "I don't... feel any different."

She hovered closer and gave him a critical once over. Her horn glowed weakly. "The spell matrix is intact, and it appears to be functioning properly. Go ahead and try it out."

He gave her a skeptical look.

She sighed and grabbed his sleeve with her teeth, then jerked him off balance before he could protest.

He fell. "TwiligFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"

He didn't fall far, before he bounced ever so gently off of the cloud she'd aimed him at.

"-UUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuh?"

He sat up, bounced a little.

She fluttered closer, a smug look on her face. "Well?"

He rolled over onto his hands and knees and stood up, shakily. He took a couple of test steps.

"Weird. It's like... walking on a waterbed. Full of corn starch."

She circled him. "Interesting. Your body's complete lack of a potential thaumic field appears to make you more power efficient where magic is concerned, not less."

He grinned. "Told you, about as magical as a...."

He trailed off, his eyes widening. He took several steps, climbing upwards a bit, to look out over the sea of gently rolling clouds he stood on.

"Oh Sparks... this is..."

She fluttered closer and watched him with a pleased grin on her face. The childlike wonder and awe on his face were the best reward she could think of. She felt good, to have been able to do this for him.

He started to laugh, and spread his arms out, turning to look at the view.

Twilight smirked. "I take it you like this, then?"

"Twilight, I can say with absolute certainty that I have never been involved in something that has a higher awesome factor than this. So... it'll work on all my stuff, too?"

She nodded. "The spell affects anything in contact with your body when I cast it on you. Normally it lasts around twenty four hours, but since I put a little too much "umph" into it, as I wasn't sure what the power requirements would be for you, it'll probably last closer to twenty eight, maybe thirty. To be safe, I'd be on the ground before twenty four is up."

He nodded. "Twilight, this is gonna take hours off our time. Good thinking, genius."

She blushed and lowered her head demurely. "Well... I didn't think of it back at basecamp, but when I saw how close these clouds were, it just... came to me."

He patted her back, then began surveying the cloudy route up. "Hmm... still a bit of a climb."

She grinned. "That's the beauty part, they're still clouds. With... a little... judicious spell work..."

She used her gentle breeze spell in a surgical fashion, and blew him about a thirty degree ramp upwards. He walked along, and she teased the clouds into shapes that he could more easily navigate. He shook his head, grinning.

"That is just too goddamn cool."

She gave him a teasing look. "Cheating aside, sometimes magic is pretty darn awesome, huh?"

He snorted. "Oh, it's STILL cheating, Twilight, but as my first co-pilot used to say, if you ain't cheating, you ain't trying."

They were mostly silent after that. Marshall was too busy playing the looky loo, and she was too busy enjoying watching him enjoy himself. All in all, it turned what would have been a hard, very stressful and dangerous journey upward into what amounted to a pleasure stroll.

It was nice.

The clouds terminated about fifty feet from the summit of the mountain, and at that point, they stopped to rest and take a bite to eat. Marshall sat with his legs dangling over the clouds, eating something murder related off of a stick, and she dug into a salad of various bits of vegetation they'd determined weren't poisonous to her, seasoned with a bit of sea salt.

Of the two of them, she tended to need the higher salt intake, since her normal diet didn't have much, and he got a lot of his salt intake from the meat that he ate.

Marshall amused himself by teasing the clouds near him into comical shapes with the stick. His innate sense of proportion and years honing his whittling skill seemed to help with this. Before long he had what appeared to be an eight inch tall buxom human female lounging in the clouds.

She grinned evilly. "Practicing your yoga, huh?"

"Naw, yoga practice is done in privacy, Sparks. I've never been much of an exhibitionist. I'm just doodling."

She chuckled at this and stood, stretching. Another application of the cloud walking spell had enabled her to stop fluttering and flapping about. She was going through her magical reserves at a higher rate than was probably wise, but with the time they'd saved on the trip up with this detour, she figured it would probably be ok.

"So, shall we move on?"

He dropped the stick and stood, rubbing out the doodle with his boot. Picking up his pack and rifle, he turned towards her.

Then he stopped, and narrowed his eyes.

