Something has happened to time.
From the moment we landed, I could feel it. I could taste the shift in the time stream, smell the altered history. With all of those sensations rushing through my mind, stepping out and seeing what had happened hardly seemed necessary. But I still looked, and now I cannot help but weep.
They call it the Crystal War. Or at least, that's what history books will call it if Equestria wins. King Sombra returned, clad in iron and hungry for blood, and made an army out of his slaves. They tell me that Cadenza barely lasted an hour against his onslaught. Every day, new crystals burst up from once-fertile earth and claim new territory.
Equestria isn't about to stand for that.
In some sick ways, I admire what's become of this world. The carefree have become dedicated and tireless, the dramatic have become serious, and nothing short of treason will shatter a friendship. And to hear of Celestia, who I've heard oft-referred to as Princess Couch Potato, serving on the front lines and leading the charge against Sombra, it's inspiring. Technology is racing forward, so much so that they're able to make functioning prosthetic wings out of solid steel. If this were the Equestria I had found on that first day, I'd be very much filled with hope.
But this isn't the Equestria I know. And because I know what it should be, it's all I can do not to vomit in my mouth.
It's not that hard to tell what's missing. Rainbow Dash's face on the propaganda posters practically screams it at me from every wall. The Sonic Rainboom is naught but a legend, a theoretical exercise for ballistics specialists at best. As for the Elements, there isn't a single pony who knows what I'm talking about. They tell me Nightmare Moon is dead, and any reference to Discord quickly devolves into a bucking 'Who's on First?' of a conversation. As for the changelings, I hear Blueblood was the groom. They starved before they could finish the rehearsal.
As for the Bearers, they're performing admirably in the face of being denied their destiny. At worst, they're dedicated laborers working themselves to the bone to keep up the fight. At best, they're war heroes and walking, talking battle standards. An optimistic pony might say they're making the best of a bad situation.
But I'm not much of an optimist. Or much of a pony, for that matter.
The worst part is that I can't leave. The moment I traveled back in time from the Age of Alicorns, I jumped time tracks and ended up trapped in this alternate timeline. I've tried going back, I've tried going forward, I even burnt through half the energy reserves trying to jump back to the original timeline. But every time, I only saw death, destruction, and sadness.
As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing left. I took my eye off the ball, and now I'm stuck in a world a thousand times worse than when I first found myself in a universe of pastel horses. There's a war on, and the last time I was involved in a war, it was genocide.
The whistle of the train pulling into the station jerks me from my reverie. The squeak and spin of the wheels on the rails brings me back to reality, or whatever passes for reality in this bizarro universe. A soldier in gold regalia steps out of the train, and the line starts to move.
"Why are you doing this?"
It's somewhere around the hundredth time I've asked myself that. I'm not a soldier. I'm not a warrior. I'm the man who makes people better, the healer, the restorer, the finder of lost children.
Cruel joke, I suppose. That I chose the name 'doctor', and defined that word for half the known universe. And thanks to that damn translation matrix, I've only heard second-hand what that name came to mean in a dozen different languages.
Mighty warrior. Monster. God. Devil. I've been everything that I tell myself I'm not. I never really stopped fighting that war. I just stopped admitting it.
The line's grown shorter now. One unicorn is holding up the line. I think her name is Sparkler or something. From what I bother to overhear, she's so eager that she's bringing her own weapons. Highly illegal, judging by the guard's grumbling.
Something tells me we'll be here awhile, so my thoughts drift inexorably back to the question. As always, I find the answer: Celestia.
And no, it's not out of some strange attraction. The Princess of the Sun isn't nearly hot enough to justify going to war just to be close to. Not twice, anyway.
No, I'm going to war because I'm afraid of Celestia. She terrifies me more than any other creature I've had the displeasure of meeting. More unsettling than Tirek stealing my talent for time, more horrifying than the prospect of a world devolving into total chaos, more disturbing than the worst cider-fueled nightmares. And why is that?
Because she is a good mare. She has lived for thousands of years, commands the very heavens above, and even with all of that power at her disposal, she still acts as though she is but a normal pony. I have crossed paths with the princess many times, and when I look past the trappings of power, all I see is a good mare. And now she is at war.
I know what happens when good people go to war. I've seen what happens when people who don't need rules show the world why they follow them anyway. I know the words that are said at the close of such things, by good people like her. I said them myself.
"No more."
I've spent a long time trying to escape this Crystal War. Every moment from the creation of the universe to the end of all time has seen the TARDIS, and I have seen it. I know what Celestia is going to do, the desperation that this war will drive her to. It's still at least three years away at this point, but it may as well be the blink of an eye for me. I can't fault her for what's going to happen; on the contrary, it's probably the best solution. In many ways, the world that comes after is more appealing than what I dealt with in the primary timeline.
But is that really how I want to live out the rest of my days? Do I want to die of old age, in a paradise built on the bones of a once-great world? To love and be loved without heartache, to taste of the finest wines without sparing a thought for how many perished to make this utopia? To dodge tragedy and enjoy only the best parts of life?
No. I chose my role long ago. I am the man who stops the monsters. And I may be nothing but a lowly earth pony, but I can still fight. Add to that a regeneration or two, and I just might be able to make a difference. Every day that we fight is another day that Celestia isn't pushed to the edge. Every small victory, every prevented loss buys a little more time before a new world is born. And if I can't run away, then I will stand and fight.
The guard is finally done dealing with the unicorn. The line moves again, and I take a step onto the ramp. A few ponies behind me, a filly trips in the dirt. The bag she carries on her back holds provisions and personal effects, reminders of life and the means to hold onto it.
There was a time when I would have been disgusted to see children lining up to fight a war. Now, I give up my place in line so I can go and help the filly to her feet. As I stretch out my hoof to her, there's a flicker of hope in her eyes. It's the only thing about her that I envy.
There's no hope for me. I've seen too much to believe there's any kind of victory ahead. There was a time when I would have gleefully abandoned ship at the sight of such overwhelming odds. Of course, the last time I abandoned ship, I only got sucked back in even harder.
So I'll fight. I'll fight hoof and tooth with the crystal slaves, and if I have to go down, I'll only pop right back up. Big explosion, new body, twenty-four hours of healing faster than almost any wound they can throw at me... I can think of worse load-outs for a warrior.
A warrior... yes. I suppose there's no need for a doctor anymore. At least, not the way these ponies know it.
The guard goes through my bags. He doesn't find anything suspicious; perception filters are still more advanced than any magic. I'm hardly going in there without the odds firmly in my favor.
I step onto the train, and my fate is sealed. I'll fight, not for peace, but for the illusion of a future. For hope. If not for me, then for the others.
Author's Note
I try to give a theory for why I think Doctor Whooves is getting on a train to the front lines, and it ends up being a character study of the Doctor. Is it strange to say I didn't expect that?
And in case you're wondering, yes, I was referencing The Ever Ash Project when I talked about the future of the Crystal War that Doc has seen. Why? Because it's awesome!
