Equestria : 1940

Chapters

2. Layers of Layers
3. Beware of Alicorns Bearing Gifts
4. Uber Allies
6. Diplomatic Dinner Disaster
7. Love Conquers All
8. All Things Great and Theological
9. Chariots on Fire
10. Saint Mane's Infirmary
11. It Was a Tuesday
12. Wednesday's Child is Full of Whoa
13. Thursday's Child is Full of Joy
14. Tonight's the Night
15. Left Behind
16. The Pale Mare
17. Operation Market Garden Party
18. With Bat-Like Tread
19. Everything According to Plan
20. The Long Good Buy
21. Papers and Predictions
1. Rumors of War
5. How Beautiful Are The Mountains

2. Layers of Layers

Equestria : 1940
12 June - Above the Atlantic

“And the LORD said unto Moses, Rise up early in the morning, and stand before Pharaoh…”
— Exodus 8:20

“I’m not a spy,” blurted out Jon, although his voice sounded about as convincing as a young lady holding a bloody letter opener over the corpse of a gentleman caller while attempting to explain the fatality as a minor correspondence slip.

Taking a deep breath and unable to take his eyes off the Army-issue .45 automatic still pointed at him by Colonel Bradley, Jon tried again. “The State Department cleared me. I’ve got a Top Secret clearance. I lecture at the military college, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know. I listened to one of your lectures, back in ‘37 when this whole thing in Europe was getting hot.” Jon was hoping that getting the colonel talking would move the muzzle of the automatic to a point somewhere not on his body, but it still did not even twitch. “You claimed the Equestrian state would stay out of any conflict because the ponies were unable to even consider a war of aggression. And yet, they just kept sending ‘advisors’ and ‘science consultants’ over to the Reich even after that ‘temporary’ military support withdrawal during the Spanish Civil War.”

“The US has Equestrians too,” protested Jon somewhat weakly. “In fact, there’s one on the aircraft, probably headed back home to rest and recharge.”

“She’s one of ours, a civilian contractor in aircraft failure analysis and quality control,” said Bradley. “Flawless record and perfect loyalty. Unlike you.”

“And if you suspected I was a spy for the Equestrians,” continued Jon down the logical chain his distracted mind could not help but follow, “why did you let me board the aircraft? In fact, America is supposed to be as neutral as Equestria in this glorified mess. There’s never been a declaration of war, and we’re even running Neutrality Patrols across the Atlantic.”

There was a sharp knocking at the door by Jon’s elbow, but he remained just as still as somebody with a lethal weapon pointed at them by a madman should under the circumstances. Colonel Bradley moved the automatic behind the cover of the briefcase again when a light blue glow surrounded the door, and it swung open just enough for the Equestrian in question to put her head through and ask a question. Due to the noise of the engines right overhead and the wax earplugs, Jon could not hear whatever it was she said, and from Colonel Bradley’s expression, he could not either, but the armed soldier seemed ready to pull his automatic from behind the cover of the briefcase when the young unicorn mare slipped the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind her.

“Ah, man. That’s so much better.” The noise of the big Pratt & Whitney engines overhead had abruptly cut off right before the female unicorn spoke, giving an almost eerie silence to the small aircraft cabin although the vibration of their activity remained. The unicorn lifted her headphones up with her magic and draped them around her neck before turning a sunglass-impeded long look at Colonel Bradley. “Hey, it’s the big man himself. How’s it hanging, Big O?”

Colonel Bradley nodded back somewhat tersely, and responded in the oddly silent cabin, “Vinyl Scratch, we’re trying to have a private discussion here.”

Vinyl held up a hoof and waved it dismissively while taking a short step toward the tiny little aircraft bathroom, then pausing. “Hey, it’s cool. You’re cool. I just needed to use the can, man. Before I do, though, I gotta tell you something.”

There was an odd series of clicks behind Colonel Bradley’s briefcase that Jon had trouble identifying, but the source became obvious when a magazine full of chunky .45 shells floated out and landed on the center of the table, followed by the single round which had undoubtedly been ejected when the unicorn had unloaded the automatic. Then the cool sensation of magic brushed up against Jon Walther’s chest, the loaded .38 revolver he had in his shoulder holster likewise floated out over the table, popped the cylinder out, and six somewhat smaller shells rattled down on the table next to Colonel Bradley’s ammunition.

“Not cool, man,” chided the unicorn with a slow shake of her head. “So many negative vibes.”

“Don’t tell me you’re spying for Equestria too,” growled Bradley, looking as if he really wanted to make the futile effort of trying to put together a gun with a unicorn nearby who could disassemble it faster than he could put the parts together. He gave the empty automatic a bitter glare before dropping it in the middle of the table with the rest of the munitions.

“No, man. Oh, wait.” Vinyl nosed around in her saddlebag for a moment before a short section of lead pipe floated out. “Actually, yeah. Sorry about the resignation, Big Daddy O, but the scene’s too hot and my cover’s blown now, for you cats at least.”

The short section of lead pipe floated over to the table and landed between Jon and Bradley with a quiet thud. It was a little more complex than it had looked at first glance, seeming to be only two sections of pipe no larger than a man’s middle finger, screwed together with a coupler and capped at each end. Somebody, or more probably somepony, had sawed through each end and released the contents, but the sharp scent of acid mixed with gasoline still wafted out of it. Jon had no idea what the device was, but Colonel Bradley sucked in his breath and looked up sharply.

“Where did you find this?”

Vinyl rolled her shoulders and pointed with her horn. “Left wing tank, man. I caught it while doing a last run-through over the bird. Made this really nasty hissing noise, on account of the acid, so I fished it out, real subtle like, and checked to make sure there weren’t no more of ‘em. If I hadn’t given it a chop job, I figure it would have burned through in a couple hours, like right over the big pond.”

Jon cleared his throat. “Do you two mind telling me what that is?”

“Chemical pencil,” said Bradley, who had cautiously picked up the short lead pipe and was turning it over in his hands.

“In ordinary words?” asked Jon.

“Bomb, man.” Vinyl sat back on her haunches and waved her forehooves. “Like, pow. Once the copper fizzed out between the two sides, the juice would mix up and get frantic. All fire and falling out of the sky. Real bummer.”

“Are you sure there aren’t any more of them?” Jon looked out the tiny little window at the bottom of the aircraft wing, even though a few seconds of intense observation made him realize that even if he could see a chunk of molten lead burning its way out of the fuel tank, he would not be able to do anything about it at all.

“Yeah, man. We’re cool.” The unicorn gave Colonel Bradley a quizzical look with a raised eyebrow in a signal of Second Degree Query. “We’re still cool, Big O, right?”

Colonel Bradley did not put down the short length of lead pipe, but tapped it against the table instead while frowning at it. “How do I know you didn’t set this up to cover for your fellow spy here?”

The .45 automatic lifted up into the air in the pale blue of Vinyl’s magic, reversing the previous disassembly until it floated in front of Bradley, butt end first. The sound of the slide being cycled for a fresh round to be loaded into the chamber was very loud, then the heavy automatic floated down into Bradley’s waiting hand.

“I kept the safety on,” explained Vinyl. “If you don’t believe me, go ahead and shoot us both.”

“Um…” started Jon. “There’s no rush.”

“Lemmie use the can while you’re thinking.” Vinyl turned and vanished into the small bathroom cube, pulling the curtain closed behind her and leaving Jon and Colonel Bradley sharing an awkward silence. Finally, the colonel scooped up Jon’s empty pistol, gave it a quick spin of the cylinder, and passed it back over to him, butt first.

“Put that thing away,” he grumbled while holstering his own automatic. “This whole spy thing is driving me nuts. Give me an enemy I can shoot any day of the week.”

“So you don’t believe I’m a German spy because a unicorn gave you a bomb and is willing to let you shoot us both?” Jon put away the revolver but left the loose .38 rounds in his pocket instead of trying to reload. He was afraid his hands would start shaking with the adrenal letdown, and that was the last thing he wanted right now. Being in danger once in a while was one of the hazards of studying abroad in uncivilized nations, but so far he had never escaped being killed twice in a matter of minutes.

Well, other than trying to drive in Washington D.C. traffic.

“I’m not sure what to believe anymore.” Colonel Bradley made an exasperated gesture with one hand before pinching the bridge of his nose. “France is burning, Spain is more than happy to welcome the Hun, and Britain came within a fraction of having her whole army chopped up and captured at Dunkirk. That’s not even considering where all the U-boats are popping up. Everybody in the General Staff knows we’re going to wind up in this damned war eventually, but until then, we’ve got the socialists and the America First people out shouting their heads off about getting dragged into the Old War, and German spies all over the place. Nobody knows anything, but they’re willing to shout it at the top of their lungs.”

“Hey, man.” Vinyl Scratch’s quiet voice drifted out of the bathroom, sounding concerned. “You find out anything useful, you let us know too. We’re just like little leaves out of the end of a branch, and nobody knows what the big tree’s doing. Something big’s going on, though. I can feel it in my horn.”

“Does it have anything to do why so many American Equestrians have decided to travel home over the summer?” asked Bradley.

“Dunno, man. A bunch of cats over in Europe, they was supposed to go back home months ago, but no can do. The Ger-man came down on them like a ton of bricks. Boss lady’s gonna have a fit, and they ain’t gonna like it none over there.” Vinyl chuckled from the bathroom cubicle. “Sunburn, man. They’re gonna get burrrrrned.”

Jon frowned sharply, regretting that he had given away his newspaper. “I didn’t see anything in the papers about any Equestrians in Germany or Italy being refused visas to leave the continent. Could they just be having problems traveling to neutral countries?”

“All of them?” The toilet paper dispenser in the tiny toilet compartment squeaked, giving notice that the unicorn was about ready to emerge. “Unlikely, man. Mister Mustache has them all locked up. Says it’s for their own good, but that’s a crock of manure.” Vinyl poked her head out of the compartment, seeming to look for pointed pistols, before coming the rest of the way out. “That’s about all I know, man.”

Jon frowned even more. “No idea why I got selected for a sudden tour of the Equestrian countryside?”

“No, man.” The unicorn gave what in human terms could be called a shrug. “Command decisions on compartmented intelligence doesn’t get shared with field operatives. The info from us goes up, not down. Or at least that’s what the trainer pounded into our heads before we got the green light to go stateside.”

She cocked an eyebrow in the pose of First Degree Serious Query, complete with the slight tilt of her head and both ears held high, then turned to the colonel. “So, Big O. We good?”

Colonel Bradley nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry I accused you of being a spy, Miss Scratch. A German spy, that is.”

Vinyl Scratch smirked and patted the wall of the seaplane. “Depends on perspective, I guess. Sorry to say goodbye like this. You cats run a righteous batch of big birds with some of the coolest pilots and fanciest widgets. It’s been a primo experience working this gig, like a big mama bird making sure all her chicks got good wings. I’ll miss you all.”

“Wars don’t last forever.” Colonel Bradley gave a quick ruffle through his briefcase and extracted out a card. “Look us up if it ever gets over. You can come over and have a beer with the missus.”

“Dig that,” said the unicorn with a grin. “I’m gonna miss the Big Apple. You cats got the craziest music. See you later, Big O.” The unicorn floated the card over and tucked it into her mane before vanishing out the compartment door with a flick of her tail. It was supposed to be a motion of relaxed confidence, but her tail twitched too abruptly to be authentic, and made Jon only too aware of his own lack of tail to twitch. At least the sudden influx of noise from the engines covered his nervousness when the spell that Vinyl Scratch had been using to make the cabin quiet vanished with her departure.

As much as Jon wanted to follow the unicorn out of the boxy cabin and back to his seat, particularly with the experience of having escaped death twice so far, he stayed put and just breathed in and out for a few moments. A little bit of excitement every once in a while was good, but he was probably paid up on that front for a few months now. From the way Colonel Bradley was leafing through his briefcase, he seemed to have the same opinion of the way the world was dealing cards to him, or perhaps he had a little lingering resentment at not getting to shoot a German spy.

Still, there were a lot of unanswered questions on Jon’s mental list. Once he had gotten used to the noise of the engines again, he turned back to the colonel, swallowed, and loudly asked the question he really did not want to ask. “So, do you know why I’m here?”

“I know how you’re here,” growled Bradley. “The why is something I’ve been concerned about. The whole General Staff has this wild notion that the Equestrians are able to use mind control spells, which explains a lot about—” The colonel jerked, and his eyes twitched in the direction the unicorn had just departed.

Afraid that he was about to be shot, Jon cleared his throat and kept his hands on the table where they had been. “I don’t think she’s able to use any mind control spells. Hell, I don’t think Equestrian magic has any mind control spells in it, but if it did, a unicorn with a cutie mark of musical notes would be the last pony able to cast them. That’s probably how she knew what we were talking about despite the engine noise. Unicorns can do some pretty amazing things inside their own specialty, but most of them are one-trick ponies, to turn a phrase.”

To his great relief, the colonel relaxed slightly and did not pull out his .45 again.

“You mean to tell me she can eavesdrop on anything we discuss,” said Colonel Bradley with a growing scowl, “and has been able to do that for any conversation in her vicinity for the entire time she’s been working for the Army?”

“Probably,” said Jon, hedging his opinions.

“Water under the bridge.” Colonel Bradley tapped one finger on top of his briefcase, then heaved a deep breath. “I’m sorry for accusing you of being a spy, but we’re both stuck here for another—” he checked his watch “—eleven hours, and neither of us can get out and fly there on our own. If I could get a better briefing on Equestrian culture before we reach our destination, it could save me from making…”

After a period of non-silence while listening to the roar of the engines, Jon picked up the conversation. “You could keep from making a complete ass out of yourself in front of the ponies, like the first time I asked a unicorn student if she needed an escort to the dormitories.”

A most peculiar expression of mixed disgust and curiosity crossed Colonel Bradley’s face, one that Jon had seen several times during his Equestrian studies from humans with less than positive opinions of human/pony personal relations.

“No, I didn’t bed her,” said Jon in as controlled a tone as he could manage. “But I did find out that the word ‘escort’ in Equestrian also translates out as ‘teleportation.’ Also, that certain humans react to interdimensional spaces in a negative fashion, and that throwing up all over a unicorn transfer student’s dorm room does not make her more friendly.”

“That’s… a new one,” admitted Colonel Bradley. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You’ve never had to deal with Equestrians on a military base before. We get to see the wrong end of them, I suppose, with all of the youthful hormones from young soldiers. The marines are worse. Bunch of horsefu—” The colonel broke off with a series of fake coughs.

“Yeah,” muttered Jon. “Anyway, my job includes writing behavior synopses and lecturing a number of clueless diplomats and VIPs over at the State Department, so I’ve been assigned to escort… that is to be a guide for several Equestrians on official visits. They’re really not that much different than people except in a few ways. Where did you want to start?”

“Start at the beginning. That’s always a good place.” The colonel closed his briefcase and put it on the floor, leaving the table clear except for a pad of paper. “You don’t mind if I take notes, do you?”

“Not at all.” Jon cleared his throat. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”

“Not that far back, Mister Walthers,” said the colonel. He tapped his pencil against the pad. “Start where they came from.”

“I was trying to.” Jon took the pad away from Colonel Bradley and drew a quick map of the Atlantic, drawing in Greenland at the top with the Equestrian island some distance below and the Azores speckled off to the right. “There’s two major theories in that regard. The conventional theory is their presence was due to some sort of dimensional rupture in Greenland, and then a southward diaspora of some sort after their magic was unable to sustain living conditions, most probably by riding a magically stabilized iceberg. The second theory…” Jon tapped the pencil on the south-east portion of the European continent.

“The Garden of Eden theory is strictly for crackpots,” stated the colonel. “There’s archeological evidence of early pony groups traveling with the Vikings to North America, and ice samplings in Greenland show at least something pony-related a few miles under the ice. Stick to the facts, please.”

“Very well.” Somewhat reluctantly, Jon drew a line down the middle of the Atlantic. “Mid-Atlantic Ridge. The Azores Islands on the east, Equestria far larger and older on the west. Other than a few mythical goddesses whom historians claim to have been Celestia in one form or another, the world in general was unaware of the entire island until a storm in 1490 blew a pegasus named Corduroy into Portugal. He turned into a real celebrity, eventually making his way to King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella at about the same time Christopher Columbus came around begging for money, and the rest was history.”

“That part I remember from school,” said Bradley. “Princess Celestia visited his ship, thanked Columbus for bringing back her subject, and sent them on their way with two weeks of favorable winds and fresh supplies.” He pursed his lips and tapped the map. “Not quite like the second trip.”

“Fourth,” corrected Jon. “Columbus took a more southerly route for the next two visits to the Caribbean, but the next time, he had to go one more time to the well. He had such good luck with kidnapping the human natives and bringing them back for curiosities in Europe that he decided a few talking ponies would make a much more interesting and profitable return trip. If he had just asked instead of forcing the issue, he might have gotten away with it. Goodness knows enough ponies with wandering hooves have been poking their noses into just about everywhere on Earth since Celestia raised the prohibition.”

The colonel took the pad back, turned the page to make a few more notes, and nodded for Jon to go on. It was a comfortably familiar topic for Jon, and if left unsquelched, he could happily chatter for hours about the ponies and their history. Unfortunately, it always caused young ladies at cocktail parties to edge slowly away from him and find other things to occupy their time. Men too.

Having a captive audience, even if the Army colonel had considered killing him, was an infrequent enough event that he went into serious detail about the interactions the Equestrian monarchy had with both the English empire and the newborn American colonies. Spain had learned its lesson from Columbus and declared the island principality was too far away from the normal route to their colonies, but the English were determined to succeed where their rival had failed.

Therefore King George had set his mind to taking over the convenient midpoint in the long trip to ‘his’ colonies, and it took three increasingly disastrous attempts at Equestrian conquest to get it through his thick head that not everypony wanted a king.

The first fleet he had sent found itself simply unable to maneuver directly into the wind, no matter which direction they approached the island nation, the second found ranks of Equestrian guards lined up on the coast wherever they tried to make landfall, and the third experienced a rather unique method of disarmament.

“They did what?” asked Colonel Bradley.

“The Equestrians did not resist at all.” Jon flipped over a page on his own notepad and drew a quick sketch of a beach and a harbor. “The English forces landed, put their troops on shore, and marched inland several miles to establish a fortified camp. Then in the morning, when they looked back at where their ships were supposed to be, they were gone.”

“Gone,” echoed Bradley, tapping his pencil on the paper. “That little fact was never covered in any historical briefing I’ve attended.”

“Because the Army can’t do it, and the British wrote the human history of that encounter,” admitted Jon. “The night sentries on the ships were knocked out, most probably from unicorn spells cast from air carriages approaching from under cloud cover on the leeward side, where they were not expected. Once they landed and filled the belowdecks area with sleeping spells, all the humans were tied up, and the pegasi towed the ships to a different location.”

The colonel seemed impressed. “That’s something our boys can’t do, I suppose. What did the ponies do about a few thousand Redcoats on shore?”

“Very little.” Jon drew a circle around the British camp sketch. “Every day, a note appeared on the commanding general’s bedside, requesting his surrender. Every morning, he tore it up and doubled the guard around his tent. After five days in camp, he put on his dress uniform, picked up a white flag, and marched out into the open.”

“Where he was met by Princess Celestia and a painter.” Colonel Bradley frowned and drew an x on the map. “That, at least, was covered at the academy. There’s a print of Admiral Collier and Celestia that every cadet has to walk past on their way in or out of the administration building. The first full-scale invasion to take place and fail without a single casualty on either side. I had always thought the British forces had been defeated by some sort of magic.”

“The magic of planning, I would presume.” Jon waved at the scribbled drawing. “Something like this doesn’t just happen, even with the best trained soldiers. Celestia could have just continued keeping the ships away with the pegasi controlling the wind, but she held her guard back and trained them for this until she was ready to send a message.”

“Don’t screw with the Equestrians.” Colonel Bradley nodded. “Something Roosevelt should have thought about.”

“Beg pardon?” Jon’s frown wrinkled his forehead and took another cup of coffee from the percolator to cut down his building tension headache. “I presume you’re talking about Theodore Roosevelt’s trip to Manehattan back in 1901 on the Texas, where he met with Princess Celestia and signed a number of trade deals, right? Because that’s the only historical meeting I know of.”

“The real details are probably something that doesn’t make it into many of the official history books on either side,” admitted Bradley. “It’s most likely still classified. But since you have clearance, I suppose it won’t hurt.”

Colonel Bradley pulled a map out of his briefcase and put it on the table, tapping on the enlarged view of the Equestrian Manehattan harbor. “As I heard it told, the Texas dropped anchor right here, which coincidentally would put about half of the city within range of her guns. She was supposed to drop anchor back here.” He tapped the map again, several miles back. “Then the Equestrians would come out, have their little diplomatic meetings and do whatever it is diplomats do when they get together. Vice President Roosevelt, however, was anything but diplomatic. He wanted access to Equestrian ports and trade, to open up the country much like Commodore Perry opened up Japan, and coincidentally shut it down for European access. When Princess Celestia came out to the Texas and inquired about the change of plans, scuttlebutt has it that there was some shouting involved, on his part, not hers. God only knows if Celestia can even raise her voice. Supposedly, negotiations ended with a threat. His, not hers.”

“I know it ended well,” ventured Jon hesitantly. “History shows that.”

“Yes, indeed.” The colonel had a most unsettling chuckle. “Celestia had the ship’s captain put out a lifeboat and anchor it about a mile away. Said it was for ‘educational purposes.’ Once it was anchored and the crew returned to the ship, she just sat there and watched it with the vice president at her side.”

The colonel brought his hands together. “Then it was gone. The Equestrians had taken a tree trunk, wrapped it in iron, and flew it about a mile or two above the target. It would have punched through the thin top armor plate of the Texas like a hot knife through butter, and there was no telling how many more they had.”

It shone a light on the event in a fashion Jon had not thought of before. “So that’s why the trade treaties seemed so favorable to the Equestrians. Huh.”

Colonel Bradley nodded. “Needless to say, the battleship branch of the Navy wants to keep it classified forever, the air power advocates want it spread out on the front page of the New York Times, and the Army thinks it’s just a distraction from the real war in Europe. Even if we could buy the devices they used to drop an explosive bomb that accurately, they’re probably unicorn mumbo-jumbo, and I doubt we could get more than a few dozen in time for whatever’s unwinding in Europe.”

He turned a page on his notepad and sharpened a pencil before giving Jon another abbreviated nod. “Enough on the military history. How about some historical background on when ponies and people worked together, like Paul Revere and his smithing apprentice, Silver Hammer. I had to memorize the poem for school, and it seemed cheating for Longfellow to leave the pony out of it, even if his name didn’t rhyme well.”

It was a welcome change of pace. Jon really did not like violence, although he fortunately was willing to use it in his own defense, or his trip to Egypt a few years ago would have ended on a far worse note. The Revolutionary War story of Silver Hammer and his wife, Thunderbolt, was a lot more comfortable to relate. There were only about a dozen Equestrians in the colonies at the time of the Revolution, mostly pegasi who carried express post at a time when roads were merely suggestions in the mud, and their reluctance to use violence tended to brush them aside into the margins of history books.

Still, they had an influence on history far greater than their numbers would indicate, reflected in the orders that the British had to detain and imprison any Equestrians they came across in order to forcefully repatriate them to their home country. There had been only one fatality, a young pegasus mare named May Flowers who had the misfortune of attempting to fly away from a trigger-happy British patrol, but she had been given a hero’s funeral, and even had the posthumous honor of a State Visit from Princess Celestia a few years after the war was over. During the visit, Celestia had even been invited to speak at the constitutional convention in Philadelphia, and it was said that the resulting document had her hoofprints all over it.

The presence of the coffee pot with real coffee made for a comfortable environment to lecture in, and Jon had just gotten up to a particularly fascinating story about the Civil War and balloons when Colonel Bradley held up a hand to stop him. The Army officer slipped out of his seat and moved to the door, gave a quick peek into the main body of the aircraft, and returned to his seat with a much more comfortable expression.

“Good. She’s sleeping.”

Jarred out of his comfortable zone by the abrupt change in Colonel Bradley’s behavior, Jon asked, “Does this mean you’re going to shoot me?”

“Don’t be stupid. I just wanted a conversation without a certain unicorn horning in.” Bradley pulled the briefcase out from under the table and extracted out a folder before continuing in a flat tone.

“When the President of the United States wakes up to a pegasus tapping on his window, it gets his attention. When the pegasus is carrying a letter, it gets read. When the letter is from the divine goddess head of state of a neutral power while Europe is going straight to hell, it damned well gets action. When FDR takes a leisurely morning trip to Hi-Catoctin with his wife and Admiral Stark, nobody notices anything but smooth sailing. You can tell why I suspected mind control.”

Bradley moved his hands in a motion to indicate waves. “Why the Hell they didn’t pick anybody from the Navy for this idiotic messenger mission, I don’t know. President Roosevelt is former Navy, so it’s right up Admiral Stark’s alley and all the spooks in the ONI.”

It was an implied question that begged for an answer, which Jon tried to provide. “That’s why. Obviously, if the Chief of Naval Operations traveled to Equestria, the Germans would be all over it. You’re just a staff member, from the Army, for that matter. The president has been sending diplomatic gestures to Equestria for so long that it would look odd if he didn’t send somebody, but keeping it out of his favorite chain of command and out of the Diplomatic Corps makes it look like just another rote gesture.” Jon hesitated, his eyes unconsciously tracking to the briefcase and the little stub of lead pipe sitting beside it. “This is a rote gesture on the part of the United States, isn’t it?”

As a response, Bradley reached into his briefcase and slid an envelope over to Jon. It was a thick and rich white vellum-like substance that most probably did not have the same origin of real vellum, sealed with a broken but familiar gold foil sunburst and further embossed by a set of Equestrian toothmarks. He opened the envelope and looked at the included letter, which was starkly straight and to the point.

Franklin,
I must see you at once. Meet me at Hi-Catoctin tomorrow.
Celestia

The flowing script was flawless and perfect,without a single blot or smear. It was the kind of calligraphy that only a skilled unicorn could manage with years of practice, but stuffed into the same envelope much like a cuckoo egg in a nest was a second piece of paper. Despite being official White House letterhead and signed by the president himself, the human note appeared far less impressive than the beautiful Equestrian missive. Until he read the typewritten contents.

It authorized, in substantially more words, that Lieutenant Colonel Bradley could do more or less whatever he wanted including physical violence in order to get one Jon Walthers, of various degrees and positions, into Equestrian waters and to the port of Manehatten in Neigh York by 15 June 1940 at the latest, although earlier would be preferred. Upon arrival, he was to hand over said Mister Walthers to Equestrian authorities who would then escort him into the mainland for whatever purposes Princess Celestia had in mind. There was no further information on his fate after the turnover, which made Jon more than a little nervous.

“A lettre de cachet from the President of the United States?” Jon put a finger inside his shirt collar and pulled slightly. “There must be some mistake.”

Colonel Bradley looked less than convinced. “Try explaining it without mind control spells, Mister Walthers. Everywhere that damned horse goes, all the diplomats nod their head and agree with whatever she wants.”

“She’s an experienced politician and diplomat,” countered Jon. “Centuries of experience. She could make herself queen of the world if she really wanted to. She turns enemies into friends and shows up whenever she’s invited, but only when invited. League of Nations? President Wilson turned down her request for entry, and it shows. The armistice at the end of the Great War? France and Russia both objected to her assistance because they wanted to get their hands on a piece of Germany, and look at where that got them.”

“It certainly didn’t hurt Stalin,” countered Colonel Bradley. “Russia cuddled right up to that snake in the grass Germany, and got a good chunk of Poland in the deal. With Germany’s eastern border secure, it’s only the flip of a coin whether Hitler is going to stay in the south with Mussolini to take over all of Africa or north to grind up Britain. Hell, maybe he’s crazy enough to think he can do both, I don’t know.”

Jon really did not have an answer for that. A few years ago, he had expected the German general staff to have put some sort of damper on Hitler’s ambitions, or his obvious frothing hatred for the Russians to have scotched the Ribbentrop Pact. Trying to second-guess anybody crazy enough to try to lead Germany was a foolish idea.

And still, Jon was on an aircraft headed for Equestria. Things could scarcely get more crazy.

“I’m in the Army too, or at least I think I still am,” he volunteered. “Reserve Officer Training Corps with a commission as Second Lieutenant several years ago, but I moved about ten times after college and spent seven months in Egypt doing post-grad studies, so my paperwork got lost or misfiled. They kept moving the ‘H’ from my last name up to my first name. My State Department job is supposed to cover my duty status while they chase paper, but I don’t even know what happened to my uniform since the move to Washington.”

“Lieutenant Walthers. It has a nice ring to it,” said Bradley in a flat tone. “Very Germanic.”

“The Germans can go straight to Hell,” said Jon, then, “Sir,” after a moment. “My father still has relatives scattered across Europe. Several of them just vanished off the face of the planet, and nobody will talk about what happened to them. Everybody on my mother’s side is trying to get out of the country or have changed their names. I can’t even go back to Egypt to finish up my postgraduate work. It’s too risky. Hell, writing letters to my mother’s relatives there could get them killed.”

“I’m sorry.” Colonel Bradley took a deep breath and looked out the nearby window. “I have relatives over there too. The only thing we can do for them is to carry on as best we can.”

“True.” Jon heaved a sigh. “I wonder what’s so special about June fifteenth.”

“I thought you would know.” Bradley thumbed through an appointment calendar and pointed to the date. “It’s about three-quarters moon, and one of the hottest days of the year, but other than that, nothing.”

“No Equestrian holidays either, other than Summer Solstice on the twentieth, when Princess Celestia picks a random town and performs the Rising of the Sun there. Hm…” Jon pulled his own calendar out of his bag and thumbed through it, trying to ignore the colonel’s snort of derision.

“Raises the sun. Bunch of primitive barbarians who still think their god-empress rules the sun and moon.”

“Admittedly, they’re not up to American technological standards,” admitted Jon. “Their trains are lightweight gauge using European measurements. No aircraft other than dirigibles, which are mostly found in the Griffon kingdoms. There are a few small ships they’ve purchased from other nations and refitted to pony controls, but they’re shallow draft. Of the two islands, the eastern one is completely lacking any ports deep enough for a modern ship to dock, and the main island effectively only has tourist destinations of Manehattan, Vanhoover, and if a pilot is very careful, Fillydelphia. San Franciscolt would be an option, if not for the tremendous number of rock outcroppings on the western shore. Lack of energy resources such as coal and oil have caused issues with industrialization, so they manage with a far smaller footprint than people. No motorcars or trucks, naturally, but they’re building a telegraph network, and they repeat some of the New York radio programmes and the BBC from the capital, Canterlot. What they lack in steam and steel they make up for in other areas. Don’t underestimate them, Colonel. Remember Roosevelt.”

The colonel had a peculiar smirk where he tucked up the corner of his lips and rolled his eyes, which in Unicorn Gesture meant about the same as it did in people body language. Jon decided to take a different tack on the problem and unfolded the map Bradley had brought, spreading it out on the table and putting a pencil across the North Atlantic to hold it down before continuing.

“You are familiar, of course, with the Titanic rescue in 1912?”

Colonel Bradley nodded, but with a frown. “A hundred and fifty people lost their lives, but it could have been a lot worse if the Equestrian forces had not been keeping an iceberg watch.”

“A hundred and fifty seven people, and five pegasi as well as three griffons that we know of,” corrected Jon. “Dead from exposure and overwork, after flying load after load of wet, freezing people to nearby ships.” Jon pointed at the end of the pencil, a short line from the Equestrian continent to a spot in the mid-Atlantic. “Celestia herself arrived about twenty minutes after the first CQD message, with over a hundred pegasi and air transports.” He moved his finger to the other end of the pencil. “Where do you think they came from?”

Catching himself before reaching across the table to point at the obvious answer, Colonel Bradley’s frown grew a little deeper. “That’s probably classified.”

“That’s stupid,” said Jon. “Anybody with a ruler and a stopwatch knows it’s further from the Equestrian capital city to the site than twenty minutes by air.”

“You can’t mean to think Celestia put an iceberg in front of an ocean liner, do you?”

“No, of course not,” said Jon. “But applying Occam’s Razor to the problem says there is some way for the Equestrians to move that many of their troops over that distance on short to zero notice. They put out an excuse about some sort of troop exercise coincidentally being in the vicinity, but it doesn’t hold water. She probably used an ancient artifact or some other expendable magical device to transport the rescue force, but we’ll never find out from her.”

“Don’t tell me you believe those fantasy stories about Daring Do also,” said Bradley. “Mysterious world-destroying artifacts from South America jungle ruins are only found in books.”

Jon doodled a picture of the crescent moon on his notepad and tapped on it with his pencil. “Maybe. Maybe not. Only Celestia knows, and she won’t talk about her past.”

- ☾ - -

Author's Note

Jon is not the only one who has issues with defining the word ‘escort’ <-Link

3. Beware of Alicorns Bearing Gifts

Equestria : 1940
12 June - Equestria

“He made darkness his secret place; his pavilion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies.”
— Psalm 18:11

The impromptu Equestrian history and culture lesson lasted a long way into the trip, and eventually was moved to the back of the aircraft where it was a little quieter and the four other Army soldiers could participate. After all, Colonel Bradley did not know how long they would be visiting the US embassy, and the fewer diplomatic incidents a bunch of rowdy soldiers could get up to in a rough town like Manehattan, the better. They even convinced Vinyl Scratch to participate in a friendly little game of poker with Equestrian rules, which transitioned into a good example of why the unicorn should not be permitted to shuffle when everybody wound up with a straight flush and all she did was grin.

By the time the Equestrian coastline was spotted in the early evening, everybody and the unicorn had settled into an uncomfortable nap. The sight of land cheered up Jon, since a flaming crash would be marginally survivable if he did not have to tread water for a few days. The humans all gathered around the observation blisters on the sides of the aircraft to admire the sea of green they were passing over, and to make estimates on if they would be able to land in Manehattan before dark.

Equestria in the slanted light of the late afternoon was far more beautiful than the endless ocean, growing more attractive as they continued to fly east and the sun headed for the horizon behind them. Since their Equestrian native was still sleeping in her web chair, Jon decided he should take on the task of pointing out the interesting bits between the sunset-tinged mountains to the north and the distant ridge of the Canter range to the south, with a huge swath of deep green spreading out beneath them.

“Canterlot is on the other side of that mountain range,” explained Jon to the rest of the Army observers. “Aircraft are forbidden in the general area because that idiot, Wrong Way Corrigan, managed to crash-land in the middle of it. What we’re flying over now is mostly farmland and unclaimed areas, with a few lumber operations, some fruit and nut harvesting, and… Oh, my.”

The aircraft turned gracefully a few degrees to the south, and after a few minutes, the reason became obvious to the rest of the passengers. Highlit by the sun behind it, the cloud city of Cloudsdale was a sight to behold and nothing like anything anybody on board had seen before. Well, other than Vinyl Scratch, and she was still napping.

The photographs he had seen before could not do justice to the sight spread out across the horizon a few miles away. Human architecture had a distinguished squat look to it, with larger objects below smaller objects and tapering as it ascended into the clouds, much like Jon imagined the Tower of Babel with its puny human reach for the heavens.

Pegasi laughed at the concept of simply reaching when they could grab and shape the heavens to their will instead.

Cloudsdale was no mere city. It rose and boiled like a line of storm clouds, all energy and thunderous power where the rulers of the air made their homes like the Greek gods of legend. Humble structures of stone and wood were scattered around the dynamic structure like decorations, little toys on the tops of titanic forces of nature, scaling up the sides of twisting vaporous mountains and stretching across the valleys where crackling lightning arced through arches of braided cloudstuff until watching eyes were baffled by the complexity and forced to blink. It was an impossible city, and more impossibly changed every day while it drifted across the Equestrian continent, adding a building or cloud apartment today, breaking off a subdivision to reside by a ground-bound town tomorrow. That alone would have made it a fascinating sight, but the colors only made it better.

Rising up behind, weaving throughout, and plunging to the ground far below poured rainbows of colors, and even rainbows of rainbows. They were normally distant fixtures of the sky, and did not dip and intertwine into braids of colorful light strung around the distant structures and support clouds like some insane Christmas light decorations fight between the inhabitants of an inner-city neighborhood. These even flowed and pulsed in some undiscerned pattern, making the city appear to be in constant motion both laterally and horizontally. For a moment, Jon wished he had his camera out of his luggage, but the color film would only capture a washed-out shadow of what he could see now.

“Any idea what that is over there, doc?” Major Truscott nudged Jon in the ribs with a sharp elbow. “Some sort of giant superweapon or something?”

Jon looked at the distant cloud of colorful pegasi herding a set of cloud-chunks into formation next to a similar structure and shook his head. “No, it’s numbers. They’re counting down…” He paused with his tongue stuck in one cheek for concentration. “Ah, the number of days until the Summer Sun Festival in pegasus notation. It’s like a giant city-calendar.”

“I thought all them ponies used the same horse-language,” said another one of the soldiers. “Do they count different?”

“Well, the earth ponies use base ten math, while the unicorns use base twelve, actually,” started Jon, getting warmed up to his favorite subject. “Pegasi use base seven, which actually fits in well with the concept of weeks for us…”

He trailed off once Jon realized he was being ignored, with the soldiers all pasted to one of the two viewing bubbles on the sides of the aircraft and one of them with a camera, taking photos. He tore himself away from the sight and returned to his seat instead, determined to get a few more letters written to various Equestrian colleagues in the area just in case this trip was all a big mistake.

Jon had actually not written to any of them within the last year. Well, other than in his graduate correspondence on technical matters. Since the Equestrians had all returned home, they might be willing to show him around for a few days, even if he had to re-introduce himself since there were few of them he could match against their faces or cutie marks. Still it was worth a try, and felt comforting to hold a pencil and pour his experiences (that he could talk about) onto paper. Until he jumped when a gentle magical touch brushed across his arm.

“Hey, man. Why aren’t you looking at the rainbows?” Despite the roar of the engines, Vinyl Scratch’s voice came straight through the wax earplugs he was wearing, and he got the feeling that whatever he said in return would be just as easily heard by the smirking unicorn.

“Just writing a few letters. Man,” added Jon, trying to be ‘hep’ or whatever it was the younger set did around the jazz clubs and dance halls. The unicorn almost fell out of her web chair laughing and shook her head ever so slowly.

“Man, you are so square, you’re a cube. Maybe this will loosen you up.”

Jon was all set to turn down a reefer or whatever it was they smoked in the jazz clubs, particularly since they were both sitting underneath a few hundred gallons of aviation gasoline, when Vinyl’s earphones floated up off her head and over in front of his face. He took hold of them, ignoring the faint tingle of magic through his fingertips, and placed them carefully on his own head.

It was not exactly the wild negro jazz music he expected, but a rich mix of Benny Goodman’s tones that he recognized from a Carnegie Hall concert, although there was no record player attached to the headphones. It was a nice gesture. Or whatever it was. Jon was not sure what it entailed, so he listened for a polite few minutes before handing the earphones back and watching Vinyl’s exuberant grin only grow.

That grin stayed lurking behind him like the Cheshire Cat while the aircraft approached the city of Manehattan, making a wide circle to the north. The crew invited Jon into the compartment behind the cockpit in order to get a better view of the landing, which he accepted at first in order not to appear like a coward. It only took a few minutes of conversation before he discovered the copilot who would be making the water landing was not only a novice at handling the big twin-engined aircraft, but actually a visiting Canadian artillery spotter named Jimmy who was in the process of getting his pilot’s license.

Jon returned to his seat and buckled every strap he could find, trying not to look at the grinning unicorn on the other side of the aircraft.

Manehatten was supposed to be beautiful from the air, with sparkling lights denoting airborne traffic patterns and the glow of thaumaturgically boosted fireflies in lanterns as far as the eye could see, making every window shine and lighting the streets as well as the human city back home. It would make a beautiful backdrop for the certain airplane crash that was about to happen, or at least that was all that Jon could think about while the big flying boat descended toward the water in the hands of an incompetent Canadian artillery expert. Each thump or bump of air was another indicator of their out of control path, and the throttling back of the engines directly above did not make him one bit more comfortable. He would have much rather been looking into the business end of the .45 again.

“Relax, man.” Vinyl Scratch’s voice came straight through his wax earplugs and made Jon jerk in surprise, even though he could not dig his fingers into the arms of the chair any harder without breaking them off. “This is cake. The takeoff from the water when it’s full of gas is real fun. The bird just waddles along like some fat penguin, slamming into each of the waves until your spine squashes flat city.”

“Penguins can’t fly!” Jon managed to growl from between clenched teeth. “It’s gonna crash and I can’t move to—”

The airplane touched the surface of Manehattan Harbor with a hiss of water spray and the rumble of braking, bouncing only a little more than if it had landed like God intended aircraft to land, with rubber wheels on a big concrete runway. He could not see outside, but once their speed had dropped to something sane, the big seaplane heeled over in a slow turn and taxied across the harbor to what was undoubtedly blessed dry land of some sort. A quick glance through narrowed eyelids showed the four Army soldiers in the back were getting their gear together, all except for the rough-voiced major, who had somehow managed to sleep through the landing.

- ☾ - -

The efficiency of the Equestrian harbor operations was something Jon had expected, but he still was pleasantly surprised at how quickly the motorboat that was to transport both people and luggage showed up. And, of course, with the boat came the inevitable customs inspector who used his magic to scan every suitcase and passenger that came off the plane, taking extra care with Vinyl Scratch and relieving her of one package about the size of a cigarette pack.

The pegasus harbormaster even made a special visit, once the seaplane had turned off its engines and been tied up to the buoy. She was an older and crusty pony who landed on top of the wing, supervised the inspection and loading of the boat under the light of the fading sunset, and then took off for the rest of her evening once the boat was putt-putt-putting its way to shore under the asthmatic power of a one-lung gasoline motor.

There was a particularly human ritual involved once everybody had gotten off the airplane and reached a space where smoking was permitted again. By the time the boat reached the docks, every soldier and member of the seaplane crew had a cigarette between their lips, but waited politely until they were on dry land and away from the ever present odor of gasoline before lighting up. Although he normally held himself to only one or two a week, Jon got out his battered pack of Camels and let a few of the Army soldiers bum one off him.

Standing on the dock with the rest of the passengers and looking at the seaplane bobbing at the anchor buoy made him think of the little lead pipe full of explosive nasty that Vinyl Scratch had fished out of the gas tank, and the possibility that he could have died before even reaching the secretive island nation. Provided that it had not been a random attack, the task that he had been picked to do must have been important for the Germans to have made that kind of bombing attempt to stop him from doing it. Whatever it was. And at least somebody had an inkling of what he was doing here, and if nobody in the states knew, somepony here probably did.

He put out the cigarette before he was even half-way through it, crushing it under his heel and depositing the remains in the nearby labelled stone receptacle designed for that specific purpose. Tomorrow, he was probably going to be told what he had been brought here for. Tonight, all he had to worry about was a short pass through the Equestrian medical facility to make sure he was not bringing some terrible disease into the country, then a short trip to the Flamboyant Flamingo hotel and a good night’s rest.

- ☾ - -

A medical check when going into most countries consisted of a quick glance by a customs officer to make sure you were breathing and not bleeding. Equestrian customs turned out to be slightly more stringent.

Despite the relatively few human tourists who visited Equestrian cities every year, the medical customs center was as large and modern as the best New York hospital, although that was probably excused by the need to check entire steamships full of curious tourists in fairly quick order. Of course, a Rockefeller or an Astor waiting to shop the stores of Manehattan and visit the human-oriented entertainments of the city would not want to wait in line with the rest of the common folk.

There were a few whispered helpful hints from his fellow visitors while they were waiting for their names to be called, along with one of the aircrew talking about a ‘hot young earth pony nurse from last time’ before he was caught by Colonel Bradley’s scorching glare and abruptly shut up. It took little time inside before they were all separated to private rooms for a health and safety inspection, but Jon still felt a little as if he were in a veterinarian's office, and had a vague feeling he was about to get an ear tag and de-wormed before this was all over.

In typical Equestrian fashion he met with one polite doctor or nurse after another, and stuck his tongue out or lifted his arms when prompted. Thankfully, there were no paper gowns involved, but Jon did hang his tweed jacket and his shoulder holster on a hook on the examining room wall, mostly to prevent the startled reaction the ponies tended to exhibit when faced with a gun. He was asked about his previous bout with malaria, checked over by a unicorn specialist who determined that the parasite had been properly purged, but given a series of pills to take once a day as long as he was in Equestria, just in case. It was an odd but familiar sort of routine with cold hooves instead of cold fingers, and he had just about managed to shake the last of his underlying tension from the flight when something totally unexpected happened.

He was sitting quietly in the empty examining room, looking at the nearby color diagram of a human heart, when the door to the corridor opened….

...and an equine goddess walked in.

* * ✹ * *

Jon Walthers was aware of Princess Celestia’s appearance, of course, but to actually see her in the flesh and within a few paces of him was a considerable shock somewhat analogous to having owned several fuzzy teddy bears, then have a full-grown grizzly bear show up abruptly in your bathtub. There was an overwhelming sensation of weight about her and the deliberate way she proceeded across the floor, one large gold-shod hoof at a time. Jon’s breath caught in his throat while he tried to take in all of the horse-sized monarch at once, from her outworldly flowing mane to the wide wings tucked in on her sides, and in particular, those huge ageless violet eyes looking right at him with a faintly amused expression, much the same look as she might have had when greeting Cleopatra or John the Baptist. All of his etiquette lessons fled, and not knowing whether to bow or salute or perhaps just fall down in a dead faint, Jon settled for putting on as much of a smile as he could and nodding at the pale pony, the undisputed leader of every Equestrian on the planet.

She nodded back. It was a good start.

Then the door behind her swung closed with a gentle push of her golden magic, which stayed glowing on the door afterwards as if to hold it closed against any further visitors or escape attempts.

Maybe it was not as good a start as Jon had hoped.

“Good evening, Mister Walthers.” Princess Celestia settled down on the thin carpet of the examining room, placing her sizable rear down and getting comfortable while not so coincidentally lowering most of her body’s altitude enough to not loom over him. “I would like to apologize for inviting you into my home so abruptly. You must have so many questions.”

“,” Jon could hear his own voice respond in formal Equestrian. Then, after taking a breath to steady his nerves and seeing the disappointed look on Celestia’s face, he switched back to the English she was speaking and added, “I’m honored for the invitation, Your Highness, but I really only have one question. Why?”

The faintest hint of a smile formed at the corners of Celestia’s lips and in the crinkling around her eyes. “Ah, yes. The simplest of questions with the most difficult of answers. In short, you are here because I need you. I’m not in the habit of inviting humans to my beloved country, but this situation requires a solution of uniquely human nature. The problem,” she said with a pensive frown replacing her slight smile, “is where to start.”

“Is it about the war?” asked Jon.

“In a way.” The frown grew on her face until it turned the corners of her lips down. “Do you remember last winter?”

“It was quite cold,” said Jon carefully.

“The coldest in living memory. Well, human memory,” admitted the immortal alicorn. She tapped a hoof on the carpet as if trying to decide just exactly how to quantify an unquantifiable value. “Tell me, Mister Walthers. Do you watch the stars?”

“Not really. I’ve only taken a few astronomy classes, but I can muddle through most of the theories.”

“Indeed.” The frown left Celestia’s face now that she was traveling along a familiar conversational path. “Your school records show you have a talent for ‘muddling through’ the events of life. When something unexpected happens, you don’t run around in a panic, you don’t lose your composure, you just act.”

Celestia turned her head slightly while her horn lit up again. At first, Jon did not realize what was happening until his tweed jacket hanging on the wall moved slightly and the blued steel of his .38 revolver floated out from behind it, followed by the glittering brass trail of the shells he had left in the front pocket. The divine leader of Equestria examined the revolver as she might a children’s toy, flipping the cylinder open and closed again with her magic while a quirky little smile tucked up the corners of her lips.

“Both criminals who attacked you in Egypt two years ago died of their wounds, by the way.” Celestia sighted down the empty pistol and clicked the trigger once. “The local police were less than concerned. It seems they had a record of driving foreigners to out of the way places and robbing them without cutting the police in on the proceeds.”

“I didn’t want to kill them,” said Jon out of reflex. “I just shot and ran when they pulled out knives.”

Celestia shook her head slowly. “Sometimes, we have nothing but bad choices in life. Just one fair warning.” The six glittering .38 shells clicked into the revolver cylinder, she snapped the action closed, then slipped it back into his shoulder holster on the wall. “If you should ever find yourself in a situation where you must shoot me, and I ever find out about it, I will be most displeased.”

Jon nodded.

“Anyway, the best way to get to your answer, Mister Walthers, is to ask a question of my own.” Those ancient violet eyes locked onto his with a gaze that felt as if it were reflecting off the back of his skull. “What can you tell me about the moon?”

“The moon?” echoed Jon. The question was an uncomfortable poke into a tender area in his academic career, and he decided the best approach to it would be avoidance. “As you are the Goddess of the Sun and Moon, I don’t think it is… appropriate for me to instruct you in such matters.”

“Goddess.” Celestia’s voice was soft, stating the word not as a question, but with the contempt one would use at finding gum on a shoe. “It would be a great comfort if I were as infallible as your human God. No, Mister Walthers. I am not a goddess. I have made mistakes, so many mistakes in my long life. Some take longer than others to bite me in the flank, but I am anything but an infallible divine being.” Her intent gaze shifted to one that seemed to pass through Jon, as if he had been turned into glass and she was watching something far beyond him. “The moon, Mister Walthers. Speak to me of the moon.”

“It’s just something I found while researching my thesis,” explained Jon, “since most of the Equestrian legends were already picked over. I compared most of the Terrestrial analogues of you to mythology and noticed a number of correlation pairs. Light/Dark, Sun/Moon, Good/Evil. Thea who gave birth to Helios and Selene, the American Indian legends of Sun and Moon, Xihe of the Chinese mythos and Chang’e. Even the Buddhists have White Horse Temple in Luowang, the birthplace of their religion. Out of all of them, the sun and moon were portrayed as different discrete individuals. All except modern Equestria. And you.”

Thankfully, Celestia continued to look distant, as if she were thousands of miles away in her mind. “My word, I certainly seem to have gotten around. Who would this other mythical alicorn of the moon be?”

Gaining a little confidence due to the calm which Celestia was taking his wild leap of fancy, quite different than his faculty advisors, Jon continued, “That’s the major hole in my theory and the reason it never made it into my thesis. Princess Mi Amore Cadenza could not be the Alicorn of the Moon, because she only started showing up in the newspapers about two decades ago as a teenager, and besides, she’s anything but dark and moon-themed. That leaves certain dark winged horses in mythology, such as Aganippe in Greek mythology, Al-Buraq in Muslim theology, and Irish phookas, but after about the year 700, they practically vanish from history.”

Celestia nodded slowly. “You have a theory other than the one which did make it into your thesis, correct?”

“There were some interesting anomalies in the story of Chang’e, the Moon Goddess of China.” Jon swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. “She hit all of the right notes. She drank a potion of immortality and ascended up to the moon where she is imprisoned for four thousand years. Her festival is held on the same day as the Equestrian Summer Wrap-Up, even though it doesn’t fall on the Fall Equinox every year.”

“A Chinese woman?” asked Celestia in a tone of voice that was most certainly not a question. “I don’t recall her being any darker than the rest of the people of that time. Nor did she have wings.”

Jon paused with the sudden sensation of having talked himself to the edge of a cliff, and not really wanting to step forward. He would not have, except Celestia leaned forward with those violet eyes once again locked onto his. “Tell me. I insist.”

He hesitated again, but continued at Celestia’s subtle nod. “The missing alicorn seems to match up with the Equestrian Nightmare Night legend, where Nightmare Moon comes down to Earth once a year to gobble up little foals who don’t dress up in costumes. The rough timeline matches the time when human legends stop referring to dark winged horses, and since she’s supposed to be imprisoned in the moon, and dark…”

“Go on,” whispered Celestia in a rough whisper.

“Is Nightmare Moon your…” Jon paused, driven by his curiosity to ask but held back by the pain he could see in those ageless eyes. “Daughter?”

Celestia seemed startled and set back, with a brief burst of nervous laughter cut off by one covering golden hoof-slipper over her mouth.

“Your mother, maybe?” asked Jon in an attempt to cover for his obvious mistake.

Celestia’s laugh at that was sincere, even though it seemed to contain a bitter thread all the way until the laughter died down to chortles, then giggles, and stopped with the wipe of one hoof along her face to remove a tear. Her expression firmed up and that faint smile crept back onto her face before she met Jon’s eyes again and said quite simply, “My sister.”

“Oh.” It seemed to be appropriate to stop there, so Jon sat uncomfortably on the chair until Celestia decided to continue.

“Be aware that only four living creatures on Earth now know this. After I used the Elements of Harmony to banish my sister to the moon, I kept the secret of Luna’s fate for a very, very long time, covered up the histories, erased the books, and turned her memory into old mare’s tales.”

“Are you going to wipe my memory?” asked Jon abruptly, although Celestia simply shook her head at the question.

“No. I did not call you here in order to protect my secret. My shame.” That noble head lowered until Celestia was looking at the carpeted floor of the examining room. “Quite the contrary. Soon, the entire world will know what I did.”

She shifted uncomfortably in place, a noble ruler of the entire country looking somehow dull and listless while seated on the floor of the hospital room, but her voice remained strong as she continued.