She frowned. "What is it?"

His eyes widened. "Sparks, look-"

Instinct and reactions honed by countless hours of danger were pretty much all that saved her from losing her head from atop her shoulders. She flattened herself against the clouds as something... immense rushed overhead with a snapping sound. She got the impression of a gigantic set of wings and gnashing needle sharp jaws passing within inches of her face, and then whatever it was was past, shrieking a cry of defiance as it banked for another pass.

"A dragon!? What is a-"

She bolted, the thing hot on her hooves. Taking off across the cloudscape, she leapt from the clouds just as the thing caught up and snapped at her again, this time taking a few stray hairs from her tail. She fluttered away, downward, the... whatever it was in hot pursuit, then disappeared under the clouds.

"TWILIGHT!" Marshall called, desperately trying to get a bead on her position. He cursed himself for forgetting about those things, but the cloudwalk had completely driven them out of his head.

He'd forgotten how territorial they were.

Twilight couldn't get a really good look at the thing as she was currently fleeing for her life, but she got the impression that it wasn't as she first assumed, a dragon. What it was was some kind of cross between a reptile and a bird, like a lot of the critters that inhabited this island. A twenty foot wing span, and a narrow, long snout with many sharp, needle-like teeth snapped at her hooves as she twisted and juked and dived and just generally did everything she could think of to get away. Slamming with all four hooves against the side of the mound of clouds, she pushed underneath the thing and felt a sharp sting as one of those tiny, flailing clawed feet scratched her rump.

It did not seem deterred, turning with obvious aerobatic agility and continuing the chase.

Marshall could hear Twilight and that... whatever the fuck it was screaming somewhere below him, and the doppler effect told him that she was still moving at a pretty good clip.

"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck FUCK, fuck fuck fuck!" He cursed under his breath, considering. With the two of them below the clouds, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help, and that thing was faster, bigger, and just plain meaner than she was. He surveyed the cloud cover around him, spotted a hornlike shape in the clouds near him and blinked.

"Oh no. No no Marshall James Bailey, that is fucking crazy." He muttered to himself.

Twilight gave a panicked scream below him somewhere and he heard, from here, the clash of the things jaws.

He scowled, set his jaw, took a deep breath, then unclipped the rope from his belt and got to work.

Twilight wound through and around the twisted shapes of clouds, trying desperately to avoid the angry creature chasing her. It was faster than her, and she was eating through the spells energy at a terrifying rate just trying to stay ahead of the damn thing. If she didn't think of something soon...

Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of something that stopped the breath in her lungs and nearly got her killed.

Marshall swung out into the sky, with a harsh yell (GERONIMO!!!) of terror and defiance, then jerked back against the cloud, slammed both boots into the side of it, tensed his legs beneath him, and pushed off again, releasing tension on the rope as he did so. He dropped another ten feet or so, and swung back again, and repeated the process, performing what, to her stunned gaze, looked like nothing so much as a semi-controlled fall.

"Is he bucking NUTS!?" She howled, then ducked under another vigorous snap of jaws and darted in the opposite direction.

It had been a long time since Marshall had practiced rappelling, and he'd never done it without the proper equipment. To be safe, well, safer, he tied the end of the paracord around his left leg and into his harness. The first drop was jarring, and without his gloves, he'd likely have no goddamn skin left on his hands. It got a little smoother once he regained the knack of it, and within short order he'd dropped to about where the little aerial dance was taking place.

Then he ran out of rope, and the stop was... a little unpleasant, to say the least.

"FUCK, my balls!" He groaned, as the rope slid up his thigh and settled in a very unpleasant location. He groaned and struggled, dangling about three feet from the bottom of the clouds and spinning very slowly at the end of his rope.

Literally.

Cursing to himself, he wrapped his right arm up in the rope, dug it under his forearm painfully, then brought the rifle up to his shoulder and tried to stabilize himself for a shot.

Twilight couldn't spare much thought to Marshall's plight at the moment, seeing as she was otherwise engaged, and so, the first few cracking pops caught her completely by surprise. She turned her head as she twisted aside, and caught a glimpse of the crazy pilot dangling at the end of a rope, taking shots with that rifle of his.

