The airlock opened with a hiss of steam. Scootaloo looked past the group of ponies that filed through, catching a glimpse of the Magical weapon on display; wickedly curved lines and ugly armor plates bolted into the body of the machine, reproductions of the defaced runes printed into concrete slabs that were set up next to the weapon. The airlock closed with a crisp snap.
Scootaloo turned her head downwards, to avoid making eye contact with any of the earth ponies ogling her hallway. The Guide of the museum was doing his speech.
"How about that, folks? Quite a nasty looking weapon. Didn't help them when we tore down their mountain fortress, all gleaming with marble. Did you know, they actually put on metal plates to their towers and walls in the final days? Learned that from us. Didn't help them either. Everything dies to a battery of cannon. Everything."
The Guide's voice was triumphant. His voice was always boastful, but coming out of the weapon room was the only time when Scootaloo heard real emotion, pride.
"I should know," the Guide continued, grinning. "I was there."
And that was why. Scootaloo didn't wonder about what the Siege of Canterlot was like, but she had spent hours observing its product; there were cracks in the facade of the propaganda-spewing tour guide that the Guide put up, but Scootaloo could never decide on what lay beneath. One day the Guide might have a cruel edge in his voice as he spared a few words in the direction of the pegasus, and other days he would flash her a cocky smile as he led his group past.
Maybe the smile was just acknowledging that Scootaloo could understand the gesture at all. Opposite her cell was a perpetually raging Magical abomination - an enormously muscled pony, five-spiked horn, straining against his chains. They rooted him in place in the center of his cell, shackled from the ceiling to the metal slab clasped around the base of his horn.
Scootaloo wondered when he'd rip his own horn out, because the ceiling was of earth pony construction and it would never break.
Nothing that earth ponies built ever broke. Everything was thorough and impenetrable. There were three exceptions to that truth in Scootaloo's life.
One, the Guide.
Two, when she was taken back to her night-cell. The routine itself of taking the creatures in her hallway was not an exception; the abomination that was opposite her was never taken out, as far as she knew, and the masked guards followed the same pattern when muzzling and wheeling out the unicorn mages and pegasus warriors. Some were brought down by a volley of stun-guns, but most were knocked out by a gas. Scootaloo's cell door was quietly opened, and a single masked guard escorted her to her night-cell. They did not think she would try to escape after seventeen failed attempts in the first seventeen days of her stay in the museum, and they were right.
Three was the crowd of earth ponies that were currently staring at the abomination with hushed whispers, as they usually did. Give them a few minutes, and they would regain their courage and faith in the abomination's shackles, joke around, and maybe even taunt it. The Guide approved of that, Scootaloo knew; he disliked anything Magical. The crowd were factory workers, probably. Awed and staring, joking and stumbling.
The Guide stared at her. "And here, we have an example of pegasus inferiority - our scientists have a lot of theories about ones like this. Maybe a failed liason between the pegasi and unicorns, some weapon gone wrong, or simple genetic inferiority! Perhaps," and his voice dropped to conspiratorial tone, "it's the next step of pegasi evolution, a very few have said. Can't fly - evolving towards becoming an earth pony!"
The Guide looked away from the crowd, nodding. Scootaloo knew better than to disobey him - suffering without a reason. She buzzed around her cell for a few seconds, straining to stay off the ground, but brushing against it a few times anyway.
"Sort of in between," the Guide said, "but certainly not an earth pony. Am I right? Next, we have the great Mage of Lavender - absolutely deadly in its time, but we've got her here for your viewing pleasure!"
With a showman's flair, the Guide led the group away from Scootaloo. Her part in the show was done. Scootaloo did not remember if this would be the final one of the day.
An hour passed. The muffled thunder of rain on the roof of the museum accompanied the precise step of jackboots down the hallway when the masked guards came to empty out the cells.
Scootaloo saw nothing new in the dull passageways underneath the museum, and the masked guards said nothing. She curled up in her night cell, the rain slightly more audible. Scootaloo thought about her parents in a distant way, but she could not remember the orphanage of her youngest years beyond the name. She shuddered, drew her blanket closer, and tried to find sleep. The rain was different, and that was welcome, but it was keeping her up.