“Once, we were the Royal Sisters, inseparable in our rule and our love for each other. I commanded the Day, my sister the Night, and under our rule, the ponies of our lands prospered. Perhaps too much. I was blinded by the praise of our subjects and could not see the envy in my sister’s heart, nor the arrogance in my own. Her envy turned to hate, and allowed the Nightmare entry. She turned into a monster, and would have destroyed everything in her rage against me. When I was forced to resort to the Elements of Harmony to drive the Nightmare out, my sister was cast away with her, banished to the moon for a thousand years.”

“Nightmare Moon,” whispered Jon. “I never knew.”

“I have planned and prepared many years for my sister’s return. It is quite possible my plans will fail, because I am fallible, Mister Walthers, and if they fail, all of my actions will be in vain. But if they succeed, as I most sincerely hope they do, there is much more to be done before I may rest.”

Celestia paused, then shook her head slightly and took a deep breath. “That is for later. For now, you are familiar with demand characteristics, I should hope.”

Jon nodded, feeling a little like a bobbleheaded doll at the moment. “Yes, of course. They relate to an experimental subject who changes their reaction to stimuli if they are aware of the experiment.” Celestia proceeded with an approving expression, much as if she wanted to pat Jon on the head and give him a cookie for his correct response.

“Exactly. You see, Mister Walthers, I am upon the horns of a dilemma. The same Elements of Harmony that I was forced to use on Nightmare Moon a thousand years ago are the only hope I have of freeing my sister when she returns.”

“In a few years?” posited Jon carefully in the awful silence that followed.

“In a few weeks, at the very most, although the Summer Sun Festival is looking more and more likely,” said Celestia without changing her expression. “The problem is these Elements can only be used by friends, or they can act… in an unpredictable manner.”

“So when you used them against your sister—” started Jon slowly before being interrupted.

“They did not free her from the Nightmare as I had hoped, since our bonds of friendship had already broken. Thankfully, they banished her to the moon instead of…” It was Celestia’s turn to break off now. Jon did not want to say anything, but after a short period of that dreadful silence, he had to.

“I don’t know how I can help, Your Highness. I don’t really have any friends either.”

Celestia seemed cheered by his words. “Yes, exactly. I thought that somebody as… human as you are might be able to help my student learn about the power of friendship.”

“So she can use the Elements of Harmony to free your sister, right?” asked Jon carefully.

“Not… quite.” Celestia ran her tongue around her lips. “Do you remember when I asked about demand characteristics? Well, my student doesn’t know that my sister is really Nightmare Moon, and if she did find out, I’m afraid… well, I don’t think she would be able to use the Elements against her. Twilight’s a little—” a muscle under one of Celestia’s eyelids twitched “—special.”

Jon nodded, although he got a feeling he was only catching the edge of the insinuation. “So you want me to make friends with her?”

“Yes,” said Celestia, then paused. “Only friends. I know how you humans behave around ponies.”

Jon wanted to protest, but since he was already standing in a deep pit, picking up a shovel seemed counterproductive. “So you want me to meet with your student, teach her about friendship—” the ‘which I know nothing about’ being left unsaid “—and…?”

“And that’s it,” said Celestia with complete finality. “If all goes well, my sister will be cleansed of the Nightmare when she returns from the moon and…”

While Celestia paused, Jon tried to figure out just why that phrase made sense to him when he would have been babbling deliriously about it yesterday. Instead, he nodded. “Yes, I’ll do it. When can I start?”

Celestia turned her head almost infinitesimally to one side and cocked an eyebrow in the position of Polite First Degree Query while looking back at him.

“Should I have asked for a reward first?” asked Jon, a little confused at her expression.

Instead of an immediate response, Princess Celestia smiled at him, and it felt as if the sun had come out and covered him with warm sunbeams. “An honest man is his own reward. Tell me, would your answer have been different if I had offered to fill your pockets with diamonds and your luggage with pearls?”

“No, of course not.”

“Or rare tomes of forgotten lore?” she continued, her warm smile only growing.

“Look, I already said yes. I just don’t understand.” Jon gestured with one hand at everything around him. “Why me? Why now? You’ve had centuries to find one of your ponies for this task.”

Not changing her warm expression in the least, Celestia asked, “Tell me, Lieutenant Walthers. Do you have many close associates you have met during your educational studies?”

Jon was a little shocked at the change of the conversational direction, but he managed to say, “A few.”

“And of those few,” continued Celestia smoothly, “how many have family who you can name, or have talked with for something other than your studies. How many have you walked down a path with, hand in hand, or taken to a dance? How many have you attended the funeral of a loved one with, or a wedding, or even just gone to a baseball game by their side?”

It was not a very difficult answer to calculate, but it was very difficult to say out loud. Instead, Jon said rather hesitantly, “It hasn’t been a priority.”

“It is now.” Celestia’s expression softened. “You’re my last hope. My little Twilight Sparkle is so much like you, only she just wants to stay in one place and learn, while you’ve traveled all over the world.”

Jon was feeling a little numb, but he managed to say, “That’s where all of the interesting things are.”

“Perhaps.” Celestia’s lips thinned while she thought. “Maybe I should not have given my student so many interesting things in Canterlot. Still…”

“It’s a dangerous world, and you wanted to protect her.” Jon tried not to heave a sigh while thinking of the task he had ahead of himself, both the terrifying and the enticing bits. “So, we’re going to Canterlot?”

“I have a few things to do first,” admitted Celestia while her patient expression returned, settling onto her ageless face like a mask. “I must admit to a little deception on my part when I told you only four living beings know about my sister. You see, Mister Walthers, you hold the most important key to my plan, but there is another human being who I was hoping to play a part.”

Celestia’s horn glowed gold with magic, but instead of the corridor door opening as he expected, the door to the neighboring room opened instead. It revealed Colonel Bradley, who was looking a little trapped from where he had been leaning up against the door of the adjacent examination room in order to listen.

“Come in, please, Colonel Bradley.” Celestia’s golden magic moved one of the human chairs over closer to him. “Don’t be disturbed.”

Bradley cast a glance at the chair before looking Celestia in the eyes again. “Because you had them put me in this room for just this reason. You wanted me to eavesdrop on your conversation.” He paused for a second and asked the question Jon wanted to ask. “Why?”

Celestia nodded, and Jon got an absurd idea that she wanted to pat the middle-aged colonel on the head and give him a cookie too. “You tell me,” she said instead.

Colonel Bradley thought for a while, then looked up with confused eyes. Celestia merely nodded back, with a sense of depression sweeping over her face and a sluggishness to her glowing celestial mane. “Why do you think I favored that violent little man?”

Jon picked up the prompt when Bradley did not respond. “You thought the Germans could help you save your sister. From the Earth to the Moon. It’s a book,” he explained rather feebly to Colonel Bradley.

“It’s more than just a book,” said Bradley with a scowl. “Georges Méliès made a movie about firing a spacecraft to the moon, and the Germans made the Paris Guns back during the Great War based on the rough idea. Still, it’s ludicrous to think that you could fire a passenger to the moon in a giant gun. They’d be squashed into a paste or die in vacuum. And even if you could get there, how would you bring your sister back? How do you even know she’s alive there?”

“I know,” said Celestia in a quiet voice. “And for how the Germans convinced me…”

She used her magic to reach into a hefty carpet bag that Jon could not remember having seen in the examining room before, and pulled out a series of greyish photos that looked like they had been taken on the set of a Buck Rogers film. Mostly they were of long, slender tubes with giant fins on the bottom, and various scientists both pony and human walking around them with the standard clipboards and long white coats. There were also some speculative drawings of lumpy machines descending on plumes of fire to dusty crater-marked planets, and of human beings and ponies in space suits walking around on the surface. What was most troubling was a series of featureless long tubes, with a nozzle at one end and rounded at the other, looking unexpectedly deadly despite the lack of conventional rocket fins.

“I was told it was a project to bring man’s reach to the stars. Many of my best scientists and researchers have worked at Peenemünde and other technological places across Germany for the last few years. The records I received of their activities were less than accurate, for security, of course, but the solid rockets were something special. Their cover story was that they would be used as boosters to support a much heavier liquid-fueled main stage. That in itself appeared to be true, but whenever one of my ponies heard even the smallest rumor otherwise, they would be whisked away into a different program and encouraged to put it behind them.

“Since Equestria’s relations with the Reich have degraded, most of my rocketry scientists have returned, but a few of the most critical and brightest still remain. The story repeats itself all across Europe. Problems with getting permission to travel to neutral countries, problems with their visas. The Reich knows I will not dare to act against them as long as they hold hostages against my behavior.”

“Once you have paid the Danegeld, you will never be rid of the Dane,” mused Bradley while looking through the photos.

“It is worse, Colonel Bradley. Far worse.” Celestia passed over more photos, these seemingly taken in much more difficult conditions with dark shadows and poor lighting. Several of them showed submarines, but far longer and fatter than the ones Jon was used to seeing in newspaper photographs, with a series of hatches down both sides of the center.

“Modified type IX U-boats under construction,” said Celestia. “Kept a complete secret from me and built to carry the same solid-fuel rockets in those photos. Do you know what a few of these off Equestria’s coast would do to my little ponies?”

Colonel Bradley studied the photographs before giving a short shake to his head. “I’m not much of a photo analyst, but these can’t carry more than maybe half a ton of explosive each, at most. I doubt if they could land less than a mile away from their target, so all they can do is frighten people… I mean ponies. Maybe knock down a few buildings and kill a hundred of your subjects, but…”

Bradley trailed off when Celestia passed over one last photograph. It was of a dark mare, twisted and contorted with lips drawn back over bared teeth and a bloody froth coming out of her nose. She was undeniably dead, with multiple autopsy incisions labelled in precise numbers which matched the notions on the white margins covered in German writing. The gruesome photo was attached to a clinical form on which several stamps indicated the critical security level of the document, and which Jon was suddenly aware that Celestia had not acquired by any normal diplomatic process.

“Substance 146,” said Celestia in a cold, flat voice that brought ice up Jon’s spine. “The Germans have a plant by Münster to produce it, and have started construction on more of them. A few drops will kill a human. A single drop will kill a pony. The research was supposed to be producing insecticides to help grow food, which is the only reason I allowed Root Stock to work with the Reich on their project. They claimed her death was an unavoidable accident.”

The resulting silence in the room was as cold as ice, leaving Jon to shiver while looking at the photographic evidence of the depths of human treachery. He wanted to put on his jacket, or better, find the creatures who had perpetrated this monstrosity and shoot them. Repeatedly. What was worse, one of the responsible creatures was standing right beside him, looking down at the photographs with thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

Colonel Bradley broke the silence when he looked from his grim inspection of the photograph and turned to Celestia. “You helped them.”

“Yes,” said Celestia in a near whisper.

Bradley took a short breath, sounding far too loud in the quiet room. “Your sister means this much to you.”

Celestia nodded, but said nothing.

“And if your student can save her…” It could not have been an accident that Colonel Bradley was holding the autopsy photograph of Root Stock when he asked the question, but it shocked Jon when he heard Princess Celestia sniff back a tear and speak in hesitant tones.

“I will have my sister back, but will have damned my beloved ponies by my actions. Far worse, because my foolish desperation will cause the deaths of both ponies and humans alike. We are supposed to be a peaceful race, but all I can think of is Mister Nobel, and the joy in his voice when he told me about his magnificent invention and how it would make war impossible.” Her voice shifted to a more lilting, distant tone. “He wrote poetry, you know. I have a copy of his Nemesis by my bedstand, and I read it when I am feeling down. It is a depressing play, all filled with death and murder, so unlike my little ponies. I tried to shelter them from such madness, only to fall prey to it myself.”

Jon kept his mouth shut, unable and unwilling to say a word while Colonel Bradley handed the photographs back to Celestia. He remained seated for a while afterwards, just thinking, then Bradley spoke up.

“How can I help?”

Celestia looked up, blinking back tears. “It will be dangerous.”

Bradley dismissed her warning with the wave of one hand. “Anything more dangerous than guarding a copper mine in Montana from the Kaiser like I did in the Great War would be welcome. When I return to the Army General Staff, I’ll pass along an evaluation of your situation and see if we can find a way to use US diplomatic pressure to save your people. I mean ponies. I can assure you, Ma’am, that the members of the staff will listen to me.”

“I had something a little more direct in mind.” Celestia opened the satchel on the floor and floated it over to Colonel Bradley, who looked a little confused at being given a piece of luggage. “You will find my proposal inside, along with all the details I’ve worked out with certain of my guards. If you could please read it and let me know what you think of my idea. The box is a gift, no matter which way you decide. You have my thanks, and that of my nation.”

Bradley grunted a little when he grasped the handle of the heavy satchel, but stood up when Celestia stood.

“I must go now. Mister Walthers and I have another appointment. I shall see you after my sister is returned to my side, Lieutenant Colonel Bradley.”

Bradley shook the offered Royal Hoof, but seemed troubled. “What if she isn’t, Ma’am? What if this ‘Nightmare Moon’ defeats your student and you.”

Celestia took a long time to respond. “Then everything we have discussed, all of the plans both of us have made, will all be for naught. And the world will die in darkness, Colonel Bradley.”

4. Uber Allies

Equestria : 1940
13 June - Equestria

“Out of his mouth go burning torches; Sparks of fire leap forth. Out of his nostrils smoke goes forth As from a boiling pot and burning rushes. His breath kindles coals, And a flame goes forth from his mouth.…”
— Job 41:19

Being on a dark train headed into the mountains of northern Equestria was far from what Jon Walthers had expected when arriving in Manehattan. A lazy evening in a hotel, perhaps with a long, hot bath to relax and a full night’s sleep would have been nice. Then again, having a human courier deliver that packet to him two days ago pretty much put an end to normality in his life. Since then he had almost been blown up, drowned, shot, and that was just on the airplane flight. Actually meeting Princess Celestia had only topped the experience, then finding out she had a sister, and said sister had been corrupted by darkness and was to return shortly…

If he got out of this alive and didn’t have his mind wiped by some unknown Equestrian spell, he was going to write a book. Maybe two.

Even better, or perhaps worse, his trip into the interior of Equestria put him in a very small group of famous people and lucky idiots. No humans were permitted inland further than a few coastal cities, and even Richard Burton had not gotten more than a glimpse of the rural interior before being politely escorted back to England by a pair of stern pegasi, quite unlike his successful attempt at sneaking into Mecca. Then again, it was rather difficult for a human being to disguise themselves for the journey, even though Charlie Chaplin had done little more than put on his mustache in order to spend several weeks taking a leisurely and quite unofficial tour of Equestrian towns.

Mr. Chaplin’s escort back to a departing steamship was conducted much more courteously, and with more than a few autographs granted to the escorting guards.

It was quite a contrast with the way Wrong Way Corrigan had made a prime example out of how not to meet Princess Celestia when he crashed his aircraft into a tower, a particular tower in Canterlot which housed her bedroom.

His escort included a six-place pegasus air carriage which had taken the resulting wreckage with a complaining pilot inside it all the way to Ireland to be dumped onto the first aerodrome runway they could reach. There were no autograph requests.

Jon Walthers was having a unique experience in the opulent railroad carriage, because he was fairly certain none of the other human visitors to Equestria’s interior received the experience of riding in a train car with the Goddess-Empress of All Ponies to his side, chatting amiably over a cup of tea. The topic of sisters or Nightmare Moons was most certainly not on the conversational agenda, which was understandable. Celestia had been keeping this information close to the vest since roughly the rise of the Holy Roman Empire, and the two golden-armored pegasi by the door to their train carriage were certainly not on the list of only four living creatures who knew about her sibling, Princess Luna, and the path to goddess-level insanity she had trod nearly a thousand years ago.

The word for this evening seemed to be ‘surreal.’

But here was Jon, and there was Celestia, and the tea was most unmistakably an Equestrian blend. Several of his human counterparts would have been willing to break both of their arms and the legs of a few graduate students to be in the velvet-covered seat he was sitting in, just to validate some theories or stories that had been repeated about Princess Celestia and her history on the planet. Jon found himself more occupied with current topics in order not to think about his strange upcoming task of bringing friendship to the friendless.

“So, Your Highness. What was in the box you gave to Colonel Bradley?” Jon took a sip out of his fresh cup of tea and added a cube of native beet sugar while waiting for the answer, which he suspected would be very ‘Celestia’ in its nature.

“A German Kriegsmarine encryption machine with manual and notes, copied from the machine on board the U-49 out in the Manehattan harbor,” said Celestia just as calmly as always.

Very glad that he had been stirring instead of drinking at the moment, Jon asked, “Won’t they… miss it?”

Celestia smiled and took another sip of tea. “A copy, quite literally. I am constantly amazed at the ingenuity of my little ponies. I was talking to one of my nobles, the father of my student as it turns out, and happened to mention the difficulties we were having decrypting the communications Captan Goßler was exchanging with his superiors. A week later, it just ‘turned up’ in his office. Quite miraculous, and no violation of our neutrality. Since then, we’ve made several duplicates, so my busy little ponies have quite enough to do without this spare.”

Jon nodded, imagining the mountain top of Canterlot and the tall radio aerials that would be stretching out their electric ‘ears’ to hear the whispers of warships and their ilk. No doubt, Germany would not be the only country with their messages decoded and stacked on sheets of paper for diligent ponies, freshly returned from Europe and the US, to pore over their contents. The Walthers family had not been overly fond of the game of chess, but Jon knew the game and how to play it, and in particular, how to look several steps ahead. He got the distinct feeling that setting up a chess game between himself and Princess Celestia would result in a forgone conclusion before it even started, and he similarly dismissed whist and most other card games, particularly poker in order to pass the time, even if the two stoic pegasus guards in the car could be enticed into the game.

Their golden armor and identical visages were something Jon was not familiar with other than a few photographs in books, so it was only natural for him to cast the occasional glance at them during the quiet conversation with Princess Celestia. The guards were fine figures of Equestrian pegasi, strong and muscular with square jaws and thick legs. In close combat against a human they would be nearly impossible to defeat, much the same as a flying, four-armed weightlifter carrying four sledgehammers could go through soldiers like a threshing machine. At a distance, however, the light armor they were able to carry aloft would be easily penetrated by rifle fire, even with the rumored enchantments they were supposed to carry.

He thought he was being discreet about his sideways glances until one of the two guards caught him looking and shifted slightly in order to look directly back at him with a wink and a quick sensual lick of his lips. It almost made Jon bobble his teacup onto the floor if not for the quick reactions of Princess Celestia, who even managed to catch the tea before it was wasted.

“Oh, my,” she said with a low chuckle. “I didn’t know you were that kind of a stallion, Mister Walthers.”

Squelching his first instinct of putting forth a protest which would most probably only dig his embarrassing hole deeper, Jon coughed into one fist and took another look at the pair of guards, one of whom was now chuckling into a hoof even more than the Solar Princess he was guarding. Little bits of information just seemed wrong somehow, but nothing connected, even when Princess Celestia placed both teacups down on the table and cleared her throat.

“I believe we are near enough to our destination. Mister Walthers, you will want to bring a warm coat. And bring…” Celestia’s golden magic brushed across the front of his casual tweed jacket and floated the .38 revolver out for inspection. She spun the loaded cylinder much as a cowboy would, then slipped it back into his shoulder holster with a positive nod. “I sincerely hope there will not be a need, but if there is, I will most certainly tell you, and I would appreciate it if you were not to resort to violence prematurely. This way please, Mister Walthers.”

With that cryptic statement hanging over Jon’s head, Celestia rose off her cushion with all the grace of a ballet dancer and turned for the door to the compartment. After hanging up his tweed jacket and grabbing a warmer coat out of his luggage, he adjusted his shoulder holster and followed, of course, down the empty hallway and across the accordion-fold diaphragm between cars while the train continued clattering along into the night. Their destination turned out to be the last car on the train, which was almost empty except for a small pony-sized wagon.

It really did not look to be a safe form of transportation, with thin metal tubing smaller than a bicycle frame and two tiny wheels, and quite unlike a bicycle, would require the passenger to lie down on his chest with arms tucked forward and legs trailing out the back. There was a tiny plexiglass face shield, and the wicker chest rest was padded at least, with rings to put the appropriate limb through for both arm and leg rests, so it seemed stable, at least. In fact, there was lot of ‘least’ in the vehicle, to the point where he really expected to see some tissue paper or perhaps string involved in the construction. It was also small and certainly not designed for the much larger Celestia to pull. Jon could not resist lifting it up with one hand and hefting it easily before setting it back down on the wooden floor of the train car and turning to Princess Celestia with an unspoken question.

“It’s called a cob, Mister Walthers.” The tall monarch moved to one side in order to allow one of her pegasus guards to stroll into the train car. Then the door closed with a glitter of Celestia’s golden magic remaining afterward, leaving Jon only one way out, through the closed door at the rear of the car.

“I really don’t like to fly,” he said, trying not to be self-conscious about being the only creature without wings in the car.

“It is not very far,” countered Celestia. “The train does not go where we need to be tonight, for very good reason. I shall need you both at my side this evening.”

“Both?” Jon looked back at the guard, who licked his lips and smiled a very satisfied smile. There was still something wrong about the hefty golden-armored pegasus, but Jon tried to put it behind him… Okay, that was a bad choice of words. He tried to overlook the subtle wrongness and concentrate on the more royal of his problems. “Princess Celestia, could you please tell me—”

“Nightshade will be your transportation and protection for this evening,” said Celestia, cutting through his objections like a razor. She turned away, and the door at the back of the train car opened, revealing a rushing darkness in which the vanishing rails of their passage glimmered in the moonlight. “Guard him well, and tell him what we discussed. I will go ensure your safe arrival. Oh, and change please. Mister Walthers is already quite uncomfortable.”

It was quite impossible for a winged mare of Celestia’s size to vanish out the back door of the train car with such speed, but one moment she was there, and the next a vanishing speck of light in the darkness.

In the resulting relative quiet of the clatter of train wheels and whistling wind through the open door, Jon was really beginning to regret his previous volunteering to help, even with the stakes being so high. It still seemed unreal to him, with Nightmare Moon actually being the sister of Princess Celestia, and strange meetings in the darkness of night, but the quiet cough from the attending guard behind him was most certainly real.

Jon turned around and regarded the smirking guard, who seemed to be having quite a bit of humor at his expense. He opened his mouth to speak, but the guard held up one gold-armored hoof and spoke first in a very feminine contrello.

“Sorry, Mister Walthers. Princess’ orders. Let me get changed and we can introduce ourselves.”

It seemed an odd thing to say, but even odder when the pegasus guard put a hoof up against the golden sun symbol on his chest and twisted. The golden armor shifted in hue to a dark blue shade, almost purple in the dim lights of the train car, while the sun symbol on his chest turned into a crescent moon, although the armor was not the only thing to change.

The white coat of the pegasus also underwent a similar change to a dull grey, while his mane and tail turned deep violet. What was worse, the feathered wings of the pegasus shimmered and turned into thick membranous limbs more like a bat or a dragon while his eyes turned from blue to bright yellowish-gold with dark slit pupils like a cat or snake. Jon watched the transformation with more than a little shock, but managed to avoid saying anything until after the fuzzy ears and sharp teeth appeared.

“You’re a girl!” he yelped, taking a step backwards and seriously considering the open door at the rear of the train.

The female bat-pony creature regarded Jon with a quizzical expression and burst into laughter. “Oh, my stars. The first thing you notice about me is that I have teats?” Jon had to look, and when his eyes flickered back to look at the giggling pony’s face, it only made her laugh harder.

“I can’t tell you have tits… I mean teats in that armor,” he protested weakly.

After wiping her streaming eyes with the back of one hoof, the dark bat-winged pony managed to calm herself down enough to stick out the same damp hoof to shake. “Specialist Nightshade of the Canterlot Home Guard, recently on loan to British SIS.” The dark mare winked one golden slit-pupil eye at Jon and smirked. “I was hoping to be paired up with another Brit, because of the way they speak the language. They’re quite cunning linguists.”

“Jon Walthers of the US State Department, Translator and Cultural Attaché,” he responded while shaking the outstretched hoof. “That’s really an amazing illusion. You look just like a bat… Well, except the wings aren’t structured in a bat-like shape. Do you mind if I…” He trailed off with one hand outstretched while looking at her sharp fang-like teeth.

“Sure, honey. Help me get strapped in and you can look then. Who knows.” Nightshade waggled one fuzzy eyebrow. “You might want to try out the rest of me when I’m off work. Maybe play with some other parts.”

What he meant to say in response was on the order of “I’m sorry, but I’m not attracted to Equestrians in that fashion” but what came out instead was garbled. Still, he helped get her simple over-the-shoulder harness in place with the quick-release clamps that the Equestrians favored. Once Nightshade was situated, she extended one dark wing for his examination and made embarrassing little squeaking noises while he gently ran his fingers along the warm membranes.

“Oh, you beast,” she breathed. “Keep doing that and we won’t get to our appointment tonight.”

Jon stopped. “These wings aren’t an illusion. They’re real.”

“That’s not the only thing.” Nightshade looked back over her shoulder and licked her lips even while Jon could feel an inquisitive tail begin to work its way up his inner thigh. Then she took a long, shuddering breath and the unwelcome tail touching stopped. “Get into the cob’s saddle so we can make it to the rendezvous, Mister Walthers. Business before pleasure.”

- ☾ - -

There were probably a few things more terrifying than riding in a seaplane doing a night landing in the ocean. Lying across the skeletal framework of the ‘cob’ with nothing below him but the rushing ground and nothing above but the stars and blotchy dark clouds should have been one of those.

Instead, he was finding it oddly invigorating, and not just because of the company. The batpony mare in front of him had her tail trimmed short or it would have been thrashing into his face, so he had no excuse for not looking at where he was going other than his own cowardice about it all. Well, that and the tendency for the young mare to look back over her shoulder and lift her tail when Nightshade caught him with his eyes open.

“Hey, lovercolt,” she called back during one of his glances. “I’m sorry for putting the moves on you back there, but I’ve been a little rattled since I got back from Europe and this week isn’t helping. No hard feelings?”

“No,” he called back after a moment to catch his breath.

“Darn,” she called back, then laughed at his instinctive grimace. “Oh, you are so much fun. I’ve missed this.”

He hated to admit it, but talking with the flirty mare made his flight through the darkness better somehow. Plus, it gave him an opportunity to ask questions, in particular…

“So… what are you?” he asked, suddenly aware of what the answer was going to be before she said it.

“Horny.” Nightshade laughed again and shook her head, making the skeletal wagon shake in the breeze and Jon grab onto his handholds on the cob with greater enthusiasm. “Sorry,” she added. “You just write the jokes back there. You’re a lot more fun to tease than my last partner.”

“Who was that?” Jon managed to say into the slipstream. “You said you worked with the British, so was it a soldier?”

“Naaa, just a guy from Naval Intelligence.” She waved a forehoof back and forth. “Ordinary chap, until he turned on the charm, then he could talk a unicorn out of her horn. He’s how Celestia got those pictures you seen earlier of the submarines and the report on Root Stock.”

Some of the cheerful flirtiness went out of the flapping batwinged pegasus with a brief shudder. “Poor thing. I talked with her once before she went over there, and she was all bubbly with chemical terms, all polly-this and hexa-that’s. Then she vanished and we got the word to go find out what happened. Ian wouldn't let me see the report on our way back. Celestia did, though. An’ she held me afterwards until I cried all the way out. Couldn’t go back after that. My partner quit field work anyway, an’ I didn’t have the heart to fly any more missions.”

Jon did not really know what to say except, “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t you that’s gotta be sorry,” said Nightshade with a sharper bite to her tone. “Wouldn’t have told you about it either, if Celestia hadn’t approved it. She said I should talk to somepony about it, but there isn’t no other pony around with that kind of clearance but you, and asides, I don’t need to anyway.”

The cool night streamed past as the dark guard continued the long, slow beats of her membranous wings, making Jon feel a little as if he were suspended in the darkness with nothing else in any direction except the faint minty scent of her perspiration. She flew for a while without another word, but after a bit, she continued the conversation.

“Anyway, to get back to your question. Our kind of pegasus has got a lot of names the other ponies use, but ain’t none of them very pretty. I like ‘Little Dragons’ myself, on account of our big brothers and sisters, but you can just call us batponies instead of thestrals or nocturne, I suppose. Flows easier off the tongue and sounds a little less like something that’s going to suck your blood.”

“I see.” From this end, the batpony did not look very blood-sucking, but her wings did look more like dragons than bats, or at least from the limited amount of reading Jon had done about dragons. “So what connection do you have with Celestia?” he asked after a suitable amount of thinking.

“Princess Celestia,” corrected Nightshade. “She negotiated a truce between us and the dragons back around the settling of Equestria. Good cave real estate is hard to come by, and my primitive forebearers were giving as good as they were getting in a polite little war that had been going on for since the gods know when. After beating a few thick skulls together, she got us to see that cooperating worked better than fighting.”

“Definitely can see her hoofprints in that,” murmured Jon under his breath.

“You said it.” Nightshade swished her tail in front of his face, although she kept it tucked down in the slipstream afterwards. “Look, sexy. It’s going to be a little while before we land. Why don’t you take a nap, get some rest.”

He wanted to object, but the reclining position of his seat on the cob was relaxing, and Nightshade’s long, slow wingbeats were a little like being cradled in a rocking bed. The scenery below was distracting, a long series of blurred vegetation mixed with the rocky ground of Northern Equestria all shining silver in the moonlight. It made a nice way to take his mind of the altitude by just thinking about how many of the plants were native species or had been imported from other countries over the last few centuries. After all, he had met a new species just today, and there were probably many more where he was going.

And before he knew it, despite the chill of his surroundings, Jon fell asleep.

- ☾ - -

After the long ocean flight in the flying boat, the train ride, and his most recent experience with a most unique form of Equestrian transportation, Jon could easily have slept through a dozen alarm clocks. Having a long, wet tongue slither across his face was a different alarm that he had no chance of sleeping through. He awoke with a splutter, muffled by the lean batpony’s hoof over his mouth and her husky whisper afterwards.

“Princess Celestia is up ahead, talking with the family. We’re supposed to go up beside her and not say anything unless she tells us to.” She paused a moment, gazing into Jon’s sleep-deprived eyes with a look of serious concern. “Are you all right?”

“My mouth tastes like alfalfa,” he whispered back after wiping his face on the sleeve of his coat.

“You think that’s bad?” whispered the dark mare. “My tongue tastes like chapstick. Bleah!”

She eyed Jon when he got out a tin of the lip balm and applied it to himself anyway despite her objections, and broke into a tense giggle when he whispered, “Pony repellent.”

“Be serious.” Nightshade straightened up and stopped giggling. “And try not to look afraid.”

They walked side by side along a rocky path in the moonlight, obviously headed for a towering volcanic cinder cone. There were a few small flickers of light coming out of the opening at the top and one small hole at the base, but nothing like the lava the massive monster would have spat out in its prime. Now it was a decaying hollow shell, with tall walls of hardened lava and piles of cinders which the centuries had turned into exotic sculptures and the moonlight was casting into a playground of shadowed monsters.

Jon had his fingers resting in the dark batpony’s mane to provide some help with guiding his way. She appeared able to see in the dark like a cat, guiding him around various sharp rocks in the path, but he could feel a low trembling of tension beneath his fingertips. He hated to admit that he had gotten a little used to the mare’s constant string of innuendo, so he rubbed a little on the hard knots in her neck while they walked until he finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she hissed back. She shrugged her shoulders in a vain attempt at relaxation, but after a few more paces added, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You’re sure about that?” Jon kept rubbing at the knots in her neck during their walk, partially in order to keep his own nervous tension down.

“I…” Nightshade swallowed as she slowed. “I didn’t leave the Little Sisters under the best of circumstances. They wanted me to stay in the family, push clouds over the apple farms for a living.” She stopped and gestured with a hoof out into the inky darkness. “There’s a whole string of farms up and down the valley. We water them. They give us food. All of the talk our elders make about keeping to our traditions and staying separate from the other ponies is all hypocritical bat poop. There’s a lot of tail-raising that goes on in the night between our kind and the farmers, but our elders pretend we’re some special—” She cut off abruptly and turned back to the path.

“So you joined Celestia’s guard.” That did not get a response other than Nightshade picking up the pace on the treacherous gravel, so he added, “A girl in a world of dangerous men.”

“A dangerous mare,” she snapped. “Twenty little colts apply for every open position, and I made them all eat dirt. Princess Celestia doesn’t hold back when danger threatens Equestria, so why do you think a mare can’t do the job? Besides,” she added with a slight relaxation in her bitter tone, “there’s more than a few mares out there willing to do what I do.”

- ☾ - -

They did not exchange any more words while climbing the rest of the way up the path and through a massive gap in the ancient igneous rock at the base of the cinder cone. A rough tunnel led to the center of the extinct volcano, which seemed much larger once they stepped inside of the cavernous empty space open to the sky above. Only a little light filtered down from the stars hidden behind the cloud-spotted sky, but Celestia stood in a pool of golden hornlight in the center of the flat floor of the hollow volcano, just as quiet and calm as if she were willing to wait on them for years.

Jon expected the crunching noise from their mixed foot and hoof-steps would have echoed around the vast chamber, but there was another noise that grew as they walked. A faint hiss of breathing or perhaps the motion of lizard scales on sand, although it was pervasive enough that Jon could not identify a direction. He was a little more worried about being inside of a volcano with the Princess of the Sun, but the last known volcanic eruption in Equestria was… just over a thousand years ago.

The timing seemed very suspicious now.

“Good evening, Mister Walthers.” Celestia looked straight at him with that eternal half-smile that would have been just as at home in the corridor of a castle or the throne rooms of Europe. “Allow me to cast some light on the guests I wanted you to meet tonight.”

Her horn glowed even brighter, and little flecks of silica in the surrounding lava glittered in response, spreading across the floor and climbing up the walls. It was as if the stars were embedded into the frozen lava, brightly shining down into the immense open cavern until everything was illuminated in a sourceless light.

Including the inhabitants.

The eyes were what he noticed first, pairs of golden eyes spread all around him and up into the rocky ledges and crevices of the walls. Hundreds of glowing eyes showing where clumps and clusters of batponies gathered to look down on the strange bipedal visitor who suddenly felt as if hiding under Celestia was an option he should keep open just in case. The batponies whispered to each other and pointed, which was when Jon noticed the colorful rocks they were sitting on moved, with draconic eyes and wings of their own.

Dragons gathered around on every wall and spot of floor, in such a wide variety that Jon could not see any two that even looked similar other than having ‘lots of teeth’ and ‘wings’ in common. Some of them were providing perches to their draconic pony companions, while others seemed to have a small circle of empty dragon space around them, but the one thing they all shared was an intent stare at the only human in the area.

Jon really would have felt better if so many of them had not been smiling. So many teeth.

“A human, Celestia? With my precious little sister.” The largest dragon Jon could have imagined appeared out of the shadows and bent over to look at this newest curiosity. He was an immense monster with teal scales shimmering in Celestia’s magical light and a nose like a cross between a rhino and an axe, but somehow Jon just could not be as terrified as he should have been, not even when the dragon stuck that enormous nose right up over Jon and sniffed so hard he almost got a tour of a dragon’s sinus cavity.

“Good!” bellowed the dragon afterward, nearly knocking Jon over on his rump. “You live!” The enormous dragon paused, then looked at the cavern full of dragons and batponies. “That was funny! Be amused!”

Jon laughed despite himself in the gale of amusement that swept through the cavern, although Nightshade did not seem to relax at all under his hand, and only trembled more despite her impassive expression.

Celestia’s powerful voice cut through the last of the lingering laughter. “Now is not the time for games, Dragonlord Torch. I have seen the signs, and I know you will not believe me when I tell you what needs to be done, so I have brought this human with me to explain the circumstances of Nightmare Moon’s return in words you will understand. Go ahead, Mister Walthers.”

For one terrifying second, Jon thought he was supposed to tell them about Princess Celestia’s sister, which would have strained his will to the breaking point because Jon was still struggling to get his own mind around the reality of it all. Thankfully, he caught the subtle hints in Celestia’s guarded expression that it was not yet time for the secret of Luna’s questionable history to be exposed. He was still caught off-guard by the intense draconic and pony attention, making Jon reflexively ask, “You want me to explain about the upcoming volcanic eruptions?”

It must have been the answer she was looking for, because he could catch the hint of a smile at the corner of her lips when she responded simply, “Yes.”

“What eruptions?” bellowed the massive teal dragon. His immense head snaked down to stare at Jon—badly cross-eyed because of the massive flat nose—but the rows of sharp teeth encouraged a rapid response. Jon immediately started talking because if he stopped talking for a heartbeat, he would have time to think and panic.

“It’s obvious. A thousand years ago when Nightmare Moon first appeared, she couldn’t actually move the moon. She could only block the sun. There’ve been other volcanoes that blotted out the sun before, like Krakatoa, but in this case, these Equestrian volcanos put enough magically active silica clumps up into the atmosphere to make everything dark and still look like there were stars.” Jon reached down and scooped up a handful of glittering dust. “When Nightmare Moon comes back on the Summer Sun Celebration—”

Dragonlord Torch bellowed so loud Jon thought he was going to lose an eardrum. “What do you mean, comes back? She’s gone! Nightmare Moon is in the moon!” The echoes from his voice died out rapidly, and the smallest of rumblings could be felt from below. Suddenly, Jon realized how all of the eyes on him had gotten very intense, as if he were a circus clown who had turned into a fizzing bomb of some sort.

Celestia continued in a quiet voice. “I didn’t tell Mister Walthers about the volcanos. He worked that out on his own, and if even a human can see the danger…”

Torch did not respond out loud, but lowered his eyebrow ridges and fixed Celestia with a glare that by all means should have set her on fire. The Princess of the Sun continued in the same quiet voice that nevertheless still echoed from the back of the massive cavern, and that Jon had no doubt at all could be heard by every dragon and pony there.

“When the dragons of the world were hunted by humans, hounded to the tallest mountains and deepest valleys, who gave you sanctuary? When your eggs were being smashed by the—” Celestia made a growling noise deep in her throat that nearly made Jon jump out of his boots “—who brought peace between your kind? When your hatchlings were about to freeze from the Windigo, who brought your people to this new and rich land?”

A deep and thunderous voice much like a mountain responded in a bass rumbling that rattled the walls. “You did.”

The back side of the entire cavern moved as an eye the size of a small car opened up to regard Princess Celestia. While some small fraction of that powerful gaze touched Jon incidentally, freezing him in fascination much as an ant might look up at a rock lizard, it was not fear that held him entranced. Immense as the dragon was, he still projected a need for care and caution in his movements, much like a parent would act around a sleeping infant. Even Nightshade by Jon’s side relaxed, although that may have been from the open-jawed awe with which she was regarding the gargantuan dragon.

“Hello, Celestia,” rumbled the dragon.

“Hello, old friend.” Celestia lowered her head and looked down. “I wish I did not have to bring you this news, Dragonlord.”

“Call me Stone, for I am Dragonlord no more,” rumbled the dragon. “I do not speak for my people. All I can offer are my own wings, Dawnbringer. Speak and I shall rise to battle on your behalf.” That immense head moved forward and rested on the ground so close to Jon that he could have reached out and touched it, and a gust of cool, brimstone-scented air swept over him as the dragon exhaled.

“She lives,” said Celestia in a bare whisper that made the eyes of the huge dragon abruptly open slightly. “I would not have you, my oldest living friend, rise up against—”

Celestia stopped and exchanged a look with her old friend, then both of them nodded silently, immortal alicorn and ancient dragon sharing an identical thought with the frail human to their sides. She continued, “I need your help to pay a great debt of honor, not to have you fight, old friend. I believe she can be saved from the Nightmare, and this human is the key.”

In order to look at Jon with both eyes, Stone had to pull back a short distance. Those huge green eyes focused on the small human, and he gave a short sniff with nostrils that could have been used to park a Greyhound bus. Each. Still, Jon could not feel afraid as he should have, and looked back with the odd thought of how in the world he was going to explain this to his parents when he returned home.

“He stands when he should run, and looks instead of cowering. What kind of warrior do you place your faith in, Celestia?”

“Not a warrior, but a scholar who knows knows and respects the lessons of war,” responded Celestia. “Someone wise enough to see what is under his nose. Someone who can bring friendship to my student, and freedom to my heart after these many, many years.”

The old dragon gave him an evaluating look and schnuffed out a short breath that nearly blew Jon backwards. It made him suddenly realize that he had a hand still resting on Nightshade’s neck, and was rubbing at her knotted muscles to keep her calm as much as it was to keep one of his hands busy. Then Stone shifted his head to one side and caught Dragonlord Torch in a piercing stare.

“Trust her,” he rumbled. “We owe them.”

“We owe them nothing,” snapped Torch in return. Although his voice was just as loud, it sounded thin and weak compared to the immense dragon, and he quailed under the force of the glare he received in return.

“Would you rather the little sisters and brothers be consumed in fire with the return of the Nightmare? Then do nothing.” One immense talon with a few small dark ponies on it emerged from the wall, and Stone watched the little winged foals clinging to it sway and stretch tiny wings. Torch seemed to sink in on himself, trying to look in any direction other than the little yawning batponies, then spoke into the floor in a weak grumble so soft it was difficult to hear him.

“Speak, Dawnbringer. We will listen.”

“That is all I ask.” Celestia had none of the arrogant superiority a human negotiator might show when getting his way, only a sense of taking one more difficult step in a long journey. She turned to Jon and gestured back along the path. “Please wait outside. I’m afraid our discussion might become a little… heated.”

Jon started to open his mouth to object, considered what might happen with the entire volcano full of dragons and dragon ponies in an argument, then closed his mouth and followed Nightshade back outside.

- ☾ - -

“Do you think we’re far enough away yet?” Jon glanced over his shoulder, but without taking his hand off Nightshade’s mane. If he lost the dark mare out here in the moonlit night, he never would find her again.

“Almost,” grunted Nightshade. “I knew I should have marked where we parked that cursed thing. It’s around here somewhere.”

“Over here, sister.” The ‘small’ dragon who had just called out in Equestrian strode out from behind a low hedge of bushes, and looked calmly up at Jon. This one was more bipedal than most of them, nearly the same shade of dark and light teal as the massive Dragonlord Torch inside the extinct volcano, but only came up to Jon’s chest instead of towering over the neighborhood.

Nightshade obviously knew the dragon, and stopped just out of immediate reach to bow her head and respond in Equestrian also. “Greetings, Ember, Daughter of Dragonlord Torch. May your fire glow bright.”

“I greet you, sister.” The dragon took several quick steps forward to put one clawed hand under the batpony’s chin and lifted it up until she could look Nightshade in the eyes. “The cavern is quiet without the beating of your wings.”

There were several shrill cries from behind Ember and two smaller batponies tumbled forward, bouncing and flapping until they were underneath Nightshade and running in circles. “Sister, sister,” they chanted in Equestrian while Ember rolled her eyes.

“Not that quiet,” she muttered.

“Hi, guys,” said Nightshade, trapping the two little foals under a foreleg each and thwapping them repeatedly across the top of the head with her wings. “How’s my two favorite little pests?”

“Thistle said you were gonna bring us back a pirate,” said the littlest batpony through her giggles.

“Nuh-uh!” complained Thistle, the larger of the two who seemed to be marked by several thin blue stripes running through his mane. “Puff is making things up again. I said Gran’pa Torch was talking about when some of the little brothers flew off to join the human pirates, an’ they came back with earrings.” Thistle squinted up at Nightshade’s ears, then over at Jon. “He doesn’t look like a pirate.”

“I’m not,” said Jon in Equestrian.

“Oooo,” cooed both of the little batponies. “It talks.”

“Are you mating with him?” asked Puff. Guileless yellow eyes looked up at Jon, framed by tiny little ringlets of the violet mane all of the batponies seemed to have, but tinged at the tips of every hair with light pink. It was such an innocent and cute picture of adorable hairy batpony-ness, broken only by the glint of sharp teeth in the moonlight, that Jon was struck speechless. Unfortunately, Nightshade was not.

“Every night,” she said. “Twice on weekends, and—”

“NO!” It was a very loud word, but Jon had not said it. Instead, the booming echoes of Dragonlord Torch’s exclamation rumbled out of the extinct volcano quite some distance away, followed by some draconic words that must have been curses of some sort, due to the way Nightshade put her wings over the little batponies’ ears and waited until the bellowing had died down out of audible range. In the resulting silence, Jon lowered himself down to one knee and tried to clarify the intentional misconception.

“No. My name is Jon Walthers, and I’m here as a teacher for Princess Celestia’s student, Twilight Sparkle. I’m not—” he coughed into one fist “—involved with your big sister. In that way. She’s a guard, assigned to protect me. Against little balls of fluff like you two,” he added, giving the little batpony filly a ruffle on top of her very pettable head.

“She’s a lot more than that,” said Ember, who had watched his interaction with the little fuzzballs while obviously restraining a smirk. “We used to wrestle when we were growing up.”

Jon took a longer look at the bipedal dragon and the smaller batpony, trying to imagine how the uneven contest would turn out, only to have Nightshade add, “I could beat her too, three falls out of five.”

The shriek and bellow of another dragon echoed around the surrounding volcanic mountains, making all of them look at the nearby hollow cinder cone and the flashes of light emerging from inside. “Wow, dad’s pissed,” said Ember. “What did you two say to get him so heated up?”

Nightshade paused and looked up at Jon in an obvious prompt for him to take the uncomfortable subject. “It’s complicated,” he said as a compromise, because if Princess Celestia wanted her student to deal with Luna being behind Nightmare Moon’s return, there was no need to drag that into the main focus of the ongoing conversation. “The most important thing is the volcanoes along this end of Equestria are going to erupt in about a week, and she wants to make certain you’re all going to be safe.”

“Our home is going to blow up?” asked Thistle. “Can’t the Sun Pony stop it? She’s the biggest, most powerfulest pony in like ever. Even Dragonlord Torch says so.”

“Even dad can’t stop a volcano from blowing up,” said Ember. “Our dragon magic is more about making fire and explosions than stopping them.” She stole a glance at the extinct nearby volcano with her lips thinning out in an obvious sign of worry that Jon could recognize even in another species. “It wouldn’t hurt us, of course, but you little fuzzballs would get toasted.”

“But I don’t want to leave my home,” said Puff with a plaintive little quiver in her bottom lip guaranteed to turn any human’s heart into jello. “Can’s you make the volcano not blow up, mister?”

After taking a few seconds to recover from those big, plaintive eyes, Jon sat down on a nearby smooth rock. “No, I’m afraid not. But Celestia must have a plan. She wouldn’t have brought me up here and told me what she did if she didn’t have a way to keep you safe. All of you,” he added as he caught the glimpse of a few more small golden eyes out in the darkness. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the short time I’ve known her is that she loves and cares for all of her little ponies.”

“All of us?” asked a little batpony who crept out of the darkness around them, with a few more of his batwinged siblings lurking in the shadows behind him.

“All of you. Even the dragons,” he added. “After all, she was the one who first made peace between the dragons and the—”

John cut off abruptly as the scale of Celestia’s deception became abundantly clear. Although dragons lived for centuries, the peace between the night-dwelling batponies and the dragons had happened thousands of years ago, when Luna and Celestia ruled together. He instinctively looked up at the moon and the pattern of darkness across its face where the second corrupted alicorn princess waited impatiently to return. Outside of Equestria, the shadows were barely visible, but in the island principality’s magical field, the resemblance to a unicorn could not be mistaken.

With her former position as ruler of the night sky, it only made sense that Luna had been the princess to negotiate the present peaceful coexistence between the night-dwelling ponies and mighty dragons. Their peace was most certainly a good thing, but the credit for that peace had been stolen away from her over the years in in exchange for… what, exactly? And why?

All questions which could be asked later, if there was a later.

He looked back down at the collection of little batwinged colts and fillies who had begun to cluster around the exotic human, now that they knew he did not bite. They all looked more than a little frightened at the concept of having to flee their homes, which he could understand with all of his own relatives who had to flee Europe. From the sounds echoing out of the hollow volcano, the dragons and the princess were going to be talking for some time, although what they were discussing was beyond his pay grade, apparently. That left him babysitting, or rather foalsitting, much the same as Dragonlord Torch’s young daughter.

“Do you little ones know very much of human history?” he asked, and felt vaguely worthwhile when all of the young ponies shook their heads, including Ember. “Well, a long time ago, back when Celestia was just a little filly like yourselves, there was a man named Moses…”

- ☾ - -

By the time the flashes of fire and rumbling had died out from the direction of the cold volcano, Jon had run out of Jewish Exodus stories, and was trying to explain the Jewish tradition of Passover. Translating Jewish religious tradition into Equestrian by an American who was raised to respect Jewish tradition in a Methodist household left quite a few of the little ponies scratching their heads and Ember breaking into giggles at the strangest times.

It was a great relief to see the golden light of Celestia’s horn approaching, much like the dawn which was most probably only an hour or so away. He yawned, but did not get up right away for Her Highness due to the two snoozing little ponies in his lap. He settled for a bob of the head and an embarrassed look at Ember, who made no effort to pick up Puff or Thistle from their comfortable bed.

“Hello again, Mister Walthers. Princess Ember. Children.” Celestia was warm and cheerful as if she had just emerged from a relaxing spa, giving each of the dark young ponies a happy smile before turning to the dragon in their midst. “Princess Ember, I had hoped to see you in the conclave.”

“Father thinks I’m not big or strong enough,” growled Ember.

Celestia’s smile grew larger. “I remember when he was a small drake, no larger than you are now. He kept falling down on his nose because he was front-heavy.”

The comment did bring an awestruck smile to the small dragon’s face, much as Jon expected it had been intended, and Celestia did not hesitate before moving to her next point.

“Your father will need every dragon’s help, both large and small, to get your two peoples moved away from here before the volcanoes begin to erupt again. Perhaps if you distinguish yourself in the evacuation, he might soften his stance.”

“What about the earth pony farmers in the valley?” asked Ember, which Jon considered a very good question, because he was about to ask the same thing.

“I’ve already made arrangements. Within two days, the valley will be empty of ponies.” Celestia slowed and took a breath. “Depending on how long the volcanoes erupt, some of the small towns in the area may not recover for decades, but the ponies will be alive. If all goes well, you will see me at your evacuation point the day after the Summer Sun Festival, and if your father has not softened by then, I’ll tell you some embarrassing stories about him.”

After saying their goodbyes and rousting the two sleeping little batponies off Jon’s lap, he bundled himself back onto the skeletal framework of the cob and watched as Nightshade and Celestia rose up into the sky with matching wingbeats. It had been an exceedingly long day and night so far, and his fatigue and altitude was winning out over the excitement in short order. One nagging thought chased him into his dreams and did not go away even after a rather blurred recollection about being flown through a balcony and tucked into the bed on the other side.

What if everything goes to hell and Nightmare Moon wins?

6. Diplomatic Dinner Disaster

Equestria : 1940
Friday 14 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
— Psalm 23:5

His mind thick with thoughts, Jon barely managed to keep his feet moving while following the gold-clad guard back to his guest room. He paid little attention to the decor of the castle or any undiscovered art treasures while considering his problem and the stubborn lack of solutions that it entailed. After all, if somepony needed to have friends in order to use the Elements of Harmony as Celestia had said, Twilight Sparkle was the squarest peg ever to be picked for that round hole, and he could see no possible way to round her corners.

“Here we go, sir.” The escorting guard’s voice was smooth as black silk and vaguely familiar, but Jon put it to one side for the moment. He intended on setting his watch for the twelfth time at least by using the clock in his room, which would have been perfectly fine if his room did not already have a four-legged occupant who drew his attention.

The pegasus was most certainly not Nightshade, because this one was slightly smaller and wearing an elaborate cloak drawn over her wings. She was obviously a batpony of some sort, due to the furry ears and general body shape. He could not see her eyes because she was fussing over his suit jacket which was stretched out over a bedside table along with his dress shoes and shirt.

“Ah, here you are, Mister Walthers,” stated the mare in clipped tones but without looking back at him. “Go bathe, and I’ll have your suit ready when you get out of the bathroom.”

“Uh…” Jon was temporarily set back by the servant’s directness, but saw nothing wrong with following her advice, particularly after a glance at the grandfather clock in the room showed the fairly large amount of time he had before the dinner reception was to start.

The bathtub was already about half-full of warm water and his shaving kit was laid out on the bathroom sink shelf, so Jon slipped out of his tweed suit and made himself uncomfortably comfortable in the tub, squatting down and trying to get everything soaped and rinsed without splashing any water on the floor. It was at least more comfortable than the hotel he had once stayed at in Cyprus, while the rest of the opulent decor made up for the uncomfortable bathing options and then some. He had finished toweling off and was touching up his stubbly chin with a safety razor when Jon realized something was missing. After splashing away the remainder of his shaving, Jon took another look around the bathroom, then wrapped a towel around his naked middle and poked his head out of the doorway.

“Excuse me, Miss? Have you seen my clothes? They were right in here, next to—”

“I sent them out to be cleaned,” said the dark pegasus from between clenched teeth from where she was running a needle down an inner seam of his formal black suit. “They stunk like popcorn.”

“How did you get in…” Jon considered the mare’s look of intense concentration and decided that knowing just how she slipped into the bathroom and removed his discarded clothing was a question that would wait for another opportunity. He shuffled out of the bathroom, dressed in his towel and nothing else, before retrieving a pair of underwear and retreating.

A few moments later, he crept out of the bathroom and retrieved his dark suit pants also.