"What was I thinking, of course he's bucking crazy." She muttered to herself.

The thing was fast, he couldn't stabilize himself, and every shot was making him sway and spin very slowly, in such a way that he had to twist to keep the damn thing in the sights. As it stood, he was tossing rounds its way, and the damn thing hadn't even noticed, it just kept chasing poor Twilight like a cat chasing a mouse.

He had gone through the better part of a magazine, his teeth grit together in concentration and frustration. He forced himself to calm down.

"Come on you mother-" Crack! Crack! Crack!

There were an awful lot of vectors to consider, and they were running out of time.

It would be a miracle if he pulled off these shots.

A puff of red marked the entrance of one of the fast moving projectiles as it popped a hole in its right wing just as his magazine ran dry.

Praise Jesus.

It squawked, wobbled in midflight, then looked in his direction. He could see the murderous intent in those beady little eyes from here.

"Aw hell." He muttered, letting the rifle hang from its sling as he began scrabbling with the rope.

It began its charge.

It had stopped chasing her, and that was good.

It was now going after Marshall.

That was bad.

The thing had a small hole in its right wing, but the paper thin tissue hadn't given the round much time to tumble or fragment, and thus it was just a very small bloody hole that didn't seem to be giving it much to worry about.

Twilight tried to grip its tiny feet telekinetically, slow it down, anything, to stop that charge.

It just kept coming. She screamed his name.

"MARSHALL!!"

Then stopped, staring incredulously. "I do not believe this." She said flatly.

Marshall had literally seconds to react, and so reacted in a manner that was probably not the best thought out action he could have taken.

Which only made it more awesome when it actually worked. Reaching up, he dug his fists into the cloudstuff above him. With a snarl and a grunting strain of effort, he convulsively lifted his entire body flat against the bottom of the clouds with upper body strength and terror alone. The thing snapped viciously at his boot heels as he did so, and with another cry of defiance and terror, he jackknifed downward, slamming both boots into the delicate juncture of the critter's right wing and neck, slamming every once of strength and bit of weight he could bring to bear on that one point.

He felt something important pop and crackle under his feet. The thing gave a shriek of agony.

He gave a yell of triumph that quickly dwindled into a squeak of pain as he brutally slammed back down on the end of the rope and it mashed his nuts again.

He spun wildly.

The thing tried to stabilize itself, but with one wing effectively dislocated at the shoulder joint it had lost all control. Wobbling desperately it slammed into the side of the mountain with bone crunching force, then wailed weakly as it pinwheeled with ever increasing momentum downwards.

The very final sounding "THUMP" and the end of its wails marked its unfortunate passing.

Marshall pointed at it. "HA! How you like THAT shit, you pony poaching rat bastard?! Don't get comfortable you son of a bitch, you just volunteered to be dinner!"

Twilight fluttered up to him and stared down at the thing, every nerve and muscle jumping and twitching from adrenaline and slowly dwindling fear.

He looked over at her, wincing. "Hey Sparks, you ok?"

She looked at him for a moment, then grimaced. "Yes... I... Marshall, you-"

"Uh uh." He shook his head. "Technically we were doing this together, so you can't get mad at me in this case. Please don't yell at me." He winced, and turned a little green.

"My balls are already retracting into my abdomen as it is. I'll be lucky if I don't have to go through puberty again."

She shook her head, and gave him a little smile. "I suppose it would be kind of rude for me to yell at you when you probably just saved my life."

He grinned at her, and sighed. "Oh boy. That was way more painful than I'd-"

She fluttered closer and hugged him gently. He froze, then patted her back, just behind her wings.

"Thank you, Marshall." She said gently. "That was very brave."

"Partners, Twilight. I do listen, from time to time. I got your back."

He wheezed a bit, then looked skyward. "Look, the gratitude is nice and all, but do you think I could get some help getting back up there? This thing is giving me an atomic wedgie LIKE YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE!"

She giggled. "Well, you did say you wanted to have its rope babies."