More steps down the hallway, but they were lighter, not jackboots. The clop of hooves. Scootaloo was surprised when a unicorn mare trotted past.
Scootaloo opened her lips to speak, but she had not spoken in a week, and a strangled gasp was the only thing to come out of her throat. The unicorn did not notice her; the other specimens were moaning or silent, and most of the more sane ones were muzzled and kept deeper within the museum.
The unicorn mare disappeared. With an unusually sharp feeling of desperation, Scootaloo rose to her hooves and threw herself against the bars.
"Wait!" she called out.
The fading hoofsteps stopped, then grew nearer. The unicorn mare appeared again, her mane tied into a bun, her eyes bloodshot. "Hello," the mare said softly. "Were you the one who called?"
"Yes."
"Well, what did you want?"
"I don't know," Scootaloo admitted, expecting the mare to leave. She remained in front of the bars, staring at the filly.
"I mean, why is a unicorn just walking around?" Scootaloo said finally.
If she's walking around, why can't I walk around? she thought, but did not say.
"Oh," the unicorn blushed, "my key fit. I can't find- I'm rather lost."
Every masked guard carried a key, the Guide had a key, and so did all the earth pony visitors. Different keys opened different locks; the visitors could not open the maintenance doors, the Guide could not open the doors that led to the night-cells. It was very odd that a unicorn should be carrying a key, odder than the fact that a unicorn was walking around freely; Scootaloo could imagine a unicorn escaping, but she found it difficult to imagine a unicorn being issued a key. That implied that this unicorn had a place in the earth ponies, and Scootaloo knew that unicorns and pegasi were equally beneath the victors.
"That's really weird," was all that Scootaloo could think to say.
"This place is very odd," the unicorn mare said. "I didn't think anyone here could talk, between the madness and the muzzles."
"Yeah. The guards can't either."
The unicorn had an odd look on her face. "Well, I wouldn't quite say that."
"Why are you here?" Scootaloo asked.
"I'm trying to find somepony." the unicorn mare replied, and Scootaloo could tell she'd learn nothing from questioning the unicorn more about that. It was the same tone and non-answer that the Guide gave when a visitor asked him about how many unicorns and pegasi he killed in the War.
"Who are you?"
"A clerk."
"Who are you?"
"Clerk-five-two."
"Who?"
"Oh, you mean..." the unicorn mare giggled, "I didn't know you meant it that way. My name is Moonlight."
"Never heard anypony have a name like that."
"Mother and father were followers of the Moon. Back when that mattered." The unicorn mare - Moonlight - looked young, but anyone older than Scootaloo had been around for the last years of the War. That's probably how her own parents had died, Scootaloo had decided. "What is your name?"
"Scootaloo." Scootaloo felt weird, saying her name. She couldn't remember the last time she had done that.
"I'd say that's odder."Moonlight had a ghost of a smile. "A little. But all our industrial-vocabulary-and-farm-plant named rulers would think we're both odd."
"I thought you were one of them," Scootaloo said hastily.
"What, an earth pony?" Moonlight laughed softly, "No, goodness no."
"I mean, the key." Scootaloo tried to clarify.
"I work for them. Under them, don't worry. I'm a clerk. Type some keys, transcribe orders. I'm afraid that's all I can do with this." Moonlight reached up and touched her horn, and Scootaloo noticed that the unicorn had an metal slab around her horn, like the abomination did.
"What does that thing do?" Scootaloo asked, suddenly curious in the presence of somepony that might know the answer and be willing to share it. "The metal thing, I mean."
"Not very exact, are we?" Moonlight smiled. "It's rather a relief. The overseers are very exacting."
Scootaloo did not have a response for that.
"Excuse me, you asked a question." Moonlight grimaced. "It makes me rather scatterbrained. It's a magic nullifier. I can barely lift something, but I'm very good at typing on a keyboard. That's why they use us, rows and rows of us doing paperwork."
"You can do Magic?" Scootaloo's voice was awed. "I thought that was, like, totally banned everywhere."