- Ω - -

“Can’t believe the incompetent human you had for a tailor.” The dark pegasus was named Laminia, and had been complaining under her breath ever since Jon emerged from the bathroom, with pants, to be dressed and ‘adjusted’ for the formal dinner this evening. “Your mane could use a trim too, but I suppose there’s no helping it. Covering it with a hat would help but the dinner is indoors, so…”

The pegasus prodded Jon in the belly with the tip of one sharp hoof before tugging the cummerbund tighter. “You’ve got no waist to hold this up,” she grumbled. “Thank heaven for braces or your dress pants would fall off.”

“I thought thin was supposed to be—” Jon cut off with a sharp ‘oof!’ when the pegasus gave his cummerbund one last tug and bent over to tie it, which was one of the things ponies could do by mouth that had constantly confounded him. Unfortunately, she was tying it behind his back, but fortunately it allowed him a quick glance under her cloak at the wings she had been hiding.

They were dark membranes much like Nightshade’s wings, tucked up on her sides with long thin stripes across them running lengthwise in short dashes and little white dots. The scars seemed puzzling at first, like some sort of tattoo or claw wounds, but there did not seem to be a pattern to them at first glance. He had to admit to staring, which was only for a short time before Laminia turned around with a brisk whirl and yanked her cloak back over her exposed wings.

“Well,” she snapped with a tone just short of a snarl. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead and what?” Jon was abruptly aware of the sharp teeth that seemed just instants from burying themselves in anything vulnerable or tender that Laminia was in reach to bite. Thankfully, she laid her ears back and glared instead.

“Call me a cripple. Laugh at me.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you humans do to freaks,” she spat.

Still a little rattled at the batpony’s rapid shift in personality, Jon was speechless for a tense moment until he remembered why Twilight Sparkle would not let her dragon watch certain movies any more. In particular, there was a movie that they most certainly had not seen, and he suddenly realized must have been where this pony was picking up her distorted sense of human morals. “Oh. That movie.”

“Partially.” The mare seemed to calm down slightly, and the dangerous glint in her eyes receded. “It’s a birth defect, not something to laugh at.”

“I wasn’t about to laugh,” admitted Jon. “In fact, I hadn’t seen any batponies… you don’t mind if I call you a batpony, do you?” At the mare’s short shake of her head, he continued. “Anyway, I hadn’t seen any of your kind of pony until… um… yesterday.” It seemed like such a short time to have undergone such a vivid transformation in the way he viewed the world. “Your bigger brothers certainly seem protective,” he added. “The Dragonlord almost snorted me up his nose.”

Laminia snorted, coughing for a brief while until she regained her composure although she seemed to be intensely embarrassed at her loss of control. “Oh. I just thought… Nevermind.”

“Do you mind if I see them?” blurted out Jon. “I promise, I won’t touch them unless you give me permission.”

“They’re sensitive.” Laminia looked in the direction of the front door of the suite as if she were considering fleeing, then shuffled her wings under her cloak. It made them look a little as if they were some sort of living creature under a blanket before she allowed the stubbed-off end of one wing to stick out into the light.

On close examination, it was obvious that the wing had been operated on at least several times, with sections of the thin membranes stretched to cover areas they had not covered before, and the very tip of the wing amputated. Little trails of white dots showed the organic stitches that had been removed, neat and tidy lines just as precise as the stitching she had done on the loose seam inside his jacket. With her permission, he stretched the wing out and let it curl back several times, being very careful not to extend it further than it should go. It took several minutes of close examination to trace the surgical incisions and compare it to the other wing which was smooth and unmarred.

“They’re very beautiful wings,” he said. “Both of them.”

“I can’t fly yet.” Laminia stretched out her injured wing and held it open with little tremors of strain rippling down the white scars. “I’ve been done with surgery for several years, but I’m not getting any stronger, and… I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” With a wince and a snap of her wings, she tucked them under her cloak again.

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” said Jon. “Freaks was only a movie. In real life, humans are… well, they’re not like movies. I mean, look at me. I’m short, hate talking to other humans, and only really unwind when I’m around ponies.”

“Yeah, you’re weird.” Laminia turned back to the remaining clothes in his suitcases and pulled his shoes out. “Look, you should skip the gloves for tonight. I mean, you brought kidskin? Really? Leather shoes should be acceptable, since it makes you look a little more minotaur-like, but skip the spats because you’ll get at least one hoof… I mean foot stepped on tonight, and the spat would just come loose.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Jon stuck his foot out and let the pony wedge it into the shoe. “I’m sorry for trying to peek under your cloak just now.”

“S’okay.” Somehow, Laminia managed to talk while using her lips and teeth to tie his shoe securely. “M’bad anyway. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You’re a guest, and I’m crip’led pony run awa’fm home.”

“So…” He stuck out his other foot. “You left home and traveled to Canterlot to get the surgery to fix your wing?”

“N’t quite.” Laminia gave a solid tug to his laces, enough to make his toes hurt. “Ran away as a foal. Celes’a found me. Gave me a job. A home. Family. Paid the surgeon.”

There was something else that Jon was suspecting. The word ‘Celestia’ was a clue. “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

“Don’t need ‘em.” Laminia spat on one of his shoes and buffed out a scuff.

“She assigned you to me, right? Celestia, that is. I’m starting to recognize her hoof in things.”

“Yes, sir.” Laminia straightened up and gave Jon a long look, from top to bottom. “Will that be all, sir?”

“Actually… no.” Jon stretched out, flexing his arms and checking to make sure none of his suit pinched anywhere it should not have, then glanced at the grandfather clock at the other side of the suite. “You see, if that clock isn’t as wrong as the rest of them, I’m ahead of schedule by an hour, at least.”

All of the alert impassiveness vanished from the batpony mare, replaced by narrowed eyes and a sudden clamping of her tail to her rear. “It would be a shame to get blood all over your good suit,” she growled from between clenched sharp teeth.

“Not that,” said Jon quickly. “I mean, the castle certainly seems to be a fascinating place, and Twilight Sparkle showed me some of it already. Well, the libraries, at least. Since Twilight Sparkle is currently busy researching, what I would like is somepony else to show me around until the reception is about to start.”

“Oh.” Laminia’s tail lifted back to its normal altitude and she put on a polite but forced smile. “I’ll have the guards summon a guide for you.”

“Actually, I was hoping you would escort… I mean accompany me.” Jon stuck out an elbow, which after a moment of hesitation, he realized was a useless gesture for walking alongside an Equestrian. His inexperience made the situation more awkward, but after walking to the suite door and holding it open for the mare, Laminia gave him an odd look.

“You’re weird. You know that, right?”

Jon shrugged. “A few days ago, I thought I was normal. I think I’m learning more about myself as a teacher than I did in years of being a student.”

- ☾ - -

“Good evening, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia cast a casual glance around the reception room, which Jon was quite certain was a gesture strictly for his benefit, because she most probably knew everything about everypony or person in the reception down to their birthday, shoe size, and favorite beverage.

“I don’t see Twilight either, Your Highness.” Jon let his gaze wander around the room, taking in the sight of so many different races of Equestria, including two minotaurs and a half-dozen griffons of various sizes. It reminded him uncomfortably of a zoo with servants passing among the visitors and only one bipedal animal on display. The snacks were good, however.

Celestia did not seem to share Jon’s obvious concern about Twilight Sparkle or underlying worry about Nightmare Moon. She had been strolling among the diplomats with a quiet smile and word of welcome for each of them, dressed in nothing more than her crown and shoulder-thing instead of a sweltering suit like Jon was trapped inside. The rest of the diplomats were likewise scarcely dressed, with the griffon ambassador wearing an elaborate collection of golden rings on various body parts, and the minotaur seeming content to carry only a huge double-bitted axe slung over his back, which Jon had to admit was practical apparel. There was only one dragon, of course, and a smattering of other creatures including a sphinx, which he had been assured was perfectly harmless unless provoked.

Of course, nopony had defined just exactly what provoked a sphinx.

“Do not worry about my student,” said Celestia, looking back in the direction of the entryway just as the young unicorn in question made her appearance. “Since she has a tendency to overrule Spike, I sent one of my guards to hurry her along. Nightshade has been most reliable in that regard. I think she has a talent for it.”

The gold-armored guard escorting a reluctant Twilight Sparkle caught Jon’s eye as they strolled across the floor. It was subtle, but if he had not been looking right at Nightshade, he never would have caught the short wink she gave him while not breaking her serious expression in the least. It was still a little disconcerting to see the disguised female pegasus act like that, but nice too, in an odd way, because Jon had never been friendly with such an aggressive female of any species before.

“Hello, Twilight.” Before Princess Celestia could say another word, Twilight Sparkle promptly burst into a quick staccato of Equestrian that Jon could just barely follow. It seemed to be a summary of her upcoming thesis on the violent motifs in the ‘Oz Murderfest’ and how they pointed to humankind’s inherent distrust of all Equestrians, unicorns and others. Celestia listened along for a while, gathering the attention of several nearby ponies and ambassadors who attempted to eavesdrop without the benefit of an eaves to hide behind. It was startling how quickly Twilight Sparkle stopped the moment Celestia opened her mouth to speak, making the resulting word sound deathly loud in the resulting silence.

“No.”

“No?” squeaked Twilight Sparkle, looking very much like a puppy who had just been walloped solidly across the nose by a rolled-up newspaper.

“No, Twilight.” Celestia’s voice was very soft and reassuring, much like a mother addressing a beloved child. “Human beings are many things. They can be cruel, evil, and vindictive, but they can also be noble, faithful and kind. Over the years, I’ve had warm friendships with many human beings. Last year, I traveled to California for a month and met with several of my ponies who work in Hollywood, the seat of what you seem to think is a cesspit of bigotry and hatred. To a pony, they reported how appreciated their work was, and how many friends they had made. Human friends.”

“But—”

Celestia cut her student off with a single disapproving glance. “No, Twilight. This topic is closed. I am most displeased with the way you ducked out on the art tour this afternoon rather than spend time with the human teacher I brought here at great expense and trouble.”

There was just the smallest twitch at the corner of Twilight Sparkle’s left eyelid that signified her stress level, but Jon could see behind her where Spike had nearly frozen up cold and was biting his nails. The rest of the dinner guests were looking in Jon’s direction with various degrees of interest. However, several servants had likewise frozen in place as if they were waiting for an explosion, and one of them was gingerly edging his way behind a nearby decorative pillar.

Celestia continued, “Now, I expect you to remain with Doctor Walthers this evening, Twilight, without slipping away for any reason until I give you permission. There will be no reading under the table, no taking notes, and no excuses. Do you understand?”

Twilight meekly raised one forehoof as if waiting to be called. “Can I turn in my report later—”

“No.” The disapproving look on Celestia’s face briefly turned into a frown. “I expect you to meet with all of the guests, control yourself during dinner, and not turn in that essay at any time in the future.”

“But—” Twilight Sparkle froze again, then slowly lowered her head. “Yes, Princess.”

- ☾ - -

“Thank you, Ambassador Sharpfeather. It was a pleasure meeting you.” Jon gave a brief bow and shook the offered claw, waited until Twilight and Spike had done the same, and then led the mismatched trio away from the griffon ambassador and in the direction of an open space in the middle of the room. “I think that’s all of them,” he whispered down in the direction of the dejected unicorn. “Oh, wait. What about that couple over there?”

“The Duke and Duchess of Maretonia,” said Spike. “You just about toppled over the duchess when you tried to kiss her hoof.”

“Well, it’s better than getting my butt sniffed,” replied Jon. “I don’t think Ambassador Roav’errrr quite understands the ceremonial aspect of that.”

Spike giggled. “You said aspect.”

Twilight squelched the young dragon with a single scathing glance. “Spike, go into the banquet hall and make certain our place settings are correct. We’re supposed to be sitting between Ambassador Sharpfeather and Princess Celestia. Go on.” She waited until the dragon had left the room before turning back to Jon, who she had not been out of arm’s reach of since Celestia’s pronouncement. “Can we go over here, please?”

“Certainly.” Jon followed along, resisting the urge to put one hand on her neck as he had done with Nightshade when she was guiding him. From the tremor running up and down Twilight Sparkle’s neck, she was tight enough to be used as fiddle strings, like Jon’s uncle used to say. He followed her out into the hallway, then made a sharp turn into another room that looked familiar, but took a few moments for his mind to translate the room into its human equivalent.

It was a fairly small room, with a female earth pony attendant standing near the sinks and two concealed stalls, one of which Twilight Sparkle paused outside of and looked back over her shoulder. “Do you think she wanted you to come inside—”

“No,” said Jon, abruptly realizing he was standing in the bathroom, and worse, the mare’s room. He stood quietly while Twilight vanished into one of the stalls, then he eyed the earth pony servant who held a towel over one bent foreleg. After a few moments of awkward mutual looks, the sound of urine hitting the water could be heard, and Jon quickly spoke up in order to cover the unwelcome sound. “So, Miss. This… isn’t awkward, is it?”

“No, sir.” The mare gave him a long look and added, “If you need to use the facilities, there is another stall available.”

“No.” Jon smiled in a vain attempt at levity. “I’m fine.”

The sound of the door opening behind him made Jon turn, only to see Princess Celestia moving into the small room, calling out, “Twilight, are you in— Oh!” She stopped directly in front of Jon with a befuddled wide-eyed blink, showing what had to have been the first honest expression she displayed since the moment he met her.

“Now, this is awkward,” said the attendant in a flat drawl.

“I think I need to use the men’s room after all,” said Jon rapidly as he squeezed past the round bulk of Celestia and darted out into the hallway.

- Ω - -

Diplomacy came easily to Jon during the meal, although with as much eating as he was doing during his trip so far, he would probably need a new suit by the end of the week. Twilight Sparkle, true to her word, remained right by his side for the rest of the night, through toasts and cocktails, quiet conversations about nothing with the diplomats, and even the post-meal mingling until they were gently escorted out of the room by Celestia. If it were not for her divine intervention, Jon felt the diplomats would be more than happy to fill his ears with tales of Equestrian minutia until the sun rose. Or Celestia raised it, which Jon was actually starting to believe.

“Twilight, please take Spike and head off to bed. I want a few words alone with Doctor Walthers.” With a single brush of her huge white wing, Celestia hustled Twilight Sparkle down the corridor, turning to the lone remaining human once the tapping sounds of the unicorn’s hooves on the castle tile floors had faded to inaudibility. “And for you, Doctor Walthers…”

Jon waved his hands dismissively. “Twilight jumped to a conclusion and I didn’t have the heart to correct her. It’ll be quite a few years before I can earn a doctorate in anything.”

“You forget, I run a school, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia eyed him with something between impending mischief and regret. “So. What do you think of my student, so far?”

“She’s… brilliant, of course,” started Jon. “Curious. Eager. Obedient. A little too much of everything at times, I suppose.”

“Friendly?” asked Celestia.

“Uh… No.” Jon really wanted to be a pegasus so he could hide his head under one wing. “I don’t see how she can make friends,” he said rapidly. “She’s going to scare away anypony who is attracted to her, or hide from them, or maybe both.”

Ever so slowly, Celestia nodded. “I see. Well, you have several more days.”

“Weeks or months, I don’t think it would matter.” Jon let out his breath in a short huff.

“Trust in Harmony, Mister Walthers.” Celestia caught his eyes and managed a small, knowing smile. “And now, since we are several hours into your sabbath, I think it wise if you retire for the evening too.” Whatever invisible motion Celestia used was very effective, because a gold-clad pegasus guard came around a corner of the corridor a moment later and began trotting his way to them.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Jon caught himself in a short bow, straightening up and looking her right in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess Celestia.”

The echoes of his words followed him all the way back to his room and into slumber.

7. Love Conquers All

Equestria : 1940
Saturday 15 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love”
— 1 Corinthians 13:13

There was one aspect of ponies that had always perplexed Jon Walthers. No matter where they were or what they were doing, they always had an acute sense of timing that baffled him. Well, except for Twilight Sparkle, whose sense of timing was exquisitely poor. In college, the pegasi would swoop in through an open window to their seat before the bell finished ringing, or unicorns would finish the last question on a test at the exact moment they were to be picked up, despite the fact he had never seen one wearing a watch. They carried watches, of course, mostly used as visual props to indicate that they were about to terminate a conversation and head over to an important appointment.

When the alarm rang at the head of Jon’s bed without the presence of Twilight Sparkle taking notes on her human specimen, he considered himself lucky. About half-way across the cold floor to the bathroom, stark naked again despite having been wearing underwear when he had gone to bed, his luck ran out and then some.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza came dancing through his suite door with all the enthusiasm and joy of a sugar-juiced toddler being dropped off in a toy store with a chubby fist full of bills.

“Good morning, Doctor!” The pretty pink princess kissed Jon on the cheek⁽*⁾ as she glided past, not stopping her happy bubbling for an instant. “I see they put you into the Minos VIP room, but they didn’t get you a duvet for the foot end of the bed to keep your toesies warm! Oh, you poor thing! I’ll have a word with Bunnykins this afternoon and get you one with a lambs-wool lining, since it can be so chilly up here at night and you humans are so fragile. Is the colonial style bed too confining, because we can have that swapped out for a larger one while you’re out with Twilight and me on our tour of the city today and won’t this be great?”
(*) His face. Not the… other cheek.

She ended her burst of words with a girlish squeal and stopped in front of Jon to look him straight in the eyes. Although Celestia with horn included was technically taller than Jon, Princess Cadenza only really came up to his bare chest. The gust of cool air across his naked front made him look up through the suite doorway where he could see Spike and Twilight Sparkle, who were thankfully not laughing. Twilight was taking notes, of course, but Jon’s main goal at the moment was to get a pair of pants.

When he moved to one side with the intention of escaping to the sanctuary of the bathroom, Princess Cadenza took his forward motion as an enthusiasm to get started with the day. She paralleled his path with a brush of her soft, warm coat, feeling much like sun-warmed thistledown against his bare rump, and nudged him toward the door with another burst of words.

“And you can just call me Cadence, because all of my friends do. I thought we’d take in the upper end of Restaurant Row first, because they have the best breakfast fruit pastries in the city, then go shopping in the bazaar until noon, and I’ll show you the most exquisite place for lunch you’ve ever eaten at. Then we can drop in at Twilight’s house and I’ll introduce you to her parents, because every young mare in a relationship should introduce him to the parents before things get too intense and foals come along, and just because the two of you can’t have foals, doesn’t mean you should skip out on—”

“Wait!” said Jon, getting one hand onto the doorframe to avoid being swept naked out into the hallway. “I need to get dressed, first.”

“Why?” Cadence looked him up and down once and added, “You look fine, Doctor Walthers. If it really concerns you, we can go shopping for clothes after breakfast, although why you would want to hide such a handsome—”

Jon bolted into the bathroom, grabbed a towel to cover his nakedness, and darted back out into the bedroom to pick out something appropriate for walking around the city. His rapid track back into the privacy of the bathroom was only accelerated by Twilight Sparkle casually remarking to the princess, “He was smaller yesterday.”

* * ✹ * *

One casual sport coat and khakis later, Jon found himself fairly flying through the hallways of the castle with Twilight and Spike at his side. The dragon had the advantage of being able to ride on Twilight Sparkle’s back, and Cadence had offered to let him ride instead of running, but that had ‘Bad Idea’ written all over it in letters of fire ten feet tall. Even if Celestia’s sister returned and condemned the world to eternal darkness, some photographer would have taken their picture before then and the last newspapers of the Apocalypse would feature it.

Equestrian Princess Takes Human Lover.
(Also, World To End in Darkness.)

The whirl and blur of Canterlot surrounded them for the next several hours, from the passage through a fruit-filled breakfast to a personal and guided tour of every booth, shop, and private crafter that the great city seemed to have tucked into whatever corner or attic a pony could fit. Everypony they met knew Cadence, from the odd nobles out for a walk down to the lowest tree-trimmer, which seemed to be a perfect lesson on friendship for Twilight.

A lesson which she was not learning at all.

The problem, determined Jon after a few whirlwind hours, was much the same as Princess Celestia’s sizable shadow. All of the ponies they met were overjoyed to see Cadence, fascinated by Spike, and Twilight just slipped into third or even fourth place, once Jon’s role as ‘weird foreign human’ began to take shape. It seemed as if the only way to get Twilight to make friends was to take somepony even less interesting than her and to push—

Oh.

There had to be something Jon could do to get Twilight out of such sizable shadows, since he was the designated friendless friend-promoter. A quick trip to the US on board the Army OV-10 was out of the question, because Jon had caught a glance at a newspaper yesterday with an article about the terrible seaplane ‘accident’ that had caught one wing on fire out in the Manehattan harbor. The harbor fire patrol had been quick to put it out, which only made Jon curious about what kind of clouds they kept that could put out a gasoline fire, but the important part was that the only quick mechanical transport to the mainland was out of commission for a few days, or until the Army rearranged its air assets to free up another seaplane. That really did not leave Jon with much ‘friendship studies’ to work with other than ‘Trust in Harmony.’

Then again, if the end of the world arrived as scheduled in a few days, he might as well enjoy the trip.

Lunch was, as Cadence had touted, at the most snobbiest and fanciest restaurant Jon could even imagine. There were no prices on the menus, or even menus for that matter. Just endless lines of waitponies dressed in the finest silk tuxedos who guided them to their reserved table with a music and dance number that even Cadence got into.

Then came the food. Oh, the food! Sauteed, fried, roasted, toasted, caramelized or raw, topped with sour cream and frosting and little bits of fruits or vegetables cut into clever shapes. In the middle of it all was even a small-sized portion of salmon, poached in wine sauce and tender enough to almost melt on his tongue, but he only got the chance for one bite before Cadence finished it off. Even Spike was pampered with enough jewel-encrusted delicacies that Jon seriously wondered how a city with only one dragon in it could possibly have recipes that covered such a broad expanse of mineral cuisine.

Then, stuffed and somnambulant, the four of them proceeded onto a carriage outside of the restaurant and began a leisurely ‘tourist’ trip around Canterlot. From the ground level, thankfully, because Jon was not positive at what would happen if he were to ride on a flying chariot today, but it most probably would involve a littering charge and some very upset pony on the ground underneath him.

Cloudsdale would have been a completely different tour, since some parts of the city had not seemed to connect at all with others, but Canterlot was built for ground-bound ponies with only a few concessions to the airborne types. The way it spiraled around the massive castle in huge arcs and vast open spaces reminded Jon of Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, writ large. Tolkien would have felt completely at ease here, portraying the city as some combination of Man’s instinct to build on vast scales and the Elves’ appreciation for artistic flair. It was distinctly a peaceful pony place, though. There were no siege structures or arrow slits, and all of the doors were built to remain open and inviting. Once the tour was away from the castle, there were not even any of the gold-clad guards to keep an eye out for invading human armies.

Cadence was a gracious host, being careful not to draw attention to the discolored patch on the tallest tower on the castle where it was said that Celestia had her rooms. However, every pony he met out on the street seemed to look at Jon, take a quick glance up at where Wrong-Way Corrigan had engaged in his accidental remodeling of the Royal Bedchambers, then return to looking at him as if they were willing to forgive one such incident, but he was on notice that any such future behavior on his behalf would be met with a severe scolding.

They probably think I’m a spy. If so, I’m pretty pathetic. I didn’t even get my camera out of my luggage.

The tour wound up in a middle-class section of town, filled with tidy rowhouses adorned in flowered windowboxes that Jon figured would serve as both beautification and a convenient source for pony snack food. The section of rowhouse where the carriage halted had a line of colorful flags out front, each of which was adorned with a cutie mark, one of which was familiar.

“I really don’t want to take Doctor Walthers to see Mom and Dad,” said Twilight Sparkle, sounding resigned to disappointment.

“And we’re here!” announced Cadence, bounding out of the carriage as if she were part goat. “Doctor Walthers, welcome to House Twinkle, one of the first unicorn houses to be established in Canterlot.”

“One of about fifty,” grumbled Twilight, although she followed Jon out of the carriage.

“I’ll go tell Twilight we’re here!” Cadence bounded inside the building while Spike walked up beside Jon with a sniff.

“Smells like she knows we’re coming,” said Spike. “Chocolate-chip alfalfa cookies, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh, honey! You’re early!” A white unicorn who could only have been Twilight Sparkle’s mother came hustling out of the house and swept the other Twilight up in a quick nuzzling hug with a kiss on the cheek, then added a kiss on top of the head for Spike. “And your handsome human!” she added, looking up. “I’ve heard so much about him.”

“Mom, this is Doctor Walthers,” said Twilight Sparkle, both polite and a little stiff. “Doctor Jon Walthers, this is Twilight Velvet, my mother.”

“Gut Shabbes, Rabbi Walthers,” said Twilight Velvet, switching effortlessly into perfect Hebrew and streaming onto several more sentences in rapid succession which he could not even pick out individual words.

“Actually, I don’t speak Hebrew very well,” said Jon quickly when Twilight Velvet hesitated to inhale. “English would work much better.”

“Oh! Well, then. Charmed to meet you,” said the older unicorn, sticking out a hoof for Jon to shake. “And a doctor, too. Oy! Are you and my little Twilight playing—”

“Mother!” Twilight Sparkle held a hoof over her mother’s mouth and scowled, although her expression only darkened when a darker blue unicorn emerged from the house with a bright smile.

“Did I hear that my daughter brought home an English doctor?” Shaking hooves right next to his wife, the unicorn continued, “I’m Night Light, Doctor Walthers. So are you and my daughter—”

“Dad!” Displaying very good balance for a hoofed quadruped, Twilight Sparkle kept a forehoof in the mouths of each of her parents while attempting to made a dismissive smile that looked a little like an ongoing psychotic episode instead.

“They’re not collaborating on a research project together,” said Spike. “Doctor Walthers is a doctor in friendship studies. Isn’t that right?”

“Um… Just call me Jon, please.”

- Ω - -

It was such an ordinary home that Jon expected to see his own parents busy in the kitchen, or an uncle relaxing in one of the overstuffed chairs in the den. Neat and tidy as a pin, Twilight Velvet ruled over her domestic tranquility with a rigidity of mental discipline that many US Marine drill sergeants would have envied. Everything in the kitchen was labelled, both in Equestrian and Latin, and even the family photographs on the walls were arranged in chronological sequence. The father, however, did not follow exactly in the hoofsteps of his wife, but instead rode the wake of her transit like a Polynesian surfer.

Embarrassing photographs of Twilight Sparkle at a much younger age were produced, along with a few 8mm movies of her early years when she was stumbling around the house on unsteady hooves while carrying books, hiding in a book fort of impressive structural design, or proudly annihilating her opponents in the school spelling bee. A certain older male colt showed in several of the photos, and a little gentle prodding revealed that he was Twilight’s older brother, Shining Armor, who was currently the fastest promoted stallion in the Royal Guard. Cadence gained a cute pinkness to her cheeks when talking about him, although she insisted there was absolutely, positively, without a doubt, nothing romantic going on between them other than perhaps a few occasions where they just happened to be in the same place at the same time.

“I can’t tell you how honored we are to have you in our home today, Doctor Walthers.” Twilight Velvet had an unbreakable smile just one step short of a psycho killer sharpening a knife by the time the house tour was over, the photographs had all been shown, and Twilight Sparkle had been rooted out of her old room twice for ‘just one minute while I pick up a book.’

“What my wife is trying to say, Doctor Walthers, is that we have a special surprise for you.” Night Light appeared, dressed in a necktie and nothing else, which would have been absurd for a human but was perfectly normal for ponies. He lit up his horn and several golden theatre tickets floated over from the nearby table.

“First-run tickets to see the Wonderful Wizard of Oz at the Canterlot Regal,” declared Velvet proudly. “I know how much you like to see the Golden Cloud pictures, Twi Twi. Oz is supposed to have four of his stablemates in it.”

“Mom!” protested Twilight.

“Golden Cloud?” asked Jon. “I don’t remember any movie actors… Oh. Trigger.”

“She calls him ‘Goldie’ in her letters,” whispered Spike.

“Spike!” snapped Twilight. “I haven’t written him any fan letters in months. Besides,” she huffed, “it’s not like he can write back.”

“We can talk about it on the way there,” said Twilight Velvet, hustling them all out the door, including Cadence. “You should have heard the way Twi squealed when Goldie showed up onscreen in Robin Hood. You would have thought Seabiscuit had walked right in and wanted to give her another autograph.”

Spike coughed into one clawed hand. “She’s a member of the Seabiscuit Fan Club too.”

- Ω - -

The stroll through Canterlot with Twilight was a little like a family of unicorns taking their pet human out for exercise. Hooves were pointed, quiet whispers were exchanged between interested onlookers, and just about every single one of the ponies out on the streets followed their inquisitive look at the odd human with a quick check of the distant castle and the discolored smear across the tallest tower left by the last human visitor to their city. It was much like Wrong Way Corrigan was a neighbor who left dog poo behind on his first dog walking, and ever since then, that was all the other neighbors could talk about.

First impressions of the ponies aside, Jon was having a very good time. He was surrounded by ponies without a human being in a hundred miles, a situation he had never expected and most likely would never experience again. Other people, even researchers, would go a little squirrely at being so apart from their species. Jon was finding it oddly restful to walk through a city without beggars on the streets or the possibility of somebody sticking a knife in his back for his wallet.

There was a line of polite ponies all chatting amiably to each other while waiting their turn at the theatre, which would have been a good place to teach a friendship lesson to Twilight Sparkle. The golden tickets proved otherwise, as their party was swept in the door by an earth pony usher in a uniform that would not have been out of place in the sprawling Munitions Building in D.C. where the army generals were as thick as flies.

The rest of the theatre looked quite similar to Celestia’s small private room in the castle, only with more space to spread out the decoration, which allowed the decorator to really go wild with crystal chandeliers and leaded glass mirrors everywhere the eye lingered. Electric lights lit roped-off busts of famous movie stars such as Rin Tin Tin and Cheetah the chimpanzee, although the human costars did not seem to warrant quite the same honors. There were mirrored panels of famous comedians such as the Marx brothers and child actors like Shirley Temple, and even one panel devoted to Harry Houdini, although he suspected it was in the theatre primarily because of Princess Celestia standing to his side, examining a set of handcuffs. Over it all stood a tall diorama of Charlie Chaplin, mustache and all, gesturing to the hallway leading to the projection room.

To Jon’s embarrassment, he did not have any local currency for the concessions. Thankfully, Night Light braved the line to acquire provisions while the rest of the group trooped along behind Twilight Velvet to find the best seats their early admission could warrant, after a quick and quite mandatory bathroom break.

“You washed your hooves… I mean hands, right?” Twilight Velvet examined his fingers, giving a slight sniff at the few particles of dirt under his nails but otherwise giving him a pass from his bathroom visit.

“Yes, Mother.” Jon tried his best to sound like Twilight Sparkle, and was rewarded by a startled double-take from the older mare. “It must have been difficult raising such a brilliant young filly like your daughter. Did she have many friends before Princess Celestia took her in as a student?”

“Not really. Well, other than Cadence and Miss Smarty Pants. That’s a doll,” clarified Twilight Velvet. “Then there was that bunch of troublemakers she ran around with before Celestia’s school, but she’s drifted away from most of them. It’s a shame, because she could use a little more trouble in her life.” Velvet looked up at Jon with a definite twinkle in her eyes and the start of a mischievous smile. “You know, we’ve just about given up trying to find a young stallion for her, but there are alternatives, and there’s always adoption for foals. Remember Robert Donat in Goodbye, Mr Chips. He was well on the way to being an old hermit when the love of a young woman brought them both happiness.”

“Life is not a movie, Missus Velvet. We have choices in our lives that do not exist on a script, and I really don’t think I’m—” Jon took a glance over his shoulder to make sure Twilight Sparkle was still in the bathroom “—suitable for your daughter.”

Twilight Velvet gave a little half-twist to her head that made her look very human and fixed Jon with a sincere look. “I edit books, Mister Walthers. I’m well aware that real life is not so easily changed or translated into pony terms. My husband is an astronomer, and he likewise is familiar with stubborn facts in the sky that refuse to budge to our will. You, on the other hoof, have survived several days with my daughter and remain un-blown-up with most of your sanity intact. You may think you’re not right for my daughter, but when you find your special somehuman, you may just discover something new and special about yourself.”

- Ω - -

Jon had never seen a movie twice in a row before. It had always seemed to be a frivolous waste of money. Equestrian movies, even without being translated from the original English, were well worth the expense just because of the audience.

To start with, the movie was introduced by a performer who did magic tricks on stage until the theatre seats were full, then translated the newsreel into Equestrian until Flash Gordon came up on screen with subtitles. After the serial and while the film reels were being exchanged, the performer returned to center stage and entertained the crowd with a snappy patter about her own contribution to The Wizard of Oz as a technical consultant and special effects unicorn, ending her spiel with an explosive smoke bomb and impressive vanishing⁽*⁾ act.
(*) It would have been more impressive if she had not snuck into her front-row seat under the cover of the smoke.

Then the movie started, and the theatre went crazy. Again.

There was singing and dancing in the aisles, frequent gasps of terror, and the occasional young pegasus who got so carried away that they flew up into the projector light for brief moments before diving back down into their seats. The appearance of the Horse of a Different Color was greeted by thunderous applause that drowned out all of the dialogue, the flying monkeys spooked several pegasus foals into the air for a vigorous panicked chase scene that had not been scripted, and the whole theatre broke out in a spontaneous ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ once the ending credits had rolled. Even Twilight Sparkle joined in, which was a good sign that today had been productive after all.

Which, of course, was blown to heck immediately afterward while the crowd headed for the exits. There were many polite introductions for the pretty pink princess and the odd human escorting her, and no attention at all for the young unicorn who had pulled out a notebook and was making terse little scribbled squiggles, most likely about the ‘Oz Murderfest’ she had just watched again.

It took most of the happy edge away from Jon’s enjoyment of the occasion. Oh, he was still happy, and loved all of the attention in a way that would most probably have driven him a little crazy had he been surrounded by humans reacting in the same fashion. But he could not really get comfortable while thinking about his student’s reaction. Twilight Sparkle did settle down once they left the theatre and finally relaxed once she was inside a comfortable bubble of familiar ponies.

“It’s so good to be home,” proclaimed Night Light once they all got inside the comfortable middle-class rowhouse. “Twi Twi, don’t tell me you’re going to run back to the castle with your guest, are you? Your mother has been working on a very special dinner.”

Twilight Sparkle was caught at the doorway, obviously looking in the direction of the Canterlot castle while preparing to make her excuses, but swallowed once and looked at Jon with an expression he imagined would have matched a pony with her leg caught in a bear trap. Any further friendship lessons would obviously vanish once they returned, with Twilight hitting the library for more research and Jon trying to find something to eat. He smiled at his student, then turned to Night Light.

“Don’t worry, sir. I wouldn't hear of separating a young mare from her mother’s cooking. There’s nothing on our schedules, so we have all evening to spend here.”

As if it were a trigger, Twilight Velvet’s voice rose out of the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. “See if they want to spend the night, Nighty. We should be able to put Doctor Walthers up in Shining Armor’s bedroom, since he’s off on maneuvers.”

With as much trouble as he encountered in the relatively larger castle, the idea tempted Jon, but the number of times he had nearly brained himself on the low doorways of the Sparkle clan house made up the difference and more.

“No, sir. I’m afraid I have an interim report on my student’s progress this evening. Princess Celestia has placed a great responsibility on me, and I don’t want to disappoint her.”

The reaction of Twilight Sparkle only hammered in the difficulty of Jon’s task, as she fairly came alive with perked-up ears and happy smile with the name of her mentor, only to cringe like Jon had smacked her over the nose with a rolled-up newspaper at the concept of disappointing Celestia. He wanted to ask Twilight Velvet what approach he could use to best get the younger Twilight to open up, but if mother had not been able to get daughter to make friends, he really doubted her input would help.

Then again, if Twilight Sparkle could cook like her mother, she would have attracted a lot of friends by now. Fat friends, too. Vegetarian lasagna over polenta, spinach and ricotta stuffed bell peppers, and the inevitable Equestrian eggplant smothered in Parmesan cheese crowned the dinner table, with buttered rolls that melted against his taste buds and some of the sweetest strawberry preserves Jon had ever tasted. The rare green and leafy food on the table had been assaulted with croutons and salad dressing, mugged by slices of hard-boiled eggs, and finished off by being drowned in grated cheese.

In fact, there was far more cheese at the table than Jon had ever anticipated, and an inquiry into the fact caused him to receive a long lecture on the importance of cows in the Equestrian economy from Mother Velvet. They may not have voted, or held any office, or even took any kind of leading role in a settlement, but cows followed the ponies wherever they went, and held up their responsibilities in civic activities, despite being terrible gossips. That earned him some questions from Night Light about leather products, including the wristband on his watch and his wallet, still filled with useless US dollars, which led the conversation into fiscal policy, and then into international trade.

Twilight Sparkle may have been a genius in magical theory, but it was not difficult to figure out where she had inherited most of that from. Jon was familiar with the egghead caste in most universities. During faculty and student parties, he frequently found himself cornered by some ancient specialist in specializing, because it was more comfortable than hobnobbing with his peers. Twilight’s parents were interesting eggheads, though. The dinner discussion lasted far past dessert, to the point where Cadence quietly excused herself from the table in the middle of a debate over banana imports, and long afterwards, Spike wound up curled up on his chair cushion, giving a little teakettle snore.

“Oh, my. Is it that late already?” Jon checked his watch and adjusted it to match the ticking grandfather clock in the Twinkle clan living room. “I swear, time passes differently here.”

“Yes, we heard about your little incident with Twi Twi yesterday morning,” said Twilight Velvet, who had been making regular trips between the kitchen and the table in an effort to stuff Jon with every single kind of kosher delicacy until he was going to have to be rolled back to the castle, or give in to her offer to stay in Shining Armor’s room. “She’s always been such an inquisitive little filly, and having a human for her new teacher must have gotten her research instinct tweaked. Tell me, did she—” Mother Velvet waggled her eyebrows and Twilight Sparkle blushed brightly.

“Mother! I didn’t even get a good sketch.”

Velvet tutted quietly. “You must learn to ask, Twi. Like this.” Twilight Velvet turned her bright teal eyes on Jon and smiled winsomely. “Doctor Walthers, would you like to pose for one of my paintings? I’ve got a studio in the house, and I’ve always wanted to paint a human for the covers of one of my books. I’ve got a few authors who have been asking for a human about your size, and I’m sure they’d be tickled pink to get Twi Twi’s teacher on an international release. It would just take a few minutes to get your clothes off and get you posed, then we can continue our discussion while I paint.”

“No,” said Jon reflexively. “Not that I’m not honored, but it’s getting late and we really need to get back.”

And my mother would throw a fit loud enough to be heard in Equestria if my naked picture shows up on some ‘horsie book.’

“Finally,” said Twilight Sparkle in a burst of suppressed exasperation. “Let’s go, Spike. Loveyoudad. And you, mom,” she added with a quick kiss to the cheek for each of them and a burst of magic that sent the sleeping dragon soaring through the air to land on her back. “Come on, Doctor Walthers.”

“Let me get my hat.” Jon barely managed to find his fedora on the hatrack by the door before he could see the violet glow of Twilight Sparkle’s horn passing the front gate. He turned to face the parents, taking in the subtle expressions of concern they were wearing, and since he had a moment of privacy, decided to ask the question he had been dithering about since first meeting them.

“Sir. Ma’am. You know I’ve been having trouble getting through to your daughter. Can you think of anything I could use? Anything she does well that others may not realize.”

Night Light spoke up while his wife was thinking. “Both of my Twilights are very level-headed in a crisis. Most ponies spook easily, but my little Twi Twi heads right into trouble without a second thought. It always made us worry about her, Mister Walthers. She could get hurt so easily. Promise us you’ll try to keep her safe, would you?”

Jon nodded. “Of course. I’ll do everything I can to protect all of the ponies of Equestria, including your daughter. And Spike.”

“And yourself,” said Twilight Velvet. She stood up on her hind legs, nuzzled up to his cheek, and gave Jon a brief kiss. “Take care, Doctor Walthers.”

“Don’t worry.” Jon gave Mother Velvet a quick hug before she resumed her four-legged stance. “I’ll help her find friends if it’s the last thing I do.”

And it might be.

- Ω - -

The castle in Canterlot was strangely quiet in the dark, although there were a suspicious number of lights or guards in just the right position to guide the three of them along a path that wound up at Celestia’s private theatre again. There was an older human movie playing, lighting the room in shades of pale white that cast Celestia’s cushion into a harsh shadows and her flowing mane looking like chocolate syrup.

“Ah, Twilight. And Doctor Walthers.” Celestia patted the cushion next to her. “Doctor, if you will be seated for a few minutes. Twilight, if you would please go put Spike to bed. Both of you have been up late the last few nights, and you need your sleep as well.”

“But—”

“Now, Twilight.” Celestia favored her student with the same patient look Jon had seen repeatedly on Twilight Velvet just an hour or two ago.

“Yes, Princess.” The young unicorn scurried away, although Jon kept his eyes on the door at the back of the theatre, and when it cracked open again after a few moments, he shook his finger at Twilight and frowned.

The door promptly closed again.

Jon sat down. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“Don’t be.” Celestia appeared to have the ghost of an honest smile hiding in the corners of her mouth, which she was stuffing with popcorn. “You’ve caught onto most of her tricks in record time.”

“She still isn’t making friends. I can’t help but think it will turn out for the best, but I’m not certain how.” Jon leaned back on his cushion and eyed the bowl of popcorn. He wanted to grab a few kernels, but after the kosher stuffing Twilight’s parents had put him through, he probably did not need to eat for a few days. The movie played on regardless of his digestion or Princess Celestia’s silent presence by his side, the black and white characters walking around and saying their lines like wooden puppets on a stage.

“This is one of Twilight’s favorite films,” said Celestia in a whisper. “Probably because I enjoy it also. There are many historical inaccuracies in it, of course, and Twilight wrote a letter to the producers in the hopes of getting a corrected cut put out eventually.”

“Of course she would,” said Jon, although his curiosity was piqued. “Why do you like it so much?”

“Because the way Mister Chips relates to his students reminds me of my little ponies.” She gave a little sigh. “He never had children of his own, but the thousands of students under his care were children enough for him. And, of course, the way he is portrayed as looking to the future.”

Celestia made a cautioning motion with one hoof, sitting in silence for several minutes until the scene she was obviously waiting for came up, and she spoke in perfect harmony with Robert Donat.

“Well, remember me sometimes. I shall always remember you. ‘Haec olim meminisse iuvabit.’ I need not translate it for you.”

Jon nodded. “In the future, it will be pleasing to remember these things.”

“Why, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia held one hoof across her chest and batted her eyelashes at him. “You surprise me.”

Jon could not help but smile. “What, because I’ve read the Aeneid? You seem easy to surprise, then.”

That ethereal smile returned to Celestia’s face, and she settled back on her cushion. “No, because after telling me for quite some time that you will be unable to help my student find true friends, and that my sister’s return is inevitable, you continue to hold out hope for the future. Perhaps Harmony is not as far away as you think it is.”

It was a thought he held onto during the walk back to his room and his descent into sleep. Maybe things would turn out well after all.

8. All Things Great and Theological

Equestria : 1940
Sunday 16 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”
— Matthew 18:20

* * ✹ * *

Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, for ponies and humans alike. Jon had been looking forward to sleeping in, by Equestrian standards at least, which meant until after dawn.

It was not meant to be.

He was also hoping to wake up still wearing his underwear.

Zero for two.

Jon opened one eye to look at the intensely embarrassed maid, who had been gently tapping on the headboard of the bed with one hoof for at least a minute while he was faking slumber. He had halfway been expecting Twilight Sparkle, but from the night-themed apron with embroidered crescent moon and the ruffled lace mob cap on her head, she was obviously one of the castle servants instead.

“Wha?” he managed by great effort.

“I don’t mean to disturb you, sir.” The pony, a little pink fluffy thing without horn or wings, fidgeted beside his bed. “It’s just that… since we heard yesterday that you… not that we are prying into your life, but… I was talking to Pastor Shepherd and he suggested… you know, if you want to…”

If this was the way ponies normally talked to Celestia, she must have been a very frustrated princess. Then again, she had centuries of experience getting shy ponies to tell her what was bothering them, which likely came with a great deal of patience, too. In an attempt to emulate Her Highness, Jon quietly nodded along with the flustrated servant’s rambling, but one word stood out.

“Pastor?” he asked during one of the brief pauses.

“Oh, yes.”

Now that was an oddity in the pony principality that could drag Jon out of bed before dawn.

“And we’re not talking a pony named Pastor, or Pasture, or Pasteur, right? His title is Pastor,” said Jon carefully, trying not to spook the flighty earth pony servant. In fact, she calmed down considerably and nodded while he continued, “And since it’s Sunday morning, and he’s a pastor, you’re inviting me to a church service?”

In fact, the concept of a pony church in Canterlot was about as unexpected as… well, most of Jon’s life in Equestria to this point. To his knowledge, ponies outside of Equestria had not expressed much interest in religious observances—except for A.K. Yearling’s bloody obsession with pre-Incan ceremonies—so this was about as unexpected as finding out Celestia was planning an upcoming virgin sacrifice to the volcano gods.

The little pink pony kept nodding like a fluffball caught in an updraft, but she added words this time. “He’s a Lutheran, although I’m an Episcopalian, and the pastor is very accepting, so your being a Methodist is fine.” She hesitated before nodding one last time. “We would be very honored to have you join us this morning.”

Although he was still naked under the covers, Jon’s tweed suit had been laid out on the bedside table, all pressed and clean. An Equestrian church service would be something to see, that was for certain. He should be back in time for breakfast and to continue his lessons with Twilight, although he was not sure who was learning what from who anymore.

“Yes, I’d be glad to attend services this morning.” Jon cast a look at the hallway door. “Could you wait outside while I dress?”

- ✶ - -

By grabbing the shaving basin and using it as an impromptu bucket in the bathtub, Jon managed to get his hair shampooed in short order, and a quick sponge bath for the rest. Once he had shaved, it took remarkably little time to get dressed, and he made a mental note about how nice it was to have his clothes laid out in the morning. One last check of his watch against the clock made him intensely glad they both matched for a change, and he opened the hallway door…

…only to find Twilight Sparkle with Spike sleeping on her back, and one hoof raised to knock.

“I… Um…” Twilight gave Jon the wide-eyed look of a unicorn who had just had a needle skip on her favorite record. While she grasped frantically for words, Jon gestured to the waiting maid, and the two of them strolled down the castle corridor, with Twilight falling in behind them and the door guard still standing by the empty suite.

It felt a little un-Christian to snub Twilight Sparkle this way and particularly on this day, but Jon found himself really looking forward to a tranquil hour in church, singing a few hymns and listening to a sermon on anything except ancient nightmares of darkness coming to destroy the world. As expected, Twilight Sparkle continued following, which really did not give Jon the comforting sensation of Sunday morning with his family on the way to church. Still, since it was not dawn yet he was grateful for her hornlight to illuminate the way as they passed through the dark corridors, out into the dark streets, and along their dark journey.

“So… where are we going?” asked Twilight once they had gotten a block or so away from the castle.

The featherweight pink earth pony did not answer, but only looked away with a vaguely guilty expression much as if she were leading the disciple of the Sun Goddess into a den of sin and inequinity. Jon decided to pick up the conversational thread instead, with a polite wave to his pink companion and as lecturing tone as he could get for Twilight.

“We are going to services held by Pastor Shepherd, I believe, Miss…?”

“Bunnykins, sir. Ma’am.” The fluffy earth pony nodded at each of them in turn and attempted a smile, or at least a positive change in her perpetually nervous expression. “I… uh… don’t recall you ever attending services before, Miss Sparkle,” added the servant in one rapid burst.

“I’m sure she’s welcome to come along and observe,” said Jon before Twilight could object. “We’re not doing anything illegal— It’s not illegal, is it?” he asked quickly.

“Oh, no,” said Bunnykins. “Well, not really. Princess Celestia doesn’t approve—”

Twilight Sparkle stopped cold in the middle of the street.

“—but she’s never made worshipping any sort of crime. Not even worshiping her.”

Twilight picked up her pace until she was at Jon’s side again. “She’s not a goddess,” said Celestia’s student quickly and with no sense of honesty about her voice at all. “I don’t know who would think that.”

“There’s a group in upstate New York,” volunteered Jon. “They’re a little weird, even for people. A mix of nudists and… um… they dress up,” he added, regretting that he had even opened his mouth.

“Oh,” said Bunnykins and Twilight in almost perfect harmony. It only took three steps before Bunnykins added, “How do they dress up as pegasi?”

“Badly.” Jon tried to walk a little faster. “Look, it’s not really a topic for Sunday.” More like Saturday night after a few beers. “How much further do we need to walk?”

“We’re here.” Bunnykins trotted up to the front door of a magnificent mansion and opened the door for him, continuing once they all had gone inside. “Lord Fancy Pants and Lady di Lis had been staying at their French estate until the recent unpleasantness, so they had permitted the use of Maison de Pantalons for Pastor Shepherd’s services. It is much nicer now that they have returned, but I really hope the humans settle down in the near future and stop their violence.”

The fluffy pink servant cast a sudden nervous glance upwards, as if she feared Jon would take offense at her words, but he could only nod while considering how a human war was only thought of as ‘unpleasantness’ by a pony. As long as it was far away, that is.

If this was just one of Fancy Pants’ estates, he must have been wealthy indeed. It was not really that large compared to the photos he had seen of the Astor or the Rockefeller mansions, and his sense of wealth had been dulled slightly by spending the last few days in Celestia’s humble abode. Still, it was staggering in its own right, and as the four of them (counting the sleeping dragon) walked through the front door without Bunnykins even knocking, he noted the doorways were tall enough that he would not brain himself everywhere, which was a selling point.

“The servants have Sundays off,” explained Bunnykins as she walked across the priceless marble tiles with the tic-tic-tic of silver shoes. “Lord Fancy Pants prefers to—”

“He prefers to be called Fancy,” came a familiar resonant baritone. “Mister Walthers! Young Twilight Sparkle! I had no idea you’d both show up this morning.”

The mustached stallion was practically naked by his usual standards, wearing only a bow tie instead of his regular suit coat and tails, but his warm smile was just as broad as the other times Jon had seen him. After a brisk hoofshake for the human and a brief brushing of the lips across extended forehooves for the young mares, Fancy turned and guided his guests further into the mansion.

Religion had not been a topic of conversation while they had been in Celestia’s presence before, but during the short trip to their destination upstairs, a condensed form of the information flowed. Fancy was actually an Episcopalian, and Fleur French Catholic, which was a little like a Roman Catholic who believed that the Pope should have never left Avignon, and if His Holiness were to regain his senses, he would return to the much more favorable climate at once. Both churches were more than a little fuzzy on the official position of fuzzy four-legged communicants, as were nearly all churches worldwide in various degrees except for the Unitarians.

Upstairs, Jon was a little surprised to find breakfast underway in a smaller dining room with an attached kitchenette. Gathered around the table were a half-dozen smiling ponies, who greeted them as they walked in the door and scooted down to make space. It appeared that most of the guests had brought a potluck dish, although at first glance none of them seemed to have bacon or sausage in them, to Jon’s muted disappointment. There were plenty of other choices, including toast and stewed tomatoes, several varieties of beans, fruit slices beyond measure, and of course the hosts were hard at work with a hot grill.

The scent of pancakes woke up Spike, although he was still a little bleary when he gave a short wave to Fleur di Lis. The fashionable unicorn looked somehow even more equinely stunning when dressed in an apron, and flashed a brilliant smile over her shoulder when Fancy walked into the room with his guests.

“Mon Dieu! I did not expect you to be breaking your fast with us, Docteur Walthers, or we would have purchased some of your human foods.” She scurried over to the table with a stack of browned flapjacks following her, and promptly began reordering the table settings with the speed that only a unicorn could manage. “Mademoiselles and messieurs, this is Docteur Walthers, a historian and professor in friendship studies at the United States capital, and his guest, Lady Twilight Sparkle, a brilliant student to our illustrious monarch. You simply must sit next to Boxcars, because he too is a historian in human railroad technology—”

That was about the only attention Twilight Sparkle received in the process, and she barely managed to get a chair on Jon’s other side while their host continued her introductions. Jon nodded back at the scraggly brown pony who he had been seated beside and put on a polite smile also. Without context and clothing, Jon could not tell if Boxcars was simply a railroad bum or some sort of industrial magnate, and the rest of the ponies at the table were likewise difficult to classify.

“—and to his left, is Green Bean, who runs an agricultural import/export business, and the shy young lady at the end of the table is Nightshade, who works in castle security.”

Jon had to admit to missing a few names around the table as the impact of Nightshade’s fuzzy grey ears and guarded expression soaked into his disbelieving eyes. She was wearing a thin cloak draped across her back to conceal her wings, with a hood up over most of her head to complete the thin disguise, or perhaps sun protection. He had not seen any other batponies in Canterlot, so the odds of having a second Nightshade in the area, and in particular at the table…

“So glad to meet you, Doctor Walthers,” sounded a friendly voice much like a warm foghorn next to Jon’s right ear, which shocked him out of his musing. He admitted to jumping a bit, but the big boxy face of Pastor Shepherd had an unbreakable smile on it, and put him at ease in short order. “I never thought Princess Celestia would allow a human in Canterlot, but when Bunnykins told me of your religion, I immediately asked her to extend an invitation to our little Sunday morning service.”

A general wave of approval swept around the table, although Jon was not certain how much of it was just for him and how much was for the stunning spread of breakfast items. He settled down at his place setting and at least attempted to keep his breakfasting limited, despite an endless parade of fresh fruit and flapjacks smothered in maple syrup and speckled with blueberries.