He groaned. "Very funny Sparklebutt, now help me up."

She complied.

"Wow." Twilight said quietly.

Marshall spread his arms out wide, turned his face to the sky and yelled out.

"DRAGO!"

He stopped, grinned to himself, then caught Twilight staring at him and smirked. "What?"

She shook her head. "You know, that would probably be funnier if I actually understood the references."

He patted her head. "It's funny where it counts, Twi. Funny where it counts."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Right, so this is it, huh? Highest point on the island?"

He nodded. "Unless you can somehow get us up to those higher clouds up there, yeah."

She shook her head regretfully. "I'd like to, but they're really high up and in pretty much direct sunlight, and that's something you want to avoid with the wings spell."

He nodded. "So there's your answer."

She spun slowly, taking in the view. The island was huge, and from here she could see vastly different environments butted almost comically up against one another. A jungle that turned into plains, then into some kind of forest. A very distant swamp, it looked like, or maybe some kind of lagoon it looked to be on the coast, and the angle was poor to be absolutely sure.

To the left, she could see the desert environment Marshall had mentioned, a flat, cracked, desolate looking place. She grabbed the binoculars from Marshall's belt and surveyed it, looking for the crash site.

He looked down at her, bemused, and shook his head, obviously aware of her search. "You can barely see it from here, Twi. Even with the binoculars. Might not be able to at all. It was half buried, last time I saw it.

She frowned, continuing her sweep. "Right."

Then she wavered back and forth and slumped, and Marshall caught her and the binos before she went over. "You ok?"

She groaned. "Oh wow... it's way more intense up here. I wish we had the detector, I'm not sure, but I think..."

He frowned. "Well, I hate the be the bearer of bad news, Twi... but nothing stands out as different to me."

She sighed. "It was worth a shot, I guess. I wish we hadn't expended all this effort for nothing."

He nodded unhappily.

She looked up at him. "Do you think we could at least wait and see if we can tell where the sky lights land?"

He frowned. "How much time you got left on your wing thingie?"

She considered. "That attack cost a lot of energy, but... I think it's got another few hours or so."

He nodded. "Ok. I suppose we can take a break."

So they did. Marshall pointed out a large boulder that he'd painstakingly carved some words into on his last trip up. It read:

"Marshall James Bailey, 2014 AD?"

To amuse herself, and to pass the time. Twilight carved her own little message immediately underneath it with a little help from Marshall:

"Twilight Sparkle 1001 CA?"

Shortly after that, they were treated to the alien flash of soundless blue lightning. Marshall whistled at the sight.

"That is fucking something, ain't it?"

She "hmmed" in response, pointing the binoculars in the direction of the strikes. They seemed to be slamming out into the middle of that desert wasteland, but she couldn't make out any details.

Wait...

She gasped. "Marshall, there's something out there! Something I can make out!"

He frowned. "What? Are you sure?"

She passed the binos up to him and continued looking in that direction, straining to see.

"You can't see it without the binos, but... I'm not sure if it was there the whole time and we missed it until the lightning called attention to it, or if the lightning is bringing it but I think-"

He gasped. "Holy shit! Twilight, I... I think that's a building!"

She yanked the binos from him telekinetically, incidentally dragging him down by the strap, and looked through again. The sky lights ceased, but she could still make it out.

"You're right! That is definitely a structure of some kind!" She said excitedly.

He managed to duck his head out from the strap and sat back. "I'll be damned. You were right after all."

"You know what we have to do now, right?!" She said excitedly.

He frowned, looked off in the distance, and nodded. "Yeah. That's gonna be... interesting."

She nodded vigorously, practically dancing in place. "We're really going to have to plan this. Marshall! This could be IT! This could be the break we've been looking for!"

Then she actually did dance in place, a clopping little victory dance. It was at this point that Marshall learned that Twilight could not dance worth a goddamn.

Not even a little goddamn.

He grinned at her jittery, seizure like, uncoordinated, tongue out victory dance and started laughing, then picked her up with a squeak and started spinning wildly, laughing like a loon as he danced his own little victory jig.