"Very weakly," Moonlight frowned, but when she saw the eager look on Scootaloo's face, the unicorn brightened. "Would you like to see?"
"Yes!" Scootaloo practically squealed. This was something she had never, ever seen before; the thought of that made her press up against the bars, ignited an unfamiliar sense of curiosity in her heart.
Moonlight was happily grinning as a slight glow grasped the key hung around her neck - the nullifier sparked and Moonlight winced, but her smile didn't fade. The key spun around in the air, tracing a simple pattern. It was quick - a few seconds later the key fell back under gravity's control, and Moonlight was sweating.
"Wow," Scootaloo breathed.
"Usually I'm just clicking a letter," Moonlight gasped, and then cringed as a door at the end of the hallway noisily opened. No airlocks this deep in the museum - Scootaloo had decided that the airlocks in the display area were to impress the factory workers and poor visitors.
Scootaloo wanted to ask what it was, but the mere thought that it might be a guard closed her mouth. "And you are...?" Moonlight asked, fear etched into her face and voice.
"Moonlight." a gruff voice called, muffled under a mask. So it was a guard. Scootaloo cringed, backing away from the bars, wanting to turn her eyes from Moonlight, who seemed strangely relaxed now.
"Oh. Rye!" Moonlight said, smiling broadly. She started down the hallway, then stopped and turned to look at Scootaloo. "It was really nice meeting you. I'd really like to see you again."
"What are you doing?" Scootaloo hissed, then her voice softened. "It was really nice meeting you, too."
Moonlight walked out of sight, but Scootaloo still clung on to her voice. "Rye, where were you?"
"Got delayed by the last guard on shift. This is not a safe place, down here." the guard said. "How are you?"
"Well, darling, I was-"
The door slammed shut.
Scootaloo remembered that day for the rest of her life.
Scootaloo did not remember the following events quite as well.
It had been a week later when Moonlight visited again.
"Would you like to go outside?" Moonlight asked.
"You're just full of surprises," Scootaloo said dryly, but she was grinning from ear to ear. She certainly remembered that feeling.
The rain was heavy, but it was a delight, hammering down on Scootaloo's body. Moonlight watched from the maintenance doorway, occasionally staring up at the factory smokestacks that disappeared into the overcast sky. Vehicles clattered along the street, nopony paying any attention to the two underclass race ponies enjoying each other's company.
She remembered it because it was the only time anypony had asked.
"Parents?" Moonlight had asked quietly one day through the bars, waiting for her Rye.
"The War," Scootaloo had said after a long silence.
"Papers," the Guide had said. "You're getting released. You're lucky - we've just got a unicorn filly with a stunted horn, else I'd fight this bureaucracy a little harder."
Scootaloo nodded, afraid to speak, afraid that anything might change the Guide's mind.
He grimaced, "Not that I'd win. Whoever got this collection of forms and protection law citations knows the bureaucracy a bloody lot better than me. Bit of a loosely run show, this museum is, when we're not dealing with prisoners on loan from the penal camps," he paused. "Congrats, kid."
He smiled as a masked guard unlocked the door. "Congrats," the guard had said as well, visibly surprising the Guide - Scootaloo recognized Rye's voice. She imagined that he was smiling. Scootaloo was smiling, too.
Moonlight was waiting at the doorway.
The next day, Scootaloo was sitting in Moonlight's tiny residential room, waiting for the unicorn to get back from her work. She was reading a story in the newspaper that had caught her eye - the abomination had torn his chains out of the ceiling of his cell, bringing the ceiling down on him. A group of touring workers had been thoroughly frightened, but the abomination had not attacked them, and he had been re-secured with no loss of life.
Scootaloo was oddly heartened at the news, and even odder, was equally glad none of the guards or visitors had been killed. More than those feelings, though, she was happy with her circumstances. Fate, she knew, had dealt her a kinder hand than many.
The door opened. Moonlight, her custodian, burst through and embraced Scootaloo, waving around a little trinket with her Magic, daring the filly to catch it. They were both laughing.
Author's Note
Quite a bit rushed, but I hope anyone that actually reads this enjoys it. I found inspiration for the prompt... really late. Four hours to the deadline, actually.