Shepherd the pegasus pastor, which were two words that Jon never thought he would use in that particular order, was a warm greyish-white with a small square collar and sparkling blue eyes. He introduced his wife Puff, who was helping out at the stove with Fleur, and took extra time to welcome Twilight Sparkle and Spike, who were sulking and swallowing respectivly.

In very short order while eating, Jon found out that the amiable pastor had retired from the Royal Guard quite a few years ago and went straight into a Lutheran seminary, quite nearly to graduation before his equine status had soaked through to the ossified leadership. Despite lacking a degree, Shepherd returned to his home city and proceeded to care for his limited and diverse flock. As congregations went, it was fairly small. The sum total of Christian denominations within the city of Canterlot fit quite neatly around Fancy Pants’ informal dining table, although it was considerably larger than the Equestrian Jewish population, which could not make a Minyan if they all gathered in one spot.

The conversation around the meal was more in-depth than Jon expected, even from a pastor’s table. The topic was the book of Acts, and more specifically, roles each of the major power groups of the area took in the early church. From the Sadducees (who did not believe in an afterlife) and the Roman occupiers (who did, in a way more in line with the Equestrians) to the role the Holy Spirit played in the testimony of Peter and John, it left Jon feeling a little like a barbarian heathen with his dusty memories of youthful ecumenical education. The conversation picked up every time another guest arrived until their group numbered twenty, which Jon considered a very biblical number for a gathering, although far smaller than any church service he had attended so far.

By the time the meal was almost over, Spike awakened enough to become nearly coherent, and Twilight Sparkle was on her third cup of coffee, a thick black brew that Jon feared might require chewing once he reached the bottom of his own cup. The discussion over coffee was a rolling, pleasant thing that lasted long after the dishes had been swept away and washed, eventually winding up in Fancy Pants’ dawn-warmed study for the actual service.

The bay windows were wide open to the morning breeze, giving a mountain-fresh air to the room as they settled on Equestrian cushions. Music was provided by the pastor’s wife Puff on a hoof-pumped harmonium, with the words to the hymns being in the native tongue. It made for odd stanzas and more than one sideways look when he muffed a note or three, but felt very Equestrian and made Jon wish he had brought his camera. The sermon was on the book of Acts, of course, and paralleled the breakfast conversation fairly well. And to Jon’s private amusement in the middle of the multi-denominational service, he thought he could recognize the Lutheran training of the pastor by the Old Testament, New Testament, and Epistle readings. At the end, there was no communion, and with the number of denominations represented, he could understand why.

A question on that topic after the short service was over gave the pastor an opportunity to show some of the Equestrian practicality at work. The blessed host was normally flown in quarterly on the Pan-Am Clipper flying boat from an Irish priest, who also blessed bottles of French wine from Fancy Pants and Fleur’s vineyard. A certain number of those bottles were ‘lost’ during shipping, but since the Canterlot congregation had only been six before Celestia had brought most of the expatriates home, a single bottle could easily last a year or more.

A short post-service prayer was said for all of the Equestrians unable to return to the safety of the homeland, and then the pastor sat down and opened his bible, leading promptly into a free-form theology study with Twilight Sparkle as the instigator, to Jon’s surprise.

Although Jon was hoping she was taking the opportunity to make friends, it turned out that Twilight Sparkle had been moved by the spirit. The spirit of debate, that is. As the only agnostic in the room, or more properly the denying solar neigh-theist, she took it upon herself to disprove God. The resulting conversations were anything but ordinary.

Rather than taking her approach as a reason for reproach, the other ponies joined in with friendly conversation and pet theories that would have sent many human theologians into fits of apoplexy. After all, since Equestrians held that the unicorns once used their magic to raise the sun and moon, they had a hoof-up on Christianity with a different perspective. Shepherd pointed out that Celestia had been quite clear on the point that she was not a god of any sort, and while Twilight acceded on that point, it was fairly plain that she had her own definition.

The concept of Original Sin was brought out and exercised, with a subtext that showed Twilight’s considerable dislike for snakes regardless of their denomination or divine affiliation. The Ten Commandments as a foundation for government followed, being contrasted to Celestia’s Seven Harmonious Suggestions and Starswirl’s Universal Truths of Equanity. The walls of Jericho brought out discussions on seismic instabilities and structural weakness, while the Abrahamic Covenant segued into the far too real events on the European continent and in the Far East. Ancient history proved to be more to the pony discussion group’s liking, although when Jon put in his own theory of the Garden of Eden, he was rapidly shot down by nearly every Equestrian there.

It was a little like having one’s own pet gunned down in the street, instead of just seeing a pet theory murdered.

Jon decided to relax in a nearby sunbeam while reading through a few books on Equestrian folklore to sharpen his wits before rejoining the intellectual fray. It was comfortable, and the Equestrian habit of sitting on floors had the advantage of leaving a horizontal surface in any direction to place his book and reference materials on, so he was content.

He had company, because Spike had wandered off in search of the same warm sunbeam some time earlier, and was comfortably curled up next to a large, dark pillow— No, it was actually Nightshade with her hood pulled down over her eyes and her wings tented over her face. She seemed to be sound asleep, but when Jon got closer, she scooted back a little to make space for him and lifted her wing to give him a place to sit.

It would have been impolite to decline, so Jon made himself comfortable next to his sun-warmed dark pillow and opened up his study materials. He was enjoying the give and take of the conversation, and the way that he was dragged into taking sides. C.S. Lewis had always been a difficult read, but the theological debate had referenced him several times, so it was worth opening a book and trying to gain a little context. He had just gotten down to the bottom of the first chapter when Nightshade shifted under his back and moved her head closer to his side.

“Hey, lovercolt,” she murmured just barely loud enough for Jon to hear. “How’s your friendship studies coming along with Twilight?”

Sparing the table a brief glance to make sure he was not overheard, Jon moved a little lower and pitched his voice down. “Not too bad, I think. She’s making friends… Well…”

As one guest or another had departed for the rest of their Sunday tasks, Jon did not want to notice the way they had left the room, looking over their shoulder as if they were afraid Twilight was going to chase after them to bring on the Holy Equestrian Inquisition. It was just Shepherd and Twilight now, sitting on other sides of a table with several open bibles between them, and Puff traveling back and forth with a coffee pot to refresh their cups.

The arguments had slowed into a polite pattern as the morning had progressed toward noon. Admittedly, Jon was on the side of angels in any theological discussion, and the pastor looked more angelic with the built-in wings. Still, Twilight made some very good skeptical points. Far better points than Jon would be able to counter, in fact.

“Maybe she’s not making friends, per se,” admitted Jon, his head filled with dark thoughts of inadequacy. “After all, there’s just the three of them left, now. The pastor’s wife counts, right? The rest of the congregation… left.”

And they took any chance I had of getting Twilight to make friends with them. God, we’re talking about saving the world here. Is it too much to ask for you to send somebody who knows what they’re doing? Somebody or somepony social, who actually knows what a friend is?

“I’m just glad she’s got you,” admitted Nightshade. “I’ve talked to the other guards. Other than Spike and Celestia, you’re the only creature who likes being with her.”

“I just… feel like I’m failing her,” admitted Jon.

“Don’t take it too hard.” Nightshade nuzzled underneath his tweed jacket and nipped at his side. “Save that for later. You don’t mind this, do you?” she added, slipping just enough out from under the bottom of his suit to give him mournful golden eyes.

“Err…” Jon slipped a bookmark into his book. “Your behavior is a little over the top,” he admitted.

“That’s me. It’s better on top.” She waggled a furry eyebrow. “Look, if you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll go away so some big stallion can guard you.”

“I like it,” he admitted with a second glance at where the pastor and Twilight were deep in conversation. Lowering his voice even more, he added, “Within reason, of course. I just don’t think it’s right to jump into bed with you.”

“Pshaw,” said Nightshade, blowing a warm breath into the side of his shirt. “My hormones were all riled up a couple days ago. I’m better now, and I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Jon gave her a quelling look. Nightshade gave him a look back that was anything but quelling, but after a few moments, her eyes dipped back down. “Does this mean you’re not going to introduce me to your parents?”

Suppressing a giggle, he said, “My parents would have mutual heart attacks.”

“I can be your mare on the side,” she said, somewhat muffled by having her nose pressed against his ribs in a way that made him fight to keep from giggling even more, a fight that he lost. After a brief snort of laughter and a glance at the table to make sure he was not being observed, he settled back down against Nightshade and rested the back of his head on her ribs.

“Don’t you dare,” whispered Nightshade by sticking her nose into his ear, a startling example of the flexibility of Equestrians. “I’m going to fall asleep here in the sunshine so I can be fresh for this evening’s guard duty, and if you fall asleep on top of me, I’m going to have naughty dreams.” She slipped the tip of her tail up against his neck and matched it against the nose-nuzzling she was doing on the other side. “You’re going to get up, and not in that way, you dirty monkey. You and Twilight are going to the zoo. There’s a picnic basket shop down by the lake on the way so you can pick up some food and a guard contingent there. Take some time, spend the afternoon relaxing, and—”

“Help her make some friends,” inserted Jon. “Lord, help us.”

* * ✹ * *

Conspiracy and Coincidence both started with the same letters, which made them similar enough to be mistaken for each other in a bad light. In the middle of sunny Canterlot with a store that not only rented picnic baskets but also filled them, and which also ‘coincidentally’ had the makings for a proper tuna fish sandwich with relish and mayo…

Complaining (another word starting the same way) would not be productive, so Jon complied with Nightshade’s suggestion, paid for the picnic lunch with the coin purse that had conveniently been slipped into his suit pocket, and set his course for the Canterlot zoo, with a reluctant Twilight Sparkle and an energetic Spike. He did not have to explain his sudden urge to see the animals, because from the distracted look on Twilight’s face (and occasional comments), she was busy converting her thesis on the Oz Murderfest into a paper on Original Sin.

Twilight’s obvious premise was that ponies did not suffer from that same inherent spiritual malady, but could be bent to sin on their own, and since Celestia was pure and sinless, what she said was to be taken as Gospel. Jon countered by bringing up how Celestia always talked about letting her little ponies make their own decisions, which Twilight counter-countered by pointing out how God wanted Men to make their own decisions too, only the right decisions instead of the sinful ones.

Jon considered the argument while paying for their zoo admission and strolling into the sculpted paths that filled the area, trying to ignore the smug unicorn following behind. It was no wonder she had problems making friends if the hard-headed intransigence she had displayed over the last few days was typical. Obviously, attempting to change her mind by direct confrontation was a bust, but maybe he could wear her down by showing the advantages of friendship.

Of course, that was going to be harder than Twilight’s head.

At this rate, he was going to need a vacation from what he had originally thought was a vacation. At least the zoo offered a pleasant distraction from his worries. Whoever had designed the landscaping was an aesthetic genius, with smooth curving pathways that made the exhibits seem to be widely separated, open and welcoming locations for the animals that allowed far more interaction with the visitors than any human zoo, and even aerial signage and landing places for the pegasus population so they could flit around without being caged by the trees and bushes. There were no larger carnivores like lions or tigers, and far more birds than he expected, all kinds and colors that boggled the mind.

They had their lunch at a picnic table with an awning, because one side-effect of having so many birds was the aftereffect of bird feeding. Thankfully, being surrounded by so much wildlife had muted Twilight’s theological bent. Unthankfully, it had been replaced by an ornithological treatise on each of the species she could identify, along with an expressed longing to return to the castle library for help classifying the rest. And about half-way through lunch as Jon was finishing off the last delicious tuna fish sandwich, the interruption he had expected happened.

“Twilight!” Princess Cadence came galloping up to their table with a happy squeal, matched by Twilight Sparkle jumping off her seat to meet her. After some sort of silly dance that involved waving their rumps in the air, the two grinning mares dropped into the picnic table seats next to Jon.

“Mister Walthers,” she gushed, “what a pleasant surprise! Shining Armor and I were just out for an afternoon walk and we saw you two over here. How have you been finding our city?”

“Just fine, Your— I mean Cadence,” he quickly qualified at the young alicorn’s sharp, but still pleasant glance. “We just walked outside the castle and there it was.”

“Hello, sis.” Shining Armor strolled up to the table, giving his sister a gentle mane-ruffle, Spike a high-hoof, and Jon a guarded glance. The young guard was not in armor, but he was wearing a formal military jacket and bore signs of recent stringent scrubbing that left just a tinge of a familiar scent wafting from his dark blue mane and tail. The concept of inherited color among Equestrians was almost laughable, with orange pegasi giving birth to violet unicorn foals and the like, but there was a sense of similarity between the two unicorns that was easy to catch. Shining Armor had placed himself into a blocking position, much as the shield of his cutie mark indicated, and Jon felt a little better at not wearing his revolver under his jacket today.

In fact, both revolver and shoulder holster had vanished once Jon had fallen asleep that first night, which he had not really had time to think about. Why that had come to mind now was still a mystery, but he kept his smile, even when Cadence showed them where the zoo’s lovebirds had made their nest and after Shining Armor insisted on a side-trip to the monkey house.

It was well over an hour later while Shining Armor had taken Cadence and Spike to feed the ducks before Jon had an opportunity to talk privately with Twilight. Trying to start the conversation off on a light note, he casually remarked, “There are times today I’ve wondered if the zoo is for the benefit of the ponies to look at all the creatures, or to let the critters all watch the ponies.”

Twilight chortled. “Last time we were here, the zookeepers tried to catch Spike. They thought he had escaped his enclosure.”

The laughter was contagious. “Did he bite anypony?” asked Jon.

“No.” Twilight got more serious. “Actually, I did in the resulting scuffle. It was an accident, and he didn’t even need any stitches, but I was a little worried that the staff wasn’t going to let us in today.”

Jon was just the least bit suspicious that Twilight was pulling his leg, but he kept a straight face and watched the ducks swimming around, chasing the food pellets that Spike was throwing. It occurred to him that the mountain zoo was actually more of a vacation home for the animals where they could interact with their strange four-hooved neighbors in relative safety. It also explained the relative lack of carnivores. The period of silent contemplation had obviously included Twilight, because she heaved out a long sigh while keeping an eye on Spike.

“Sometimes, I feel like the animals in this zoo,” she admitted. “I get all tied up inside with what everypony wants me to do and I just want to curl up in a corner with a book until the stars come out and the world goes away.” Twilight stifled a small sniff on Jon’s pant leg. “I’m such a selfish pony. No wonder nopony likes me.”

Spike took that moment to come bounding up to them, babbling about the baby ducklings in the pond. Twilight dismissed him with a promise to come over in a few minutes to look and sent him running back with a fresh handful of duck food out of the feeder nearby. Jon tried his best to give the departing dragon a meaningful look and turned back to Twilight.

“Of course he likes me,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I hatched him. He thinks I’m his mother.”

“And your parents,” said Jon.

“They want grandfoals.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “They keep asking if I’ve found a stallion.”

“Cadence and your brother,” said Jon.

She brightened up with sparkles in her eyes and a happy smile. Alas, it was not to last, because Twilight proceeded to wilt like week-old lettuce in the face of reality. “They’re always so busy. I hadn’t even seen Shining Armor this month because he was off at some sort of secret training, and Cadence…”

“An alicorn is a hard role model to live up to,” said Jon. “And you’re been trying to live up to two of them. What about your study group in school?”

“They’re… nice, I suppose. I’ll have to introduce you to them. Just don’t get weirded out if Lyra licks your fingers or something bizzare like that. Some of them have moved away and left me, too.”

“Friends do that,” admitted Jon with a shrug. “The answer is to make more friends.”

“Oh, cool!” A small pegasus colt with a brilliant blue mane swept down out of the sky and hovered in front of the duck food dispenser, gazing at Jon with awestruck eyes. “Hey, Thunderlane! Come here and give me a bit for the food machine!”

“Wait up, little bro! Hey!” A brown pegasus stallion dropped down next to the little colt and gave Jon a cautious look. “You’re not an exhibit, are you?”

“No, just enjoying the day at the zoo,” said Jon. He got out a golden bit and stuck it into the machine, becoming an instant hero to the little colt who caught the duck food pellets in his forehooves.

“Thanks, mister! Do you want one before I go feed the ducks? Oh, okay. Thanks again!” The little colt buzzed off like a caffeinated hummingbird, leaving his older brother standing somewhat awkwardly nearby.

Before Jon could say anything, Twilight gave the pegasus a sharp look, most likely because of him interrupting their discussion, and let out a sigh once the young stallion had taken off to chase after his brother. “I just don’t know where to find new friends,” she said with a low moan. “It’s impossible.”

Jon took a look at the handsome departing pegasus and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s a mystery.”

- Ω - -

After a long day of theological and zoological exploration, Jon still felt fairly perky while they walked back to the castle. Thankfully, the zoo staff had not thrown himself and Spike back into an exhibit, but it had taken an administrator to wave them through the exit.

If I had been stuck in there, at least I might have a bathtub I could fit into.

It was nearing shift change when they walked in a side door of the castle. The staff all nodded and said “Good evening” to Jon, which was better than the piercing shriek one of the young foals had given out at the zoo when he loomed around a corner faster than the young pony had expected. He smiled and nodded back at the passing servants, giving a sharp prod to Twilight Sparkle at his side in order to get her nose out of the zoo brochure she had brought along and similarly greet the friendly ponies headed home.

Just about the time Jon was considering how to slip by the kitchens and grab some leftovers for dinner, a unicorn mare came trotting up to them. The castle staffpony was obviously still at work because she was carrying a clipboard and a stiff attitude. She also seemed to have a chip on her shoulder, which showed in the clipped tones she used when addressing Twilight and Jon.

“Good evening, Lady Sparkle. Doctor Walthers. Spike.” The unicorn used her magic to press back a strand of her chocolate brown mane that was threatening to escape from the tight bun on top of her head. “You’re late. Princess Celestia is waiting on you in her private wireless room.”

Spike promptly flattened on Twilight’s back, putting both stubby arms as far around her neck as he could reach and locking his legs on either side of her barrel.

“What does she—” managed Jon before Twilight Sparkle shot away, dragging him along with her magic much as if a giant mitten had been clamped around his torso. He skidded along the marble tiles, barely able to get one foot or another down before Twilight would abruptly change direction to make a corner or head up a set of stairs. It was only by the smallest margin that he avoided being smacked into the doorframe when Twilight burst into a small room with a single table and the scratchy hissing of a wireless set in the background.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “We spent too much time at the monkey house but they were chasing each other around and Spike was laughing and they were just being fed when—”

“Twilight.” Celestia did not raise her voice in the slightest, but Twilight Sparkle stopped talking so quickly that Jon could swear he heard her teeth click together. “Please be seated. Doctor Walthers, if you would be seated here.”

Spike had anticipated the request and was already climbing up into his chair, which was taller than a regular pony pillow since the table likewise was further up in the air than regular pony furniture. Jon settled down in his chair while Twilight climbed up into hers with such enthusiasm that she almost pulled the tablecloth off.

“You have not missed much,” said Celestia calmly. “Just the theme and one hymn. Eggplant?” A spoon descended into the uncovered dish in the center of the table and emerged with a cheesy dripping piece of the cooked vegetable in question. Jon moved his plate underneath it by reflex, and proceeded to fill the rest of his plate with the other vegetables on the table before Her Highness could offer him a second helping.

Twilight regarded the yellowish squash on her plate much like Dracula might look on the cross. She moved it to one side and served herself a goodly amount of sweet potato before Jon realized the voices speaking in the background were from a church radio program, and a few more minutes before he recognized the speakers.

“The Lutheran Hour, Your Highness?” he asked. “I had no idea you were a theist.”

“Oh. Well.” Celestia hid her feigned embarrassment behind a large bite of cheesy eggplant. “I had intended to surprise you with something familiar this evening, since you are so far from home. I’ve often listened to Doctor Maier in the evenings and find his sermons robust examples of fundamentalist Christianity. We correspond, and he sends me the albums they use for the program weekly.”

“Albums? You mean phonograph records?” Although Jon had turned to face Celestia, he could still see Twilight out of the corner of his eye, and it appeared from her anguished expression that the upcoming paper ‘Humans Are Icky Creatures with Original Sin’ was going up in metaphorical flames as they talked.

“Oh, yes.” Celestia chortled into her food for a moment as she continued eating. “I have a full collection, as well as most of the albums produced by Vatican radio and their transcripts.” Her expression flickered for a moment, and Jon could see an immense sadness behind those violet eyes. “His Holiness tried so hard to make peace, but in the end the wolves took over and now threaten to devour his sheep if he raises his voice beyond what they wish. Imprisoned in an ivory tower with no escape, and yet if he did manage to flee, there would be no reason for the Germans to remain outside the walls of the Vatican as they have so far.”

Jon lifted his glass out of some deep sense of responsibility to speak up for his species. “To peace and freedom for all under your sun, Your Highness.”

“You speak of two different things, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia was looking straight at him, but she had her glass of sparkling apple juice likewise lifted. “Freedom does not create peace in its wake, but rather war.”

“Then let there be war,” he said, “for peace without freedom is a terrible thing. And when the war is over, let peace rule alongside freedom forever.”

- Ω - -

The rest of the meal, along with the radio program, proceeded much less dramatically. With no servants or other guests, the light conversation wandered across the zoo visit and Princess Cadence’s interactions, as well as funding for civil improvements and comments on atmospheric conditions that were causing the radio program to fade in and out. There were even a few words exchanged about the radio sermon when Celestia criticized the interpretation the minister was using for a prophecy of Daniel, Jon attempted to disagree, and wound up being put in his place by a full recitation of the verses in question in the original Aramaic, a correct translation, and a contextual analysis of the differences. It was fascinating on many levels to hear Celestia lecture, and by the time Jon finished the last crumbs of his cake, he was feeling a lot better about the day, and Twilight had quit twitching.

It was almost magical, the way Celestia’s presence brought peace to his nerves, and Jon hesitated to think of what Twilight Sparkle would have been like without her presence. After all, the smallish unicorn was so tense she could have been used as a guitar string most of the time. And yet, that same sense of majesty and tranquility must have been unbearably irritating to Celestia’s younger sister who found herself being measured by her divine rule, held in her shadow, and forever relegated to being the lesser light in the sky. Merely banishing Nightmare Moon and restoring Luna would not end the issue. It would take as much work or more than lifting the sun and moon to restore the stressed bonds of so long ago, and if Twilight Sparkle were actually to accomplish what Celestia desired, Jon only wished he could remain afterwards to watch the conflict resolution unfold. But no, that was highly unlikely. Once the Royal Sisters were reunited, Jon would share the fate of biblical Adam and be ejected from the garden, leaving Equestria enshrined in the fog of myths and legends for as long as humans played their games of war, which is to say forever.

“It is a pleasure to have you as a guest in my home,” said Celestia, scooting her cushion back and standing up, which was an unmistakable sign that the dinner was over. “It is my sincerest wish that we do this again next week, only I would like to bring an additional guest.”

“Oh, who is it?” asked Twilight with suddenly perked up ears. “Another teacher? Or a historian? Or—”

“It will be a surprise, Twilight,” chided Celestia gently. “Now, please go take your bath and go to bed. And don’t forget Spike,” she added when the little dragon let out a yawn. Celestia watched as the mismatched pair scurried out of the room, paused long enough to make sure they were not listening at the door, then turned to Jon. “Mister Walthers. Any progress in friendship?”

“One moment.” Jon went to look out the door, then came back, shaking his head. “God only knows, and he’s not telling.”

“Mister Walthers,” said Celestia in the calmest of voices, “in my experience, one generally has to ask for information such as that. So with that in mind, have you or my student made any new friends today?”

“There’s a little pegasus colt who I think wants to take me home and keep me in his backyard,” admitted Jon. “A couple of very confused monkeys in the zoo who were just fascinated about how I managed to get out of the cage. And I met Shining Armor.” A set of silent facts clicked into place in his head, and Jon added, “Does your guard use guns, Ma’am? Because he smelled just slightly of cordite.”

Celestia’s horn glowed briefly, and Jon was fairly sure a security spell had just been thrown over the room. Apparently, there were limits to asking for information. “That is none of your business, Lieutenant Walthers.”

“That’s not a no,” said Jon, “but it is a good sign that I should shut my yap. Right?”

Celestia gave a slow nod. “I will not lie to you, Mister Walthers. But that does not mean you should know everything.”

“That’s your job, I suppose,” mused Jon. “Still, if you knew everything, you wouldn’t be in this situation. I mean having to rely on a human to teach your student about friendship, that is.” Jon shrugged. “I can’t even get her to take a bath.”

“My student bathes every evening.” The sincerity in Celestia’s expression wavered, but she did not contradict herself when Jon gave an involuntary sniff.

“I smell like a zoo too, I suppose. If I may be excused, Your Highness, I think I’m going to try to take a bath myself.”

Celestia gestured with a wingtip. “You may go.”

- ☾ - -

The castle at night was warm lamplight and cold shadows, small islands of safety with oceans of unknown. It made Jon wish he had brought his flashlight when he first left the room in the pre-dawn murk, even if he would have been dragging it all over town. Taking a unicorn along had been a good idea, but Twilight was not very portable, and she had wandered back to her room already. Unicorns were the Swiss Army Knife of ponies, able to provide light or open a can or probably even find their way back to a room without blundering up and down the corridors. It would be nice to have that kind of power. Then again, he would look awfully funny with a horn sticking out of his head.

About the time Jon decided it was more interesting to explore the darkened hallways, which were about as safe as anything he had ever found in Equestria so far, he found a familiar intersection that led to his suite. Without a unicorn to provide light or a ball of string to unwind after him, further exploration of the castle would only wind up with him getting lost again and winding up in some darkened hallway waiting for the morning shift to come in and point the way back to where he was now.

So he strolled up to his doorway, and the lone pegasus on guard there. Numbering the rooms would have made it easier in the darkened corridor to identify exactly which of them was his. Instead, every room in the castle was labeled in precise Equestrian text like ‘Sunflower Rain’ or ‘Gloomy Skies,’ which provided absolutely no navigation help at all. If he had to make a guess, the rooms were each memorials for some sort of politician or diplomat lost to history, immortalized in gold leaf letters and an embossed cutie mark.

“Good evening, sir,” said Jon. The guard did not respond, of course, but he was just ever so slightly shorter than the other other guards Jon had seen so far, and held his… that is her wings far too rigidly for them to be the feathery appendages they were supposed to be. Jon slipped one hand under the thin steel plates that were supposed to protect the guard’s neck and rubbed up against the knots concealed beneath. The resulting smile helped him think, and Nightshade gave a quiet grunt while he massaged the knots into submission.

“It’s been another heck of a day,” admitted Jon to the mute guard. “All kinds of things I never expected to find here. A church. A zoo. Ducks, for some reason. I met Shining Armor, did I mention I met Shining Armor?” he asked, receiving only another grunt in reply. “Wonderful stallion. I understand he’s the youngest Captain of the Household Regiment in several centuries. Oh, and I had dinner with Twilight Sparkle and Princess Celestia again, only this time we listened to the Lutheran Hour on the wireless set. A day full of unexpected events indeed.”

The guard did not respond, although Jon began to get a chill in his gut. “You’re not Nightshade, are you?”

“No, sir,” said the guard in a pleasant tenor while craning his neck forward. “A little higher, please. I’m not used to the armor. I don’t know how the regular guard manages this every day.”

“You’re not a Royal Guard?” asked Jon, although while rubbing higher on the stallion’s neck as requested.

“Nosir,” said the guard with another grunt. “I’m an actor still in school. My guard name’s Green Mountain, a sixth year in Education. We’re filling in for the guards on a temporary basis, and getting pretty good money for it too. That doesn’t bother you, does it sir?”

“Not… really.” Jon thought back to Shining Armor and the scent of cordite in his mane, which made him take a surreptitious sniff of the actor/temp who only smelled of jasmine and the faint scent of old beer. Really, he was not sure what could be proven if the school stallion smelled of gunpowder weapons, so he continued while rubbing his neck, “I’m sure they’re doing something important, and I can’t think of anybody who would want to attack me.”

Other than whoever put a firebomb into the flying boat’s gasoline tank, but they should be thousands of miles away.

“Thank you, sir.” The guard/actor straightened up and shook out his neck to rearrange his armor with a clatter, leaving Jon to take a step back. “Is there anything else we can do for you tonight?”

“That has a whole different context coming from you rather than who I expected to find here,” mused Jon.

“Sir?” asked the guard in a deeper pleasant baritone that contrasted with his baffled look.

“Never mind, Mister Green Mountain,” said Jon. “Is there anything I can do for you instead?”

“Not really,” said the guard. “We were getting a little worried that you had not shown up yet. The guard on Sunstroke at the Secondary Wireless Room reported you were on the way here quite some time ago.”

“Got lost,” admitted Jon with a yawn. “I better get to bed, then. Tomorrow morning is going to arrive far too early, so I’m going to take a bath and crash.”

The guard looked as if he were going to object, but settled back into his guarding pose and allowed Jon to go into his dark rooms. A flick of the light switch lit up the diamond chandelier in the bedroom with a soft warm glow, just like it would have in a human hotel with a penchant for dramatic overspending. He untied his shoes and dropped them by the door before peeling out of the rest of his clothes on the way to the bedroom closet. Everything still vaguely smelled of zoo, so he draped the clothes over a low Equestrian chair and turned for the bathroom, which from the humidity and scent of soap had a bath all ready for him to drop his naked body into.

He did not expect the bathroom to be occupied by a similarly naked pony.

Before he could even reach the bathroom door, it popped open in a puff of warm air and a damp batpony darted out into his bedroom, right up to where he was standing. “Mister Walthers, I didn’t know you cared.” Using her wings, Nightshade popped up just far enough to brush her lips across his bristly chin before landing on the tile floor again and tossing him the damp towel. “Eww, stinky monkey. Go take a bath. I’d stay and corrupt your morals, but I’ve got duty in about now. Get my hind legs, please.”

One damp furry thigh was nearly pushed into Jon’s face as the slender batpony fairly did a handstand, or forehoofstand more accurately, and waved the shapely appendage in his direction. After a quick toweling to dry each of them, Nightshade slipped into her armor in several brisk motions and vanished out the front door to take up her motionless guarding pose, with only minor tail-wagging in his direction that could just have been to finish drying her tail. Well, probably not, with as high as she was carrying it.

“She’s got the world’s shortest commute,” he muttered. “I guess I’ll have to put up with damp towels for my bath. And hair in the tub,” he added after a look in the soapy water.

He could not help but think of the flirty batpony while bathing in the same soapy water she had just used. There was a hidden sense of desperation in her actions that fit uncomfortably with what Celestia had shown him about Germany’s chemical weapons programs. Undoubtedly what she had been through with the dead earth pony chemist was tying her up inside, and the absence of her previous human partner left her with nopony to talk to about her grief. Which left an unsuitable human for her, a man with an advanced degree in not understanding what ponies were about at all, and who had been hijacked into teaching friendship, a subject for which he had even less talent.

Perhaps she’s as odd a duck as I am here.

After due consideration and sufficient bubble bath, his situation was actually not all that bad, and once Jon had finished his bath, he—

“Oh, now this is too much,” he muttered. Taking the offending instrument, he stalked in the direction of the suite door, doubled back to wrap a towel around his waist, then returned to the front door and opened it with deliberate intent.

“Miss Nightshade,” he began. “I do not begrudge you the convenience of a bath when I am not using my tub. Likewise, the use of my towels, because there are enough in the bathroom to dry a battalion. But this?” He produced his toothbrush, still damp and frazzled. “There are some things a man should not share. Please replace it.”

One of the two identical pegasus guards looked aghast. The other giggled. Turning to the culprit, Jon handed over his abused toothbrush and gently patted her on the helmet.

Then he returned to his suite, got a dry pair of boxer shorts, and slipped beneath the bedcovers for a dreamless night of slumber.

9. Chariots on Fire

Equestria : 1940
Monday 17 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“And Elisha prayed, and said, LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the LORD opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw. And behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.”
— 2 Kings 6:17

* * ✹ * *

Jon was starting to get used to his four-legged alarm clocks who went off far earlier than the wind-up one he had brought with him. This morning as the sleep faded slowly from his eyes, there was a mottled black and white Appaloosa unicorn standing by the bed. He did not appear to be attempting to wake Jon, but was doing something with his mouth that made an annoying click-click-click noise while looking off in a different direction, much as if the human was just ignorable furniture. It gave Jon a moment to get a better look at the servant, who was wearing one of the half-a-shirt dickeys that gave him enough space to put on a bow tie and a pocket, but little else. The whole synergistic feel of the outfit and the color pattern of the stallion, which gave him dark patches around his eyes like a racoon, made Jon wake up faster than he had expected, just to make sense of the odd pony.

As if to upset all of his first impressions, the pony turned out to be more of a pale washed-out blue than actually white, with the blotches on his coat only being around his eyes, one off-center stripe around his barrel, and one around most of an ankle, quite un-like any Appaloosa Jon had ever seen before. A second, longer look could not spot a horn under the unkempt brownish tangled mane that covered from the top of his head down to his curled-up tail, but it did give Jon a persistent itch for a currycomb and a manebrush to tame that mess. Even his cutie mark of a painting needed fixed, since it was not even centered right on his rump, and tilted to one side as if it had been applied by a poor tattoo artist.

“Excuse me,” said Jon. “Are you—”

“Schadenfreude,” said the young stallion, stopping his annoying mouth-clicking long enough to turn around and stick a hoof out to be shaken. “Butler, pony about town, and personal servant to His Highness, Prince Blueblood. He has extended an invitation to you this morning to dine with His Highness and assist on a project to bring the human and pony worlds closer together. Shall we be off?”

“Uhm…” Jon checked again under the bedsheets to make sure his boxer shorts were still on, then looked at the closet where his clothes had been stored, even the rumpled tweeds that he had dropped over a chair last night and were most probably already laundered and waiting.

“Oh, where are my manners, sir. Here, let me help you with getting dressed.”

Jon had always wanted a butler. He soon changed his mind.

If the truth were told, Schadenfreude was more of an anti-butler. He insisted that His Highness, the Pony Prince of whatever, would be most displeased if his human guest was not dressed in the most formal of attire, with every accoutrement. That meant his finest cream shirt with mother-of-pearl studs, a woven silk tie in Equestrian colors that Schadenfreude produced from his saddlebags, and a set of braces for his dress slacks that Jon could swear had gotten tied into a knot behind his back somehow. The cummerbund fit only loosely, while the cuffs of his shirt shrunk while Schadenfreude ‘helped’ until the golden cufflinks could barely connect.

The servant’s ‘assistance’ in the dressing process included such services as poking Jon with the tie pin just hard enough not to draw blood, leaving a little fleck of plastic somewhere in the back of his shirt collar that scratched like a nail whenever he relaxed, then ‘helping’ to get his collar fastened by stressing the top button. Thankfully, Jon managed to break the thread on the button and breathe before he passed out, covering the resulting relative comfort with his borrowed (and itchy) tie.

Then it was time for his shoes, which made Jon regret that he could not just go barefoot like the rest of the natives.

Supposedly, Schadenfreude’s inexperience with shoes and socks led him to confuse the order in which they were supposed to be worn, then he managed to get one sock tangled into a balled-up mass that cramped Jon’s toes in the bottom of the shoe while the other sock had somehow developed a hole in the heel that he only noticed after he stood up.

By the time he was ready to leave his room, Jon was restraining himself from snapping at the ‘helpful’ servant by only a thin thread. A faint popping noise from his jacket hinted that even that last thread was going to have a limited lifespan.

Then the front door to his suite swung open and a familiar armored batpony stumbled inside, blinking in the light. She swung her head from side to side with her eyes closed, then began to stumble forward with hesitant steps until she fairly placed a damp noseprint onto Jon’s clean cummerbund.

“Gotta geup,” mumbled Nightshade. “Something, somthin Royal Prince, I think.”

There was a distinct odor of fresh outside air around the sweaty pegasus, who had obviously been flying in the pre-dawn gloom because there were moths stuck to the front of her armor and a few bits of leaf matter in her mane. Little rivlets of foamy perspiration were dripping off her armored flanks, making tiny puddles on the granite floor tiles and onto Jon’s glossy black shoes. He was probably going to be late for his pre-dawn meeting with Equestrian royalty, but Jon hesitated at just abandoning the tired guard.

“Are you off work?” he asked.

Nightshade nodded in the middle of a toothy yawn, perhaps in the affirmative or maybe just from fatigue. “Had to fly extra patrols to cover,” she muttered. “I’m fine. Headed home.”

“First things first.” Taking her lack of resistance as a positive, he steered her into the bathroom with Schadenfreude right behind and nudged her in the direction of the bathtub. It took far less time for Jon to kick out of his shoes and throw his suit jacket into the other room than it did for him to have gotten dressed in the first place, but it was the only way to keep his suit reasonably clean while he did what needed to be done.

Despite not expecting to do this particular task, ever.

Jon had never bathed the family dog, mostly because the family had never owned a dog, but while wearing only his pants and wielding the pony scrub brush in both hands, it was much as he had once imagined bathing a Great Dane. Well, other than peeling off Nightshade’s bug-splattered armor and giving the pieces a quick scrub with a damp washcloth. The exhausted batpony slept through most of it, except the cold-water rinse, and yawned during the whole vigorous toweling afterwards.

“Y’don’t have to do this,” she muttered. “It was a long, hard night—” She snickered, rubbing her damp mane up against Jon’s bare side.

“I don’t need the tub this morning,” insisted Jon while giving a few damp spots an extra wipe. “And you told me that your home is all the way across Canterlot, so you probably would have wound up passed out on a roof somewhere between here and there. Hop up into bed while I’m gone and try not to scare the maids.”

After a short stagger across the bedroom floor, Jon managed to boost the heavy batpony up into his recently occupied bed and pull the covers down so she would not get tangled up in them. The snores started before he even got turned around to find his discarded suit and start getting dressed again, but there was something else that drew his attention first.

“Just getting your camera ready, sir.” Schadenfreude worked the film advance lever and squinted at Jon through the viewfinder. “Say cheesecake.”

Jon grabbed for the tangled sheet to throw over the naked batpony guard before the camera went ‘Click!’

“How are you managing to do that with hooves instead of—” Click.

“At least let me get my shirt on—” Click.

“Lying on the floor will not get you a better angle while I’m getting dress—” Click.

“Somepony get the door before—” Click.

Jon stalked over to the suite door with his shirt half-buttoned and peered out, only to see a very curious Twilight Sparkle peering back at thim. “Oh, good,” she said with a relieved expression. “You need to get dressed the rest of the way. Prince Blueblood wanted to see us this morning and— Oh. Schadenfreude.”

The camera clicked again before the pony holding it worked the film advance. “Just go ahead and act like I’m not even here,” said Schadenfreude, aiming the viewfinder again. “Oh, yeah. Work it, baby.”

The damp lump on Jon’s bed stirred, and Twilight’s alert eyes naturally moved to examine the sleeping batpony, then those violet eyes moved back to him, standing there in nothing but his damp slacks and a half-fastened shirt. “Oh,” she said.

“It’s not what you think,” said Jon with a quick look at where Spike was yawning on Twilight’s back. “She’s nocturnal, so she’s going to sleep here during the day. After I gave her a bath. While I’m at Prince Blueblood’s. Once I get my clothes back on. So we can leave. With Schadenfreude. Let me…”

Schadenfreude held up his black suit jacket again. “Let’s get you to your meeting with the prince, sir.”

- Ω - -

The trip down the stairs with Schadenfreude in the lead and Twilight following behind was tense, but quiet. Not completely silent, of course. There was the click of their silver horseshoes and clunk of Jon’s best dress lace-up shoes to make noise, even if it was not able to break the judgemental, supercilious silence that Twilight was emitting. It was amazing how much the young unicorn could say by not saying anything at all. All in all, Jon would have preferred some extraneous, smug chatter during their short walk that did not come from Schadenfreude.

At first, Jon thought they were going to have to visit Twilight Sparkle’s room to get her an appropriate dress for meeting the prince too, but Schaden (as he insisted on being called) proclaimed that His Highness, Prince Blueblood preferred mares without clothes, insisting that the raw beauty of the bare feminine form was exceeded by nothing else.

Twilight almost bolted back to her rooms at that. Instead, she set her jaw and continued to escort her teacher all the way outside of the castle to where a gleaming white carriage awaited in all of its ostentatious luxury.

It was beautiful full coach done in shades of blinding white and pure gold with a gem-encrusted Blueblood crest plastered on the doors, and being pulled by four identical earth pony stallions in more elaborate outfits than the Royal Guards. The cloth uniforms reminded Jon of the outfits that a hotel doorman would wear, made as complicated and colorful as possible in order to emphasize the importance of the passengers they were transporting. Perhaps they were a household regiment or local honor guard instead of the resolute fierceness of the official armored Royal Guards. Whatever they were, they all kept to their places in the traces with perfectly impassive faces as Jon opened the carriage door.

“Beauty before brawn,” said Jon, cringing a little after hearing himself.

“Thank you,” said Schadenfreude, who slipped through the open door like a weasel after a chicken.

“Likewise,” said Spike as he hopped off Twilight’s back and scurried up the carriage steps.

“I don’t know why we’re taking the carriage,” groused Twilight Sparkle, but she gave a low grumbling noise and climbed inside, followed by Jon.

“It’s only polite,” said Jon as the carriage began to roll before he even could get comfortably seated and check his suit for any specks of dust. “After all, the prince sent the carriage for us, so—”

“Oh, I had the carriage brought around,” said Schadenfreude. “I hate to walk. And we’re here,” he said as they stopped. With one hop, he was out the door and on the way up a second set of steps.

“I told you.” Twilight Sparkle stepped out of the carriage and followed their annoying guide. “All we needed to do was to take the connecting corridor. It’s shorter than going outside.”

Spike followed behind her, giving a shrug. “Hey, I like to ride too.”

This left Jon alone in the carriage, trying to figure out where the day had taken such a strange turn. And it was just barely dawn, too. He stepped outside carefully, regarded the place where they had gotten onto the carriage just a few dozen feet away, then turned to the four impassive stallions.

“Don’t look at us,” said one of them quickly. “We get paid, and we’re good with it.”

“It’s a living,” said another with a shrug.

Jon took another look at their starting spot, close enough that he could have walked this distance in less time than it took to climb in and out of the carriage, then hustled up the stairs to follow his escorts. Once back inside the castle, Schadenfreude had picked up his pace to more of a gallop, leaving Jon to scurry along behind as fast as the seams in his stressed suit coat could handle. Up stairs and down corridors they ran with Jon close behind. He could barely hear the pops and snaps of expensive stressed thread over his laboring breath until he came around a corner and almost ran into the two ponies he was chasing.

“There you are.” A noble white unicorn who could only be the prince looked up from a breakfast tray in the nearby sunlit morning nook, taking in the appearance of his sweaty visitors with a twitch of subdued frustration. “Schadenfreude, I told you that Twilight Sparkle and her pet were not needed.”

“Hey!” objected Spike before being muffled by Twilight’s forehoof.

“Whoops,” said Schadenfreude. “Sorry, Your Highness.”

“And what are they doing here? Get the human down to the carriage house at once. I want to go driving this evening.” The prince returned to his breakfast, genteelly lifting a spoonful of fresh strawberries, cubed into perfect slices and glistening with milk and sugar.

“It’s good to meet you, Prince Blueblood,” panted Jon before his exhausted mind could get fully wrapped around his rather abrupt introduction to the prince.

“Yes, yes,” said Blueblood through a mouthful of fruit, waving the empty spoon at his guests. “Now get to work. The new parts just showed up this week, and the last mechanics left the place in a terrible mess.”

“Breakfast?” asked Jon with a hopeful look at the small table.

“Yes, it is,” said Blueblood gruffly. “Now be off with you! And take that miserable servant! Shoo! Back, you beast! Out! Out!” he added, swatting a hoof at Spike, who had reached up onto the table for a piece of toast.

Twilight Sparkle looked as if she were going to object, but Jon nudged her back up the corridor, pulling Spike along behind him with Schadenfreude trotting ahead of them all. They made it past two corners before Jon let go of Spike’s hand and grabbed onto Schadenfreude’s swaying tail.

“Just a minute, sir,” said Jon politely, although without releasing his firm grip. “Prince Blueblood wanted me to work on his carriage?”

“It’s actually an automobile, sir.” Schadenfreude moved his back legs which no longer touched the granite tiles of the hallway, but Jon was not finished.

“And you had me dress up in my best suit so I could crawl around on the floor of some dusty garage, working on a greasy car without breakfast?”

“Low blood sugar?” asked Schadenfreude with a plaintive look over his shoulder.

Jon winched Schadenfreude’s hindquarters another fraction off the ground. “I need a stick.”

“Wait a minute,” called out Twilight. “Spike is too young to be exposed to such violence.” She put a hoof over the young dragon’s eyes and floated a decorative sword down off the nearby wall, placing it firmly hilt-first into Jon’s hand. “There we go. Try not to get too much blood on the carpets. They’re imported.”

After regarding the sword for a moment, Jon gave the annoying servant an evaluating poke. “I take it you’ve dealt with Mister Schaden before, Miss Twilight?”

“Twice,” admitted Schadenfreude with the speed of a cornered rat. “I rearranged the books in her private library and replaced all the coffee in her section of the castle with decaf Sanka.”

“That was you?” Twilight lit up her horn and gave Schadenfreude a frown that could have curdled nonfat coffee creamer.

“I brought Mister Walthers a set of dungarees and a cotton shirt from his closet,” said Schadenfreude rather rapidly. “And I’ll go get you all breakfast, with real coffee.”

- Ω - -

It may have been considered bribery or some form of extortion, but it got Jon breakfast, so he was willing to bend the rules a little. Once they had reached the carriage house, Schadenfreude doubled back and vanished, leaving Jon and Twilight in a sea of opened crates and automotive parts scattered around. A little poking revealed a flame-red automobile under a dusty tarp, or at least most of one. The missing engine was most probably inside one of the wooden crates, and after a few speculative examinations of random parts, manuals, and tools, it seemed… remotely possible to get it together for an evening drive.

“A Cord roadster,” mused Jon as he pulled the tarp off the car and regarded the sleek lines of the shining car and the red paint job that made it glow like fire under Twilight’s hornlight. “I’ve heard all kinds of things about them, but I never saw one before.”

After taking a few minutes behind a pile of crates to switch into the dungarees and cotton shirt that Schadenfreude had reluctantly provided, Jon dug into the process with the gusto that Twilight was not sharing.

“I don’t see what this has to do with friendship lessons,” she said with almost a whine.

“Friends help each other,” said Jon. “Prince Blueblood needs help putting his car together, and I’ve had experience with vehicles when I worked with the Egyptian archeological team. We had to pull an engine out of a White truck in a sandstorm, rebuild it, and drive afterward. That’s where I met Miss Yearling, the author. Amazing mare,” he added, arranging a collection of socket wrenches next to the manual. “Encyclopedic memory, analytical mind for putting together details most people would miss, and a string of discoveries around the world. The dig coordinator hated her, though. Said she vanished when important discoveries needed to be cataloged, and that artifacts just tended to vanish around her in turn, although nobody could ever prove anything.”

Twilight gave a disinterested grunt, although she was floating two or three different sets of wrenches around in her magic. “Spike, look for some other tools. These are all metric but the automobile is American.”

Jon picked up several loose bolts and tried them against the sockets. “Some of these are metric. The threads don’t match, though.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a French fuel pump in this German cardboard box labeled for an American car,” said Spike, peering inside the box. “I smell Schadenfreude all over this project.”

It took a moment for Jon to catch on, and he ran over what he understood about ponies and their cutie marks. In particular, Schadenfreude’s off-center mark and his annoying behavior. “His special talent is his name, isn’t it?”

“Ya think?” Spike held up a handful of bolts and began sorting them into bins. “I think his special talent is surviving his little things he does to annoy everypony. He painted some lumps of coal and convinced me they were gems once.”

“That’s nice,” said Twilight, who was flipping through the manual on her way to where the disassembled engine was sitting. “There’s a supercharger device on this engine, but there’s no section in the manual for it.”

“Hm…” Jon scratched his chin where a loose hair had avoided his razor this morning. “So he’s going to be meddling with us getting the engine into the car because he is who he is, just like he must have meddled with all of the other mechanics who Prince Blueblood hired to put it together.”

“That’s nice,” said Twilight again with the manual floating to one side of the engine and a number of short bolts likewise moving in slow orbits around her.

“And she’s out of it,” said Spike. “All that’s left is the cleanup when she’s done. We’ve probably got a couple of hours until then, so normally I just read my comics while waiting.”

“Oh!” Jon dove for his leather satchel, which he had put to one side while changing into the more ‘mechanic’ clothes that Schadenfreude had brought. “That reminds me. I’ve been dragging these all over Equestria, but I’ve been too busy to ask about them. Do you know anypony who reads—”

“Adventure Comics number fifty! Mystic comics! Blue Beetle! Superhuman!” For a young dragon, Spike certainly was fast, and had the short stack of comic books plucked out of his hands almost instantly. “Look! It’s Batman! And… Who’s this?” Deft purple claws held the comic up and showed it to Jon. “How’s she supposed to fight crime dressed like that?”

“Robin is the Boy Wonder,” said Jon, pointing at the colorful comic character. “And he’s probably going to get killed. Don’t they kill a lot of characters in these violent American comic books?” he added, raising his voice to get Twilight’s attention.

It did not work. At all. If anything, the cloud of metal bolts and widgets around Twilight Sparkle only grew denser as the engine block disassembled under her magic.

“Told you she’s out of it.” Spike sorted through the short stack of comics and extracted out one of the paperback books. “Is this yours, with the Baumhofer cover? I love his artwork although I don’t read doctor comics.”

“Doc Savage is not⁽*⁾ a doctor,” said Jon, taking the comic away from the young dragon. “He’s a rough adventure hero, which Twilight Sparkle would not approve of you reading.”
(*) Technically, he is. As well as an engineer, a scientist, a martial-artist, a musician…

Jon stole a look at the inside door to the carriage house/garage/mechanic’s disaster. Schadenfreude had not come back from his trip to the kitchen to get breakfast, so he was probably chilling the coffee while waiting for the eggs to get rubbery and the toast dry.

“So you say Twilight’s going to be occupied until after the car gets put together and working,” mused Jon. “Schadenfreude has been doing everything he can to keep that from happening. Wouldn’t it be nice to see him go through what he seems to have been putting everypony else through?”

“But my comics!” Spike clutched the rest of the stack to his chest.

“My comics,” said Jon. “I bought them and brought them here because of the note I found in my paperwork. However, I’m willing to give them to you for free if we can keep Schadenfreude busy until Twilight gets the car running.”

- Ω - -

Easy to say. Hard to do. Doc Savage and his team probably would have struggled with the monumental task, which took Jon a while to recognize was a job that went against a very determined pony’s cutie mark.

To make matters worse, Schadenfreude seemed to revel in the competition without ever once letting on that one existed. From the time he arrived at the carriage house with a plate of dry toast and cold scrambled eggs, as well a bowl of dry dog food (It makes its own gravy!), Jon could see a mischievous twinkle in the earth pony’s eyes. He introduced Churchill, the bulldog who the dog food was really intended for, then offered to ‘help’ in whatever capacity possible.

Twilight ignored him. Jon produced a list of parts and tools that needed purchased before the project could be completed. Spike volunteered to go with him.

Once Spike was sitting uncomfortably on his back, Schadenfreude trotted away with a happy smile on his face while whistling. And no, Jon could not figure out how he managed to smile and whistle at the same time. It probably had something to do with his special talent.

When he returned with Spike carrying a bag of parts, none of which were probably the ones listed on the sheet, Jon was ready. He produced a mangled piece of hardware that Twilight had tossed out of the engine compartment and declared that they needed to take it to a metal shaping specialist, or a blacksmith. That managed to burn another two hours and netted a most pleasant conversation with a unicorn named Silver Nails and an earth pony blacksmith named Golden Hammer while Schadenfreude wandered around their smithy, rearranging tools.

Upon their return to the castle carriage house with the reforged widget, Spike picked up the ‘Distract Schaden’ task again by declaring that the spark plugs were three-one hundredths gapped too wide and needed to be taken to the Royal Department of Weights and Measures to be adjusted. Jon waved a cheery goodbye until they were out of sight, then patted the sleeping Churchill on the head, got on his hands and knees, and looked under the engine compartment for the purple glow of a busy student.

“I got that muffler skid plate reshaped, Twilight. And it looks like you found a replacement without me,” he added after a glance at the undercarriage. “Did you have any problems?”

“The transmission bolt holes don’t line up with the engine mounts,” said Twilight Sparkle with a grunt, which was more words than she had used since picking up the auto manual. “Just a minute.”

Her horn glowed slightly brighter and one of the holes in the disobedient metal casing moved to where it was supposed to be, allowing Twilight to begin threading a bolt into the now aligned holes. It was a talent that Jon could have really used a few years ago when he had been putting a White truck engine together with bits of cans and a tin snips.

“So how much longer until it’s ready to drive?” Jon checked the chocks holding the wheels in place, just in case. The big Cord roadster was practically a truck on its own, and full of more moving parts than a Swiss watch, so he had begun to expect an answer of a few weeks or more. Instead, Twilight’s horn glowed somehow different than before and the engine above him started with a throaty roar.

“We’ll have to put it through testing,” said Twilight over the noise, adjusting something in her magic to make the engine noise calm down into a quiet purr like some sort of mechanical panther. “I’ll have Spike draw up a test plan to stress the engine and transmission at all combinations of revolutions per minute and gears, then we’ll hire a driver to conduct the test regimen, get it certified by the appropriate departments, and put Prince Blueblood through a course in driving along with etiquette, obeying the rules of the road, and— Actually, the Equestrian Parliament will need to enact proper automotive legislation first, because I’m fairly certain that the traffic rules only cover ground and aerial carts now.”