Caught up in the moment, she wiggled and climbed up until she was seated with her hindlegs on his shoulders and raised her forehooves to the sky. He stabilized her with hands on her rear legs and continued his shuffle, spinning wildly from time to time.

"DRAGO!" She shouted wildly, laughing.

"DRAGO!" He yelled out in return, laughing himself.

As it turned out, flying pony poaching rat bastard tasted a lot like chicken. At least, according to Marshall's palate.

A/N: If you are confused about what they were shouting at the top of the mountain, think Rocky IV. Anyway, here you go, another chapter completed. With that done, allow me to introduce the second Quantum Castaways Omake Theater, also written by my good friend Nugar.

Enjoy!

What If? Possibility One, by Nugar

Stardate Log whenthefuckever: I should have kept better track of my

time here if I wanted to keep an truly accurate journal. In

hindsight, waiting five years give or take to keep a record was not a

good idea. Not that this is likely to be found by anyone able to read

it, unless another poor bastard from Earth gets dropped in here after

my inevitable demise. Be my luck the aliens or whatever running this

place will pick a marine, since Navy didn’t work out, and, being

unable to read, he’ll use this journal for bumwad.

Man I miss TP.

Enh, I officially declare this day my five year anniversary. I will

set five murderturkeys on fire today to celebrate.

Year 5, Feb 12th: Since the seasons never change, I declared the

anniversary of my arrival here was Jan 1st. Saw some kind of giant

bear tangle with the rootscraper herd today. In other news, bear

patties for supper.

Year 5, April 1st: I’d like to assume this is coincidence, but since I

know for a fact that the universe actually IS fucking with me,

probably not. Picked up a companion today. First critter since I’ve

been here that didn’t either ignore me or try to eat me. Some kind of

small domesticated horse, or maybe a pony. Obviously owned by

someone, wore a harness collar around his neck and seemed only mildly

skittish of my presence. He’d managed to get his collar tangled up in

one of my traps but seemed well on his way to getting free by the time

I arrived. He’s red in color, but has a weird tattoo or brand of a

green apple on his ass. Strong, too. We ran into some murderturkeys

on the way back and he kicked one through the canopy. He followed me

back to camp with only a little prompting and seems okay with some

star fruit I had. He’s staring at the sky right now as I write this

by lamplight. Poor guy looks as lost as I feel. I figure he’ll be

gone tomorrow, because an april fool’s joke seems right in line with

the shit this island pulls.

Year 5, April 2nd: Pony is still here. Pony is definitely not a

normal pony. Shied away when I tried to take his collar thing off,

but when I tried coaxing him, he simply TURNED HIS FRONT LEG

AROUND, REACHED UP, TOOK OFF HIS COLLAR, AND HUNG IT

ON THE WALL. Horse legs do not bend that way. This morning, he

briefly reared up on his hind legs and used both front hooves to take

it off the wall and put it back on. This fucking island, man. I don’t even

know anymore.

Lacking any other ideas, and since I’ve got the nagging feeling that

trying to corral him or tie him up somewhere will lead to shenanigans

at my expense, I’ve shown him the general area. He’s definitely

smarter than a regular horse. Caught him nodding or shaking his head

at me a few times, and he nodded when I asked him if he understood me.

Just kind of stared blankly at me when I started quoting Monty Python

lines at him, so I don’t know how much he really understands. Maybe

he’s some sort of future genetically engineered superhorse? We’ve got

dinosaurs, why not future horsies?

Year 5, April 3rd: Went out with the pony to gather more star fruit

today. Decided to name him Wendleton P Turkeythumper. He expressed

his displeasure by showing me a trick, where he casually kicked the

trunk of a star fruit tree and made a shitload of ripe fruit nail me

in the head. All of them were perfectly ripe, too. Weird shit. I

tried explaining that the P stood for Percival. He didn’t buy it.

Name issue is up in the air for now.

Year 5, April 5th: Finally settled on the name of Apple. When I said

it, he kind of gives me this look, like, ‘Finally, you stupid

bastard.’. Very deliberately looks at the green apple on his ass,

then gave me that look again. I feel sort of stupid.