“Do you think he can just drive it around the garden path for now?” asked Jon. “I didn’t get a very good look on our trip here, but there seemed to be a pea-gravel trail about as wide as a cart going around the outside edge of the floral garden and the statues. I really don’t think Prince Blueblood wants to take the car out into the city.”

“It’s done?!” The door to the garage slammed open and the blonde unicorn prince looked inside with an obvious expression of glee.

“Almost,” called out Jon while thinking furiously. “Twilight and I just need to run a few tests before lunch. Bleed the brakes, check the tire inflation, things like that. After lunch, we can push it out into the carriage driveway and get you familiarized with the controls—”

“I already know all about that,” said Blueblood with a disparaging hoof-wave. “I’ve watched movies, after all. Once I have dined, Churchill and I shall go tour the town. Make sure the car is prepared.”

After Blueblood was gone again, Jon shook his head. “Then again, maybe he wants to take it out for a spin.”

“It’s not supposed to spin.” Twilight, still splattered in grease and dirt under the car, paged through her mechanic’s manual. “All four wheels have modern drum brakes.”

After a brief break to pinch the bridge of his nose, Jon picked up a pair of pliers and slid under the car with her. “Let’s bleed the brakes, check the tire inflation, and sneak up to the kitchen for some hot lunch. I’ll leave a note so Spike can find us when he gets back. Then we can all come back down here and watch Prince Blueblood put-put around the garden in first gear.”

“So…” Twilight Sparkle turned the manual to the section on bleeding the brakes while biting her bottom lip. “Do you think this helped me make any friends, Doctor Walthers?”

Jon’s father had a saying on a wooden plaque in the house library: “When you are up to your waist in alligators, sometimes it is difficult to remember your primary objective is to drain the swamp.” In hindsight, there had been extremely little activity today to train Twilight Sparkle in the elusive art of friendmaking. No cozying up to Prince Blueblood, who seemed as warm and cuddly as an arctic hedgehog. No future friendships with Schadenfreude, particularly with the way they had brutally cut him out of his favorite pastime. They had made very little progress on the road to Princess Luna’s freedom today, other than having a working automobile to drive down it.

“After lunch, we’ll see about going with Prince Blueblood on his drive,” said Jon. “Perhaps he will mellow out and you two can become friends by way of this car.” He patted the roadster on one gleaming red fender while trying to sound more optimistic than he felt. “That is once we’ve made sure the brakes work. It would be a terrible shame if he drove this into a rock or something.”

- Ω - -

Blueblood was not a rapid eater, giving Jon and Twilight enough time to visit the friendly kitchen staff, get a good if somewhat quick meal, and even save a few sandwiches for Spike when he finally showed up. The dragon was tired from having to spend so much time with a natural irritant, a little flustered that the spark plugs he was transporting had been gapped and measured to the most precise degree, and more than happy to fall upon a loose sandwich like the apex predator of sandwiches that he was. By way of conversation eked out between bites, Jon found out that one of the Cabinet Secretaries had once held the position of Director of Weights and Measures, and since the measurement of the spark plugs had been the issue, Schadenfreude had brought the dragon and the task to the secretary’s attention.

During tea.

Jon had to worry silently to himself at the concept of Schadenfreude crossing Celestia’s government, and the natural results thereof. Most probably explosions. Which Schaden would survive, of course, because that would be the most annoying probability.

“I’m back!” caroled the pony in question, prancing into the kitchen and knocking a teacup off a nearby table with his wagging tail. “I just had to make one last check of the automobile and sign off for the Royal Automobile Inspector. Nice mare. Very business-like. And I found outfits for all of you!”

“You shouldn’t have,” deadpanned Spike as he took the padded helmet from Schadenfreude’s eager hooves.

“Is that… leather?” said Twilight Sparkle, cringing back from the helmet and goggles that were being pressed upon her.

“Genuine Montana cowskin,” declared Schadenfreude, passing the last helmet to Jon. “Belonged to the Chicago Bears team of ‘38, in near mint condition from Prince Blueblood’s collection. And don’t forget the goggles. The speed meter on the Cord goes all the way up to a hundred and twenty.”

“You don’t have any roads in Canterlot long enough to get anywhere close to that,” said Jon, although he tried on the helmet just to check. “Let’s just go down to the carriage house and wait for Prince Blueblood to finish lunch.”

- Ω - -

An hour later, Prince Blueblood made his entrance into the carriage house with a smug servant by his side. His Highness was resplendent in a tan driving jacket, immaculately pressed and detailed, with his own leather helmet and goggles. Schadenfreude was… Schadenfreude as usual, but holding Jon’s camera around his neck and pausing to take the occasional photograph of his superior.

Since the carriage doors had been opened to the afternoon sunlight, Jon moved forward to help push the car backward into the castle entrance driveway while Twilight steered with her magic. He had barely put one hand on the flame-red paint of the big roadster before Prince Blueblood snapped, “Hands off my vehicle, human.”

“He’s a mechanic, sir,” said Schadenfreude. “All proper expeditions with a motorcar include a mechanic to deal with any trivial issues that arise.”

“Oh!” Blueblood looked Jon up and down before giving a decisive nod. “I’ll be the only pony on the street with a motorcar and a human mechanic, won’t I? Well, get in. Over there,” indicated Blueblood with a pointing hoof at the passenger side. “And try not to track in any dirt.”

“I thought I would just—” started Jon before Blueblood gave him a scathing glare.

“My automobile, my rules,” he commanded.

Jon could not see any way around it, so he moved to the other side of the roadster and opened the door for Twilight Sparkle.

“Not that… thing!” declared Blueblood with an outthrust hoof at the oil-speckled Twilight. “Out! This is the finest leather seating, and I will not have you contaminating it with that filth!”

The dirty and oil-smeared Twilight Sparkle gave Jon a wide-eyed look that seemed to mix anger and disdain in equal measure, but with another glance at the leather seats she would have to sit on, she scurried back to give the driver and mechanic some space. With Spike and Schadenfreude pushing, the roadster glided out into the driveway like it was riding on clouds instead of big rubber tires. Prince Blueblood pressed down on the brakes smoothly, bringing the Cord to a halt without a single jerk except the one behind the wheel.

“Told you I knew how to drive.” Blueblood adjusted the rear view mirror with one hoof and admired his reflection, giving Jon a moment to consider the arrangement of the pedals. Equestrians had shorter legs by comparison, so the interior of the car had been adjusted by the way of blocks and some strategic gadgets that would have made it uncomfortable for Jon to drive anyway.

“Let’s take one turn around the gardens, Your Highness,” suggested Jon. “It’s a new engine, and needs to be brought up to temperature slowly or we might crack the block. The last thing we need is to have to push the motorcar back here through all the ponies in town.”

For a moment, it looked as if Prince Blueblood was about to object, but he looked down at the dashboard instead and took the shifter in his magic, moving it around until the vehicle showed it was in neutral. “Start,” he commanded. “Run. Turn on. Activate.”

Jon quietly turned the key into the ‘On’ position and looked around the shadowed floor for the starter button. “You normally step on the starter,” he said, still looking. “I don’t see one down there, though.”

“Put the shifter in neutral and step on the clutch,” said Twilight Sparkle, reading down the instruction book. “The Cord automatic starter will—”

There was a growling noise and the roadster engine caught, making a low, throbbing noise that caused the bulldog to launch himself from the motorcar seat and pelt off in the opposite direction as if the huge mechanical monster were going to take off what little remained of his tail. The prince did not notice, as he was entranced enough by the noise that he put the shifter into gear and let out on the clutch.

The car jerked forward and the engine promptly died.

“First gear,” prompted Jon. “I’ll just move the shifter—”

Blueblood struck with the speed of an angry cobra, and Jon pulled his stinging fingers back. “My automobile,” cautioned the prince. After a moment, he moved the shifter through the H pattern to first gear, contemplated the marvel of mechanical engineering again, and depressed the clutch.

The engine started up again with a low throb, sounding a little to Jon’s ear like a pet panther wanting to go out for a stroll in the chicken coop.

“There,” declared Blueblood, lifting up abruptly on the clutch pedal and killing the engine again.

Twilight Sparkle opened her mouth to give advice and Jon caught her eye, shaking his head.

“Obviously defective engineering,” growled Blueblood.

Jon carefully licked his lips and suggested, “The engine will need a little more fuel to move the auto at first. That’s the accelerator,” he added. “On the right.”

“I knew that.” Blueblood jammed down on the clutch until the engine started, then jabbed down on the accelerator just as hard. The big V8 engine bellowed into vibrant life, only to die as Blueblood yanked both rear legs off the floorboard and the roadster leapt forward in a spray of thrown gravel, then coasting for a brief period before coming to a halt in Twilight Sparkle’s purple magic.

“Gently!” Jon managed to pull his fingers off the dashboard, although he really felt like wrapping them around Schadenfreude’s neck, because their ignoble start was being immortalized on Jon’s best Kodak film. And the servant looked like he was having the time of his life.

“I’m doing fine without you,” snapped Blueblood, although at Twilight Sparkle instead of Jon as he expected. “Release my automobile from your spell.”

“I was just trying to help,” said Twilight in a very small voice. Spike must have been expecting tears, because he was off like a shot, bringing back a wad of shop rags just in case.

“I’m doing fine!” Blueblood jammed one hoof down on the clutch until the engine started again, then slowly let up the clutch while nudging the accelerator. This time the roadster began to roll down the gravel of the driveway with a loud crunching noise, making similar crunching noises as Blueblood made several turns. “See!”

“Very good, Your Highness.” Their ignoble start seemed to be the low point of the trip as Blueblood proudly steered the heavy roadster in the direction of the narrow garden path, handling the steering wheel with the smooth practiced motions of an expert. Or at least one who had imagined it many times in his own head.

“What excitement!” declared Blueblood as they bounced slowly along the path. They were not really traveling that fast, but several bunny rabbits were frightened into running by their presence, and stood with twitching whiskers in the taller grass when the roadster drove by. It was, by far, the most peaceful and pleasant drive Jon had experienced, but still no excuse for not trying to put in a good word for his student.

“Yes, sir. I only wish Twilight were with us to enjoy—”

“Hush, peasant!” Blueblood favored Jon with a very unfavorable glance and moved the shifting lever into second gear. “I want to see what my automobile is capable of. First, we get up to speed.” He pushed down on the accelerator gingerly until the automobile was bumping along a little faster, then smoothly pushed down on the clutch and let it back up. The automatic shifter clunked beneath the vehicle, and their speed picked up to a fairly brisk trot down the uneven path. They were rocking back and forth slightly, so Jon got a good grip on the door handle only to have it come off in his hand with a rattle of loose screws.

That’s the problem with having multiple mechanics put this thing together.

He tossed the handle on the floor, then tried to wrestle the glove compartment closed from where the bumpy road had knocked it open. The garden path was perfectly smooth for the occasional fertilizer wagon or lawn equipment, but it was not designed for the wide body and inadequate suspension of the big roadster. Some vehicles had latching seat belts to hold the passengers in place during a rough ride, not this one as Jon discovered when Blueblood took the curve at the bottom of the hill at the same speed. He slid across the smooth leather seat and bumped into the prince, only to have Blueblood give Jon a solid shove back to his side of the car.

It was at that point when the interior rear view mirror fell off and the door on Jon’s side abruptly popped open that he began suspecting Schadenfreude’s hoof in the mechanical failures. Particularly when Jon saw him alongside the garden path, snapping away with the camera before bolting to a different location for more photos.

“I think we need to stop, Your Highness,” blurted out Jon while holding onto his door and trying to get it to latch.

“Afraid of the speed?” Blueblood grinned in the breeze and jauntily took the next curve with the same reckless disregard for Jon’s safety, with flowers and bushes whisking past and ticking at the edges of the auto on the narrow path.

“I need to get the screwdriver,” managed Jon while still hanging onto the door. “Some of the parts are vibrating loose. Like that one,” he added when the radio knob came off and the wireless set began blasting away jazz music at full volume, complete with deafening hisses and crackles from the nearby pony radio station. The radio startled Jon about as much as the mechanical failures, but not as much as Blueblood laughing about it.

“You humans are such cowards. After I get familiar with this motorcar, I believe I shall enter your Indiana Five Hundred and show humans what we ponies are capable of.” He ducked to avoid a branch that swept overhead and thunked across the windscreen before vanishing behind them. “Once we get out into the open, I shall show you what this motorcar can do.”

Jon eyed the key and considered just what kind of trouble he would get in for grabbing it and holding on until everything stopped moving. He was just getting braced to do the snatch when the roadster came out from the garden path back onto the gravel of the carriage driveway.

Then everything went straight to Tartarus.

Blueblood moved the shifter into third gear and cycled the clutch again, only to have the engine give out a sudden bellow as if the accelerator pedal had been mashed to the floor. There was a sudden squeak of panic, which Jon was determined to say came from Blueblood if he survived, then the rear of the automobile seat smashed into Jon’s back.

Gravel scattered everywhere as the roadster barreled through the circle driveway with Blueblood frozen to the wheel in terror and Jon scrabbling for the key, which he yanked out of the ignition after several frantic grabs.

The engine seemed to take the removal of the ignition key as an affront, and cranked up its stentorian bellow instead of stopping. The auto careened past the grassy center of the carriage circle and shot like a suicidal arrow toward the thick wrought-iron gateway to the courtyard. Bushes flew past, and Jon could see Schadenfreude leap in front of the roadster with his hind legs braced in the gravel and his forelegs stretched out in a heroic attempt to stop the runaway car.

The big Cord roadster went over him like a rocket-powered steamroller, with hardly a bump.

“Gate!” screamed Jon. “Get out of the way! Get out of the—”

A few curious servants at the iron gateway scattered in different directions as Jon reached up and grabbed Prince Blueblood by the horn, then heaved the both of them behind the dashboard moments before the car met the gate in an earsplitting crash. Shattered glass went everywhere, and the crumpled remains of the windscreen sliced by overhead like a crude guillotine.

“My car!” howled Blueblood. He yanked himself out of Jon’s grasp and sat back up to grab onto the steering wheel, clutching it with enough force that it bent under his hooves. Things along the road down into the city were flying past far too rapidly for Jon’s taste so he did not try to throw the panicked unicorn out of the car like he wanted. In any event, their velocity was already too great, and the only thing jumping out of the car would do is leave their dead bodies in the road.

“This is your fault!” shouted Blueblood. He stomped on the pedals to no effect, including the accelerator pedal and brake that were flush with the floor. “You’re trying to kill me!”

“Then why am I in the car!” screamed Jon back. “Use your magic on the engine! Maybe you can get it to stop.”

Although Blueblood did not say anything, his horn lit up with a bright golden aura. Unfortunately, whatever magic spell he used did not manage to shut the engine off, but instead caused the supercharger to cut in with a banshee wail of the damned.

In perfect hellish harmony, the front wheels screamed into even more violent motion, black smoke erupted out of the wheel wells from where the abused rubber was making far too much traction against the stone road, and the resulting sudden burst of acceleration smashed the seat into Jon’s back.

“You idiot!” screamed Blueblood. He slammed one hoof down on the clutch pedal, only for the transmission to shift gears again, making the automobile shoot forward with greater speed even while the clutch pedal joined its companions in remaining flat and lifeless against the floormat. A passing stone obstruction sprayed sparks down the driver’s side door and took the rear view mirror off in a spray of mangled metal while Jon struggled to hold on for dear life and prayed for something or somepony to stop their precious descent into the city.

The Cord’s horn still worked, and Blueblood hammered down on the chromed ring around the steering wheel while heaving it back and forth. Screaming ponies scattered in all directions, their pleasant afternoon walk shattered by a snarling blood-red monster roaring down the hill at them. The roadster’s speed continued to rapidly grow every second as it hurtled forward, leading inevitably to a pile of pony bodies somewhere ahead if Jon did not do something, and fast.

He reached out and yanked on the steering wheel.

Their path swerved to intersect a stone wall ahead.

He did not even hear the impact.

10. Saint Mane's Infirmary

Equestria : 1940
Monday 17 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“Is any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.”
— James 5:14

* * ✹ * *

Jon had not expected to survive the auto accident.

He also had not expected to see the insides of another Equestrian hospital ever, but he was not about to complain about his minor scuffs and bruises when he could have been dead or maimed instead. In all respects, the stark white walls and cool corridors were preferable to the alternative.

The empty room Jon found himself in could have easily been a human hospital room designed for short people, due to the way his bare feet stuck out of the bottom of the bed. It made him consider how Equestrian hospitals and their staff seemed to parallel and differ from human hospitals. For one, they both stripped their victims and left them in chilly rooms for extended periods of time, although human hospitals at least gave out thin paper gowns to keep the cold away. However, he had not expected the plate of sugared hay twists to snack on while waiting, or the collection of old bridle catalogs to browse.

And he was naked under the blanket, of course. That at least was starting to feel normal.

He was just trying to make sense of a fold-out in the catalog when a forest-green unicorn mare with a police cap hooked over her horn slipped in the door. She took one look at the catalog, then looked up at Jon and slowly shook her head as if trying to picture the human wearing any of the Equestrian fashions.

“Good afternoon, Mister Walthers,” started the mare in a rich contralto voice as she produced a clipboard with her magic. “My name is Officer Grace. Are you comfortable?”

“More comfortable than I should be,” admitted Jon, tucking in the edges of the blanket. “Hitting that wall as fast as we were going should have left your hospital with a bloody human/unicorn jigsaw puzzle to pick apart. Instead, I just feel like I’ve been trampled during a white sale at Penny’s. How are the prince and Schadenfreude?”

“Multiple contusions, bruises, and abrasions for the prince,” said the police mare, “although from the way he whines about it, you would think he was broken worse than his automobile. Schadenfreude has a broken foreleg, and a tire track all the way down his back like a skunk. Did you know the automobile caught fire after the two of you were dragged out of the wreckage by Twilight Sparkle?”

“Canterlot is all the safer for it,” said Jon. He straightened up with a wince and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. “I think the worst injury I have is a little chip on one tooth and my pride.”

“Fortunate, considering somepony tried to kill both of you.” Grace looked up from her clipboard and fixed Jon with a steady glance, as if she were waiting for him to confess to attempted regicide.

Giving the mare a dismissive flip of the wrist, which still hurt, Jon scoffed. “I’ve given it some thought. Schadenfreude couldn’t have jiggered the automobile controls and gotten run over trying to save us. He’s annoying, not dangerous.”

“Mister Schadenfreude is not a suspect,” stated Grace. She levitated a manilla folder from her clipboard and spread the contents out across the nearby bedstand. There were several clear photographs of Blueblood and his hapless human mechanic on their ill-fated automotive expedition, but also pictures of the half-naked human and the bathing batpony. The policemare wordlessly shuffled the last photos back into the envelope and spread out the pictures of the Cord roadster. It was obvious that they were chronological order due to the number of external accoutrements that had fallen off during the short trip, including most of a rear quarter panel which Jon had not noticed during the chaos.

“The Canterlot fire patrol managed to quickly extinguish the fire,” she continued as several more images took form in the low glow of her green magic, showing the interior engine compartment of the roadster spread out over the exterior of the vehicle. “And my department did a preliminary scan of the malfunctioning mechanical relays. You will note here and here—” sections of the glowing magical projection blinked in darker shades of green “—where low-level unicorn enchantments sheared off the transmission linkages and accelerator cables, and the ruptured brake lines from an earlier spell.”

“Wait a minute.” Jon sat up in bed regardless of the pain and the way his blanket shifted over his bare torso, and regarded the glowing images, which he would have been fascinated by in any kind of different environment. “Somebody tried to kill us?”

“A unicorn with sufficient skill to cast five different triggered enchantments,” said the policemare, who Jon suddenly realized was a skilled unicorn too, and alone in the room with him.

Fighting to keep his mind off the possibility of getting murdered in the hospital bed, he asked, “Like Twilight Sparkle?”

The concept obviously bothered the green mare. She bit her bottom lip and brought up another green image, this one of the crumpled roadster flattened against the tall stone wall where it had reached its final destination. Small bits of the projection flickered in shades of green, with a broad green swatch over the stones of the wall. “The only reason you and Prince Blueblood are not dead is because of a cushioning enchantment cast on the wall right before impact. You were both thrown clear of the vehicle, as the bruise patterns on your bodies show, but instead of the both of you breaking your hard heads on the stone retaining wall—”

“Twilight Sparkle saved us?”

“Again, sir, it is premature to make any such determination of fact. Between the fire damage and the collision, I was unable to ascertain an exact thaumaturgical match for the spells used in the engine or the impact zone, but I’m fairly sure none of them match the Princess’ student’s aura. What I need from you is any observations you may recall from the incident that may clear up the inconsistencies. Any unicorns you may have seen in the vicinity, color patterns, glows, or unexplained phenomena.”

“Well.” Jon thought back to that terrifying moment before they hit the wall. “I saw a flash of blue light right after I grabbed the wheel. I thought it was Blueblood’s magic at the moment, but his was gold. Then there was another flare on impact. That’s really all.” He thought for a while as the policemare remained silent. “The first flash resembled a teleportation spell, I believe. One of the students in my classes demonstrated it a few years ago for me first hand. I didn’t see who did this one, because I was turning the car into the wall.”

“You manipulated the steering wheel before impact?” Officer Grace made a few more notes on her clipboard, then used her magic to project a glimmering green view of the street along with several skid marks, one of which was a long curve terminating at the stone wall.

“The street was full of ponies further down.” He could not offer any more words except, “I didn’t have a choice.”

“We all have choices,” said Grace in the same impassive tone she had been using since the interview started.

“Not always.” The deep and powerful voice of Princess Celestia filled the room as much as the tall form of Her Highness striding through the hospital room doorway. “Sometimes, we are unable to adjust our course when events spiral out of control. Good afternoon, Doctor Walthers.”

“He is not a doctor,” said Grace. “I’ve reviewed his records—”

Celestia turned her head infinitesimally, looked at the policemare, then turned back to Jon. “I’m so glad you were not seriously injured in the accident, Doctor Walthers,” she continued. “I’ve just returned from Schadenfreude’s room, and it seems he will make a full recovery. After sufficient pampering, of course. There were four nurses with him when I arrived.” Celestia clucked her tongue. “Such a charming rogue. Oh, and I see Officer Grace has developed photographs of the accident.”

The mare in question opened her mouth as if to correct the Principality’s monarch, then quietly closed her mouth without saying a word.

While shuffling the photos around, Celestia continued in a bemused tone, “My dear nephew is so distraught about the loss of his automobile. He should be more grateful for his life. I heard from one of my little ponies that you pulled Blueblood’s head down when the two of you went through the side gate, Doctor Walthers.”

“Yes,” said Jon. “It was reflexive. All that glass and wrought iron.”

“He’s a very handsome young unicorn,” said Celestia in a playful tone. “He tells me that all the time. I think he looks much better with his head attached, even if he keeps his nose in the air all the time.”

“I like my head where it is too, Your Highness.” Jon ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “How’s Twilight doing?”

“About as expected.” Celestia let out a deep sigh and began to shuffle the photographs back into the manilla envelope. “She thinks the whole thing is her fault. I told her that the previous mechanics all probably left magical residue behind when they worked on the automobile, and when combined together, it caused the accidental runaway cascade. Magic can be so unpredictable in that fashion.”

Behind her, Jon could see the policemare take a breath as if she were going to say something, then Grace reconsidered her action and returned to her silent stance with the unused clipboard hovering by her side.

“Anyway,” continued Princess Celestia, “I’m so proud of her for teleporting ahead and using that cushioning spell. She refuses to take credit, but I know my student better than anypony. Oh, and I heard a joke while out in the hallways. Would you like to hear it?”

“By all means, Your Highness.” Jon eyed the silent policemare. “It should make me feel better. Laughter is the best medicine, after all.”

“Quite right.” Celestia cleared her throat. “One pony said to another, ‘I heard that Prince Blueblood was in a terrible automobile accident.’ The other pony asks, ‘Oh, no. Was the automobile injured?’”

Celestia paused with an anticipatory expression. The police officer obviously did not think it was very funny. Jon, however, snorted with laughter, which made his ribs hurt so he did not laugh for very long.

Giving a brief shrug, Celestia continued. “Oh, well. In any case, I hope this little accident does not discourage you from enjoying my beautiful country, Doctor Walthers. I suppose the introduction of automobiles will just have to wait a few more years until we ensure they can be used safely in a magical environment.”

“Yeah, and give some more training to your Royal Automobile Inspectors,” mused Jon.

“Beg pardon?” Celestia cocked her head slightly to one side. “I’m not familiar with that position in the bureaucracy.”

Jon frowned and tried to think back. “I remember somepony saying something about one inspecting the roadster before we left the carriage house. I’m fairly sure I got the title right in Equestrian. It could have been a carriage inspector, I suppose. The root words are the same.”

“Hm…” Celestia turned to look at the police officer. “Sergeant Grace, have you ever heard of a Royal Automobile Inspector?”

“No, Ma’am. And I’m not a Sergeant. I’m just a Patrol Officer.” The thin frown at the corner of the officer’s lips grew and she flipped back a few pages on her clipboard. “Mister Schadenfreude mentioned a royal inspector in passing during our interview.”

“Check it out, please, Sergeant Grace,” said Celestia in a pleasant tone of voice that held a faint ring of sharpened steel behind it. “I need to have a few private words with Doctor Walthers before he returns to his apartments for the evening.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Grace stopped writing on her clipboard and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll arrange a security escort for him. It could be dangerous if he should have another—” her hesitation was almost imperceptible “—accident.”

“No need to trouble yourself.” Celestia gave a dismissive hoof-wave. “The city is abuzz with rumors about the accident. Having Doctor Walthers escorted back to the castle by several uniformed patrol officers would simply make him a prime suspect in their eyes, while keeping him locked up in the hospital here would cause all sorts of needless speculation about the seriousness of his injuries, and those of Prince Blueblood. I have a better solution.”

* * ✹ * *

“Almost there, lovercolt.” Nightshade nudged the bedroom suite door open and flipped on some of the lights. The glittering reflection off her dark coat and dragon-like wings was attractive in a way that made Jon a little self-conscious about having taken the bare batpony on a trip through town. As much as she had been a flirty stinker in private before, being out for a walk in the sun had brought out her grouchy nature, which was not improved by the startled cry from inside the illuminated room.

“Hey!” protested Laminia with one batwing pulled over her eyes and the other stuck part-way out from under her quilted cape. She peered out from the closet where she apparently had been tidying up Jon’s clothes and shining his shoes with a towel. “Watch the lights, Night-Night.”

“Didn’t want to let my special somehuman break his neck on a loose rug,” said Nightshade as Jon plodded slowly into the room. “He already tried to break his head today.”

“You play too rough with your toys.” Laminia took a peek out from under her shading wing, her huge yellow eyes glowing like gold in the subdued room lighting.

“Not me.” Nightshade took off her dark glasses and pushed a chair over for Jon to sit down. “Prince Blueblood took them out in his motorcar for a drive around town. The engine ran away from him and the two of them wound up smashing into a wall.”

“Ouch!” Laminia squinted and blinked several times, giving Jon a long look from fedora to shoes. “So that’s why I had to go dig his tweeds out this afternoon.”

“Yeah, you would have needed his best suit for the funeral if Twilight Sparkle hadn’t used a spell to cushion their impact.” Nightshade yawned. “Oh, and Schadenfreude got run over trying to stop the motorcar.”

“Oh?” Laminia perked up, but Nightshade waved a hoof.

“Broke a leg, but he’s fine.”

“Oh. Drat.” Laminia eyed Jon again, taking his fedora when he handed it over. “Loverboy here doesn’t look too battered.”

“I’m fine,” protested Jon. “I just ache all over, and being paraded through town for all the nosy busybodies to look at didn’t help. All I want to do is go to bed.”

He paused, then looked at where Nightshade was stretching one broad membranous wing after another with slow, deliberate motions similar to sleepwalking. “What, no snappy comeback?”

“Gimme a month and some sleep.” Nightshade yawned, showing quite a number of sharp teeth. “Got to bed late, Courier pulled me out of a sound sleep, had to fly over here to get your stupid suit, fly over to the hospital to get you stuffed into it, didn’t even get the opportunity to help the nurses, and had to walk naked with my pet human all the way back here with everypony who saw us thinking that I’ve been banging you like a drum.”

“You’re not?” asked Laminia, who had finally quit holding a shading wing over her eyes and was working on getting both of the wings stuffed back under her quilted cape.

“It’s not for lack of trying,” said Jon. He leaned back in his chair and winced as he untied his shoes. “I don’t see what would have been wrong with walking back here in my dungarees and t-shirt instead of struggling into my tweeds.”

“They were shredded like you had been dragged through a rosebush.” Nightshade took a large bottle out of her saddlebag and put it on the floor with a thud. There were zig-zag patterns around the bottle mixed with random curved zebra runes in what looked like some sort of script, if one were to squint hard and had a good sense of imagination. “I suppose I should be jealous. I heard Twilight Sparkle nearly ripped you out of your clothes looking for broken bones.”

“What is it about every mare wanting to get my clothes off,” muttered Jon as he kicked away the last shoe and began to peel off his socks.

“Speaking of which,” said Nightshade while still reading the bottle. “Take your clothes off and lie down, or you’ll look like a thundercloud tomorrow with as black and blue as you’re going to be. Or you can take a bath first, I suppose. There’s a lot in this bottle to deal with.”

Jon draped his tweed jacket over the back of the chair and eyed the hefty bottle even while Laminia suppressed an indignant huff and picked up the jacket with a proper hanger in her teeth. “I got a sponge bath at the hospital when they were examining my injuries, despite my objections, so I’m going straight to bed. Can I drink half of it now and half in the morning?”

“All of it needs to be used tonight before you go to sleep,” said Nightshade, squinting at the squiggly text/runes.

“I’ll be up twice to pee,” he grumbled, shedding his tie and slacks, but keeping his underwear and shirt due to the presence of two females in the room. It still left him as the most overdressed creature there.

“If you drink it, you’ll be in a lot worse shape than the accident,” said Nightshade. “It has to be rubbed in. All over your body. Every inch. Well, except for those inches, I suppose.”

Laminia promptly trotted off to hang up his slacks and jacket while carrying his discarded socks in her tail. “You’re going to tear him up with your guard shoes,” she cautioned “I’ll get you some clean socks so our guest isn’t mangled.”

“Thanks, Lamby.” Nightshade pursed her lips and gave off a low whistle while reading. “Caution: Use only on the skin and not within. May cause yawns and reduced power for all night plus one hour. Even their instructions rhyme.”

Jon settled down on the largest rug and reluctantly shed his shirt (but kept his boxer shorts), lying down face-first for his medical rubdown. After all, the scattered red rash of friction burns and purple of impact bruising were just starting to hurt, and he did not want to know what his battered body would feel like in the morning without treatment. Besides, sampling the effects of a zebra potion would be educational for any future discussions with other humans.

As long as it did not turn him into something.

He was just considering what kind of frog or even pony he would wind up being turned into when Jon felt the feathery touch of Nightshade’s wings along his bare outer thighs and her hot breath on the small of his back.

“Let me get those for you.” The two small ‘hooks’ like fingernails on the top joints of her wings snagged his elastic waistband and her teeth delicately nipped the back before there was a brisk movement and Jon found himself stark naked on the rug, just like he woke up every morning. “I don’t know why you sleep in those,” said Nightshade, tossing the discarded boxers to the other side of the room with a flick of her neck. “It’s got to be unhealthy.”

“Very funny, Night-Night. Here’s your socks,” announced Laminia, tossing them onto Jon’s bare back. “Let me get this shirt into the wash and I’m going to take a nap before work too.” She gave out a loud yawn with probably the same sharp-toothed expression that Nightshade had just made.

“You could help if you want, and the two of you could just talk for a while,” volunteered Jon without thinking. He turned to look at the frowning batpony and had to add, “Otherwise, you’re leaving me with this depraved pervert rubbing her hooves all over my body with nopony to hold her back.”

“No, no,” said Nightshade with obvious false reluctance while she picked up the socks. She seated herself on Jon’s bare rump with her warm coat feeling tickle-y against his skin, although heavier than he really expected. “Don’t mind us. We’ll be fine. Ignore the screaming and moaning.”

“Help, help,” muttered Jon into the thick rug. “I’m trapped by a fat guard!” He eyed Laminia, who was rolling her eyes in return. “I’m serious. Well, mostly. I can’t get her to talk about— Did you call her Night-Night?”

“None of your business,” said Nightshade through a mouthful of sock. “And I don’t need to talk.”

“She needs to talk to somepony,” said Jon bluntly. “Princess Celestia said so. She won’t talk to me about what she needs to talk about, and the two of you seem to know each other, so if you can talk to her about anything, it should help, I guess…”

“I really don’t have the time,” grumbled Laminia. “My wings are itching like mad and I need to get my dad to preen them, like I was going to do before work.” Looking a little self-conscious, she stretched both wings out from under the concealing cloak and gave them a slow flap, which drove a comfortable breeze over Jon’s bare back.

“I wish I had time to get my wings preened too,” muttered Nightshade as she arranged the socks on her forehooves. “I’m going to be gooping this galoot forever, then I get to go stand out next to Green Mountain and listen to him study for his Preliminary Preschool Magical Aptitude Determination test until it’s time for me to collapse again.” She climbed off his bare bottom and sat down on the rug in order to tug on the cork in the bottle of zebra medicine, but it gave Jon an idea.

“What kind of oil does it take to preen with?” he asked. “Because if baby oil will work, I’ve got a bottle in my suitcase.”

“Yeah, the good stuff,” said Laminia. “Johnson, not that cheap knock-off brand.” She peered at him, holding her head almost upside-down to look into his eyes. “What do you use it for, anyway? You don’t have wings.”

“I mean if you volunteer to help Nightshade,” he continued rapidly, “it would only make sense for me to help out in return. It’s what a friend would do.” Jon thought for a moment. “Your father preens your wings? Isn’t that a little… awkward?”

“Not as awkward as having a monkey do it,” she grumbled, although she did not tuck her wings back under her quilted cloak.

“There’s nothing like having a human preen you,” purred Nightshade as she poured a dollop of the gooey potion on Jon’s lower leg and began to rub it in with sock-clad hooves. “Those fingers are magic. They get into every little corner. I may just get in on your action myself.”

It made an awkward mental image for Jon to continue past, particularly with the way Nightshade was rubbing the zebra goop into his thigh. “I promise I’ll be very gentle, and only touch where you want to be touched and oh God that came out so wrong.”

“I’ll watch him, Lamby,” said Nightshade. “If he gets out of control, I’ll fling my body in front of his wanton advances.”

Laminia grunted and left, but she came back with a pair of Jon’s clean socks in her mouth. She eyed the human for a moment, then dropped the socks on the floor and untied the quilted cloak covering her scarred wing, putting it to one side so it would not get splattered.

“On one condition, monkey boy,” she cautioned. “You call me ‘Lamby’ and I’ll make you regret it.”

“So, were the two of you— That’s cold!” Jon twitched when Nightshade poured another dollop of the gooey potion on the sole of his foot and began to rub it in with sock-clad hooves, planting her furry rump on his leg to keep it from twitching out of her reach.

“Friends,” continued Laminia through the sock in her teeth. “Back when we first came to Canterlot. She went off to beat up a bunch of stallions and I… well, you know about me already. We saw each other every few months. Last year at Hearth’s Warming we had a cup of cocoa with my adopted parents.”

“Gave you a pair of stockings that year,” prompted Nightshade as she worked the zebra potion into Jon’s thigh.

“They had holes in them,” hissed Laminia. “And not just where they needed to have them, either.”

“Yeah, they did,” said Nightshade, and Jon could hear her smirk. “You’re just too slow off the cloud, Lamby. You ever going to make a move on that big lug who came back with the kirin? Or you just going to peek at him from around corners and imagine what he’s like in the sack?”

“He’s not interested in me,” said Laminia in a low growl. She poured a matching blob of zebra potion onto Jon’s other thigh and started gingerly rubbing it in with sock-clad hooves.

“He would be if you wore those stockings around him,” quipped Nightshade.

- Ω - -

Jon tried his best to remain silent while the two mares kneaded him like bread dough, because the conversation was far more education into Equestrian personal relationships than he had ever gotten in any classroom. The two batponies took off into some of the most raunchy fields of mare-on-mare discussions that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Estimates of various stallions’ vital statistics were exchanged and critiqued, as well as hypothetical performance in bed and prospective progeny afterward. Jon did notice that none of the observations were of the direct variety, and that Laminia was by far the least knowledgeable about specific details of nighttime nooky activities, although the most creative with suggestions.

To his dismay, the discussion soon traveled the inevitable path to the details of human males and observations that he really did not want to hear, but listened anyway. After all, he had prompted Nightshade to finally talk to somepony, so he really could not complain. Thankfully, Nightshade had only one British data point to her experience, even though she had collected data on that specific point for several months, resulting in a number of humorous but embarrassing stories. Still, it was oddly… nice to have a zebra potion massaged into his skin by two batwinged pegasus mares while lying naked on a thick throw rug.

He was never going to tell anybody. Ever. Not even under torture.

“That’s about it for this side,” said Nightshade, giving Jon a nudge. “Roll over and we’ll take care of your front.”

“I think I’m good.” Jon stretched out his arms and legs to make it more difficult to roll him over.

“Roll over, you big…” Nightshade put a cool nose into his bare side and gave a solid push, which went nowhere when Jon dug his fingers into the thick rug to avoid being flipped. “Come on, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.”

“Actually, I didn’t look earlier,” admitted Laminia. “Humans seem a little… deformed.” She unconsciously flicked her crippled wing as if she were uncomfortable having it exposed without a covering cloak, then nosed it back against her side with a grimace of distaste.

“Trust me, I gotta show you this human thing. It’s weird. Besides, I let him play with my wings so he owes me,” said Nightshade. “The least he can do is give you a look.”

“Well…” Laminia shuffled her wings and scowled. “I let him touch my wings a few days ago too, you know.”

Nightshade gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had first dibs.” She snickered again from behind Jon’s limited field of view. “Roll over, lovercolt. I promise we won’t touch. Much. And I’ll get you a towel if you’re embarrassed.”

“Intensely so.” Jon licked his dry lips and considered the little fleck of sharpness on a back tooth from his experience with Prince Blueblood’s automobile. After all, Nightshade was finally talking, and besides that, life seemed potentially very short lately, so there was no reason not to grab onto everything he could. Quietly.

“I suppose, since you both trusted me enough to let me touch your wings and I’m going to be preening you later. If you get a towel and don’t tell anybody. Particularly Twilight Sparkle. Or Princess Celestia. Or anypony else. Any creature on the planet. Ever.”

There was a faint breeze indicating one of the batponies had made a quick run to the bathroom, then a large towel dropped over Jon’s head. “Deal,” said Nightshade. “Just keep the towel there and we’ll be very respectful of your—” she snickered “—little attributes.”

Thankful that Schadenfreude was in the hospital and that Jon’s camera had not been returned yet, he shifted positions slowly, one limb at a time, until he was lying flat on his back with the towel over his face.

“See,” declared Nightshade from somewhere outside of the encompassing towel that blocked his vision. “Isn’t that the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“It’s so… small,” said Laminia. “You can hardly see it for all the hair. And it’s sticking almost straight up.” A faint whiff of breath passed across Jon’s stomach, making his belly twitch involuntarily, made only worse by a second and third puff of air that he suspected came from Nightshade.

“I’ve seen smaller and I’ve seen bigger,” said Nightshade with a snicker. “All human males have ‘em. You sure she can’t touch it, Mister Walthers?”

“I’d rather not.” Jon squirmed under the unseen inspection of the two mares, trying to think of cold water or military formations marching in the sun.

“What good do they do?” asked Laminia. “I mean having one of them is odd, but why would he have two useless things like that?”

What?

Jon carefully lifted one edge of the towel and observed the two batpony mares examining his upper chest with obvious fascination. Laminia snatched back her sock-covered hoof that had almost touched Jon on one nipple, giving a nervous glance around the room before applying another blob of zebra potion to his stomach and rubbing gently.

“Totally weird.” Nightshade poked Jon on one nipple several times, making him give out a startled yelp. “Stallions don’t have ‘em, but every human, male or female, has a pair.”

Moving slowly, Jon transferred the towel to cover his groin, then relaxed with a glowering frown while the two mares continued their potion application. Laminia seemed uncomfortable with the touching while Nightshade obviously was one step away from whistling while she worked. Both of them continued applying potion to his less-private areas until Laminia stopped, lifted the towel, and considered what it had covered.

“I know stallions have one of these. It’s different than theirs, I suppose.”

Nightshade took a longer look, quite obviously restraining herself from a more detailed critique. “Well, he’s Jewish on his mother’s side. Circumcised, right Mister Walthers?”

“Yes.” Jon considered the obvious question that Laminia was considering and added, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to poke it with that goop on your hooves.”

Laminia put the towel back. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. I’m not some pervert who is trying to make up for being dumped by jumping every monkey she sees.”

Nightshade stopped rubbing the zebra goop into Jon’s thighs. He could feel a tremor start from where she was still touching him, and when he hazarded a look from between narrowed eyelids, the batpony’s dark face had paled under her coat, with both ears laid back down flat against her head. Jon was abruptly aware of the steel shoes under the damp socks, and the way Nightshade could most likely kill him in a few short motions. Laminia was not, however, and continued to muse under her breath while attempting to rub goop into his toes.

“Sure your old coltfriend’s a featherheaded horseapple and threw a fit just because you were picked to go off to monkeyland instead of him, but he’s male, and that’s built into their flat heads. Any idiot could see you were better than him for the sneaky-sneaky stuff.” Laminia lifted Jon’s big toe and wriggled it around before applying more goo between the rest of his toes. “Then I get a letter about you shacking up with Mister Human Soldier, and he’s storming around the barracks like a thundercloud. Shows just why he was the worst possible pick for the job, complaining about how humans were just savages. You’re a blithering idiot yourself if you try running back to him, but I suppose you’ve got your own monkey boy now, so that drigible has sailed.”

At the resulting silence, Laminia frowned and looked back and forth between Jon and Nightshade. “What?”

Jon cleared his throat, despite the possibility of catching a steel horse shoe where it would do him the least good. “Nightshade didn’t say anything to me about a breakup before she went to Britain.”

“Of course not. She’s an idiot.” Laminia took in the faint tremor from her friend and moderated her tone, although while looking directly at Jon. “She’s always been an idiot. She attracts idiots too.”

“Like you?” It was not the best witty parry that Jon had ever given. Still, Laminia puffed up a little when the jab got through her defenses, then after a few breaths she deflated back to her original size.

“Yeah, I guess that makes three of us nitwits.”

“Maybe so, but at least I’m not a virgin,” countered Nightshade with a flick of her tail that brushed against Laminia’s side.

“Nothing’s wrong with that,” said Jon a little faster than he wanted. Both batponies peered back at him, Nightshade with a look of anticipation and Laminia with an odd smile and a twinkle in her eye, much like a cat who found a fresh mouse to play with.

“I was wrong,” said Laminia. “He’s obviously not a human after all. I mean this old and not even broken to the harness yet.”

“Not every male human is a horny—” Nightshade stopped with her tongue stuck in the side of her cheek, then peeked under the towel again. “Well, he is obviously male. And everything looks like it works. He must just be attracted to ponies instead of his own kind.”

“I like girls!” protested Jon, pushing the towel back over his groin again. “I just haven’t… I mean it’s been a long… I like girls, all right? Human girls. Humans are naturally wired to be attracted to other humans.”

“Human males will mate with anything that moves slow enough to catch,” said Laminia.

“Or anything they can lure to them,” said Nightshade. “They think giving you a sugar cube is some sort of code for giving them a blow—”

Jon moved fast enough to hold a hand over Nightshade’s mouth, which did not work as well as he had hoped when she caught one of his fingers between her lips and sucked on it. After snatching his hand back and drying it on the towel, then putting the towel back over what it was supposed to cover, he gave both of the giggling batponies as cross of a frown as he could manage.

“Equestrians are horny little horses too,” he countered. “I’ve studied your mythology. Griffons and their Cat Mother and Eagle Father. Hippogriffs when a griffon catches a pony for lunch and decides that having them for dinner with a nice wine and some candles is a lot more romantic.”

“Don’t forget the kirin,” said Laminia. “The Big Brothers don’t like to talk about whatever happened with our ancestors back a couple of thousand years ago—” she extended her good dragon-like wing and gave it a slow, sensual flap “—but there are some dragons in Japan who got physical with unicorns back… well, supposedly way before Equestria was discovered by the West, so the myths are fuzzy as heck. I know they’re real because the Japanese Emperor’s chef is one of them and came back to Canterlot a few months ago.”

“With Anpan,” added Nightshade. “He’s this chunky Little Brother that Laminia’s been trying to drag into a shadow and molest.”

“And there is the sphinx, of course,” said Laminia forcefully as if to change the subject.

As much as he wanted to tweak Laminia about her handsome batpony friend, Jon considered the cat-ish creature he had met during the diplomatic dinner, and the way that it had licked him as if determining if he were going to be part of the main course. “It/he/she is a hybrid?” he asked. “Of what?”

“Cat Mother got around,” said Laminia. “Not quite sure with who, but there’s probably more sphinx kittens out there somewhere. There’s a couple other oddball creatures out there too. Manticores must have been a real sight to see. Same for chimeras. Changelings too, wherever they’re hiding.”

“At least humans are infertile with Equestrians, or we’d see some centaurs,” said Jon.

“They’re around too,” said Laminia. “Long time ago, from what I understand, and not quite a human/pony cross. More like a species of their own. I read books,” she added, cutting off Jon’s unasked question. “There’s all kind of weird and unusual stories in our history, so I spend some time reading since I’m so freaky weird too.”

“You’re not that weird, Lamby,” purred Nightshade with a yawn. “I’m sure you’ll make my monkey a kind, gentle, passionate lover.”

“My monkey?” Jon lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t remember my name on your— I mean your name on my rump.”

Nightshade hissed while pressing her hoof into the side of Jon’s rear like she was branding him. “There we go, Lamby. Treat your rental kindly and return him in good condition. Just don’t go screaming too loud and disturb me while I’m guarding in front of your door, okay?”

Laminia nearly fumbled her half-spread wings, then thwapped the other batpony with the scar-striped tip, although she winced afterward. “He’s your bed monkey. Just try not to make too much of a mess of the sheets for me to clean up tonight.”

“Other than the mess we just made on the rug?” Nightshade gave the bottle a thump on the bottom to get out a reluctant glop, much like she was thumping on a catsup bottle. “The day maids are going to think we both were—”

“Wait a m-m-minute,” protested Jon while trying not to giggle, although he could not say anything else while Nightshade was rubbing the zebra potion on the dark red abrasion across his waist just below his navel. He had probably caught his belt on something briefly while being ejected from the roadster, and the leather had protected something else near and dear to the production of future members of the Walthers family, so he really did not regret his decision to wear a belt with his dungarees.

It did make for a very awkward place for Nightshade to apply the medicine, though. Mostly because he was ticklish, but a little due to the tendency for her sock-clad hooves to wander. The redness faded with every stroke, turning from an angry stripe of ruptured capillaries that had stung something fierce to a pink stripe looking vaguely candy-like, although he was not about to taste it.

The war of words over possession of his body continued with various degrees of seriousness, much dib-contesting and body judging, and more than a few obscene suggestions, until Nightshade gave the huge potion bottle a last weary shake and sat it to one side. “No more potion, and no more unpotioned spots on our dibber. My monkey’s all yours for whatever immoral purposes you wish to inflict upon him. Ten bits an hour, plus deposit.”

“I should let you keep him,” considered Laminia with a long, slow look at Jon’s stretched-out body. She staggered over to Jon’s crumpled shirt and began to peel out of her wet socks, trying to ignore the way her dark wings sagged without their covering cloak. “We made him useless for preening purposes.”

“I’m up,” declared Jon, staggering up to his bare feet with a frantic grab to keep his towel in the process. He felt remarkably well, without most of the aches and pains he had been suffering earlier, and only pink patches on his skin instead of the previous rashes and bruises. A short stretch later, he retrieved the Johnson’s baby oil from his luggage and considered Laminia, who was still sitting in the middle of the floor while struggling to get the wet socks off. Nightshade had been able to use the little ‘hooks’ at the top edges of her wings to skin out of her soggy socks in record time, while the crippled batpony was worrying away at them with her teeth and obviously disliking the taste of the potion they had been soaked in.

“Do you need any help?”

“No,” said Laminia even while Jon ignored her and began removing the wet socks. “Well, maybe. I guess having a human around is a little useful,” she added, looking marginally more cheerful once the socks had been fully removed and tossed into the laundry pile. “Hey, Studly. Want to loan me that towel so I can finish cleaning up?”

“I better not.” Jon wrapped the towel more firmly around his waist and vanished into the bathroom, emerging with several clean towels for his snickering massage therapists. “Here. Um… So I guess we’re ready for preening your wings. How exactly do you…?” He gestured with the bottle of baby oil, which set both batponies into giggles.

“First, Lamby needs to get that wing all stretched out like this,” said Nightshade, displaying her own broad dark wing. “Start in the depression with a little puddle. No, higher. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Now start rubbing it in with little circles.”

“Like this?” Jon knelt down to get more comfortable and drizzled a little more baby oil on Nightshade’s dark wing, then added some to the second wing that was pushed in front of him by Laminia, who gave him a short snort.

“Don’t hog the monkey,” she growled, then gave a little hiccup as Jon began to rub the oil down her dry dark membranes, held taut against the pressure of his fingers. “G-gentle,” she added with a little gasp. “Easy. Oh, that’s nice.”

“Now who’s hogging the monkey?” asked Nightshade, giving Jon a little poke in his bare chest with the tip of her wing, then spreading it out for more attention. He drizzled a little baby oil on the guard’s wing in return and tried to split his attention between the two batponies.

Their preening soon turned into an embarrassing symphony of exaggerated gasps and pants of pleasure on their part, and a failing attempt by Jon to keep his towel firmly in place while his massage clients wriggled around his waist to get their wings at the right angle for proper rubbing. The kneeling position he started in turned out to be terribly uncomfortable, and the addition of several pillows to the floor let him get seated and braced without being pushed over by the occasional involuntary unfurled wing.

Between the potion and the baby oil, the rug was going to need a full laundering, which made him glad they had not attempted this in the bouncy bed. Nightshade probably would have appreciated it for the ability to rub herself against him even more, like a cat who was claiming ownership over him. Laminia was not perfectly stable with both wings extended, and shifting positions on the bed would have been… even odder than this.

Preening gave him a close and direct experience with a part of pony anatomy he had never expected to touch before, let alone be directed how to rub the proper amount of oil into and maneuver around for the best stretching. Even Laminia’s scarred wing provided an exceptional educational experience, with both ponies guiding him through the delicate process of getting every bit of upper and lower wing properly oiled until she could move and stretch it without more than the occasional wince.

“I could have you do this all night,” moaned Laminia, who was lying next to the other batpony with their wings overlapped.

“I’m almost out of baby oil,” said Jon, putting the bottle to one side and running his fingers along the trailing edge of one nearby wing without really knowing who it belonged to. Identification of Nightshade’s rear, which promptly popped up in front of him, was easier due to the five-pointed purple flower on her plot, a sign that her special talent was considerably different than Laminia and her broken heart mark..

“Tell you what,” started Nightshade with a wriggle of her rump. “I’ll show you something I’ll bet you’ve never seen before on a pony.”

“I’ve seen your rear more often than your front,” countered Jon. “It’s getting to the point where I can recognize you easier from behind.”

“Oh, very funny.” Nightshade curled up and brought her head back in a display of Equestrian flexibility, putting her nose just over the very base of her tail and pressing it firmly into her soft dark coat. When she lifted her head, the edge of her nose glistened in the subdued lighting of the bedroom, and she motioned for Jon to touch it.

“Natural preening oil,” she declared while Jon rubbed it between his fingers. “Not quite as good as Johnson’s for doing the large membrane sections and just a little different than pegasus uropygial secretions, so we can’t preen a feathered pegasus without them looking greasy afterward. It takes a friend to allow somepony to put their nose there.”

“I… um… don’t think I want to nose you in the butt.”

Nightshade rolled her eyes and caught Jon’s fingers in her teeth. “These,” she muttered. “What I want you to do is get a good glob of it and grease up the rough skin on the leading edge of Laminia’s wings up to and including the first elbow joint.”

“And…?” Jon looked at the relaxed batpony all stretched out on the rug with her wings extended to each side, both good flying surfaces and the one covered in thin white scars.

“You said you wanted to learn about us. Oil up or shut up.” Nightshade shuffled around but kept her rump pointed at him with the two slightly greasy spots at the base of her tail glittering in the subdued lighting of the bedroom.

Jon tightened the towel around his waist and gave it a good knot. Then he reached over to Nightshade and used as gentle a touch as he could to ‘milk’ the greasy fluid off her back. It would have been easier if she had not kept lifting her tail to one side.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Instinct. Do you have enough oil?”

“I think so.”

He leaned over Laminia’s back and put one greasy hand on each of the muscular wing bones, each about as thick as the ones in his forearms and hollow to reduce weight. The thick tendons flexed under his fingers like cables, making Jon truly realize just how strong a pegasus had to be in order to fly. Smearing the organic oil up and down her wings to the first elbow join made Laminia gasp, twitch, and jerk until she flattened down on the rug, extended her wings to their full extent and gave out a low, sensual moan.

The motion pulled him forward to keep his fingers on the greasy wing root, which made him go almost prone over Laminia’s warm fuzzy back. Despite it being nearly dark in the room, Jon felt as if he were stretched out over a sun-warmed blanket with all kinds of interesting things going on under it. Worse, Laminia had worked up a bit of a sweat while rubbing the zebra potion into his own skin, so his position sprawled across her warm back was not exactly stable as she shifted positions with every motion of his fingers.

My next bath is going to be absolutely full of little grey hairs.

“Uhhhh…” moaned Laminia. “Up a little. Little more. There. Scratch.” As he followed directions, Jon could feel the texture of the leathery wing edge under his hands change, becoming slightly more rough and pebbled. A simple oil rubbing with the tip of his fingers did not seem to do the trick, but when he switched to his fingernails, Laminia shuddered under him and bit the rug.

“That’s the spot,” purred Nightshade to his side. “Keep going and I’ll tell you exactly what you’re doing.”

“Holding on for dear life,” said Jon as Laminia’s wings gave a low shake at the same time her torso rocked back and forth, as if she were trying to slide him off her sweaty back, or make him even more covered in grey hairs.

Nightshade snickered. “Exactly, only you’re not a few thousand feet up. You see, when a boy pegasus loves a girl pegasus—”

“They rent a hotel room, like sensible ponies,” said Jon. He quit scratching at the rough patches on Laminia’s wing root, only to start up again when she growled, a deep, hostile sound that made him fear for his fingers.

“If they’re our kind of pegasus,” continued Nightshade, “they go out flying and find a cloud to preen in, with nibbling and other such non-monkey activities until they get all excited. Then they fly even higher, and at the top of their arc—” Nightshade made a swooping motion with one hoof. “Fly United Airlines.”

“Oh.” Jon scratched one one wing and watched as Laminia’s wings warped to that side, then an equal scratch on the other wing. “So the stallion can control the glide by biting her on the wings while they’re having— Oh!”

Nightshade snickered at the expression that must have crossed his face. “No, I never tried that with Ian. If he ever fell off, I’m not sure I could recover fast enough to catch him.”

“Actually, I was thinking about my current precarious position.” He stopped scratching Laminia’s wing edge for a moment and cocked an eyebrow at Nightshade when the low growl sounded again.

“Lamby.” Nightshade puckered up and blew into one of Laminia’s ears, which made her shake her head and scowl. “Snap out of it, Lamby. Let my monkey go to bed.”

“Bed sounds good,” growled Laminia. “Mine. All night.”

“Mine!” growed Nightshade back, although she put a hoof in the center of Laminia’s back and rubbed. After several minutes, it made Laminia’s rigid wings begin to sag, more so when Jon contributed his fingers to rubbing the cable-like tendons along her spine.

“Okay, yours,” groaned Laminia, so flat against the floor that she could have been a rug. “How much to rent those fingers for the whole night?”

“Mine,” insisted Nightshade. “Go get your hefty coltfriend to rub your back tonight.”

Jon could see the instinctual way Laminia retracted her crippled wing, so he reached down and stretched it back out along the rug again, then went back to her well-deserved back rub. “Anpan is going to see your wing eventually. If he’s worth it, he’s going to see past it to what’s inside.”

Laminia grunted and nosed down into the rug with a sigh. “That’s not any better.”

There was nothing in Jon’s accumulated knowledge that seemed as if it would help, so he took a long shot. “Persistence is the key to accomplishing difficult things. If you don’t try, you’re guaranteed to fail. You’ll stew in your own bile until you’re an old, wrinkled prune with no teeth. I mean look at the way Nightshade keeps trying to get into my… Wait a minute. Let me think of another example.”

Laminia giggled, then gave a languorous stretch that rolled Jon off her back and onto the rug. “Oh, stars I’m tired. I’m half tempted to just lie here on the floor until morning.”

“Great idea.” Nightshade stumbled over to the bed and gave a laborious hop up onto it so she could towel off the extra oil on her wings. “I had no idea I was so tired. Wish I could take a nap before work, but I’ve got to keep my human protected.”

Laminia opened one eye, then rolled up onto her hooves with a grumble, although her wings still dragged on the floor. “You’re getting oil all over the bed, Night-Night. Let me get you another towel. Will you be needing anything or anypony this evening, Mister Walthers?”

Jon did not respond at first. The night’s activities had made him sweaty, and he needed a few minutes to towel off and regain his sanity before getting in to bed, so he took the empty potion bottle and got a book out of his suitcase. While the two batponies worked on getting toweled off too, he noticed they kept a series of slow flaps going in order to circulate the air in the room, making it cool and comforting in the lateness of the evening.

Once he had dried out enough, he put the used towel over his shoulders and sat in the light of the suite’s desk lamp for a few minutes, working through the Zebrican-Equestrian dictionary and the bottle’s instructions with a pencil. “I’m fine. Hm, this rhymes in Equestrian and English,” he muttered. “How in heck do they do that?”

“Ask Twilight Snuggles,” said Nightshade with a broad yawn while Laminia fussed over her, tucking a clean towel under her forelegs before starting to rub any last bits of zebra potion off her hooves. “She snuck by while you were ministering to our naked bodies. Just peeked in the door, watched you oiling us up for a while, then left.” Nightshade giggled. “I hope she dragged Green Mountain into another suite and had her way with him. Loosen up that tight tail of hers. I think she blames herself for your automobile accident.”

Jon just grunted in response and kept translating the bottle’s instructions, but after a time, decided he should at least speak up in favor of Celestia’s cover story for the roadster ‘accident.’ “Twilight saved my life. She won’t admit it, but the roadster must have been doing a hundred when we hit, and she’s the only unicorn in the vicinity who could have put up a cushioning spell that powerful.”

At least if the unicorn who sabotaged the Cord had not gotten cold hooves and cast the spell himself. Or maybe it was a warning? But of what?

An assassination attempt was possible, after all, despite the policemare’s insistence that a unicorn had been involved. Unicorns were considered the most peaceful of the three pony tribes, which was quite a high bar to clear. Then again, the species they were compared against was humans, who had barely gotten to a population of four before one of them killed another.

Ancient sibling rivalry aside, even humans with their naturally violent nature took a special mindset to attack somebody with intent to kill. Shooting those two thugs in Cairo had taken a lot out of Jon, and he found himself looking over his shoulder constantly afterward, even after he had returned to the US. Hearing an Egyptian accent still made him nervous, as if some distant relative of the dead killers were going to jump out and accost him.

He mused about it while walking across the room to turn the dimmed overhead light the rest of the way off, then walking back to his bed in the subdued illumination of his bedside lamp. The US ROTC program had given him the bare basics in being a soldier, but they had not trained him to kill. How did the peaceful Equestrians train their soldiers? They certainly did not train their students to be violent, if Twilight were a good example. He was so preoccupied, he did not even think about the other observers in the room when he draped the oily towel over his suitcase and changed into a fresh pair of boxer shorts.

“Hey, Mister Walthers.” Once the startled human had turned around to look, Nightshade pointed at the sleeping batpony on the foot end of the bed and whispered again, “Isn’t she cute like that?”

Laminia indeed looked cute, as snug as a bug in a rug, and all the usual adorable phrases all rolled up into one. She had obviously fallen asleep while toweling off Nightshade, and sprawled out with her bare wings limp. Even in slumber, she took care to keep her crippled wing on the top side, making it spread out over the quilted duvet (which he needed to thank Princess Cadence for sometime) like a different, totally organic quilt made of pain and medicine. He pulled the edge of the blanket over the sleeping pony and considered the space remaining on the bed, which was adequate for his less-than-sizable frame and left plenty of space for him to sit down beside Nightshade.

“Yeah, she’s adorable,” admitted Jon. “Just don’t ever tell her I said that.”

“Deal.” Nightshade continued looking at the other batpony, her smile gradually turning into a thin-lipped grim expression more appropriate for when she was wearing armor. “May cause yawns, my left tit. That potion must have soaked through our skins better than yours.” The thought that was bothering Nightshade became abruptly clear when she added, “Just like Root Stock and that damnable German poison.”

It was a mental punch to the gut, and explained why the guard was fighting so hard to resist the sedative effects of the zebra potion. Jon put one arm around her tense shoulders and brushed down her mane, painfully aware of how vulnerable he was to her steel shoes or sharp teeth while clothed only in a thin pair of boxer shorts. The tension did not lower as he had hoped while running his fingers through her mane, but she did not leave, which was at least a plus.

“When you were working with the British, did you ever have to kill a person?” asked Jon. It was not exactly how he wanted to start the conversation, but it was what came out of his mouth while his tired mind was whirling.

Nightshade turned away for a time, then checked her sleeping friend, presumably to make sure she would not be able to hear the response.

“Once,” she whispered. “When Ian was on the mission to retrieve that report.” The muscular batpony trembled and pulled her wings closer to her body, but did not say anything else for a long while.

“I’ve killed,” he said quietly but with a horrible feeling about how his confession sounded artificial and false. “In Egypt, during an archeological conference. Well, not at the conference. That would have really stirred things up amongst the old geezers. After the conference, when Professor Yearling received an invitation to a private reception, she took me along. Seems there was something called the Gorgon Charm recently discovered in Palmital de Minas. The owner wanted to show it off to a few of the notables, and Professor Yearling thought I’d be interested. Either that or I’d be useful in translating for the German who owned the piece.”

“So you talked him to death?” Nightshade let out a huge yawn. “Sorry. It’s the medicine. Go on.”

“Well. Anyway,” said Jon, trying to get comfortable against his warm pillow. “After viewing the amulet, Miss Yearling convinced the owner that she should take it to a friend of hers. It took some discussion, and I was more interested in the rest of his collection, so I don’t remember many of the details. Then when we were taking a cab back to the hotel, it stopped in this dark alley with a couple of thugs outside pulling the doors open. The driver was in on the attack, because he had a gun pointed at us when he turned around.” Jon swallowed. “I shot him twice through the back of the car seat in the middle of his little speech. Then I shot the man trying to grab me through the open cab door. He had a knife. Professor Yearling went out the other cab door. I followed. We ran like the devil himself was chasing us. No idea what happened to the other man on her side of the cab. Miss Yearling had a wing bandaged up, so she couldn’t fly. When we got back to the hotel, she made me shut up about the whole thing. Said they were probably after her and made sure I was on the next airplane out of Egypt.”

Jon took a moment to pour himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedstand, because his throat had gone bone-dry.

“How do you know they died?” Nightshade quietly took the half-empty glass of water from him and finished it off, passing it back when she was done. “Just because you shot—”

“Princess Celestia told me.” Jon took a short breath. “The only way she could have known is if she investigated. She could have left me ignorant. I wish she had.”

“At least you had some distance from the person you killed.” Nightshade leaned into Jon and put her head down on his leg. Her resulting tremors traveled up his skin to give him a cold chill, and he began to stroke the back of her mane by her ears out of reflex, which calmed her down slightly, at least.

“I should have stayed in cover, but I just had to go look. It was far too late at night, and my partner wasn’t back yet, so I was getting antsy. Hiding in a tree while a German patrol went by seemed like a rational precaution just in case one of them spotted where we hid the cob.”

“And one of them did?” asked Jon after a period of silence.

Nightshade nodded, although she did not move from her position on the bed, stretched over his leg with her eyes closed. “I grabbed him from behind before he could call out. Used a chokehold. By the time I had taken him to where I was going to tie him up, I had crushed his throat. I didn’t notice until I put him down, because I was wound tighter than a ten-cent watch. So I untied him and threw the body into a nearby ravine before sneaking back and moving the cob where it wouldn’t get found.”

“Did you tell your partner?” asked Jon.

Nightshade nodded with a prickling of her warm nose against his bare thigh. “They talked about having to kill during the Guard Academy, and the British military gave me some terrifying training with Major Coats, but every time I think about it, I can feel his face against my coat. The way he struggled. I didn’t even know his name. And then I found out about Root Stock, and I was afraid that if I returned to the field, I wouldn’t be able to stop killing them until I was killed in return. I don’t know why Celestia put me in charge of guarding you.”

“I think I do.” Jon patted her on the head while settling down on the bed and pulling the sheet over himself. “You needed a friend. To talk with.”

Nightshade grunted while Jon got comfortable under the covers, then went back to curling up beside him. “Green Mountain is all alone out there in the corridor. I should get to work,” she said with a toothy yawn.

“You’re guarding me.” Jon scratched lightly behind the ear that seemed to need it the most.

“I guard you at night,” said Nightshade without moving a muscle from his bed, but still making a yawning noise. “During the day, you can abuse my body and touch whatever you want.”

“Then you can guard me from here. After all, there’s a dangerous mare in my room.”

Laminia took that moment to let out a long snore as she shifted positions to lean against the covers over Jon’s feet. Then after another breath, she repeated the snore while Nightshade let out a small giggle.

“Lamby did that years ago when we first came here,” she whispered. “She couldn’t fly, so we walked, and slept days in haystacks.” Laminia snored again, and Nightshade giggled. “Like Sun and Moon, some things never change.”

Something really dramatic is getting ready to change in your world. And Twilight Sparkle still hasn’t made a single friend to help prevent it.

Jon turned off his bedside lamp and closed his eyes. Maybe tomorrow.

11. It Was a Tuesday

Equestria : 1940
Tuesday 18 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye. Be not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.”
— Psalm 32:7

Jon’s feet were cold.

It was an odd thing to wake up to, particularly after a few moments of drowsy thought made him realize that he had gone to bed with two batpony mares last night, one of them curled around his feet and the other willing to go further between the sheets than any human female had gone with him.

Never going to tell my parents, never going to tell my parents…

At least he was still wearing his boxer shorts. A little blinking and squinting in the dim light of the electric night light revealed no fuzzy grey pony-sized lumps in his large bed, but also no warm quilted duvet at the foot end. It took a few moments for Jon to stagger out of bed and find where it had gone (kicked over the edge as he expected), but after looking at the alarm clock, he decided his morning would start anyway the moment he tried to crawl back under the covers.

“You up?” The front door of the suite creaked open a crack and a pegasus guard poked his nose in. Well, her nose if Jon was guessing the identity of the disguised batpony in question. “Second post reports Egghead is en route here. Thought you might want to meet her wearing pants for a change.”

“Thanks, Nightshade,” said Jon, trying not to be distracted by the way her nose was twitching and wrinkling up. “I’ll just go wash up and shave before—”

Nightshade flew into the room and fairly bounced across the suite floor as Laminia slammed into her from the rear, then they both shook their heads with the servant recovering first.

“Come on!” Laminia bolted forward and began shoving Jon in the direction of the bathroom. “You’ve got to get into the tub right now!” With one swift motion, she stripped off his boxer shorts and tossed them over her shoulder without skipping one step in their progress toward the bathtub.

“What do you think you’re—” The disguised guard stopped a step away from a naked Jon, who had managed to get braced in the bathroom doorway, and gave him a long sniff. “Whew! That’s what stinks.” She then sniffed her own forelegs. “Oh! Buck!”

Golden guard armor scattered in all directions as Nightshade shed out of her work clothes, revealing her tousled grey coat and tangled mane. With one swift motion across the floor, she added her force to shove Jon into the bathroom.

“Into the tub, Studly! Now! You stink!”

“But I had a bath last night at the hospital,” protested Jon in what sounded like a terribly juvenile excuse.

“Then we put that zebra goop all over you,” said Nightshade, who had turned both faucets on full and was dumping bubble bath into the resulting churning water. “You reek like… Well, let’s just say it smells like the three of us spent all last night in bed having messy—”

“Eww!” declared Laminia through her firm grip on the long-handled bath brush. “Less talking, more scrubbing. To think we almost let you walk through the whole castle stinking like that. Into the suds, monkey boy!”

At least the foaming suds gave Jon a token cover for modesty, although the probing he received from the bristled brush and plentiful amounts of soap made him miss bathing alone. Soap was going everywhere, and both batponies were scrubbing with skin-tingling intensity, making it very difficult to keep track of time.

Until he heard the astonished gasp at the bathroom doorway.

Twilight Sparkle had the biggest eyes. Well, the second biggest eyes, when compared to the shocked look on Spike’s face. The two of them, dragon and unicorn, were standing in a thin haze of suds in the doorway, one with a checklist on a clipboard and the other with a wrinkled up nose much like Nightshade had looked when she smelled what Jon had smelled like. Twilight’s eyes went from the three suds-covered creatures, to the messy bed, and back, with disbelieving sniffs between.

“I was going to take you on a trip around the school to visit my friends,” said Twilight Sparkle slowly as if her mouth was working independent of her brain. “But if you’re busy…”

“I’ll be out shortly.” Jon spit out some suds. “Just have to clean up first.”

- Ω - -

By the time Jon fell into step alongside Twilight Sparkle and her dragon, he was fairly sure he had left a layer of skin behind in the tub. To make matters worse, Twilight looked barely changed from last night, carrying almost as much dirt and oil in her coat as when she had come out from underneath Blueblood’s Cord roadster.

“I’ve got a full day planned,” said Twilight. “I thought taking you to the school and introducing you to all of my friends would make you see that I’m just fine, and don’t need help making friends. Then you could go home and I could go back to studying.”

Until the world ends.

“Let’s see about today first,” said Jon once he had bitten down on his tongue to prevent any other words from leaking out. The snark was getting harder to hold back the longer he spent in Twilight’s presence.

“The schedule has us visiting the alchemy lab—” Spike caught Jon’s wrist for a moment and read his watch “—a half-hour ago, so if we skip that and go on to the history and relativity research center, we might be able to have them throw us back in time.”

“Spike,” chided Twilight. “Time travel spells are strictly forbidden. We’ll just have to trim a few minutes off each visit to make up time without making any in the lab. Heheh. Not that I ever did that to get more studying time. Ever.” Her brisk hoofsteps sped up until Jon was nearly jogging alongside, with a panting dragon flanking her other side. They went up several sets of stairs and down others with Twilight demonstrating her extensive knowledge of the castle by wandering into dead ends or observation balconies several times before doubling back and doubling her velocity.

“Alchemy!” she declared, stopping in front of a door with a sign that said ‘Caution - Class in Session - Do Not Enter Under Any Circumstances.’

- Ω - -

Many, many hours later, Jon had determined that Celestia’s school was secretly some sort of munitions plant specializing in explosives, or perhaps camouflage. Even their short break at the cafeteria for lunch had something back in the kitchens that kept banging and crackling, most likely because the cooks used student⁽*⁾ assistants.
(*) There was no problem with student obesity. They ran fast or wound up eating hospital food.

The only class that they visited which did not have something blow up was Ancient History, and that had a Roman aeolipile happily leaving a trail of steam while spinning around in the middle of a table with students gathered all around, most likely waiting for it to blow up too. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration caused by one too many times diving for cover, mostly by observing Spike’s well-honed survival skills and following suit before the bang.

In any case, the search for Twilight Sparkle’s school friends was… somewhat lacking. That’s not to say there was not a search by any means. Twilight interrupted all classes with equal impudence, strolling through alchemy experiments, correcting chalkboards, and even looking under tables when the ponies she wanted were not in sight. Jon was starting to get an idea of just how much the slightly built unicorn was an unstoppable force of nature by the way the teachers reacted, each one tensing up like a guitar string when she strolled through the classroom doorway, and doing anything they possibly could to see her gone in as short a period as possible. In the end, and after walking through enough smoke that Jon’s suit was going to need a full cleaning or burning, Twilight managed to find one of the ponies she had gone to school with. Of course, locating her friend would have been more friendly if she had not cornered Twinkleshine like a rat in her office and refused to let her get away.

“Twilight!” The pale unicorn gave a weak smile, her eyes flickering up to Jon and back down to her former classmate while backing up a step inside her office. “You did Moony a one-up, I see. She went out to work with the humans, but you checked one out of the library.”

“Jon Walthers,” said Jon with his hand stuck out to shake. “Celestia brought me here to help teach her student.”

“Oh,” said Twinkleshine. Her nervous smile was quickly replaced by a real one as her words sped up. “What subjects do you teach? Do you know anything about the theatre? I saw you at the Wizard of Oz with Twilight’s parents, but the whole place was a zoo and I didn’t want to disturb you. Oh, and I heard you visited our zoo! Have you met Lyra yet? Don’t let her lick your fingers.”

Jon paused for Twilight Sparkle to say something, but his student had ‘borrowed’ two of the books in Twinkleshine’s office and was reading, with a third book floating behind her in line for her perusal. If left un-nudged, she would probably stand there for hours.

“Princess Celestia says Doctor Walthers is an instructor in pony-human relations,” said Spike, filling in the conversation for his owner/sister/whatever relationship he had with Twilight.

“Oh!” Twinkleshine’s smile suddenly became frantic, and she blushed as bright as her pink hair. “Ooooooh!”

“Not those kind of relations,” cautioned Jon, but Spike was still happily digging his hole.

“In fact, when we picked him up this morning,” said Spike with the guileless expression of the young, “he was teaching two of the batpony servants how to give him a bath.”

“Twilight was wanting to introduce me to her friends,” said Jon rapidly. “So we’ve been running around Celestia’s school, looking for them.”

“Oh. Well.” Twinkleshine looked back at her clean white coat. “I don’t think I really need a bath, but if you want—”

“To talk with them,” corrected Jon. “Twilight wanted me to see what good friends you all are.”

“Really?” Twinkleshine blinked her big blue eyes while undoubtedly human-embarrassing ideas churned behind them. “I actually haven’t talked to her in the last two or three years, other than spotting her in the cafeteria or at some sort of event.”

“How about Moon… Prancer?” Jon checked the note he had tucked into his leather satchel. “Moon Dancer, Minuette, Lyra, and Lemon Hearts, that is.”

“Oh, them?” Twinkleshine stuck her tongue in her cheek while thinking. “They’ve all gone on to other things, really. I mean I’m only still here for the theatre department while the rest of them scattered at graduation. Minuette works at a dentist practice in Ponyville, Moon Dancer is chasing neutrons in some chemical plant in Germany, Lemon is working in the castle’s public events office, and Lyra is doing whatever she does.”

“Lyra’s weird,” muttered Twilight as she floated a third book over next to her.

“But fun,” added Twinkleshine with a bright smile. “We meet up in Ponyville every so often, have a few laughs, talk about things. It’s not the same without Lemon Hearts, lately.”

“She’s tied up at work in the castle?” asked Jon.

“No, she’s off with Moon Dancer in Germany,” said Twinkleshine. “Lemon Hearts is working at the castle.”

“She’s working at the castle and in Germany?” asked Jon, trying not to sound confused.

“No, Lemon Hearts is working in Germany. Lemon Hearts is still here in the castle, handling events for Princess Celestia.” Twinkleshine frowned at him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Uh…” Jon thought about it for a short time before Spike interrupted his broken chain of thought.

“I thought Lemon Hearts worked in Princess Cadence’s office, keeping her schedule?”

“Oh, she does,” said Twinkleshine. “It keeps her close to her mother.”

The light glimmered dimly in Jon’s head. “Is her name Lemon Hearts too?”

Twinkleshine nodded while Jon thought about how many Jon’s were in his own family tree.

“Um, Spike?” Twinkleshine bobbed her head at where Twilight Sparkle had settled in behind the office desk with several books floating around her. “Could you watch her and tidy up a tad? I’ve got something I’d like to ask Doctor Walthers. In private.”

“No problem.” Spike promptly scooped a discarded book from a nearby chair and started to climb a bookcase to replace it, a task that seemed a little dangerous for a baby dragon, even if he bragged about being so tough. He was on his way down to retrieve a second book when the door swung closed under the influence of Twinkleshine’s magic and cut off Jon’s view.

“She’s good for a few minutes,” said Twinkleshine, nudging Jon down the hallway a few yards. “Twilight always has to check every book she finds to make sure she’s already read it. So…” The pale white unicorn looked up at Jon from under a poofy curl of pink mane over her horn, preparing obvious questions which he felt an obligation to squelch first.

“I have a very professional relationship with my student,” said Jon. “Princess Celestia would have nothing less. My goal is to help her find friends.”

“So… a labor of Hēraklês, then.” Twinkleshine rolled her eyes and let out her breath in a huff. “You’d think she’d have you clean the house regiment’s barracks, or something a little more probable.”

“Helping her make friends has been… difficult, I’ll admit.” Jon cast a quick glance back at the closed office door and lowered his voice. “It’s still very important. Princess Celestia has made it the highest priority.”

“Oh. The Princess.” Twinkleshine’s tongue emerged just enough to run around the edges of her lips. “I suppose… You know, the girls are having a little get together for Moondancer tomorrow morning.”

“I thought she was in Germany?” Jon thought back. “With Lemon Hearts.”

“She is.” Twinkleshine ground the tip of one hoof into the corridor tiles. “We were going to box up a present for her, since she’s been stuck in Europe. A few things to remind them of home, some photographs. A box of Lemon Hearts’ lemon cookies. It would be nice, I suppose, to have Twilight there. If she can make it, of course. Without you dragging her there by the tail.”

Jon slowly nodded his head. “I assure you, no tail dragging. Also, I have a camera and a movie camera, so you can send a roll of film for their projector.”

Twinkleshine perked up. “We could make humorous placards showing how much we missed them.”

“It would be a good opportunity for Twilight to reconnect with her friends, both here and abroad,” added Jon.

“If you can get her there,” cautioned Twinkleshine with a twinkle in her eyes. “She can show off her new coltfriend.”

“Not a coltfriend,” cautioned Jon. “Just a friend. Celestia brought me here.”

Twinkleshine shook her head. “Celestia has her own ways of dealing with heat, but Twilight?” She clucked her tongue. “She needs serious help. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Not from here!” objected Jon, although with his voice held low as not to carry down the corridor to any curious ears.

“Look, we tried to set up Twilight with some stallions from school, but the ones who knew her stayed away, and the ones who didn’t, ran away afterward.”

Jon could not really argue with that statement of historical fact.

“So Celestia got her a human,” concluded Twinkleshine.

Now that was something he could argue about. “Our relationship is strictly platonic. Plato, even. Teacher and student.”

“Hey, we know all about humans,” said Twinkleshine with a girlish giggle. “All of the fun, none of the foals.”

Backed into a logical corner, Jon grabbed for his only available lifeline. “I’m actually in a relationship. A weird relationship, I suppose,” he added without really thinking about it.

“Just one?” Twinkleshine nudged him in the thigh with one elbow. “You know, friends share.”

“An exclusive relationship,” added Jon rapidly. “Very special. And she’s very protective.”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying. With all the guards out of the castle, the nights are getting long and cold.” Twinkleshine shrugged and turned back to walk down the corridor again. “Anyway, see if you can get Twilight and Spike out in the west castle courtyard around mid-morning tomorrow, and we’ll kick up one heck of a party, Canterlot style.”

- Ω - -

“I told you I had friends,” declared Twilight Sparkle in a near squeal as she trotted down the corridor with Jon striding along beside her. “I can hardly wait for you to tell Princess Celestia! Straight-A’s all the way!”

“Yeah, as in ‘A’ friend,” said Spike, who was holding onto Twilight’s bouncing back with all four limbs. “One who you haven’t talked to in a few years.”

“We talked!” protested Twilight Sparkle. “Right there in her office. You saw us, Spike.”

“Can I have my book back, Twilight? But I’m not done with it yet! That’s fine, Twilight. You can bring it to Moondancer’s party tomorrow morning. But…” Spike coughed and resumed his normal voice. “True friends indeed.”

Jon eyed the book in question, sticking out of Twilight’s saddlebag, a thick tome regarding the use of stage lighting spells and dramatic motion that had a number of char marks on the cover and a blue crayon scribble that resembled ‘Prop. TGAPT’ across the bottom. “Trust is an element of friendship,” said Jon carefully. “It goes by many names: care, faith, loyalty, and family. Princess Celestia trusts that you will make friends, because she cares about you.”

“I don’t know why you keep bringing that up,” grumbled Twilight.

“Because I’m your… friend,” said Jon. “Friends help each other be better by encouraging our good parts and discouraging our bad parts.”

“That’s a teacher’s job,” said Twilight, turning down a familiar corridor. Jon could not help but notice how clueless she was blundering around the whole complex castle, but when it came time to return to Celestia’s location for praise, she was a homing pigeon of exceptional accuracy without a single misstep or wrong turn. “Teachers mark off points when we do things wrong and give us high scores when we’re right. And I’m always right,” she added.

- Ω - -

Jon had some time to consider Twilight’s words at the private dinner they shared with Princess Celestia and Princess Cadence. At least in the small dining room, Twilight Sparkle was far more outgoing and friendly, detailing their tour through the castle and school with meticulous accuracy, or in the way she saw the trip. It was a declaration of her right-ness, a triumphant point-by-point defense of the thesis “Twilight Sparkle is a Wonderful Friend” between the caesar’s salad and the mashed potatoes, with the summation during the yogurt sorbet.

Both Cadence and Spike were exchanging meaningful glances with eye-rolls by the time Twilight was finished, but Princess Celestia remained her usual stoic self, merely nodding and asking the occasional insightful question. After dessert, the conversation turned to lighter and darker topics, like the ongoing war in Europe and the resulting impact it would have on the island nation, such as petrol shortages and reduced coal delivery.

“Although the fighting continues, France is certainly lost already. It was such a wonderful place,” mused Cadence. “Perhaps the Germans can be persuaded to leave it after a year or two. They seem determined to take the country over, but I can’t imagine how difficult it would be for them to rule over it.”

“They will,” said Celestia, her eyes dark and distant. “There are always those who value their position of power over others, regardless of their right, and the Germans will find them in abundance. Already Monsignor Pétain has made an accomodation with the wolves to rule in their stead before his country has even been totally overwhelmed, and Admiral Darlan is making secret arrangements to turn over the French fleet to German control.”

“Well…” Cadence nervously rearranged her silverware on her plate. “If it prevents any more violence, their actions should save many lives.”

“What if it were here, Mi Amore? What if the Germans swept across our peaceful land, killing who they wished and subjugating the rest to their purposes?” Celestia raised her dinner knife with a few flecks of avocado still on it and floated it over to the younger princess. “Would you take up the sword of war to defend our little ponies to your dying breath, sacrificing your own self in order to preserve their freedom?”

To her credit, Cadence did not wince, but wrapped her blue magic around the dinner knife and placed it down on the table next to her own silverware. “Yes. You know I would.”

“To your last breath, to the last spark of life, even though you may have to do terrible things to save them?” asked Celestia in a low, sharp tone that ripped through Jon’s heart like a knife.

“I see your point.” Cadence floated the knife off the table, and for one terrifying instance, Jon thought she was going to make a dramatic gesture like turning it into a sword or plunging it into the table, but instead she merely floated it back over to her aunt and deposited it with the rest of the place setting. She pushed her cushion back from the table and rose at the same time Celestia did, giving the elder alicorn a brief bob of her head. “Thank you, Auntie Celestia. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go practice that spell you wanted me to learn.”

“A new spell?” Twilight was on her hooves so fast the dirty plates at her place setting nearly tumbled onto the ground. “Can I learn it with you, Cadence? Please?”

It was the first time today that Jon could recall hearing ‘please’ from his student, and with enough force to melt a heart of steel. Cadence was obviously moved, but still shook her head. “I’m sorry, Twilight. This is a special spell that can only be cast by an alicorn.”

“But you know I’m very strong,” insisted Twilight, although her drooping ears and the hunch to her back indicated this was an argument she was destined to lose.

“Maybe I can show you in a few days,” said Cadence. “Until then, I need to practice.” She gave Twilight a kiss on the forehead before strolling out of the room, which gave Twilight the opportunity to do exactly what Jon expected.

“Princess Celestia, can you teach me that spell?”

“In a few days, perhaps.” Celestia shook herself out of whatever dark place she had been thinking about and used her magic to open the door. “Until then, I expect you to follow Doctor Walthers’ instructions. Now go take a bath and off to bed for the both of you, and don’t stay up late studying.”

“I will.” The door thumped behind them and Jon listened to the clatter of departing shoes, waiting until they had gotten all the way out of earshot before he cracked open the door and looked into Twilight’s eyes, where she was still standing.

“Ventriloquism spell of some sort?” he asked.

“I… better be going,” said Twilight Sparkle. She sprinted down the corridor with Spike holding on for dear life, vanishing around the corner and continuing until the last thing Jon could hear was Spike’s voice drifting back.

“I told you so, Twilight.”

Jon closed the door quietly and turned to the vast bulk of Celestia brooding on the other side of the table. “Other than Spike, your student has one friend in the castle, and that’s because they haven’t spoken in years. She’s headstrong, stubborn, egotistical—”

“And determined enough to save my sister,” completed Celestia. “She will not back down, no matter the cost.”

“Because you would,” continued Jon rapidly. “You can’t face your sister, so you found the most pigheaded unicorn in the world to do what you can’t.”

Well, it was what he should have said instead of meekly bowing his head and waiting for the princess to continue.

“She is far too much like Luna,” admitted Celestia after a time spent brooding. “Without friends, she would find the darkness appealing. The power over others, the ability to be right even when she is wrong.”

“I was wrong,” said Jon abruptly. “The three most important words in the universe, and right now, I have to admit that I was just wrong. I said Spike was Twilight’s only close friend in the castle. She has one other. You.”

“I am not her friend, I am her teacher,” Celestia said at a measured pace. “Her princess, her ruler, the one whom she obeys. The only one she obeys, other than her parents,” corrected Celestia.

“So why hasn’t she taken a bath like you told her?” asked Jon reflexively. “Friends help each other become better, like I’ve said before.”

Celestia made as if she were going to reply, then settled back down on her cushion and lifted the top from the cover over their dessert cake, which was only half consumed.

“I trust my student, Doctor Walthers. And I trust you can find your way back to your rooms unaccompanied.”

- Ω - -

Either the castle was getting smaller or Jon was getting better at finding his way around the dark nighttime corridors. He only had to double-back twice to find his room in the fairly empty corridor of the visitors wing. Presumably there were other times when the castle was host to diplomatic events where the rooms would all be full and the castle staff bustling back and forth, but the shadowed halls just echoed, empty and forlorn to the scuffing sounds of his worn leather shoes.

There were two guards standing stalwart and brave outside of his door, which made it easy to identify which of the rooms was his, although he wondered at times if the guards would occasionally scoot their position one door down the corridor to confuse guests.

“Good evening, gentlecolts,” said Jon. The guards did not respond, of course, but after a brief inspection Jon determined that one of them was just ever so slightly shorter than the other, and held his… that is her wings far too rigidly for them to be the feathery appendages they were supposed to be.

Ah. Nightshade. This time for sure.

He slipped one hand under the thin steel plates that were supposed to protect the guard’s neck and rubbed up against the knots concealed beneath. The familiar motion helped him think, and Nightshade gave a quiet grunt while he massaged the knots into submission.

“I think I figured it out,” he mused half to himself. “Celestia never had children. If so, she would have spanked Twilight the first time she refused to take a bath, and that would have been the end of it.”

The guard let out a low chuckle, closer to a masculine rumble, and Jon gave him a skeptical look. “Nightshade?”

“Over here,” said the other guard with a carefully suppressed smile. The guard he was in the middle of giving a neck rub shook his head and shifted positions to keep Jon from moving, which probably signified a desire for him to keep going, which Jon did. It seemed Jon had made another friend out of Green Mountain, if only for neck rubs.

“Anyway,” continued Jon. “Twilight thinks I’m a pervert for getting dragged into the bathtub by two frisky batponies, the entire school thinks I’m a bad luck charm that causes experiments to explode, and Twilight Sparkle’s oldest friend in her peer group thinks I’m having sex with her. Twilight, that is,” he clarified.

Green Mountain wrinkled up his nose and sniffed. “I thought I could smell some hanky-panky last night, but all I can smell is burning chemicals now. Is there anything we can do to help?”

Jon sniffed his tweed jacket. “No, this is never coming out. Might as well burn it and run around naked.”

Nightshade snorted and tapped one hoof against her armor.

“It wouldn’t fit,” said Jon. “Just like my bathtub.”

He eyed Green Mountain, and the book bag the friendly stallion had shoved behind him. That peculiarity made fair sense, because the suite had a light in front of it, but reading while on duty did not seem to be something an alert sentry would do.

Then again, a reading student outside his door was far better than a dozing or absent guard.

The student seemed to be relatively intelligent, and must have known his way around the castle or they would not have hired him to act as a Royal Guard in name only. Nightshade would only try something sneaky if he asked her, but if he knew where things were in the castle too…

“Actually, there is something you can do to help,” said Jon slowly. “Do you know where there’s a bigger bathtub than the little thing in my room?”

“You could say that,” admitted Green Mountain with a smile.

“Great!” Jon slipped into his room, calling back over his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.”

- ☾ - -

Five minutes later, Jon slipped back out of his room and closed the door. He made an odd figure because he was wearing the brand new bathrobe he had found in his room, had slipped into a matching pair of fuzzy pink bedroom slippers, and was carrying a basket of shampoo bottles, a large towel, a washcloth, a fresh set of casual clothes, and a hairbrush clenched in his teeth so he would have his hands free. After a little bit of rearranging to put the brush in a pocket and hooking an arm through the basket to make it easier to carry, he nodded at Green Mountain, who promptly began trotting down the corridor.

The guest corridor fell behind them at a rapid clip, because the guard did not seem to have a speed between Stationary and Brisk Jog. There was a bath at the end of their path, so Jon did not want to raise a fuss, even when their path moved to an interior, very plain stairwell and they began descending, the pony by the deceptively casual method of a long, slow, spiral glide and the human by a brisk skipping motion that made his bath slippers give out sharp flapping noises with every step. They had just gotten far enough down that air pressure made his ears pop when the guard slipped through the door at the (thankfully) bottom of the stairwell and into a more decorated hallway, ending in a broad double-door.

He took a moment to catch his breath and consider how many flights of stairs up he was going to have to climb just to get a bath in a tub where his knees were not going to stick out. If nothing else, the baths behind the door had to be impressive if they were going to top the decor.

A thick weave of carved plum leaves encompassed the hallway and the doorframe, blooming and coiling to the point where Jon could swear there were real insects chirping in the stone crevices. The doors were likewise adorned with a pair of alicorns rearing up under their respective waterfalls, surrounded by clouds of happy birds and curious bunny rabbits. It was so beautiful that Jon had to stop and admire the craftsponyship, as well as run his fingers along the carvings and marvel at how many centuries ago they must have been created by an equine sculptor who could have given Michelangelo a run for his money. It was as if the artist had seen the beauty of the work and simply set it free from the marble.

His fascinated inspection lasted long enough for the guard to poke his nose back out the beautiful doors and jolt him out of his introspective analysis. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” murmured Jon as he swept through the doors and stopped cold at the natural vista spread out in front of him.

‘Cave’ did not do the place justice. Cavern, maybe. Awesome, most certainly. One thing for absolute certain was that the Rockefellers or the Carnegies did not have anything like this in their houses, and it made the doors he had just been admiring seem small and trivial by comparison.

The cavern spread out and below him with the roar of a distant waterfall coursing down the far wall and an honest-to-God volcano rising up to one side of the resulting lake. Brilliant starlight spilled down on the sight from above, radiating from clusters of brilliant crystals that must have been transmitting and amplifying the light from the night sky. During the day, the entire place would blaze with warm sunlight, but in the brilliant silver moonlight, it felt as if he were entering some sort of magical grotto where seaponies frolicked and pixies danced among the sparkling water droplets

At the moment it was empty of any creature except for the guard, who was strolling casually down the path leading to the huge pool. As they descended and approached the shore, a series of dividers became apparent, breaking the one huge lake into a large series of relatively smaller pools, some bubbling from below, while others were tranquil and still. The pathways between the pools were smooth and warm, most likely from the nearby volcano rumbling quietly in counterpoint to the rush of the waterfall. A quick sampling of the crystal clear water showed the pools warmed closer to the volcano, as expected, and Jon picked a prospective bathing area that would be a little hot until he got used to it.

Jon turned to the only other living creature in the immense bath cavern and tried to phrase his words carefully. “Thank you, sir. If you want to… guard in a different direction while I… um… This is okay, right? I mean I’m not going to get into trouble for bathing in…”

Green Mountain shook his head, but kept a perfectly straight face.

“And this is Celestia’s bath, isn’t it?”

The guard nodded, then rolled his eyes and turned to watch the distant doorway into the cavern. Jon took the opportunity to strip and slip into the hot water a little faster than he had expected, shot back out most of the way to recover, then began to ease his way back in. “Oh, that’s good,” he moaned.

The pony soap and the hot water did an amazing job of rinsing away his stress, relaxing him enough so that he called out to the guard while he was shampooing. “Hey, do you guys ever sneak down here after hours and borrow the Princess’ bath?”

“Oh, once in a while,” came a female voice that was most certainly not Green Mountain. The guard turned around slowly with a predatory smile and began to strip off her armor as she strolled forward. As each piece came off, the dark coat and mischievous golden eyes of Nightshade emerged until she was standing by the edge of Jon’s pool, wearing nothing but a grin. “I swapped places with Greenie. Scrub your back?”

Jon was beyond words, but not above stammering and stuttering when Nightshade stretched her wings and soared almost straight up, did a flip, then a plummeting splash into the middle of the hot water pool. Skimming underwater like some equine torpedo, she shot in Jon’s direction and emerged directly in front of him, with her hind legs wrapped around his waist and both water-filled wings sweeping up to dump over his head and rinse the shampoo off of his head.

“That’s better,” she purred, dumping some more water over his head and brushing back his dark brown hair. Nightshade threw her forelegs over his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes with a wink. “Now this is more like it. Just you and me and—” she wriggled her hips, still locked around him “—baby makes three.”

“Remember what we talked about before?” managed Jon.

“No taking advantage of your involuntary physical reactions for immoral purposes?” asked Nightshade while wrapping her hind legs even tighter around his hips. “Relax, lovercolt. As long as I stay like this, we can’t. Nothing lines up right, and don’t ask how I know,” she added with a little of her mischievous manner fading. “I mean really, if I want to have my way with you the right way, I need your full and enthusiastic support.” The dark pegasus folded her bottom lip over and gave Jon a heart-piercing mournful look. “All you have to do is say no, and I’ll go get Green Mountain.”

“Um… Not that,” he managed. “And not yes either. Although I could use somebody to wash my back.”

“Ooo, and mine too. I still smell a little like that potion. Turn around,” said Nightshade even as she wriggled in a delightful way to his back, still keeping her hindquarters wrapped around his waist like some warm affectionate backpack. “Let me get you all sudsed up.”

It was a little like and considerably unlike having a self-motivated, giggling loofah. And educational.

Nightshade did not want shampoo on her membranous wings because it dried them out too much and she had not brought a bottle of preening oil, or at least that was her excuse for keeping Jon’s curious hands off her wings. There was plenty of pegasus to wash anyway, from nose to almost-tail, with suds and unstoppable giggles on both of their behalfs. And a little more than giggling when she was floating on her back so he could scrub her tummy.

Somewhere in the washing process, he forgot that she was in fact an equine, and as such had her tiny mammary glands at the other end. He had found the little nubs buried in the suds and first thought they might be ticks of some sort, but when he pinched them to get them between his fingernails, Nightshade doubled over and sank like a rock.

Before Jon could reach underwater to grab her, Nightshade surfaced like a broaching whale. Water went flying in all directions as she duck-splashed on the surface with her wings beating a rapid tattoo until she straightened out with a shudder.

“Don’t do that,” she gasped, still treading water.

“I’m sorry?” Jon had backed up to the edge of the pool with his hands in front of him to block the water spray, only to have Nightshade lunge forward, grab his outstretched hand, and nibble on one finger.

“Don’t apologize either,” she managed through her heavy breathing. “Just… if you’re going to do this chaste hero thing, you need to stay away from there. For another three weeks or so, unless you want to be chased around the pool.”

Taking a deep breath and looking Jon straight in the eyes, she then proceeded to lick her eyebrows, first left, then right, before ending with a solid smack of her lips. Whatever she planned on doing next to rattle Jon’s wits was interrupted by the sound of a distant door opening with a loud clunk, and the sound of a unicorn’s whining.

“...don’t see why I need to take a bath down here, Princess Celestia, when I have a perfectly good bathtub up in my room. I promise I’ll use more water this time and not just get my hooves damp even though I really don’t need to wash more than three times a month because water is a precious resource as you’ve said before, and too much soap dries up the skin and causes all kinds of dry, flaky issues with a healthy coat. Oh! There’s somepony down here already, Princess. We should come back later.”

Nightshade had vanished under the surface of the water before the first words, and Jon could feel her clinging to one of his legs. In all odds, she was supposed to be on duty. If Twilight’s human friendship tutor got caught with a guard in Celestia’s private bath, he might get into trouble, but it could wreck Nightshade’s career.

“Hello, Princess,” called out Jon. “Twilight. Spike. I hope you don’t mind me using your tub. I don’t fit all the way inside mine.”

Celestia laughed and continued to walk down the long sloping path, even though Twilight had stopped behind her and was gesticulating frantically in the direction of the door. “Why, Doctor Walthers. You are an invited guest. I’m delighted to share my home and all of its amenities with you.”

One of the aforementioned amenities gave Jon a not so subtle underwater nip on the leg, obviously encouraging him to hurry things up while she was holding her breath.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” called out Spike, taking a dramatic leap off Twilight Sparkle’s back and racing in the direction of the bubbling volcano. He scurried fast as lightning up to the lip of the magma pool and jumped, descending beyond Jon’s line of sight but with a mighty splash. It had to be safe for the little dragon, but Jon still winced.

“Since the events of the day have left me feeling a little sweaty, I believe I will bathe this evening too,” said Celestia, still proceeding regally in Jon’s direction with her crown and peytral floating off to land behind her path. Stepping out of her golden shoes the way a person would step out of fuzzy bathroom slippers, she paused a few pools away and cocked up an inquisitory eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you would rather have us bathe together.”

“I’m naked,” blurted out Jon, even though that was the same condition that all three ponies in the huge cavern shared with him, including the underwater one clinging to his leg.

“In Japan, I bathed naked with Emperor Meiji and his daughters. In Sweden we soaked in the same sauna with their royal families, and Ukko-Pekka, the President of Finland found my student to be quite the entertainment for his girls during our sauna visit. However since she is older now, I believe Twilight prefers a cooler temperature. This way, please.”

Twilight Sparkle followed along reluctantly, whining under her breath. “I can’t believe you mentioned the sauna, Princess. You don’t remember how embarrassed I was there? That child kept trying to see under my tail! And I don’t need a cooler pool! Just because I fainted in the sauna when I was adding water to the hot rocks and almost knocked it over and it was only a little fire, after all…”

The polite complaints continued, giving Jon a distinctly ignored feeling now that he was not a working excuse for Twilight Sparkle to bail on her princess-level bath. The comments did not stop when Celestia eased slowly into a different bubbling pool away from her human bathing companion.

The whining did stop when Celestia turned her disapproving gaze on her stinky student. With ears flattened and tail drooping, Twilight trudged into the water, one slow step at a time as if she were hoping that a wet knee would be enough to assuage her monarch’s divine disapproval. She paused, looked up, then eased her belly into the water. Then dampened her sides. Until finally only her nose and horn stuck out above the water, similar to the way Nightshade had just managed by crawling up Jon’s front until she could get short, frantic pants of breaths with her nose pressed against his chest to avoid being spotted by her liege.

Celestia accepted her student’s situation in good humor, and soaped up a long-handled brush with her magic. The twinkle of amused joy in her eyes was matched by a dreadful longing that tugged at Jon’s heart, the sorrow of an older sister who had bathed her baby sister so long ago when they were still inseparable. And now after a thousand years of separation, her only chance of seeing her sister again was a socially maladroit unicorn with bathing issues who could not make friends with other ponies if they were covered in books.

Hm. Maybe if I used glue…

“I must confess, Twilight, that I did not realize you were quite this dirty since you told me you were bathing every night.” The Royal Magic levitated her soggy subject up and applied the scrub brush vigorously across Twilight’s back. Even from Jon’s distance, he could see the discoloring of the suds that boiled up at her brisk contact with the bristles.

Inspired into sharing by the sight, Jon spoke up. “When I was young, my mother used to send me upstairs to take a bath. I’d crawl into the empty tub still dressed, then crawl back out and use a washcloth on any spot that looked too bad.”

“Interesting lesson, Doctor Walthers.” Celestia continued to scrub her involuntary subject, making little ‘tch, tch’ noises when she found particularly productive places to apply soap and magical elbow grease. “I take it you were unsuccessful in your ruse?”

“No, it worked for a while. Eventually, she caught on.” Jon rested his arms on the side of the pool and watched Twilight get her just soapy desserts, with Nightshade’s tickling nose breathing damply under his armpit so she could remain concealed.

“And were you punished? Perhaps some sort of dessert restrictions? Additional reading homework?”

“No, she just scrubbed me twice as hard until my skin was pink,” admitted Jon.

“Remarkable concept,” said Celestia. Twilight looked as if she were about to add her opinion when Celestia’s magic cut off abruptly and the soapy unicorn vanished under the bubbling water in a brief splash. Moments later, Celestia’s magic caused her to broach the surface like a spluttering submarine, and a second sudsing began. “Perhaps I should assign this task to you, Doctor.”

“NooOOoo!” said Jon abruptly, his voice change driven by the coiling of Nightshade’s wet tail somewhere it should not have been exploring. “Ahem. No, Your Highness,” he managed with a weak recovery. “She is your student first.”

He watched in relative silence, taking in the educational experience of just how a dirty unicorn was properly bathed while keeping Nightshade’s playful underwater groping discreetly at bay. Twilight was not having nearly as much fun as Celestia, who could not help giggling when her student would blow bubbles out of her nose or swish her soggy tail around and accidentally spray water over Her Divinity, Goddess of the Sun.

It could have proven a humiliating experience for Twilight Sparkle, except for the guiding hoof of her experienced instructor. Apparently, goddess and student had not bathed together in years, and from the delighted shrieks and splashes of Spike playing in the small volcano, all of them had missed it. Within the matter of a few minutes—once Twilight had been adequately laundered—her demeanor lightened into giggles when Celestia would prod ticklish spots with expertly driven feathery pokes, or serious thought when asked about the heat dispersion patterns of the multiple pools. It seemed as if the two of them would interact this way for hours, but it had to have only been about a half-hour or so before Twilight dragged herself out of the water and gave herself a vigorous shake.

“Thank you, Princess,” she said once she had draped a dry towel around her neck. “You were completely right. I was slacking off on my hygiene in order to get more studying done. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Jon was watching, so he saw the flicker of sorrow sweep across Celestia’s face, but there was no regret in her voice when the sun-princess dismissed her student with the lesson well-learned, and promised to bring Spike up to her bedchambers once he was done playing in the lava.

The two of them watched Twilight trot away, up the long ramp and out the double-doors at the top while using her magic to keep the towel drying her wet coat. Just by itself the action showed the unicorn’s magical talent, because Twilight Sparkle was obviously distracted by some thought, although the towel never stopped its brisk calculated path to remove the maximum amount of water from her purple pelt.

“She is really amazing, Your Highness,” admitted Jon once the doors had closed. “She bounces right back like a rubber ball, but twice as hard.”

“But no friends.” Celestia let out a long, deep breath and picked up her back brush, giving it a good coating of soap while looking at nothing in particular. “Even if there were no other problems in all of Equestria, I think I would still wish with all of my heart for her to unlock that one final lesson.”

“She will. She has an impressive role model, after all. Twilight wants to be like you in every way.” Jon considered the way the alicorn was still slowly soaping her wings. “Well, as much as she can. You deal with ponies and people from above all the time. You declare from a civil position of authority, while Twilight attempts to emulate you and declare from a scholarly position of authority. What she doesn’t need is similar scholarly peers, because she would try to monopolize their interactions.”

There was another happy shout from inside the volcano, and Jon snickered. “Spike is a good example, because he’s so much different than she is. What your student needs is more dissimilar peers, just as different from her as possible so she can learn how to change her own behavior while she tries to change others for the better. Friends help each other be better friends, and the best way of doing that is from a different perspective.”

Celestia gave out an encouraging ‘hmm’ and slowly nodded while continuing to brush. “There must be some ponies around who would fit that description. I remember her describing her friend at dinner this evening. Something about a party, I believe.”

“Tomorrow morning, some of Twilight’s classmates are planning on throwing a party for Moondancer.” Jon stretched his arms out across the edge of the pool and luxuriated in the warmth of the rough stone. Watching Celestia bathe in the world’s largest birdbath was inspirational, because his busy mind was trying its best to think of anything other than the parallel of watching any other naked human head of state in the tub, even the Finns or Swedes. There was a lot of alicorn to wash, with her ducking under the water to rinse out the shampoo and stretching her wet wings out for a few goose-like trial flaps to dry, so Jon had a lot of time to think.

Nothing really came to mind, other than the playful underwater touches of his soaking guard, who would probably be all wrinkly after keeping only her nose above the water for so long. It probably would not help friendship-wise to introduce Twilight to Nightshade, because there was no real peer to peer relationship there. Guards had been part of her life for a long time. Heck, even her brother was a guard, so if she was interested in a friendly… or more than friendly relationship with one of the more militant castle staff, Shining Armor would have already introduced them. Or maybe that was why she was not friends with any of the guards.

“Thank you for the pleasant company, Doctor Walthers. I believe I shall retire for the evening.” Celestia rose up out of the water with long, slow beats of her broad wings, surrounded in a haze of water droplets that turned the silver starlight filling the cavern into soft rainbows all around her. “Spike, it is past your bedtime also.”