Year 5, April 6th: Woke up and found that Apple was rebuilding part

of my palisade wall. By himself. He had my E-tool in his mouth and

was using it to dig out new post holes. He’d already dragged up three

new trees. They appeared to have been torn out of the ground by their

roots. I admit, it took me a while to figure out how he did it, at

least until I saw him casually pick one up and prop it on another to

begin chopping off the root ball with the sharp edge of the e tool.

Took him about three strokes. And then he chopped out the top,

sharpened it to a point, and jammed it down in one of the holes he’d

made using some weird combination of both front legs and his head and

neck. I’m pretty sure that violates the laws of physics somewhere,

because he doesn’t look like he weighs more than three or four hundred

pounds, and he handled that tree like it was a nerf bat. Somehow, I’m

reminded of him bucking the murderturkey into orbit. Definitely glad

he’s friendly.

Year 5, April 10th: Got the palisade walls extended into a kind of

defense in depth layered wall concept. Looks like it ought to keep

out anything up to an elephant, or a charging rootscraper. Also got

some star fruit trees moved to nearby, where they’re more convenient,

all at the initiative and planning of my new friend. I’ve taken to

calling him Big Apple, which he seems to appreciate, though I always

seem to have something fall out of the sky and bonk my head if I mix

it up and call him New York with a bad accent. He always seems to

stamp a hoof or something right before I get beaned, but I’m still not

sure what he’s doing. Some sort of ricochet? Will investigate.

Year 5, April 12th: Challenged him to a makeshift game of basketball

to test his reflexes and, well, ‘hoof-eye’ coordination. Lost.

Year 5, April 13th: Challenged him to a makeshift game of horseshoes.

I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea.

Year 5, April 14th: Challenged him to a makeshift game of darts,

trying to see what kind of fine motor control he has with those lips.

Lost again.

Year 5, April 15th: Challenged him to a game of rock paper scissors.

Won every game since he’s incapable of throwing anything but rock,

hahah. Score one for homo sapiens.

Year 5, April 20th: Luck almost ran out today. Got snared by some

sort of giant carnivorous plant with long, sticky tendrils that curled

around my leg and tried to drag me into its mouth. Thought I was dead

meat when Apple ran off instead of helping, but felt like a heel for

thinking bad of him when he came back a few minutes later with a

boulder that had to weigh close to a ton somehow balanced on his back.

He spun and bucked it into the plant’s ‘mouth’, which both plugged it

and kind of squished the shit out of it. Big Apple is best pony.

Year 5, May 2nd: Challenged him to a game of chess. Disturbing thing

is, he already knew the rules. Won though. He took my gloating with

this kind of long suffering patience that makes me wonder what his

home life was like. I bet it’s interesting.

Year 5, June 12th: Big Apple is definitely the best thing to have

happened to me here. He’s a great listener. I find myself feeling a

lot less lonely after sitting down and telling him about things. It’s

like a cross between a really great dog and a best friend. The dog

knows how to sit there and just listen, but the friend actually

understands. I’ve told him things I didn’t think I’d tell anyone.

He’s a real bro.

Year 5, June 23rd: Raining like hell. Challenged him to a few games

of checkers to kill time. 2 to 1, me. Go human, go human.

Marshal closed the book, using the pen as a bookmark, and stowed it

carefully in his pack before putting it away. He hadn’t seen a rat

yet, but didn’t want to leave it vulnerable to any other odd little

gnawing critters. Stretching hugely, he walked over to the door,

where Big Apple sat placidly, chewing on a stalk of grass. Rain was

still coming down in torrents, reducing visibility to almost nothing.

Still, there were occasional flashes of light, accompanied by peals of

thunder. No blue lightning tonight, thank god. He didn’t want to see

another plant monster.

“Man, it’s raining like hell, though. Gonna be even more humid tomorrow.”

“Eeyup,” Big Apple said calmly.

Marshal blinked, then turned to the red pony sitting beside him.

“Did you just say… ‘yup’?”

“Eeyup,” the red pony replied.

“You can talk?” the human offered hesitantly.

“Eeyup.”

“More than just ‘eeyup’?”

“Eeyup.”

Marshal got a the feeling that the universe was fucking with him. Again.

“Okay, then say something besides ‘eeyup’.”

“Eeenope.”

Marshal was positive, now, that the pony had a smug look on his face.

He wasn’t going to let this smug ass superpony draw him into a word

game.

“Okay, then, let’s talk. And none of that yep nope shit.”

Big Apple paused to clear his throat, then spoke in his very best

imitation of a cultured manehatten accent. “Why certainly, Marshall.

My name is Macintosh Apple, but everypony just calls me Big Macintosh

or Big Mac. What would you like to converse about?”

Dimly, Marshal was aware that he’d fallen on his ass rather heavily.

It took a moment before he was capable of rational thought, and longer

before his own speech was returned to him. During that time, the pony

sat there, looking rather smug.

“W-what, how, how in the fuck…. You didn’t tell me you could talk!”

“You never asked,” he replied placidly.

“I did ask!” Marshal all but exploded. “When you started fixing the

fence yourself, and nodding when I asked if you could understand what

I was saying, I did ask! It’s a surprisingly reasonable assumption

when faced with a horse that knows how to do carpentry!”

Big Macintosh shrugged. “Never said I couldn’t.”

Marshal sputtered for a few more moments. Finally, feeling drained

and almost helpless, he just had one question.

“…why?”

Big Mac shrugged again. “At first, ah jest didn’t know what to say.

Ah’m not a pony of many words, ah’m afraid. You probably would have

been better off with mah sister or her friends if you wanted to talk.

And then you started showing me around, and ah’ve always thought you

learn the most when you keep your mouth shut and your ears open.” He

paused, chewing thoughtfully on his stalk of grass, as if he was

hunting for the right words.

Marshal fidgeted, but managed to remain quiet. He’d talked enough,

it was the big red pony’s turn.

Finally, Big Mac nodded thoughtfully to himself as he got his

thoughts in order. “As ah said, words ain’t mah strong point. You

talked to me, ah listened, it worked out.” He smiled a little, eyes

crinkling up. “And as ah got to know you, ah realized you reminded me

a lot of one of mah sister’s friends. She’s quick to talk, but rarely

says anything she means. You gotta pay attention to catch it. And…

she’s a joker. You’re a joker. Ah know one when ah see one. So, ah

figured I’d play along, jest for a while.”

“…You’ve kept quiet all this time, letting me ramble on and on,

guessing names, talking shit, everything… just so you could speak up

when I’d never expect it?” Marshal asked incredulously.

Big Macintosh shrugged and moved his grass from one side of his mouth

to the other as he turned to stare out at the rain again.

“That’s… this is huge…” Marshal muttered, rubbing at his face with

the palm of one hand. “Jesus. I don’t even… Jesus. This is…” He

shook his head. “You got me. You really got me. Damn, man. Err,

horse.”

“Pony,” Big Macintosh rumbled quietly. “Ah’m an earth pony.”

“Sorry, pony.” Marshal shook his head again, his tone of incredulous

disbelieve changing to one of wonder. “Damn. You got me so good…

All this time, you were able to talk, and then you just… If I were to

live a million years, I’d never be able to top that.”

Big Macintosh just sat there with the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Eeyup.”

Omake to the omake:

The silence grew awkward, at least for Marshall. There’s some things

you might do as a joke, like acting really silly when you’re by

yourself, that you wouldn’t do in front of anyone, even if you like to

play the fool. And one of those times was really weighing on his

mind.

“So, um, Big Macintosh?” the human said hesitantly.

Big Mac flicked an ear and swiveled them both, indicating he was listening.

“About that time I tried to get you to wear my copilot’s panties-”

“Marshall,” the red pony cut him off sternly.

"I was just joking around, I mean, really, I-"

"MARSHALL," Big Mac interrupted again, finally silencing the

babbling human. “It’s time you learned something ah’ve known for

quite a while. Some things, you jest don’t talk about. It never happened.”

“Eee… ee-yup,” Marshall agreed.