The alicorn swept up through the air with a graceful fluidity that belied description, making one slow circle around the bubbling pint-size volcano before lifting the little dragon out of the lava with her magic. They swooped up the ramp to the doors and came to a gentle and more dignified landing before Celestia turned, looking down into the cavern with what looked like the hint of a mischievous smile, even though it was difficult to make out her expression at this distance. Although there was no mistaking her words.

“Pass along my admiration for Nightshade’s lung capacity, and we shall see you tomorrow, Doctor Walters. Try not to stay up too late.”

It took nearly a minute after the doors had closed before Jon gave the soggy batpony a boost so she could get above the water’s surface. Nightshade coughed quietly while taking a long look over the edge of the pool, then straightened up a little more as the lack of a solar monarch gave her confidence.

“Whew,” she whispered. “I thought I was sunk for sure.”

“She knows,” said Jon simply.

“Whatsat?” Nightshade tilted her head and bonked her head with one hoof. “Sorry, got some water in my ears because I was down there so long.”

“I should have seen it earlier,” he admitted. “You left your armor scattered by my bathrobe.”

Nightshade pivoted to look at the Royal Guard armor next to the towels, then turned her big golden eyes on him.

“Her Highness, Princess Celestia, ruling monarch of this land and your direct and ultimate superior knows you were in this pool with me,” said Jon just as calmly as he could, mostly for his own nerves. However, at that moment he was the the second most unerved creature in the pool.

And to add to her utter humiliation, it was possible that Nightshade had just peed herself in the bathwater.

“Me?” she squeaked.

Those wide eyes could not have gotten larger, making Jon reflexively reach out and touch her gently on the nose, pressing against the prickly warmth. It seemed to relax her slightly as he had hoped, and Jon left his fingers move upwards to her damp furry ears, giving them a soft scratching until her breathing evened out and he could not feel her tremble under his touch.

He moved his hands to the back of her neck and collected some shampoo from the nearby bottle, working it into the deeper mane knots, then used the brush that Celestia had dropped suspiciously close to him in order to give Nightshade a proper detangling. Although it would have been a lot easier to give her mane the attention it needed without having to discourage a mischievous tail groping around his underwater parts in return.

“Not that, not here, not now,” said Jon. “I was thinking we need to talk some more.”

Nightshade winced and her tail quit exploring up his leg. “Oh, nuts. That’s never a good sign.”

“If it was a bad sign, I’d quit brushing you,” countered Jon. “While naked, in Princess Celestia’s private bath, and… um… Yeah, I’ll stop there. Except to talk about things we can’t talk about to anypony else.”

“I am a slave to your will, Master,” said Nightshade, who had extended her wings in a fashion to catch a bubble of air under each of them and thereby float higher for more brushing. “Might as well, since I’m so getting kicked out of the guard for this. You don’t need an exotic bodyguard when you go back to the Washington, do you?”

“No, right now I need a friend to talk with. And so do you.” He floated the air-buoyed batpony over to the edge of the pool where the ramp came in so she would not have to hold her head up while he brushed. “There. This may be a while, and I don’t want you to drown.”

“It would be too easy, anyway.” Nightshade rested her chin on the ramp’s ledge and let out a deep breath with her flanks still bobbing in the water. “Yes, I’ve thought about that, and no, I’m not doing it. The proper reaction to what those human parasprites did to Root Stock is murder, not surrender.”

After more brushing that nudged Nightshade further out of the water, she gave out an aggravated grunt and looked back at Jon along her flank. “You know all this brushing is going to be for naught once I start toweling off.”

Jon shrugged. “It’s the brushing that’s important, not the results. That’s life. And speaking of life, I’m willing to listen.”

She gave out a grunt, then stood up to wade the rest of the way out of the water and grabbed her towel. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate this, because I do, but if I want to talk about Root Stock—not that I do—I’ll find another pony. I’m having a little trouble separating out the humans who did this from you. Unless I’m flirting, of course.”

“I understand.” Jon reached for a nearby towel, which was just close enough he could have grabbed it from the cover of the pool ledge, if not for Nightshade using her wing to give it a subtle nudge away from him.

“That helps,” admitted Nightshade with the hint of an honest smile for a change. “Come to think of it, what would you do if I took all of your clothes and ran? I mean I’m going to get kicked out of the guard anyway, so why not go out in a way that ponies will be talking about for years?”

Jon considered his situation while bobbing in the hot water, getting more wrinkled by the minute. “Celestia wants me… I mean you need… If it will help you deal with Root Stock’s death, I’ll chase you naked and dripping all the way through the castle, and through Celestia’s bedchambers too,” he said in a burst of words.

A dripping Nightshade stopped with the dry towel dangling from the tip of her wing. “Really? What if I said that the only way to deal with my suppressed anger would be to pin you down and have my way with you?”

“That’s not much of a threat,” he admitted.

“In Celestia’s bedchambers,” said Nightshade with a twinkle in her golden eyes.

“Now you’re just pulling on my leg,” said Jon.

“I was pulling on your leg before,” said Nightshade with a shrug that dropped the dry towel in front of Jon.

“I wasn’t.” Jon scooped up the towel and emerged out of the water, not quite as wrinkly as he had feared. “Right now I’ve got you, Twilight, and Spike as my three best friends. And maybe Laminia, if she’s in a rare good mood. And I suppose I should count Green Mountain for neck rubs. I’ve only been here a week, and I’ve got more ponies I can call friends than humans. What’s that make me?”

“Desperate,” said Nightshade with a wink. She rubbed the towel over her neck, working her violet mane back into a series of tangles, then dried her head. “Not desperate enough to dry off by the volcano, though. You’d smell like sulfur all night.”

She managed to cock her head to one side while using the towel to dry her rear, catching Jon in a curious look of his own. “I just don’t understand one thing. Why is this friendship thing so important to you? I mean you’re treating it like a race. And why did Celestia drag you of all ponies out to deal with my Big Brothers?”

“She assigned you also,” retorted Jon. “A traumatized mare with a secret that probably no more than a half-dozen ponies in Equestria know.”

“They can’t all be tied together,” said Nightshade, who held the damp towel over one leg but had quit trying to dry. “The German special projects, the volcanic eruptions that will cover the sky with ash, whatever she was negotiating with the Dragonlord, the way all the guards are out on a special training assignment, and Celestia all tied up in knots like…” She hesitated, then turned to Jon and blurted out, “It all has something to do with Nightmare Moon returning. She really is. And Celestia won’t be able to beat her.”

“Why would you think—” started Jon, but the batpony guard was on a roll.

“The Germans are building rockets to reach the moon. Ian showed me the pictures. They must have fired one already in secret that hit the moon and released Nightmare Moon, it’s just that she hasn’t made it to Earth yet. Celestia’s going to lose, so that’s why she’s got the guard and the dragons and the—”

Jon reached out and held a hand over Nightshade’s mouth, then picked her towel up and started rubbing down her flanks with one arm. By the time he was done drying her legs, the batpony guard had settled down into a tense alertness, which remained while she wordlessly shrugged into her armor and took her place by his side. It felt like an even odder pairing now, her in the armor which made her look like a male pegasus guard, and him in a bathrobe and slippers that made him look like a housewife of some sort.

“Operational security,” she said tersely. “I can see it now. If she wanted me to know what’s behind it all, she would have told me.” Nightshade gave him a cautious eye and continued, “And you didn’t twitch a muscle, so she must have told you. No, don’t say anything,” she added. “Blasted operational security. I know neither of you told Twilight about Nightmare Moon, or she’d be researching all over it, and this has to be even bigger. Buck it to hell, why doesn’t she trust me, Jon? Why doesn’t she trust her student? She loves that filly like her own daughter!”

“Celestia lets people know just what she thinks they need to know. And you know the hell of it?” Jon put the last bottle of shampoo into his basket and tossed the damp towel over his back regardless of the thin grey hairs on it. “She’s probably right.”

They did not talk about the fate of Root Stock that evening. But they did talk.

Author's Note

Obviously, Twilight believe rules (and warning signs) are for other ponies.

Now, if anybody can tell me *why* the FimFiction engine puts a double space after:
“Into the tub, Studly! Now! You stink!”
and nothing else, enlighten me. It's all copy/paste, plain text, with [ ] formatting manually, so there's nothing hidden that I know of.

12. Wednesday's Child is Full of Whoa

Equestria : 1940
Wednesday 19 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“I turned my heart to know and to search out and to seek wisdom and the scheme of things, and to know the wickedness of folly and the foolishness that is madness.”
— Ecclesiastes 7:25

Morning dawned by the touch of a cold nose on Jon’s side, and a murmured, “Get up, sleepy. I got your new toothbrush.”

“Nightshade?” Jon scooted over at the insistent thrust of an equine nose as the tired batpony crawled into bed, pushing again and again until he fell out the other side of the bed with a thud. “Ouch.”

“Go out and play with your friends at the party,” she murmured, getting comfortable on Jon’s pillow.

“Oh, the party!” Jon staggered to his feet and moved to his luggage, getting a clean pair of boxer shorts first before even looking at what had changed during the night. His 35mm camera had been returned, along with a manila envelope full of developed photos that he really wondered if he would ever be able to show anybody. After thumbing through them for a moment, he determined that Schadenfreude had a future in photography if his career of being a complete and total pain in the ass ever fell through.

He sat a number of fresh 8mm film reels to one side and checked the motion picture camera for the party. Wherever Moondancer was being held in Germany, at least she would get a care package from her friends, and maybe let Twilight Sparkle reconnect with her old friends. It was a light at the end of the tunnel for his efforts to encourage friendship in Celestia’s student, and he only hoped the light was not an oncoming train.

“I found something!” Twilight Sparkle burst through the door with a happy cry, making Jon suddenly aware that he was once again nearly naked in the room. He grabbed for his trousers as Twilight galloped up to him with a book held firmly in her magic and a look of such intensity that she probably would not have noticed him stark naked and painted orange. “I found this edition of Signes, Symboles, and the Ende of Tymes in the library where it talks about the same cloud formations and volcanic eruptions we’re having! Do you know what this means?”

That I should get a lock for my door?

Continuing as soon as she had taken a breath, Twilight Sparkle babbled about stellar conjunctions and sub-thaumic compression of deep magma layers in such rapid Equestrian that she could have been talking in High Unicorn for all Jon could understand. It did give him the chance to put on his slacks and his tweed jacket, which smelled perfectly clean and smoke-free. His constant exposure to Equestrian immodesty almost led him to skip the jacket and go for a short-sleeved shirt, but since he was going to possibly be in the filming of the party, it probably would be best to be dressed.

At least both he and Twilight Sparkle were clean, and even Spike had a gleaming lustre to his scales that his lava soak must have encouraged.

“That’s all well and good,” managed Jon when Twilight stopped for breath, “but we have Moondancer’s party this morning, so maybe you can talk your other friends into—”

“There’s no time!” Twilight produced several more books out of her bag and riffled through the pages of one so fast it sounded like a ratchet, then shoved it against his face. “There! See?”

It appeared to be a dusty story about tidal pools and selenium deposits, which did not explain Twilight aggravation until she yanked the book back and pointed at the binding. “There are pages missing out of this book. It’s defaced!”

The lump under Jon’s bedcovers shifted, and Nightshade’s tired voice drifted out. “I’ll arrest whoever did it first thing this evening. Now can you two please take your conversation elsewhere? I’m tired, and need my sleep.”

Twilight Sparkle started responding, then paused with her mouth open and her eyes locked on Jon’s occupied bed. Ever so slowly, she turned to look at Jon, who was nearly done getting dressed, then back at the bed.

“Isn’t she your guard?” asked Spike, who had shaken off his early-morning yawns in exchange for a look of youthful curiosity.

“At night,” said Jon, which did not help. “Right now, I need to get Twilight—”

“We need to research this!” protested Twilight in nearly a squeak. “Somepony has been destroying books! And there may be something to deal with the volcanic eruptions in there too,” she added as if it were a trivial afterthought.

“It will wait until after the party with your friends,” assured Jon. “Spike, if you will please help me carry some of my camera equipment up to the party—”

“I need him to help me with the research,” snapped Twilight Sparkle while waving another pair of antiquated books at Jon. Under any normal circumstances, the prospect of browsing through ancient Equestrian books would have been irresistible. A thought about who had gone through the ancient books with a pair of scissors restrained him. “You can go to the party without us. This is more important!”

“But—” Jon found himself talking to thin air as Twilight Sparkle galloped away. “Friendship?” he finished far too late.

There was a rustling from the bed and Nightshade’s bleary eyes appeared at the edge of the sheets. She looked at him for a long moment, then vanished back into bed with a muttered, “I hate operational security.”

He managed to carry everything he needed to the party except Twilight.

As expected, the few unicorns who gathered for the celebration did not really miss her at all.

* * ✹ * *

“I should have organized them into a search party,” grumbled Jon as he trudged through the castle corridors, following the directions from one of the servants. “She blows off the party and vanishes, and all Lemon Hearts can say is ‘Well, that’s Twilight.’ And those are her friends.”

Canterlot had not simply grown up and out of the side of the mountain. The construction had taken stone out of the bowels of the mountain, and the remaining empty space thus created had been turned into storage. Just what kind of storage had been a continuing series of discoveries.

In addition to the artificial caverns of Celestia’s private bath he had found yesterday, today revealed locked private larders where cheese and wine were carefully nurtured along their flavorful path, as well as the famous Canterlot mushroom fields. There had also been quite a few corridors of personal storage units, which he should have expected. Unicorns liked ‘stuff’ to a degree that pegasi thought was a little odd (since they normally owned only what they could keep from falling through a cloud), and earth ponies thought ‘stuff’ was far too modern and breakable when the things they had inherited from their great-grandparents still functioned just fine.

Jon had skipped the door to the sewer system that handled Canterlot’s inevitable waste, piping it down the mountain to… wherever a bunch of magical treated sewage would be disposed, he supposed. That would wait until another day.

He squinted at the worn and faded sign that announced the Royal Archives, the only piece of wood he had seen since descending the stairs and wandering down the corridor. If it was supposed to indicate great age and care, the sign failed miserably. What paint had not faded into near illegibility had begun to peel nearly a century ago, and he was only able to puzzle out the Equestrian symbols by the fact that he was expecting them.

After passing through the library archives door, Jon found himself in a different sort of storage chamber, where trees went to die. Good trees who had lived knowledgeable lives, sacrificed for pony knowledge and been stashed in the event some unicorn might possibly want to learn an obscure spell. There were a few odd old ponies monitoring these dry forest clearings, dusting book bindings and ensuring their little groves did not wander away, and the Librarians (because he had to think of them capitalized) guided his path to the Deep Archives Storage where Twilight Sparkle had a lair.

Um… An apartment.

Although when Jon opened the door and looked inside the book-packed space, he could not help but think it was the domain of some ancient dragon who hoarded books instead of gold. At least he could see Spike’s influence in keeping the whole book-pile organized in the neat shelves. Twilight’s recent passage through them left a trail of empty gaps and a number of discarded books she had left behind during her search.

Following the obvious path, Jon picked up loose books and checked the titles before leaving them in short stacks, much like droppings. There were a lot of books deeper in, arrayed in dense shelves that made Jon’s fingers itch to hold onto just a few of them and read for a few hours. It must have been a heavenly home for Twilight Sparkle, and it appeared that being the Princess’ private pet pupil provided plentiful perks—

He stopped and read the cover of the bold blue book he had just picked up, then carefully refiled it on the ‘Appropriate Alliteration Athenaeum Annex’ shelf before continuing his search.

It was a little like some sort of wildlife reserve for endangered species of the literary world. There was a desk surrounded by little clusters of papyrus scrolls each with their ornate wooden umbilicus poking out, a massive book that had been carefully dissected into individual pages and was being examined under an dusty magnifying glass, a pile of stone tablets, several smudged chalkboards filled with intricate equations that seemed to move when he looked at them sideways, and far more things that he wanted to examine in greater detail. In any event, the apartment appeared larger on the inside, and somehow he doubted that all of the contents belonged inside this library instead of in the much larger library outside.

He could picture hesitant students sneaking into the dangerous den of unicornis discipuli princeps in order to retrieve one of her precious treasures, armed only with bookmarks and non-flammable illumination sources in the event they were attacked.

It did not seem such a silly thought when he turned a corner and looked at the book-fort that occupied much of the room.

Parapets of periodicals, walls of arcane tomes, supporting columns of compendiums, really the whole description wrote itself. Or somepony else had written it. It was Fort Book, an Equestrian outpost of literacy thrust into the barbaric lands and defended by the most gallant and brave of librarians. The only thing it was missing was a moat, and if Jon squinted at the blue books at the bottom of the embankment hard enough, he could read the titles like Equestrian Waterplants and River Morphology, so he supposed they could suffice in a pinch.

The fort was being guarded, or besieged perhaps, by a dragon who stood on the outside of the fort and picked up books as they were catapulted out of the interior. Spike shuttled his most recent pile of rejected books to one side away from the fort during a brief lull in Twilight’s tome tossing and gave Jon a careful look while still keeping an eye out for incoming missiles. “Party was a bust, huh?”

“I got some good footage of the cake,” said Jon. “Twinkleshine said she’d keep a couple slices in her office for you and Twilight if you get a chance to stop by. Once the film is developed, the gifts and such all are going out by pegasus post for the Atlantic Clipper to take to Lisbon, then however many stamps it will take to get to Telemark in Norway.” He shrugged. “The war goes on, but I suppose letters will still get through, even if the censors eat all the cookies.”

“So, it was a bust.” Spike eyed the fort, which had not spit out a used book in over a minute. “She’s going to be here for a week, if this is any indication. We could have at least taken a few hours to get cake. I haven’t met most of her friends in ages. Even Lyra.”

“Some of them are still around the castle for a while,” said Jon. “If I grab her by the tail and you hold her head up, we should be able to drag her back into civilization at least long enough for her to meet them.”

He did not think Twilight heard, but the slow motion of the book-drawbridge rising attracted Jon’s attention, giving him a very Twilight-like frown. Spike, on the other hand, just shook his head and started arranging books for the upcoming resheving.

“I’m warning you right now, Mister Walthers. The harder you pull to get her out of there, the harder she’ll fight.”

“Friends don’t let friends lock themselves away, like a princess in a tower,” he called out loud enough for Twilight to hear. “I’m going to lay siege to your fortification!”

A barrage of silence was his only response, along with a few thuds that might have been Twilight reinforcing the foundations of her castle with folios.

“Give it up,” hummed Spike as he sorted. “You’re trying to out-stubborn Twilight, and I can tell you, it can’t be done.”

“But—” The sound of a ratchet much like a catapult might make interrupted Jon’s planned rant, giving him a moment to reflect on the situation. “I’m in a castle, locked out of a castle inside the first castle, with a dragon advising me on how best to rescue the fair maiden locked inside.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Here, hold these.” Spike heaved a stack of books into his arms, which almost dropped Jon to the ground, then picked up a stack twice as tall. “She’s not going anywhere, so we might as well start reshelving. Do you need anything before we go, Twilight?”

A scroll flew out from the fort and bounced off Spike’s head. After he picked it up and unrolled it, Spike added, “She wants us to go get some more books.”

* * ✹ * *

One disadvantage of trying to work in a library run by unicorns was their opinion on ambient lighting. After all, light was the natural predator for paper, leaving Jon to follow Spike down the narrow passages and dusty corridors of the book catacombs while holding a flickering firefly lantern.

His source of illumination was just another way that Equestria was different from the outside world. The lanterns were all over the place, magical constructs with enchanted glass windows that let the captured lighting bugs put out more light than seemed possible, and a tiny food source with a few drops of nectar for them to snack on during their job.

Spike had no problem with the cave-like lighting, and happily chatted away while they navigated the underground corridors, much as if he was unused to being listened to during a conversation. Jon tried to listen, but he was constantly distracted by the surroundings. Thousand year old paper books in preservation spells. Two thousand year old books written on sheets of yellowing parchment. Three thousand year old books written in Hellenic script on Mycenaean papyri, perhaps. Collections of scrolls that looked as if they were written in Greek, with minor char marks on the ends that made him suspect they had been rescued from a library fire. Knotted ropes of some native tribes hanging on racks next to stacks of clay tablets.

After some time of poking around and carrying the books Spike passed him, Jon decided it was probably best if he did not touch anything for fear of it bursting into dust. What was worse, he could have sworn that one of the ancient librarians was stalking along behind them in the shadows with a fire extinguisher just in case the feral human were to strike two stones together to build a fire.

“Twilight didn’t have any stone tablets on her list, did she?” asked Jon while crossing a particularly dusty section of corridor that he suspected was cataloged as ‘Dust - Ancient Hyberian. Do not disturb.’

“Naa,” scoffed the little dragon while following along down the checklist to the next book in the search. “Those are all in the ark.”

He really wanted to ask, but since the Ark of the Covenant was lost somewhere, he might get an answer he did not want. Thankfully, stone tablets with missives from divine beings were not on Spike’s collection list, because Jon was staggering pretty hard by the time they got back to the apartment.

Only to find their excursion into the library depths was all for naught.

Twilight Sparkle paced back and forth in the narrow area in front of her fort, which was left open and unguarded behind her. “I was looking in all the wrong places! A foal’s book, of all things! Nightmare Moon was supposed to be a myth, but if all the clues are correct, the entire world could be in danger! Come on, Spike!”

Before Spike could put down his stack of books, Twilight’s magical aura grabbed him and the two of them were off like a shot, with a trail of discarded literature behind them. John dumped his own books and ran after his student, out into the maze of hallways that honeycombed the depths of the mountain. She chattered while running, but Jon could not understand a single word other than to use the noise to keep from losing her when they continued to descend. He was exceedingly glad not to have left the firefly lantern behind, since Twilight’s hornglow was soon the only other source of light in the growing gloom.

“Here it is!” she called out after skidding to a halt in front of a huge golden door. “The Arcaneum! Nightmare Moon is a legend who was imprisoned in the moon by a powerful artifact that was lost afterward, so we need to find another artifact to fight her! We just have to find the right one!”

“But—” Jon stopped in stunned amazement as Twilight Sparkle jammed her horn into the doors and recited a rapid lyrical phrase in Equestrian too quickly for him to catch, and the massive doors swung silently open to reveal…

..wonderful things.

It was like some huge museum was having an exhibit of priceless Equestrian artefacts, illuminated with magical golden torches all around the room and without any velvet ropes to hold back curious visitors. Precious metals and gems sparkled among racks of weapons standing in sparse array, each of them a treasure that would have driven any other student of Equestrian history into spasms of joy. Jon would rather have been anywhere else rather than following Twilight into the mysterious room while she rattled commands to her dragon.

“Spike! Take a letter! My dearest teacher. Oh, wait. Do you think that’s too personal for a threat of this magnitude? Should I use her title instead?”

Whatever else she said was lost to Jon as he stumbled forward, his eyes riveted on a huge suit of golden equine armor embossed with the rays of the sun and hanging on an armor stand that held it at his eye level. The sister armor to it should have rested on the bare metal frame to one side, but it was empty, and Jon had the dreadful feeling he knew where the owner of that dark armor was.

Still, it was a faint shadow to the sensation he felt when looking at the gigantic sword standing by itself to one side, engulfed in the faint flickers of silver fire.

“So He drove out the man,” whispered Jon, “and He placed an angel at the east of the garden of Eden, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.”

“Send it, Spike!” Twilight came running up to Jon, waving a transparent staff in her magic. “Doctor Walthers, do you think this would be an effective tool to fight Nightmare Moon? It’s either the Crystal Scepter of Craylitch, or the Glass Staff of the Invisible Mages.” She smacked it several times against the stone floor before hefting it again. “Didn’t break, so it’s the Crystal Scepter. Well?”

“I think you're putting too much faith in a children’s book, Twilight.” Jon was feeling a little detached from reality while trying to imagine Celestia descending from the sky with this particular flaming sword in order to drive away the first pair of disobedient humans. It was entirely too easy to picture.

“But this could be the end of the world!” protested Twilight while waving the staff.

“Or it could just be a story,” countered Jon. “You broke into a vault of Princess Celestia’s precious artifacts because you read a children’s story!”

“Quite aptly said.” Princess Celestia’s soft words were unchanged from her normal tone of voice, although Jon could see the stress in the corners of her lips and the tight muscles in her cheeks. The princess stepped forward through the open vault door and stopped in front of Twilight Sparkle, who wilted in wide-eyed panic. “Mister Walthers. Spike. Please wait in my study. I wish to have words with my student.”

There was a flash of light, and Jon’s world turned upside-down.

- ☾ - -

The wastebasket felt cool and reassuring in Jon’s relaxed grasp, and gave him an excuse not to sit on the comfortable couch where Spike was resting and kicking his bare heels. Celestia’s private study was everything that could possibly be expected for an immortal divine alicorn who ruled an entire principality filled with magic. Everywhere the eye rested there was a glowing gadget or whirring widget, shelves of arcane lore in ancient tomes chained down to prevent them from escaping, and things that never seemed to be the same thing when looked at twice. He had more time to look around now that he had finished spewing what little he had in his stomach. That didn’t help, because it only let him see how much of the vomit had wound up on the priceless carpet.

“It’s just Arabian,” said Spike, picking up on Jon’s frequent glances at the splatters. “A cleaning spell will take that right out, and even if it does stain, Princess Celestia must have a hundred of these in storage. I’d worry more about throwing up in a Ming dynasty vase.”

Jon looked down at the ceramic wastebasket with blue line drawings of dragons chasing each other inscribed around the middle, then looked back up at Spike. “Please tell me this isn’t…”

Spike nodded.

By the time Princess Celestia opened the door to her study and glided inside, Jon had taken his place next to Spike on the couch, although with his longer legs he could not entertain himself by kicking his heels. Much like misbehaving students watching the principal, both miscreants could not take their eyes off the huge form of the princess as she took a seat on the cushion behind her desk.

“First of all, Spike,” she said quite calmly. “I am not angry at you or Twilight, merely disappointed. I would have hoped you could somehow restrain my student’s tendency to take a wild idea and run with it, but I believe a fully grown dragon would have much the same difficulties. It is not your size. Doctor Walthers was caught up in the same hurricane to no avail.”

“I think the starting line for the Cincinnati Bengals would have problems slowing her down,” grumbled Spike.

“Their defense was fairly weak last year,” admitted Celestia. “Although I do not believe my student can pass or throw, despite her ability to plow through tackles and theses. Now, I’ve already given her a long lecture on the importance of getting close to her friends and listening to what they say, so please do not rub it in.”

“Me?” asked Spike. After a moment of looking Princess Celestia right in the eyes, he put his head down. “Yeah, I do that occasionally.”

“Very well.” Celestia’s horn glowed and the door to the corridor opened again. “Please head off to bed now, Spike. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, and you need your sleep.”

“Thank you.” Spike hopped off the couch and made it nearly to the open door before slowing down. Obviously upset, he added, “Please don’t be angry with Doctor Walthers.”

“I am not angry with Mister Walthers either,” said Celestia. “It would take considerably more than one of Twilight’s misconceptions in order to raise my ire. I merely want to spend time with him this evening to resolve a few issues that have been bothering me lately.”

“Oh. Okay.” Spike stopped at the doorway and looked back. “You mean like Doctor Walthers has been resolving issues with one of your guards?”

“Yes, exactly.” Celestia nodded as the door closed, then turned to Jon, upon which time the look of tense normality on her face shifted abruptly into flushed embarrassment, and she rose to her hooves with several rapid steps as if she were about to dart after the dragon. “Oh! Nightshade. Of course.”

Anything Jon could say would only make things worse, so naturally he could not keep his mouth shut. “I don’t think we have quite the same relationship, Princess. At least I hope not. Nightshade normally only talks to me when I’m naked.”

Despite his best efforts, Jon’s eyes swept upward to take into account the lack of the Unicornian Crown on the rumpled princess, as well as the missing Pegasus Peytral, thus making Princess Celestia about as naked as he had seen her outside of the baths, and thus most likely to have been roused directly from her bed to deal with Twilight’s panic fit. Thankfully, Celestia did not laugh at his obvious discomfort, but she did smile and settle back down next to Jon on an unstained portion of the carpet.

“Thank you, Doctor Walthers. You know, of all the humans I’ve dealt with over the years, I do believe that you are the most… comfortable I’ve been with.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Jon while surreptitiously letting out his held breath. “I’ve found you to be quite comfortable too. Although not in the same way as Nightshade. Oh, God that came out wrong. We’re not sharing a bed. Well, we are sharing the bed I suppose since her work hours run counter to mine and it cuts down on her commute but I don’t want to share a bed with you and oh God what—”

The bottom of Princess Celestia’s bare hoof felt warm across his upper lip, a hefty chunk of equine weapony placed across his mouth as delicately as a butterfly might land on a flower, matching the quiet giggle she was sharing at his expense.

“Mister Walthers,” she started, “we’re not that kind of friend.”

Jon nodded, although the gentle pressure of the hoof remained.

“And when my sister returns, she’s not going to be that kind of friend for you either.”

Jon nodded much slower.

“Although when things all work out,” continued Celestia in a more serious tone of voice, “I believe I will introduce you to her as a friend. Would you like that, Mister Walthers?”

“Yes, I would,” said Jon once the sun princess removed her hoof. “So I take it you still have faith that your student will be able to free Luna?”

“Faith… is a poor description. I have confidence that my student will make the correct decisions, and that Harmony will emerge victorious.”

“And…have I helped?” It was strange how much Jon wanted the approval of the pony princess, much like something of Twilight Sparkle’s had rubbed off on him over the last week. Still, there had not been any rubbing the other way, because even though Jon had picked up more friends than he had ever expected, Twilight had possibly even lost ground in the friendship competition.

“You’ve helped,” said Celestia. “And if things do not turn out as I believe, I would appreciate it if you would continue to help as long as possible. Come, walk with me.”

The study had a back stairwell that ascended up the tower to a chamber far above the city. There was a broad balcony sweeping across most of one side of the bedroom, with curtains and sliding doors to maintain a certain sense of privacy in a city where pegasi treated open windows as an invitation to stop by and chat. Night spread out across the city now, leaving small flecks of light in the darkness both below and in occasional places in the scattered cloud cover overhead.

And true to his ongoing slide into the world of pony, the first thing Jon did when entering the divine sanctum of Princess Celestia’s bedroom was to look up at the ceiling and note where the plaster was slightly discolored from Wrong Way Corrigan’s crash. Naturally, his eyes took in all of the wall hangings and cloth drapes around the room afterward, a wealth of many nations that was heavy with gold and precious gems in exquisite patterns and yet perfectly mundane against the simple magnificence of her huge bed.

Which Jon suddenly realized was large enough for two.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” It took Jon a moment to find where Celestia had gone, because she was not in the bedroom any more. Instead, she was out on the balcony, looking up at the patchy clouds and beyond. Jon cautiously moved up behind her, well aware of the precipitous drop just a few steps away and his lack of wings.

“I see more stars. It’s a lot more… darker than Washington’s sky,” admitted Jon. “Less pollution. Discounting the cloud cover and the volcanoes, of course. Which seem to be ongoing. So…”

“Yes,” said Celestia, sounding very much like her immense age was weighing on her. “Soon. Very soon. And I will be powerless to assist my student in any way. Other than your example, of course.”

“I didn’t think I had much effect on Twilight, actually.” Jon took a deep breath and edged a little further forward, near the edge of the balcony. “Other than stressing her.”

“She looks up to you. She values your advice, and will do anything to please you. She may not relate to you well, but she doesn’t relate well to most ponies, even her brother.” Celestia heaved a deep, exhausted breath. “Even if she were a twin, I suspect she would find it difficult to relate to her counterpart.”

“Not quite. Twilight must learn how to relate to dissimilar peers,” said Jon. “She has a good start with Spike and yourself. She is not trying to change us to match her own personality, but accepting us for what we are.”

Celestia nodded. “When I spoke with her this evening, I was impressed with how much she was interested in what I thought of you. She’s gone from a general disdain for humans to acceptance in a few days. I think she’s starting to like you.”

“I…” Jon considered his words. “If I had met her at my work in Washington, I don’t think I would have struck up a friendship. It took your pressure to bring us together enough to stick.”

“Pressure.” Celestia bowed her head. “You may experience more pressure in the next few days than you wish, Mister Walthers.”

“It is for a good cause.” Jon stood there in silence, waiting for a response that seemed as if it would never come. After listening to the gentle breeze and the general silence from the sleeping city below, he eventually put forward, “I’m glad you think I’m helping Twilight. I really want her to make friends. She deserves to grow.”

“Growth and progress is part of what I stand for also.” Celestia straightened up and looked out into the dark city. “Let me strive every moment of my life to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, that all may profit by it. Let me think of the right and lend all my assistance to those who need it, with no regard for anything but justice. Let me take what comes with a smile, without loss of courage. Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens and my associates in everything I say and do. Let me do right to all, and wrong no living creature.”

“That’s… very thoughtful, Your Highness.” Jon wanted to ask the next obvious question, but while he was trying to figure out just how to phrase it, Celestia’s horn lit up and Jon’s paperback copy of Doc Savage floated out of his leather satchel and over to her.

“Of course, Lester Dent said it first,” she admitted. “If only I had a Man of Bronze to send against my foes. He could solve all my problems in the span of a paperback book. Might I borrow this? I do not believe I will be able to sleep this evening, and I find that anything titled The Awful Egg piques my curiosity.” She flipped the paperback over and checked the back. “Dinosaurs. Interesting.”

Quashing an urge to inquire if Celestia knew about the prehistoric lizards first-hoof, Jon swallowed and asked, “Will there be anything more, Your Highness?”

“Far more than I would burden you with.” One wingtip gestured at the Royal Bedroom door. “Please, leave me, Jon. I wish to be alone for a time.”

“I could stay if you wish,” said Jon. “You sound like you could use a friend.”

“Would you tarry here and watch?” She turned just enough for Jon to see her inquisitive expression with one eyebrow quirked upwards. “I assure you I have no delusions about praying to have this cup taken from me. Go to your bed and rest so that you may face tomorrow.”

It was a very long and dark walk back to his suite.

- ☾ - -

The glow of the lantern by his suite door was a welcome sight, making the weight of the world seem to lift off Jon’s shoulders. Both of his guards were standing straight and tall on either side of the light, thus ensuring that his bed was batpony-free and the bathtub most likely would not have little grey hairs in it this time.

The events of the day still weighed on him, as well as the future. It seemed as if he should be planning for Nightmare Moon’s return, although any plans he might make would be worthless the moment she arrived. With that in mind, he could understand Celestia not wanting to confirm Twilight Sparkle’s guess about Nightmare Moon, or even go so far as to confess about her sister Luna. Information like that could easily make a jumpy Twilight jump the wrong way, and wrap the student up into a panic fit that would make what she did this afternoon in the Arcaneum’s weapon vault look like chicken feed.

Jon spared a pat on the shoulder to each of his guards, who maintained their stiff and rigid examination of the empty corridor behind him with far greater intensity than expected, then he stepped inside the coolness of his suite and regarded the darkness. Not even Laminia was scurrying around, tending to the needs of the pony principality’s captive homo sapiens in its gilded cage.

Rather than just toss his clothes in a heap as he had been doing, Jon draped them across a chair for the night staff’s collection and cleaning, then proceeded naked over to the dresser and got out a pair of boxer shorts. A few minutes in the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face later, he emerged back into the bedroom and considered writing up this afternoon’s experiences in his journal, which had been tragically underappreciated in the last few days.

It was at that point he realized that the day was not over, due to the pony sized lump beneath the covers of his bed.

“Nightshade,” he whispered beneath his breath. It must have been another one of her days off, or nights more likely. She must have decided she wanted to talk some more, or she would not have been here. As a friend, it was his responsibility to spend valuable sleeping time comforting her, but only comforting, not any other bedtime activities she might have in mind.

Still, he had to wonder if she was serious about him, despite the differences in their species. Even if they had both been human, a week was not long enough to get to know each other before seeing if there was some sort of possibility for a longer-term term relationship, both physical and emotional. His own mis-matched parents, one Methodist and one Jewish… well, they had not admitted to how long they had known each other before establishing a longer-term relationship, and he had not asked.

There were very few pony/people couples in the world, and those pairings which existed stayed in the shadows, most probably for their own good. Still, without the possibility of unexpected foals from a human/pony relationship, college had a great deal more cross-cultural hanky-panky than he had expected. It seemed to be an excuse of youth, because once he graduated and went out in the world, the ponies he had met were almost exclusively older and married, with no interest in human hanky or panky.

Nightmare Moon was coming. There would be time to consider what his odd relationship with Nightshade would resemble after the world had been saved. For now, Jon considered the lump under his covers while preparing himself for a long conversation about Nightshade’s friend, Root Stock, and how she had been taken away before her time.

He turned down the lights to a low glow and slipped beneath the sheets, giving the furry shoulder he touched a gentle pat. “Hey,” said Jon in a low and hopefully conversation-enhancing tone of voice. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, but Princess Celestia took me up to her—” he mentally edited out the word ‘bedroom’ and substituted a much more reasonable word “—balcony to look at some stars and talk for awhile. Are you feeling okay?”

There was a motion beneath the covers that looked like a nod.

“I know you’re upset,” continued Jon, rubbing at Nightshade’s thin shoulders, far more slender and bony than he expected from the muscular guard. “If you just want to stay here and be held, that’s fine. Or we can talk.”

One hoof gently moved upwards from her curled up position until it touched him on the cheek, feeling unusually cold in the cool of the evening. His stomach muscles twitched when a tail down below brushed up against his sensitive thigh, then remained in place with a low tremor. Then Nightshade’s head began moving closer up under the sheet with her breath smelling like cinnamon and tooth powder, as if she had brushed her teeth carefully before crawling into his bed.

“Am I doing this right?” asked a husky female voice that was most certainly not Nightshade. “I mean Princess Celestia said I should get closer to you and learn the lessons you had been teaching to your other friends, but I didn’t know if just kissing is all she meant or if I’m supposed to engage in… other activities, which I will if you want and I can take notes during to make sure I’m doing it right but I’ve never done this with a human before and I want to make sure—”

Jon was frozen into immobility, which was probably a good thing because the door to his suite took that moment to swing open, revealing Princess Celestia standing in the doorway. A gentle nudge of her magic turned on the lights, and Twilight Sparkle emerged from under the covers to give her divine teacher a petrified look that Jon suspected was almost identical to the one he was giving Celestia.

Thankfully, Princess Celestia did not look angry. Not even in the least. She did have an expression of divine disappointment, however, and that was worse in some infinite way. Twilight Sparkle almost shriveled up beneath that gaze, cringing with her ears flat against her skull as she crawled out of the bed, dragging her tail and shuffling her hooves on her slow but inevitable path to the open doorway and her disapproving teacher. She vanished into the corridor without a word, but Celestia gave Jon one last look and spoke as if imposing judgement on a prisoner.

“Good night, Mister Walthers.”

Then the door silently closed, and Jon was left alone until the morning.

13. Thursday's Child is Full of Joy

Equestria : 1940
Thursday 20 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
— Isaiah 40:3

Jon was getting used to abruptly waking up with an unexpected pony visitor in his bedroom. After all, he had endured Schadenfreude, survived Cadence, was learning to appreciate Nightshade, had developed a respectful relationship with Laminia, and… Well, there was Twilight Sparkle, he supposed. Very little could prepare a human for an early-morning foray into the world of Friendship Experimentation by the princess’ own student.

That was not to say he was immune to early morning surprises. This morning, he was very surprised. By Princess Celestia herself.

“Good morning, Doctor Walthers,” chirped the cheerful voice of the monarch of the pony principality as the inevitable force of nature and magic swept into his room, much like a glowing, happy hurricane. “You’ve been such a help to my student over the last few days that I’m going to send you with her this morning.”

There was a cold breeze across the bed, and the thin blanket he had been under became remarkably absent, as well as the warm duvet, his pillow, and most of his modesty. The only thread of decency he could still cling to was his polka-dotted boxer shorts, although when Celestia’s magic surrounded him, Jon could not help putting up a struggle, for appearances at the least.

“Hey!” he protested while being floated through the air in the direction of his closet. “Your Highness!”

“No time,” said Celestia in the middle of a fog of clothes, brushes, and at least one wet washcloth stuck in his ear. “My student will be at the chariot in a few minutes at the latest, and you will be with her today while she makes new friends in Ponyville.”

Jon wanted to ask where Ponyville was, but since he had a toothbrush in his mouth while a flurry of clothes were surrounding him and dressing every part of him at a record pace, he really did not want to distract his dress-er. After all, being shaved while a quick swipe of Brylcreem went through his hair and both boots were tying themselves onto his feet was a staggering display of magical dexterity. It was made only the more impressive by the way Celestia was looking over her shoulder out the window while working, and the faint touch of sunlight coming through his window indicating the rising dawn.

“And it’s time,” she declared, slowing her magic and placing Jon on the ground as his shoulderbag nestled up to his side and topping him off with his brown fedora. One last swipe of a wet washcloth to clean away any shaving residue and Celestia turned a loving smile on him.

“We’re all depending on you, Doctor Walthers. Keep Twilight safe and help her make friends.”

There was a flash of light.

* * ✹ * *

“Good morning, Doctor Walthers. You know,” remarked Spike, “most ponies who get airsick throw up after the chariot is in the air.”

A pithy response to the dragon was warranted. It was not going to show as long as Jon was being quietly sick off the side of the parked chariot with both pegasi in the traces giving him the silent treatment. Twilight Sparkle climbed on after her dragon and sat down right in the middle of the open area with an expression that could have had its own thundercloud stuffed full of lightning. The sympathetic ‘friendly’ response to her sulk would have been to express some compassion of his own and attempt to bring her back to some sort of equilibrium, which would have been a good idea if he had not still been spitting little bits of sour stomach contents over the chariot’s edge from his inevitable reaction to teleportation.

“Fly,” she growled. “The faster we get to… What blighted corner of Equestria are we being exiled to, Spike? Oh, just take off! We’ll figure it out on the way.”

Both pegasi leapt into the air, followed by the chariot and its contents, or at least most of the contents followed. Jon gripped the edge of the chariot bed and watched his fedora flutter to the ground behind them, until the chariot gained a little altitude and swung over the early-morning city.

“You do realize that Princess Celestia sent a note for us.” Spike arranged himself and unrolled the scroll while Twilight hunched her back and sulked. While waiting for the dragon to start reading, Jon crawled forward so he could grab onto the front bar of the passenger compartment and pray intently for some seatbelts, or perhaps some rope.

“My dear Twilight, there is more to a young pony's life than studying, so I'm sending you to supervise the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration in this year's location: Ponyville. And, I have an even more essential task for you to complete: make some friends!”

Twilight moaned and continued to moan louder and complain while Spike bickered with her, but Jon took the opportunity to stand up straighter and get a better look at where the Royal Guards were taking them. After all, with a name like Ponyville, it could easily be a short flight to a borough of the city like Queens or the Bronx in New York.

It was not.

Over the last few days, Jon had almost forgotten that Canterlot was situated on the side of a mountain. He would never be able to forget that again.

What was worse, the Royal Guards pulling the chariot seemed to enjoy taking a sharp dive over the edge of the city wall as fast as they could go. Twilight and Spike did not notice the precipitous plunge, having progressed to sniping at each other in the same way that any human siblings would recognize in a heartbeat.

Other than prayer, Jon had no distraction from the sight of distant hard ground accelerating at him with both suicidal pegasi holding their course in what certainly would only leave a damp red spot in a few moments. Then they pulled up out of their dive, and Jon was flattened against the chariot floor with a solid thump. He had no intention of getting up afterward, since there were a few places to dig his fingers into the flooring, and from the speed of the air whistling past, it would only serve to make him throw up again.

Besides, landing chest-first on the floor of the flying chariot gave him another reason to remain quiet until the dangerous contraption gently sat down in one of the green fields of Ponyville and the other two passengers got out. It just took a moment to double-check his suspicions, and any fear of heights or discomfort from throwing up went away like magic.

At some point when Princess Celestia had been rapidly dressing him, she had slipped his shoulder holster under the tweed jacket, put the loaded .38 revolver in it, and stuffed a half-box of shells into his jacket pocket.

* * ✹ * *

The dragon and the unicorn were still squabbling as they strolled away from the chariot, leaving Jon to face several pony satchels and his smaller ‘traveling’ suitcase, which had been somehow been brought along. The town was visible just over a low rise, which Twilight and Spike were walking away from, most likely headed to the first visit on their checklist.

“Can I get you gentlemen… I mean gentlecolts to drop our bags off at the hotel?” asked Jon. “I need to catch up.”

“No problem,” said one of the guards in Nightshade’s distinctive vibrant contrello. “We’re supposed to stay out of the way unless you need us, so try not to rile up the natives while we catch some sleep.” She yawned, with bright white teeth looking identical to an ordinary pegasus due to the armor’s illusionary disguise. “Princess Celestia said the library has an apartment that the previous librarian used, so find us filed under ‘P’ for Pegasus.”

The other guard just rolled his eyes and turned to trot away, giving Jon the opportunity to sprint after his student. Thankfully, arguing left Twilight moving slower than normal, and he managed to make good enough speed on the dirt path to be just within earshot when she said “—do my royal duty, but the fate of Equestria does not rest on me making friends.”

“Maybe the ponies in Ponyville have interesting things to talk about,” tried Spike. “Come on, Twilight, just try!”

Something pink and energetic bounded out of the bushes with a loud gasp, hovered in place in front of all three of them, then departed in the direction of the town so fast that it sucked up loose twigs and leaves in its wake. Jon was so startled he nearly tried to draw his revolver, but thought better of it almost immediately and tucked his jacket back in place instead.

“Hi?” ventured Twilight Sparkle long after the speedy pink pony was gone. “Well, that was interesting, I suppose.”

“No kidding.” Jon took a moment to look over Spike’s shoulder at the checklist. “Sweet Apple Acres. Sounds… rustic?”

* * ✹ * *

“Yeee-haw!” A golden-brown earth pony came galloping across the grass and planted both rear hooves into the trunk of a nearby apple tree, causing the apples in the upper branches to fall like rain. Quite unlike rain, or anything else that Sir Isaac Newton would approve of, the apples all managed to fall into several wicker baskets scattered around, except for a few apples which looked slightly darker or with brown spots on them. It was a stunning display of earth pony magic, which Jon wished he could capture on film if not for his camera being somewhere else. The young earth pony mare came trotting over to the wooden rail fence with a joyous smile and a wink for Jon.

Twilight stepped forward with a ill-hidden sigh and a grumbled, “Let’s get this over with. Good afternoon. My name is Twilight Sparkle—”

“Well, howdy-doo, Miss Twilight,” said the earth pony with a smile and a vigorous hoof-shake. “It’s a pleasure makin' your acquaintance. I'm Applejack. And who’s this handsome human?”

“Jon Walthers,” said Jon, reaching out for a hoof-shake only to find his fingers nearly crushed in the farm pony’s wrist grip. “Instructor in friendship studies,” he managed to gasp out through the sensation of his bones grinding together.

“Friendship studies? Well, ain’t that a hoot. We here at Sweet Apple Acres sure do like makin' new friends!”

“Actually,” started off Twilight over the sound of Spike snickering, “I am in fact here to supervise preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration. And you're in charge of the food?”

“We sure as sugar are! Would you care to sample some?”

Jon’s churning stomach took that moment to remind him of the carriage ride, but Twilight did not seem to be very enthusiastic either, despite most probably missing breakfast as he had. “As long as it doesn't take too long…”

Before Jon realized what was happening, the three of them were being herded to the back of the nearby farmhouse/barn and the clanging sound of a metal triangle echoed all around.

And earth ponies came from everywhere, like a multicolored stampede.

There were introductions, Jon was fairly sure of it, even though all he really could retain out of the torrent was the constant repetition of the word ‘apple’ in one form or another. And with the apple ponies came the apple food, to the point if he ate a single bite out of everything in front of him, they would need to roll him around town to keep whatever appointments Twilight Sparkle had left on her list. Or clean up a messy explosion.

He managed to excuse himself partway through the food sampling on the excuse of ‘using the little cowpoke’s room,’ which was as he expected, an outhouse. An admittedly clean outhouse with a tight-fitting lid and a collection of Sears catalogs nearby to read while contemplating. Or he supposed from the pages torn out of them, to be put to an alternative use.

“I should have stolen a roll of Celestia’s toilet paper,” he murmured while doing his business. “I swear, they sculpt the stuff out of clouds.”

Once done, he sprinkled part of a scoop of lime in the hole, careful not to make a mess or inhale the dust, and put down the lid, but when he opened the outhouse door, Jon found a line had formed.

A line of one specific farm pony, who was regarding him with a very serious look.

“Doctor Walthers, was it?” asked Applejack. “Ah just wanted to caution you a bit on anything you and your city unicorn might get up to in this town, if you know what I mean.”

“Um… Actually, no.”

“Ah mean you ain’t going to be doin’ no hanky-panky in the streets where all the foals can see, right? Just because them mountain unicorns may be free to lift their tails—”

“I have a professional relationship with Twilight Sparkle,” said Jon as fast as he could to derail the oncoming train of thought. “I’m here to help my student learn about friendship.”

“Friendship, eh?” Applejack’s eyes looked him up and down, then both eyebrows shot up when she caught sight of his shoulder holster, which was still exposed since he had not put his tweed jacket back on after using the facilities. “Oh! Yer a Pinkerton man. Well, that’s a horse of a different color.”

“What? I mean, no. I’m not with the Pinkerton agency,” said Jon, quickly grabbing his jacket from the outhouse door and putting it on. “Really.”

“Ah know you can’t talk about it. Shoulda realized Princess Celestia wouldn’t have sent her student here without some security,” said Applejack with a sly smile. “Heck, one of my great-grandpappies worked with the Pinkertons in the West. Left me his Winchester and his hogleg, as a matter of fact. Mind if I see it?”

Feeling a little like he had wandered into a Western movie lot, Jon drew his Smith and Wesson, ejected the handful of .38 cartridges, and passed it over to the eager farm pony.

“It’s a mite smaller than Grandpa Applejack’s Colt .45,” she said, snapping the empty cylinder back up and sighting down the barrel. “He had the triggers on both of his guns wired back so he could work the lever on the Winchester or fan the hammer on the pistol faster than anybody else in his group. Never could get the accuracy of his rifle, but I can put five cartridges in his Colt and bounce tin cans out at the back field like nopony’s business.”

“Um. Right,” said Jon as the revolver was passed back to him and he started refilling the cylinder. “Your great grandfather… Did he ever have to shoot anybody?”

“A couple of card sharks and a rustler, but we ain’t got none of them varmints round here. Just the occasional hydra or monster out of the Everfree Forest, and your little peashooter should be able to scare them off.” Applejack winked at him. “Now you go on back to the family and get filled up with them vittles. Sounds like you and your ‘student’ got a lot to do today.”

“So we can make it to the party,” added Jon, thinking about Nightmare Moon.

* * ✹ * *

Dragons had the metabolism of a blast furnace, even the small ones. Jon was fairly sure Spike had eaten more than him and Twilight Sparkle put together, but the little dragon jogged on down the road without a care while Twilight and Jon dragged along after him.

“Ugh,” groaned Twilight. “I ate too much pie.”

“There’s no such thing as too much of that pie,” said Jon. “That was worth my whole trip here.”

Twilight groaned again.

“And there’ll be more at the party tonight. The food’s all taken care of, so next on the list is the weather,” chirped Spike, who was looking up into the cloudy sky. “That’s odd. There’s supposed to be a pegasus named Rainbow Dash clearing the clouds.”

“Maybe she ate too much pie too,” grumbled Twilight.

Jon had just opened his mouth to give a witty comeback when a pale blue section of the sky clobbered him in the side, sending himself and Twilight Sparkle arching across the path and into a deep mud puddle on the other side.

It tasted horrible. The laughter he heard only made it worse.

“Um, ‘scuse me? Sorry about that.” The laughter muffled as Jon spit out mud and staggered to the edge of the puddle, dragging a perturbed unicorn along with him.

“I’ll make you sorry,” said Twilight very quietly as if she were afraid Celestia would overhear, then switching to a louder tone to add in her most literate criticism, “Ngh!!”

Jon was still cleaning mud out of his eyes when he heard a fading, “Lemmie help you!” It struck him as odd that somepony would say that when leaving the scene of an accident, but when he managed to blink away the last of the dirt, the meaning of the pony’s words became obvious.

That’s a huge cloud.

The dark storm cloud hovering right overhead burst with exceptional enthusiasm, drenching Jon to the skin in moments, and doing much the same to Twilight, only without soaking her tweed suit. Admittedly, the mud washed off immediately. So did part of the road, several pieces of paper that Twilight had been holding onto, and any bit of Brylcreem he still had in his hair.

“Oops, I guess I overdid it.”

Twilight did not say anything, but Jon could see steam begin to filter up from her mane. The pegasus who was behind the collision and sudden deluge looked down on them from the depleted white cloud, much like a vibrant rainbow turned upside-down. Her pale blue coat must have blended into the sky to provide a sort of camouflage, although the wild splash of colors in her mane and tail should have provided Jon and Twilight enough warning to get out of the way unless she had been flying very fast. Jon was getting fairly used to pony names, and if this speedy pegasus was not Rainbow Dash, he would… do something really soggy.

“How about this?” There was a blur of motion and a brisk breeze, which Jon expected to mean the pegasus was getting some distance from an explosive unicorn, but the breeze built to a stunning blast of air, swirling around him until he could barely keep on his feet. Twilight, having twice as many feet for stability, provided a bracing point until the wind storm faded away.

Spike had managed to avoid the mud, rain, and wind by being a short distance away. He could not avoid snickering at the two of them and eventually fell on his back, laughing his tail off. The colorful pegasus promptly followed, laughing twice as hard at Twilight Sparkle’s tangled mess of mane. Somehow, it had snarled and messed together during the drying process, making a curly tower on top of her head, matched by a puffball of violet for her tail, while Jon’s much shorter hair only felt a little mussed when he ran his fingers through it to get some of the dried dirt out.

Twilight managed to restrain her ire at her fluffy manestyle, most likely because she wanted to get the task on her checklist done before she had to find a place to hide an inconvenient pegasus corpse. “Let me guess,” she started with only the slightest snark in her voice. “You’re Rainbow Dash.”

“The one and only.” Rainbow Dash preened momentarily as if she were posing for a fan, then her eyes got large. “Why, have you heard of me?” Her colorful eyes shifted to Jon and got larger. “Are you a talent scout?”

“No, he’s my teacher,” said Twilight rapidly while clearly repressing an urge to let out an exasperated sigh. A curl of her newly ‘Rainblow Dried’ mane drooped down in front of her eyes and she blew a breath of air at it to make it go back where it belonged. With a quick scowl at her frazzled mane, Twilight Sparkle put on what might have been considered in bad light to be a smile and addressed the errant pegasus.

“I heard you were supposed to be keeping the sky clear. I'm Twilight Sparkle, and the Princess sent me to check on the weather for the festival.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow Dash waved a hoof and began to stuff the remnants of the cloud together into a floating platform, which Jon found fascinating. “That'll be a snap. I'll do it in a jiffy. Just as soon as I'm done practicing.”

“Practicing for what?”

Jon had not expected those words at all. Over the last week, Twilight Sparkle had been the most insular, introspective, in-pointed unicorn, and this made twice in one day where she had expressed an interest in another pony who was not a research subject.

“The Wonderbolts!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash with a thrust of one pale blue hoof at the sky. “They're gonna perform at the Celebration tomorrow, and I'm gonna show 'em my stuff!”

“The Wonderbolts?” echoed Twilight.

“They’re a team of military pegasi out of Cloudsdale,” said Jon. “They did a flyover for the Washington Senators one—”

“I know who the Wonderbolts are!” said Twilight sharply. “They’re the most talented fliers in all of Equestria!”

“Yep!” declared Rainbow Dash, who had nuzzled out a hollow in her cloud and was settling in for a nap, which seemed to be an odd form of ‘practicing’ for anything. “I’m gonna be one someday.”

“Pfft! Please!” scoffed Twilight. “They’d never accept a pegasus who can’t even keep the sky clear for one measly day.”

For all intents and purposes, Rainbow Dash reacted as if she had been jabbed in the rear by a hatpin.

“Hey! I could clear this sky in ten seconds flat.”

The way Twilight Sparkle had provoked the response she wanted was a work of art. Jon could not help but smile when his student leaned forward and said, “Prove it.”

The pegasus took off so fast it seemed all the air in the vicinity went with her. It was impossible to track where she was, although it was fairly easy to see where she had been from the blue and rainbow trail amidst the exploding clouds. From one end of the town to another and back, zipping around with her own verbal commentary including ‘Wham’ and ‘Loop-the-loop’ with every maneuver until the sky was clear and she was zipping to a near instantaneous halt in front of all three of her audience.

“What'd I say? Ten. Seconds. Flat. I'd never leave Ponyville hanging.”

Jon finally managed to get his first blink completed since Rainbow Dash had zoomed away, looking at the way the young pony was not even breathing hard after that astonishing exhibition of pegasus magic. His astonishment must have been written over his face as much as Twilight’s, because Rainbow Dash gave out a short giggle as she flew away.

“You should see the look on your faces. Ha! You're a laugh, Twilight Sparkle. I can't wait to hang out some more.”

“Wow,” said Jon.

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” added Spike, who then looked over and quietly lifted Twilight’s bottom jaw so her mouth was not hanging open. The unicorn student shook her head as if to clear it, and several more strands of her tangled mane dropped down over her eyes, making Twilight give out a frustrated growl.

“Wait,” offered Spike. “It’s kinda pretty once you get used to it!”

- Ω - -

The Ponyville Town Hall was next on the list, where all the ponies would gather at dawn tomorrow to see Princess Celestia raise the sun. During his studies, Jon had not read much about the actual celebration any more than making a few notes about how it ran all night until dawn. The upcoming party certainly appeared to be highly anticipated, with quite a few tables already being set up and streamers in the trees. Princess Celestia’s cutie mark was plastered all over the walls and stitched across no end of flags, making the whole area quite an impressive cultural display. Jon hoped his camera had somehow been thrown into the luggage so he could bring some pictures to his co-workers in Washington when this was all over and Nightmare Moon was—

Oh, yeah. Focus.

Spike and Twilight had strolled forward through the open door to the Town Hall’s wide interior, making Jon hustle to catch up after his woolgathering. He almost ran over Spike, who had stopped just inside the door with his eyes riveted on something ahead.

“Beautiful.”

“Yes, Spike.” Twilight looked up at the ribbons and streamers around the open area. “The décor is coming along nicely. This should be quick. I'll be at the library in no time. Beautiful indeed.”

Jon wanted to ask about the ‘library’ comment, but Spike indignantly said, “Not the décor, her!”

It said something that Jon took a long and respectful look at the pale young unicorn currently testing the colors of various ribbons against a pillar. She had a beautifully coiled violet mane which bounced even when she was standing relatively still, which was most probably a rare pose with the enthusiasm she was pouring into her present task of decorating.

He took in the long, graceful muscles of her forelegs and how they merged smoothly into her knees, the balance and matched ratio of her fore and rear quarters, the smooth roundness of her flank contrasting with the stark geometrical pattern of her tripartite diamond cutie mark, her long shoulders set at a proper angle for unicorn proportions, the regular spiral of her short but still tasteful horn—

Oh, God. I’ve been here too long.

“How are my spines?” whispered Spike, pulling on Jon’s trouser leg. “Are they straight?”

Thankfully, Twilight stepped forward before Jon could respond with something stupid. “Good afternoon—”

“Just a moment, please,” said the young unicorn, passing yet another ribbon in front of the pillar before discarding it in favor of another which seemed identical to the first, except maybe a little more glittery. “I'm 'in the zone', as it were. Oh, yes! Sparkling always does the trick, does it not? Why, Rarity, you are a talent. Now, um, how can I help yo—”

Rarity turned in the direction of Twilight Sparkle and her eyes widened with an astonished gasp. “Oh my stars, darling! Whatever happened to your coiffure?!”

“My…” Twilight looked upwards at the pile of tangled mane above her, which looked as if it were about to cascade down Forehead Mountain and bury her head. “Oh, you mean my mane? Well, it's a long story. I'm just here to check on the decorations, and then I'll be out of your hair!”

“Out of my hair?” Rainbow Dash was a slug compared to the speed at which Rarity fairly teleported to Twilight’s other side and began shoving her in the direction of the door like a linebacker after a loose football. “We simply must do something about your hair first! Come along.”

Jon was feeling a little neglected, to be honest. Rarity had noticed him, from the brief flicker of attention he had garnered, as if a human were worth some attention, while a fellow unicorn in distress was worth far more. Despite Twilight’s protestations, she was going along with Rarity to whatever hair-related destination two unicorn mares could find, just like they were some sort of odd friends…

Three in a row?

* * ✹ * *

It took a bit of hustling to catch up with his leader, who was inside a building which for all intents and purposes looked like a huge carousel… barn or whatever you would call a round building that held such a carnival ride. How that particular idea got wedged in his head while outside the building he had no idea. Once the front door was open and he got a good look at the interior, it was obvious.

There were at least a dozen horse-shaped dressmaker forms scattered around the interior of the round building, each of which held a dress in the process of creation or destruction. By the looks of the white unicorn in charge, Twilight was going to wear each of them in turn, or else. Since Spike was engrossed in the ongoing rapid clothing change, that gave Jon enough time to slip away for a few minutes of critically needed alone time with the mud packed into his underwear.

“Can I use your bathroom?” he called out, intentionally keeping his voice low. “Thanks!”

There were a few universal rules shared between human and pony civilization, one of which was the location of their plumbing. It took only a few moments to locate the near-mandatory indoor bathroom that any clothing store would need, but it had a small, tidy sign indicating it was out of order. He traced his way back to the main room where Rarity was busy stuffing Twilight Sparkle into something that required a corset, and most likely a winch.

“Now go on, my dear,” Rarity said as pleasantly as somepony could with their teeth clenched on a set of waist constrictors and pulling with all their might. “You were telling me where you're from?”

“She’s from Canterlot,” said Jon in the hopes of allowing Twilight enough air in her corset to maintain consciousness. “Can I use your upstairs bathroom, Miss Rarity?”

“Yes, of course. Oh, wait? Canterlot?”

Jon could hear a crash behind him as he climbed the stairs. It sounded like he needed to hurry up and get that mud out of his waistband before it started to chafe, because their next visit on the checklist was not going to wait.

“Canterlot?! Oh, I am so envious! The glamour, the sophistication! I have always dreamed of living there! I can't wait to hear all about it! We are gonna be the best of friends, you and I... Emeralds?! What was I thinking? Let me get you some rubies!”

He tried to hurry up while he eased the bathroom door shut behind him, because from the sound of things downstairs, he did not have much time to wash up at all. Unfortunately, time had enough time for him. Jon peeled off his slightly dirty tweed jacket while standing one step inside the upstairs bathroom, but that was as far as he got.

Admittedly, Applejack’s outhouse had been what he expected from the rural farmhouse, which let him to expect Rarity’s bathroom to be something in the Early Flush era, perhaps with an enamel washbasin and a simple gravity-fed tank over the toilet.

Not quite. If anything, this room was more beautiful than anything he had seen so far in his journey, including the bathrooms in Celestia’s castle or even Fancy Pants’ magnificent estate.

This is not a bathroom. This is a bath. Or a baaaaath if pronounced properly.

The marble tiles underfoot were so artfully put together that the stone patterns were unbroken, meshing perfectly with the traceries of gold that wove around the walls. There was no medicine cabinet to be seen, only what might be mistaken for an entire pharmacy wrapping around a double sink, encompassing every possible beauty aid that a beautiful young mare might possibly need to capture a young stallion’s attention.

And then there was the walk-in shower.

Jon had seen waterfalls that most likely would not match the flow from five different golden showerheads, one for each point of the compass and one above. And after the bather had finished bathing, there were enough white towels hanging on racks around the vicinity to dry an Army brigade, each of the sinfully-soft towels embroidered in vibrant violet thread with a cursive ‘R’ on both sides. This palace of pleasure was certainly not what Jon was used to at his place of employment in Washington. He felt like an intruder in this sacred shrine to pony beauty, and would have been too embarrassed to rest his rump on the perfect white toilet and read the newspaper. Still, the mud under his clothes had been packed in by the quick pegasus-powered downpour, and would only chafe worse as the day went on, so…

“Doctor Walthers!” Rarity scurried into the bathroom as he was contemplating the low sink with his dirty shirt in his hands. “Have you seen your companion? She seems to have stepped out while I was fetching some proper adornment for her couture.”

“She probably— you know my name?” asked Jon, resisting the urge to cover up his bare chest.

“Of course!” Jon’s clothes began to collect in a pile while Rarity’s hornglow untied his shoes. It was amazing how rapidly he had gotten used to being dressed and undressed by ponies, which was starting to worry him.

“Twilight mentioned you in passing while we were discussing mare things just now. Had a few words about Rainbow Dash’s uncouth behavior, too. Now, I insist that you clean up before setting foot back outside. Go on, in you go,” she added, giving Jon a magical boost to the rump that moved him in the direction of the walk-in shower while his shoes untied underneath him. “I’ll have your clothes mended and clean by the time you get out, so you can catch up with your student on the way to Fluttershy’s.”

Jon hesitated at the shower curtain, a little distracted by still wearing his pants. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Rarity beamed. “It’s the least I can do for my new friends.”

* * ✹ * *

“Three in a row,” mused Jon as he strode down the dirt street on the way out of town as Rarity had directed him. His tweeds had never felt more comfortable, dry, and possibly even adjusted slightly while he had taken a hurried shower. Rarity had even cleaned his shoulder holster, leaving the revolver spotless with a thin film of gun oil, and placed a new snazzy fedora on top of his clean clothes. It baffled him at first, until he saw the small stack of Dashiell Hammett detective novels tucked in beside the toilet, with Sam Spade looking back at him from the covers.

This can’t be a coincidence. I’m not that good of a friendship instructor.

It made a nice afternoon to stroll along, nodding at the colorful ponies in town. There was a lot less stress in walking by himself, no worries about Twilight and her heavy mission, no sword of Damocles hanging over his head. Just the sun in the sky, a few more patchy clouds blowing in, the cool breeze caused by all the pegasus wings in town, and the bear.

Wait.

“Nice bear,” said Twilight, edging slightly to one side of the road, only to have the bear match her motions. “Good bear,” she added, moving the other way. The musical sounds of birdsong drifted down the path in front of them as Jon strolled up beside Spike.

“So, a bear?” Jon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing what the response was going to be.

“Can’t fool you,” said Spike. “I thought it was a flamingo at first.”

The bear gave out a low growl and shifted positions to block Twilight Sparkle’s progress again. The delay seemed to bother Twilight more than the actual fact that there was a bear in her way.

“Twilight,” called out Jon. “If we can’t get around the bear to go talk to Fluttershy, we could always come back later.”

The bear gave out a short chuffing sound and looked at Jon. Thankfully, it did not seem to be a hungry look, more like it… understood? No, that was ridiculous. It was a bear. Five hundred pounds of muscle and claws that could tear him limb from limb and he was just standing here, looking back at its expression of… curiosity?

“Pardon, but we have an appointment with Fluttershy,” said Jon just as formally as if he were talking to a butler at the door of a large mansion. “I would have been here sooner, but I was talking to Rarity.”

“Isn’t she wonderful?” gushed Spike.

“Focus, Casanova.” Twilight Sparkle put on her ‘social’ face and addressed the bear. “Please move so we can go talk with Fluttershy. I promise it will only take a minute.”

Wait. She said please?

The bear gave the three of them a long, intimidating look and ambled off into the bushes, vanishing from sight in very rapid fashion and leaving Jon with the disturbing question of how many other bears that might be in the bushes too. It left him turning his head to look behind them as they walked, or at least until he heard a sweet voice up ahead.

“Oh my. Um, stop please, everyone, umm. Excuse me, sir? I mean no offense, but your rhythm is just a teeny-tiny bit off. Now, follow me, please. A-one, a-two, a-one two three—”

“Hello!” said Twilight abruptly. Jon managed to get turned around just in time to see the tail ends of a dozen or so birds scattering into the bushes, showing that the birds around this crazy town at least had normal reactions. There was a yellow pegasus left behind, who was staring in their direction with wide, panicked eyes and cringing back as if she were trying to hide behind her elegant sweeping pink mane.

Jon felt as if he had just kicked a puppy. He held himself very still in order not to spook the flighty pegasus, who let out a frightened yelp even at his minor motion.

“Hello?” asked Twilight Sparkle again, moving forward with a practiced smile. “Oh my, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to frighten your birds. I'm just here to check up on the music and it's sounding beautiful.”

At least that made the frightened pegasus focus those dangerous eyes on Twilight, which let Jon get a breath of air. She still did not say anything.

“I’m Twilight Sparkle. Oh, and this is my teacher, Jon Walthers. What’s your name?” asked Twilight, and to Jon’s surprise it sounded like she meant it.

“Um…” breathed the pegasus, still crouched as if she were going to flee at any moment, although for some reason she did not have her wings angled for a rapid takeoff. “I’m Fluttershy.”

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Twilight pivoted both ears directly forward and gave the cringing pegasus all of her attention, which was probably about an attention and a half too much.

“Um… My name is Fluttershy.”

Jon was fairly sure that’s what she said, even though he had to imagine most of the words while her lips barely moved.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” said Twilight Sparkle, leaning a little further forward and proving in Jon’s mind that her middle name really was Oblivious.

The pegasus cringed back even further and made a tiny squeaking noise, much like a rubber dog toy. Jon was only more entranced. The sight was almost too adorable for words, made even more by the way the frightened birds had begun to return, landing all around Fluttershy and making little sympathetic chirps of support.

“Well…” Twilight looked around at the birds, who all seemed to be giving her suspicious glances. “It looks like your birds are back, so I guess everything's in order. Keep up the good work!”

Fluttershy squeaked again. Jon marveled.

She actually praised somebody. Actual comforting words. Did Celestia swap in a different unicorn on me? Four in a row is really strange.

“Well, that was easy,” said Twilight, turning around and looking down at Spike, who was marking a check off the checklist. The motion did not just draw Jon’s attention, but also caught the eye of the last creature he expected.

“A baby dragon!” Something yellow and fast caught Jon below the knees and knocked him into the bush that Spike had been hidden behind. While he picked his way out, Fluttershy was adoring her newest friend with an intensity that almost perfectly inverse-mirrored her previous behavior to Twilight Sparkle, although his student was catching the credit. “Oh, I've never seen a baby dragon before. He's sooo cute!”

Puffing up slightly, Spike stuck his chest out and preened (figuratively) under the attention. “Well, well, well!”

“Oh, my!” gasped Fluttershy. “He talks. I didn't know dragons could talk. That's just so incredibly wonderful I, I just don't even know what to say!”

“Getting him to shut up is the problem,” muttered Twilight Sparkle as Jon boosted her up out of the bush and back onto the road, then crawled out behind her. Jon gave his student a quelling glance while standing up. He might as well have thrown ice cubes at the sun for all the good it did.

“Well, in that case we better be going,” continued Twilight in a loud voice, giving her dragon a magical boost up into the air and dropping him onto her back. “Bye!”

“Wait, wait!” called out Fluttershy, trotting right along behind them. “What's his name?”

“I’m Spike!” declared Spike.

“Hi, Spike. I’m Fluttershy. Wow, a talking dragon! What do dragons talk about?”

Saying that many words in a row didn’t exhaust her. Wow.

“What do you want to know?” asked Spike

“Absolutely everything!” gushed Fluttershy.

Jon felt a little left out, striding along behind them without anybody asking him to tell his life story. Twilight obviously felt much the same from the groan she let out while keeping up her punishing pace on their way back into town.

- Ω - -

“...and that’s the story of my whole entire life!” exclaimed Spike. “Do you wanna hear about today?”

Jon had been constantly distracted by Fluttershy’s fascinated expressions during the the story, which he had to admit was terribly interesting from his own perspective too. She nodded encouragement, which Spike really did not need, and added, “Oh, yes, please!”

“Gyah!” Twilight’s grasp of the Equestrian language continued to baffle Jon, although at the moment, his mind was on other things. Tall things made of oak and covered with leaves and bark, which in the rest of the human world did not include things like balconies, doors, windows, and tidy little signs reading ‘Ponyville Golden Oak Library - Hours: Sunrise to Sunset’ out in front by the geraniums. This could only be the library she had mentioned before, because he could not possibly imagine a town this small with two libraries. And one way or another, he was getting a picture of this for when he went home, or nobody would believe him.

Then again, if and when I go home, nobody is going to believe most of what I’ve gone through anyway.

“I am so sorry, how did we get here so fast?” said Twilight Sparkle. “This is where I'm staying while in Ponyville and my poor baby dragon needs his sleep.”

“No I don't—” declared Spike right before Twilight bounced him off her back with a thud and a startled “Whoa!” on his behalf.

“Aww, wook at dat,” she added in her most sickly sweet voice. “He's so sweepy he can't even keep his widdle bawance!”

Fluttershy, far from leaving as Twilight was so obviously trying to encourage, rushed forward and scooped up Spike from the ground. “Oh, you poor thing! You simply must get into bed—”

“Yes, yes,” growled Twilight, shoving her dragon through the library doorway and following right behind. “We'll get right on that. Well, g'night!”

She slammed the library door. Jon knocked on it. Twilight opened up the door and looked up.

“It’s only afternoon,” Jon managed to say before Twilight’s magic dragged him inside the dark library and closed the door.

“Rude much, Twilight?” sounded Spike’s voice from somewhere nearby.

“Sorry, Spike. Oh, and Mister Walthers. I have to convince the Princess that Nightmare Moon is coming, and we're running out of time! I just need to be alone so I can study without a bunch of crazy ponies trying to make friends all the time. Now, where's the light?”

“Careful!” cautioned Jon when he felt a clawed hand grope around his waist. “I’m not a lamp. Twilight, can we get some hornglow here?”

“Found the switch!” declared Spike and turned on the lights.

14. Tonight's the Night

Equestria : 1940
Thursday 20 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“And there appeared a great wonder in heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars.”
— Revelations 12:1

Apparently, it was a tradition in Ponyville to scare the bejesus out of visitors with a party. Inside your house. With confetti cannon. Thankfully, Jon had a strong heart, and walked a lot to keep fit.

It seemed fairly impossible for this many ponies to cram inside the library’s oak walls. Despite that, Jon could look out across the sea of equinity and see most of Ponyville’s population, all of whom had managed to stay quiet until the lights came on and the simultaneous cry of “Surprise!” came from all around them. The pink blur from before bounded out of the crowd of ponies, proceeding to do laps around Twilight, Spike, and Jon, while chattering away a mile a minute.

“Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie, and I threw this party just for you! Were you surprised? Were ya? Were ya? Huh huh huh?”

“Very surprised,” groused Twilight. “Libraries are supposed to be quiet.”

“Well, that’s silly,” said Pinkie Pie with Twilight’s criticism rolling right off her like water from a duck. In fact, it seemed to only excite the pink pony more, no matter how impossible that sounded. “What kind of welcome party would this be if it were quiet? I mean, duh, bo-ring! Y'see, I saw you when you first got here, remember? You were all ‘hello’ and I was all—” Pinkie inhaled deeply “—remember? Y'see I've never saw you before and if I've never saw you before that means you're new, 'cause I know everypony, and I mean everypony in Ponyville! And person too. Hi there, person I don’t know yet but I will really soon.”

“Jon Walthers,” said Jon, extending his hand reflexively since his brain was starting to shut down with the overdose of sugar he was absorbing by osmosis. “And this is Spike, and Twilight Sparkle,” he added while trying to cope with all of his colorful surroundings.

“Glad to meet you!” Jon could have sworn Pinkie was shaking all three of their hooves/claws/hands at the same time while still chattering onward. “You’re new here, and if you're new, that meant you haven't met anyone yet, and if you haven't met anyone yet, you must not have any friends, and if you don't have any friends then you must be lonely, and that made me so sad, then I had an idea, and that's why I went—” Pinkie sucked in another breath, which Jon thought was far overdue “—and threw you a great big ginormous super-duper spectacular welcome party and invited everyone in Ponyville! See? And now you have lots and lots of friends!”

While Pinkie was talking, Twilight was walking. She strolled over to the refreshment table and poured herself a drink, leaving Jon to attempt some sort of covering maneuver. That went promptly right out the window when the drink Twilight poured turned out to be hot sauce, and his student vanished at high speed to points unknown with what Jon could have sworn was flames coming off her coat.

“Aww, she’s so happy she’s crying,” said Pinkie, who took the bottle and dosed a nearby cupcake, then swallowed the infernal combination in one gulp. Spike followed up with an inferno cupcake of his own and declared it good, but Jon could not in good conscious take even a nibble when he took a deep sniff of it and could feel the resulting burn all the way into the back of his throat.

“So…” It had to be said, and Jon found himself being appointed by default to say it. “Let’s party!”

- Ω - -

Several hours later, he had time to consider just how everything had been going so well right up to the point where Twilight hid herself in the library bedroom.

That particular incident was not exactly what he had hoped for after so many things had gone so right so far. To be honest, Jon expected Twilight to melt under the fierce optimism of Pinkie and join the party, even if a little reluctantly. She was wound tight, and a party would have been just the way to loosen up. Spike certainly thought so. He was the life of the party, lampshade included, making friends with every pony there. Jon tried to emulate his enthusiasm to draw Twilight out from her sulk, even going so far as to escort a number of the town’s younger residents over to the Ponyville theatre for a special midnight showing of…

Well, he could have guessed it was going to be The Wizard of Oz before the group even went out of the library door, mostly from the little colts and fillies squeaking lines from the Munchkins in their highest voices and several of the pegasi playing ‘Flying Monkeys’ around the top of the library’s main room.

And as he was learning to expect, the rural showing of the movie was just as different as the last two times he had watched the movie in Canterlot. Oh, the singing was just as contagious, the dancing in the aisles as synchronized, and the shrieks of terror were just as loud among the foals when the flying monkeys swept out of the sky. The differences came in the way the farming ponies gasped in amazement at the flowers, from poppies to lilies, rhododendrons to chrysanthemums, and every bloom that had been crammed on screen. There was even a brief interjection from the back during the Tin Man scene when one of the ponies objected with a loud “That ain’t the way apple trees act in noplace! Castin’ aspersions on our fine product! Ah ain’t gonna settle down and eat my popcorn, Big Mac! That’s unfair treatment!”

The post-movie buffet outside of the library was challenging also, with ‘Pies II - The Crustening’ and several appearances of ‘The Apple Fritters That Did Not Get Away’ until Jon was nearly as slowed as he had been earlier after his first encounter with the Apple Family cooking. He made a fool of himself on the dance floor, although not quite as much as others, and put several bits to good use in the carnival games scattered around the streets. Jon did not win anything but good cheer, pleasant conversation, and one short encounter with Twilight’s former friend Lyra, who did not try sucking on his fingers as he had been warned. She did look inside his mouth, though.

The entire night he spent in Ponyville was a warm and welcoming time, filled with laughter and friendship. It would have been perfect, if not for the occasional glimpse up into the library window where he could see Twilight’s silhouette against the lights, her head turned upwards to the distant stars. Princess Celestia had commanded him not to reveal Nightmare Moon’s real nature for a very good reason, which he understood more every minute. Twilight Sparkle idolized her divine teacher, and that same idolizing would naturally flow over to her divine sister even in her evil incarnation. Right now, Twilight was focused on stopping Nightmare Moon, and when Twilight focused on something, it was going to give up, give in, or just plain give.

Or it would break her.

- Ω - -

The task of rooting Twilight out from her sullen brooding fell to Spike, who vanished into the bedroom while Jon stayed outside. After all, Spike knew her better than anypony, and Jon was still concerned about mending metaphorical fences with Pinkie Pie, the only pony they had met that Twilight had not displayed even a small amount of interest in.

Well, if Twilight proves to be a hard nut to crack, I’m sure Pinkie Pie has a hammer big enough.

“Hey, Twilight!” Spike’s voice drifted out of the bedroom. “Pinkie Pie's starting ‘pin the tail on the pony’ over at the Town Hall! Wanna play?”

“Is that really a thing?” asked Jon.

“We don’t use a real pony tail, silly.” Pinkie Pie giggled, which seemed to be her normal mood. “You can play if you want, but you’ll have to scrunch way down, and be careful with the pin.”

Since pony tails were about at his crotch level, Jon understood the danger far too well. He had been backed into fairly often during the night’s festivities, thankfully by soft pony rumps instead of a sharp steel pin. Although he was not certain that all of those had been accidents.

“I hope you’re not angry at Twilight not coming to the party, Pinkie,” said Jon. “She’s… a little difficult to get to parties. She skipped out on the party her friends… or at least her former friends threw for Moondancer in Canterlot. I’m not sure she’s ever been to a real party.”

Pinkie’s impossible grin got wider. “A challenge,” she breathed in a husky whisper.

“All the ponies in this town are crazy!” Twilight’s voice from inside the library bedroom was frazzled, and sounded like she had not gotten any sleep. “Do you know what time it is, Spike?”

Spike shouldered open the door, guiding Twilight out of the bedroom. “It’s the eve of the Summer Sun Celebration! Everypony has to stay up, or they'll miss the Princess raise the sun! You really should lighten up, Twilight. It's a party!”

“Eeets a party,” squeaked Twilight in a childish falsetto, but she did follow along behind Jon and Pinkie Pie as they walked out of the library, through the darkness that filled the town, and proceeded to the Town Hall. Their destination was a beacon of warm light in the clouded darkness, with numerous broad windows for the ponies to watch the sunrise and an internal balcony from which Celestia would address them afterward.

The light from the open bay windows illuminated the backs of quite a few other ponies who were also headed that way in the darkness. Most of the townsponies had not spent the night in the library no matter how crowded it had seemed, with an endless stream of names and faces to remember. Together it made a colorful flow of bodies across the moonlit silver paths up to the illuminated building. Out of reflex, Jon checked his watch and estimated the time until sunrise… or at least as much of the sunrise as they would be able to see from the clouds rolling in. The only thing still visible in the sky was the moon, hanging all alone in a gap in the glittering clouds and giving Jon a cold feeling down his spine.

His heart beat faster when they entered the rapidly filling town hall, only mostly out of excitement for the ongoing event, but partially from what Twilight Sparkle was explaining to Spike as he followed behind them.

“I thought I'd have time to learn about the Elements of Harmony but, silly me, all this ridiculous friend-making has kept me from it! ‘Legend has it that on the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape, and she will bring about everlasting night.’ I hope the Princess was right... I hope it really is just an old pony tale…”

The idea distracted him from the game of Pin The Tail On The Pony that Pinkie Pie started up in the middle of the Town Hall, which cost him at least one pin in the rump as a consequence. He could see the way that the resulting laughter and embarrassment drew Twilight’s attention, and even made the tiny flicker of a smile show up in the corner of her lips. Jon smiled too, and was still smiling when two armored Royal Guards strolled up to him.

“Corporal Brickbat,” announced the first pegasus. “Sergeant Nightshade, and Specialist Wallflower over there. It is our understanding that Princess Celestia will be here shortly. Are all things prepared for her arrival?”

“You’ll have to ask Twilight,” said Jon. “She’s the one who Celestia entrusted with the responsibility.” It gave him a little twinge of satisfaction to see the way the armored pegasus just nodded and walked over to Twilight Sparkle, leaving Nightshade by his side.

“Had a nice nap,” she volunteered with a yawn. “No storybook monsters showed up while we were out, right?”

“Not yet.” Jon looked up at the inside balcony where Princess Celestia was about to make her appearance above the anticipating crowd of ponies. “Maybe it’s a false alarm.”

“Maybe she couldn’t get an appointment on Celestia’s crowded schedule.” Nightshade shrugged. “If so, we get a party, fun, and the joy of watching her raise the sun.”

“Isn’t this exciting!” bubbled Pinkie Pie, bouncing around like a rubber ball. “Are you excited, 'cause I'm excited, I've never been so excited— well, except for the time that I saw you three walking into town and I went—” she sucked in a deep breath “—but I mean really, who can top that?”

Personally, the most excited Jon had been recently was during the preceptious dive that the chariot had made off the side of Canterlot, which he was happy to leave as the most exciting thing he would ever have happen to him, ever.

All public events were destined to come with bureaucrats and speeches guaranteed to bring any excitement down to a dull roar. Mayor Mare, a quiet tan earth pony with a grey mane and a decorative neck ruff that he suspected came from Rarity’s boutique was this town’s designated excitement-slayer, and she took the podium with a happy wave at her beloved constituents and honored guests.

Must be an election coming up.

“Fillies and gentlecolts, as mayor of Ponyville, it is my great pleasure to announce the beginning of the Summer Sun Celebration!”

Wonder what we’ve been doing all night so far, then.

Raising her voice above the cheering ponies, the mayor continued, “In just a few moments, our town will witness the magic of the sunrise, and celebrate this, the longest day of the year!”

And an hour from now, they’ll all be back at their homes, catching a well-deserved nap.

“Now, it is my great honor to introduce to you the ruler of our land, the very pony who gives us the sun and the moon each and every day, the good, the wise, the bringer of harmony to all of Equestria…”

On another balcony above them, Jon could see Fluttershy raising her whatever-the-stick-was-called-to-direct-a-choir-of-birds, brace her shoulders, and start the downbeat just as Mayor Mare announced, “Princess Celestia!”

The birds began to sing, Rarity opened the curtains in front of the balcony, and Princess Celestia…

…was not there.

Rarity’s gasp carried all the way across the silent room filled with astonished ponies, as well as Twilight Sparkle’s sarcastic, “Oh, this can’t be good.”

“Remain calm, everypony,” announced the mayor. “There must be a reasonable explanation!”

Jon could think of about a dozen, each of them more preferable to the one he did not want to consider as the curtains billowed and a gust of icy wind blew through the Town Hall. It did not seem to quell Pinkie Pie’s natural bounciness, as the pink party pony bounced happy around, looking behind every support pillar and decoration. “Ooh, ooh! I love guessing games! Is she hiding?”

“She’s gone!” called out Rarity, who was still frantically looking behind the curtains upstairs.

An enormous gasp traveled around the crowd, giving Jon a sinking sensation in the pit of his belly. Ponies were herd animals, and a panicked stampede out of the building would injure or kill many of them, as well as possibly himself. It was amazing how quickly that first hint of impending flight was put to rest by Pinkie Pie calling out, “Ooh, she's good.”

The noise of the crowd began to rise again when a coil of smoke drifted down from the opened windows, swirling around on the upper balcony in front of the painted backdrop where Celestia was supposed to make a speech before ‘raising the sun’ outside. Being taller than any pony there, Jon had a perfect view of the way swirls of smoke joined together, getting thicker and thicker until a dark alicorn formed on the elevated platform in front of him.

It was certainly not Celestia. Nightmare Moon had slitted eyes much like a dragon, with the same glower of arrogant aggression. Her mane coiled and drifted like Celestia’s, but it was made out of darkness with tiny flecks of pearlescent light. In any other circumstances, Jon would have been fascinated into immobility but the only thought that was rattling through his mind at the moment was that his camera was still in his luggage. The rest of the crowd was similarly entranced by the sight and whispered among themselves, not quite loud enough to cover up Twilight Sparkle a short distance away who said almost to herself, “Nightmare Moon.”

“Oh, my beloved subjects,” crooned the dark alicorn before her cold teal gaze slid over to look at Jon, and the faintest hint of a smile crowned that cruel face. “And guests. It's been so long since I've seen your precious little sun-loving faces.”

“What did you do with our Princess?!” Rainbow Dash darted out of the crowd and pulled up short because Applejack had clamped down on her tail, which made her muffled response difficult to understand.

“Whoa there, Nelly!”

Thankfully, it broke Nightmare Moon’s chilling gaze on Jon as her eyes swept across the crowd to more colorful and verbal targets. She laughed, a cruel and heartless sound that drew ice across Jon’s heart and made the crowd cringe back.

“Why, am I not royal enough for you? Don't you know who I am?”

Pinkie Pie bounced up above the crowd, just as unphased as ever. “Ooh, ooh, more guessing games! Um, Hokey Smokes! How about... Queen Meanie! No! Black Snooty, Black Snooty—”

Thankfully, Applejack managed to stuff an apple into Pinkie’s face while somehow still keeping her teeth clamped down on Rainbow Dash’s tail. The alicorn did not seem to notice, almost flowing from one location on the balcony to another, menacing everypony who had managed to get such close locations to the supposed grand event.

“Does my crown no longer count now that I have been imprisoned for a thousand years?” she purred, her voice rising. “Did you not recall the legend? Did you not see the signs?”

“I did.”

To Jon’s complete and utter amazement, the words came from Twilight, who had stepped forward and addressed the terrifying alicorn with far more confidence than the rest of the town all put together. It was a side of her that Jon had not expected, or even thought she was capable of expressing. And all it took to bring it out was the potential end of the world in alicorn form.

“And I know who you are,” declared Twilight in the same confident voice. “You’re the Mare in the Moon – Nightmare Moon!”

An astonished gasp went around the room. Everypony knew who Nightmare Moon was because of the Equestrian Halloween-equivalent holiday, but they obviously had never expected the myth to become reality in their own tiny town.

“Well well well,” purred Nightmare Moon, leaning forward across the balcony rail with a sneer. “Somepony who remembers me. Then you also know why I'm here.”

All of the confidence she had shown before vanished out of Twilight Sparkle, leaving the timid unicorn Jon was used to. “You’re here to… to…”

Dark clouds began to filter into the room, swirling around above them as lightning flashed and thunder crashed just outside of the Town Hall, making the walls shake nearly as much as all the ponies around him. Above all of it was the cruel laughter of Nightmare Moon, gloating over her victims.

“Remember this day, little ponies, for it was your last. From this moment forth, the night will last forever!”

Jon wanted to panic, and really would have felt better panicking if it would not drive the rest of the ponies into a worse reaction. At least they were not trying to run. Yet.

He could see a few armored Royal Guards scattered around the party, all of whom were holding back probably for the same reason he was. If this was Nightmare Moon, an immensely powerful alicorn with a severe case of nuts, the best thing to do would be to go along, allow her to pose and posture with lightning in the background, follow her orders, and above all, avoid irritating the goddess-horse by saying something stupid like—

“Seize her!” called out the mayor. “Only she knows where the Princess is!”

Before the first guard started to move, Jon could see the disaster about to unfold. The armored ponies took off with a blur of wings and started to fling themselves forward as Jon reached under his tweed jacket and pulled out the revolver. It was a case where being tall had certain advantages, one of which was a clear field of fire. The square sights lined up by reflex, courtesy of many days of practice in the Egyptian desert, then he let out his breath while squeezing the trigger and—

A puff of plaster dust jumped off the wall just to the left of Nightmare Moon’s shoulder. It took a lot more effort to remain calm while adjusting his aim, release the trigger, and squeeze again.

...and again.

...until all that came out of the revolver were metallic clicking noises.

Then it was Nightmare Moon’s turn as the lightning cascaded down from above, threw the armored pegasi away like toys, and smashed Jon into swirling darkness.

Author's Note

Rule #1 when meeting a new friend: Try to make a memorable first impression.

15. Left Behind

Equestria : 1940
Friday 21 June - Ponyville, Equestria

“Righteousness and justice are the foundation of Your throne; mercy and truth go before Your face.”
— Psalms 89:14

Being dead sucked.

Waking up after being struck by lightning sucked slightly less worse.

Nightshade’s concerned face hovered just above his nose, verifying Jon’s presumption that he had indeed not died and gone to heaven unless there had been a considerable change in the entrance requirements. Then again, she was nominally a Baptist, and she already had the wings.

“Uhh,” groaned Jon with one forlorn attempt at stirring. “Why does lightning taste like apples?”

“You weren’t breathing.” Nightshade’s yellow eyes flickered to a far corner of the room where two other Royal Guards were being tended to by several pony nurses. She flattened her ears and shuddered, her thick wings unfolding and folding across her back, but she did not say anything else.

“So you took advantage of me?” Jon managed to mumble, taking a second attempt at standing and deciding that remaining flat on the floor for now was just fine. “The kiss of life.”

“Thank Big Mac for saving your life,” she murmured under her breath in order not to attract attention from the nurses. “He resuscitated you while a bunch of the townsponies pinned me down and… they treated me like some sort of monster!”

The last words were loud enough that the nurses looked in his direction, and one started to walk over until Nightshade turned on her and growled. It was a deep vibrant sound that vibrated through Jon’s chest, which he realized was being used as a batpony pillow. The nurse promptly turned around and returned to the ordinary pegasus patients. It brought one critical point to Jon’s attention, and he managed to move his arm far enough up to tap one finger against Nightshade’s dark helmet.

“If you hadn’t dropped your disguise, they wouldn’t have—” His fingers traced the pitted and rough traces of molten metal on the protective armor, making a chill go up his back.

“Disguise spell shorted out. Freaked out the civvies something fierce. Nightmare Moon got away, but they had their own stunned monster to capture. Took five of them, and I didn’t dare fight back. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum over there stuck up for me when they woke up, or they probably would have dragged me off to jail. If this podunk little town even has a jail.”

“You kept me from being killed,” said Jon, still feeling a little stunned. Well, a different kind of stunned than having a few hundred thousand volts run through his frail body.

“Eh.” Nightshade shrugged, which seemed to make the tremor in her side go away, or at least recede enough so Jon could not feel it any more. “You shot at her first. I don’t think she liked that.”

“I hit her, and I don’t think it hurt her a bit,” countered Jon. “Alicorns are tough. Celestia told me that if I ever shot her, and she found out about it, I was going to be in trouble.”

“Yeah, speaking of that.” Nightshade looked around the room, then moved closer to his ear and whispered, “Celestia’s gone. Nopony knows where she is, not even the other guards. They think she may have been… banished.”

“Banished?” Jon considered the concept, and how insane it would have sounded a week ago. If Luna had been Princess of the Moon and was banished there, it could be possible that Celestia had been banished to her sun. If so, there was no Alicorn ex Machina waiting in the background to save them, only a frightened unicorn student who would need his help.

Taking a few quick breaths to build up his inertia, Jon rolled over, which naturally made Nightshade fall off in the other direction with a clatter of armor. He made it all the way up to his knees before noticing something sitting right next to him. The .38 revolver seemed unharmed by the electrical attack, the cylinder spinning free and nothing binding in the action, with six empty shell casings falling out when he worked the ejection lever.

“You know, you could have told me you were packing your pistol,” said Nightshade, giving the empty casings a sniff. “A girl should know such things before she goes flinging her body between you and certain death.”

It was macabre humor, but at least it was an attempt. He put away the revolver, took a few minutes to get to his feet, recovered his tweed jacket, and staggered a bit in place before heading for the door. “Gotta get Twilight,” he said while the world swayed around him. “She must be going nuts.”

“Twilight Sparkle is missing too.” Nightshade moved up beside him and provided support to lean against even though she was slightly unsteady on her hooves as well. “The townsponies say she and several other ponies went pelting off into the woods, chasing after Nightmare Moon.”

Jon leaned against the doorframe, taking in the frightened looks from the nurses and the stoic expressions of their pegasus patients which indicated they were perfectly fine with abdicating their guarding responsibility to his current pony-crutch. He checked his watch, gave it a shake to listen to it rattle, then took a deep breath. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Long enough for the mayor to drop by about a dozen times and worry. She’s at least not afraid of the darkness out there. I think she’s more afraid about how this will affect her upcoming re-election campaign.”

Nightshade gave her fellow guards a sideways look and did not say anything else until Jon had wobbled out into the abandoned Town Hall with crumpled decorations all around and the stygian darkness looming outside the windows. “You weren’t kidding about Nightmare Moon earlier,” she added.

“I kinda hoped I was,” said Jon. Picking up a nearby firefly lantern, he put one foot on the stairs up to the balcony, took a deep breath, and started to climb. “I expected her to be a little shorter than Celestia. It was hard to tell from the floor down there.”

“Aren’t you worried about Twilight? I thought you’d be chasing after her.” Nightshade pointed at the darkness outside of the front door of the Town Hall and shuddered. “And I’d be the one responsible for dragging what’s left of your sorry butt out of the forest and back into town.”

“All things in good time. She’s got friends with her.” Despite the pin-prickles of pain in his muscles and joints, Jon smiled. “It took more than I expected for her to make friends, but she did.” The rest of the trip up the staircase, Nightshade grumbled and scowled, only giving up and actually saying something when Jon put a finger against the hole in the plaster and started to measure in arm-spans down to the pristine floor.

“So what’s the word?”

“Alicornus divinus equus stands about four and a half feet at the shoulder.” Jon squinted down an imaginary line to the center of the main Town Hall room. “This one runs about four feet at best. And only one hole in the plaster. Not bad shooting for forty feet.”

“You probably sprayed your shots all over the building,” grumbled Nightshade while looking for more holes. “If you put five holes in anypony, there’d be blood, or if her armor stopped the slugs, they’d be scattered across the floor somewhere.”

“Professor Jones would disagree,” said Jon. “He was one of Professor Yearling’s associates during my Egyptian outing. Taught me to shoot out in the desert. We were waiting on some government bureau to approve paperwork, so we went through a case of ammunition each while he told me wild stories about other archeological digs.”

Jon hobbled down the stairs, headed toward the Town Hall’s front door and the darkness encompassing the town beyond. “Let’s go over to the library and do some digging of our own. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion we’ll find the answer to why Twilight went running into the woods there.”

- Ω - -

Without any light from outside, Jon had to depend on the library’s lamps to spot the obvious signs of Twilight’s passage. Most of the party supplies had been removed as the dawn had approached, so the tossed books scattered around the floor at least had not landed in the punch bowl or had smears of cake across them. Jon ignored them all and climbed the stairs to the librarian’s apartment on the second floor, vanishing into the bedroom while Nightshade stood outside.

“You’ve got terrible timing,” she called out into the room while getting into a semblance of a guarding pose. “If you wanted a student-teacher conference in bed, you could have done that with Twilight last night.”

“I’m not looking for some pony,” said Jon, scanning across the heap of books next to the bed. “I’m looking for some thing. And here it is.” He emerged back into the library with the children’s story book that Twilight had originally glommed onto back in Canterlot, then paged through it until he found the passage he had heard her say earlier.

“Reluctantly, the elder sister harnessed the most powerful magic known to ponydom: the Elements of Harmony. That’s it. She’s looking for the Elements of Harmony.”

“Which is…?” Nightshade rolled her eyes as Jon descended the stairs at as near to a run as he was able. It was much easier for her to simply glide down, landing in the middle of the book explosion that covered the floor in the middle of the library.

“She had to be looking up the Elements of Harmony. And since she took off like her tail was on fire, she had to have found a book describing—”

“The Elements of Harmony - A Reference Guide,” said Nightshade, picking up the top book from the pile.

“Ha! Gimmie!” Jon pounced on the book and riffled through the pages, rapidly at first but slowing as he read until he reached the end. “It’s mostly garbage with a lot of vague theories.”

“Like a foals book.” Nightshade held the page down on the first book, then flipped backward a page with a thoughtful frown.

“A lot more serious than just for foals. There are six Elements of Harmony, but only five are known: Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Honesty and Loyalty. The sixth is a complete mystery. It is said, the last known location of the five elements was in the ancient castle of the Royal Pony Sisters. It is located in what is now—”

“The Everfree Forest,” said Nightshade without looking up from the book of foals stories. “Everything spooky or dangerous in any story is in there. I’m more interested in— What are you doing?”

Jon fed one last cartridge into his revolver, snapped the cylinder closed, and holstered it. “Twilight may need help.”

“It’s night. Well, it’s probably around ten in the morning, but with that cloud cover it sure looks like it’s the middle of the night. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum got zapped pretty hard, so they’re not going with us.”

“Us?” Jon picked up the firefly lantern from where he had sat it down and checked its nectar supply.

“Yes, us,” snapped Nightshade. “The other enchants on the armor seem fine, and I wouldn't want to look gold and white out in the forest anyway. I just want you to answer one question first.”

Nightshade put one hoof on the book of foals stories. She deliberately slid it over until it was under a single phrase and held it up for Jon.

...elder sister…

Obviously, his face did a better job describing the situation than the lies Jon was trying to craft. Nightshade swung the book at him and scowled at Jon like she wanted to keep clouting him over the head until she got answers. “Twilight would go nuts if she knew,” he explained.

“She’s not the only one!!” snapped Nightshade. “Look, I’ve kept my big mouth shut ever since Princess Celestia told the dragons that Nightmare Moon was coming back! I know if she wanted me to say anything about it, she would have told me. But this?”

She waved the book over her head. “What, did you think I was going to miss that Nightmare Moon was Celestia’s little sister when I got a chance to look at all of the puzzle pieces? I should have been out there with those six…”

She slowed with a spark of understanding in her eyes, allowing Jon to get words in edgewise. “Celestia told me about her sister in the strictest of confidence. If she had told you—”

“I would have gone with them to the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters,” said Nightshade. “I would have taken every guard and able-bodied pony I could find in Canterlot and—”

“Twilight would never have gotten the chance to make friends,” completed Jon. “She would have been swept up in the crowd. Alone in the middle of all the other ponies. Celestia said helping Twilight Sparkle make friends was the most important part of my job.”

“What’s so important about friends?” Nightshade followed Jon as he headed for the library door and the encompassing darkness that waited outside. “You can’t possibly think Twilight Sparkle is going to defeat Nightmare Moon with hugs and friendship!”

There was a brief stutter in reality, a tremor that was more felt in the heart than underfoot. Then a blazing spot of chromatic light erupted in the distance, generally where Jon had expected the center of the Everfree Forest to be. In seconds, it burst across the sky, scattering clouds into pure vapor and revealing the risen sun until the entire Ponyville valley basked under the glory of the morning. Even the birds seemed to rejoice in the light and sang in the branches of the library tree above them while a light breeze brought the scent of opening flowers and the cheers of the townsponies.

“Yes,” said Jon. “I do now.”

* * ✹ * *

They must have sent the chariot out from Canterlot, because Jon had never seen one so large or ornate before. There were two alicorns riding in the front with several ponies in the back, including a familiar rainbow-striped one who kept flying around the chariot and presumably challenging the drivers to a race. The four Royal Guards sat their charges effortlessly down on the Ponyville town square, which looked more like an oblong circle to him, but he did not want to ask any of the residents, particularly now.

The crowd went nuts.

Jon and Nightshade watched it all from the shadow of a nearby building, from the way that Celestia strode out of her chariot with her sister by her side, the cheering that rose even louder when the six ponies who freed her from Nightmare Moon were brought forward, and the frantic party that broke out at the end of it all. Not necessarily a long party, since all partiers involved were tired enough to drop over at any moment, but long enough for a few impromptu toasts with punch to be proposed and all of the ponies to gather around the Princesses for one last speech.

“Quiet please. My student has something to say.”

The noises of happy ponies died away as Jon and Nightshade got a little closer, but thankfully the quiet was not caused by a reaction to either the human or batpony. In fact, it seemed that surviving Nightmare Moon (and being mistaken for some sort of monster) had given the town a certain degree of acceptance to their odd appearance. Jon even noticed more than a few of the stallions giving Nightshade evaluating glances. Or at least he hoped they were looking at her instead of him.

“Why so glum, my faithful student?” Celestia stood a short distance from Twilight and bequeathed her best compassionate look to the obviously depressed unicorn and her dragon, who looked as if he was not going to leave her side for anything including bathroom breaks ever again. “Are you not happy that your quest is complete and you can return to your studies in Canterlot?”

Twilight shook her head. “That's just it. Just when I learned how wonderful it is to have friends, I have to leave them.”

It looked as if Celestia were laughing at some private joke, although Princess Luna who was waiting in the chariot as if she wanted to flee the scene of the crime did not appear amused.

“Spike, take a note, please. I, Princess Celestia, hereby decree that the unicorn Twilight Sparkle shall take on a new mission for Equestria. She must continue to study the magic of friendship, and report her findings to me from her new home in Ponyville.”

Twilight Sparkle’s face lit up as the townsponies cheered, although there was some reluctance in her expression that Celestia could read like a book. “And yes, Twilight. You may also visit your friends in Canterlot whenever you want.”

All of that reluctance blew away like the clouds that had been obscuring the sky a little over an hour ago. “Oh thank you, Princess Celestia! I'll study harder than ever before.”

“That’s our cue, Studly,” whispered Nightshade, giving him a little hip-nudge toward the waiting chariot. “The bus is leaving, and I’m not flying you up the mountain.”

Celestia caught his eye as Her Highness turned toward her transportation, giving him an encouraging nod and waiting for the human to catch up. After working his way through the crowd of ponies, he stopped with one foot up on the deck and set his jaw in thought, considering the four pegasi in the harness and the events of the last week. “Princess?” he asked, clarifying himself almost immediately with, “Princess Celestia, that is. Have you told your student everything?”

“Everything she needs to know.” Celestia gave a subtle twitch of her nose as if she wanted to nudge the slow human into the chariot and take off already. “Come, now. I still have much to do today.”

“Did you tell her about Root Stock? And what you did to save your sister?” The words just came out without any real effort, making Celestia give a spasmodic twitch as if he had jabbed her with a pin.

“That will wait for later,” said Celestia with as calm a voice as ever, even though her lips thinned into sharp lines. “Now that Luna is safe, I have a very important task to do and a strict timetable to follow. Would you prefer to remain in Ponyville until I am done?”

“Sister?” The voice of the smaller alicorn was weaker than Jon had expected. Despite that, he got the feeling that there was the same steel contained below her darker hide, even though she was not wearing the armor of their last encounter. “What hath we told you about secrets?”

“This is different,” retorted Celestia, although she flinched again almost immediately afterward. “I’m sorry, Luna. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Princess?” Twilight Sparkle had crept up on them while Jon was distracted, and nearly made him yelp in surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” said Celestia.

“Yes,” said Jon. “Princess Celestia has something to tell you. And your friends,” he added at the looks he was getting from the other five ponies who had followed Twilight up to the chariot.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Celestia in the first sign of anger that Jon had caught from her since his arrival. “If you want Twilight and her friends to know, I’ll explain as we fly. I don’t want to be late.”

“Y’all heard the Princess,” said Applejack, moving forward and nudging her friends just a little like she was herding sheep. “Hop on board an’ she’ll explain on the way.” It wasn’t until everypony and human was on board and the chariot rose smoothly up into the air that the young farmpony got a curious expression and added, “Beg yer pardon, Your Highness. Where’s we goin’ to?”

“The Bridgehead.”

The wind cresting over the front of the chariot rose to a brisk breeze as the chariot turned east and accelerated, leaving the town of Ponyville behind in moments. Celestia settled to her rump with her back to the wind and addressed the half-circle of Twilight’s curious friends, speaking in a crisp tone with frequent glances at her long-lost sister.

“You see, a thousand years ago when I was forced to use the Elements of Harmony to imprison Luna in her moon…”

16. The Pale Mare

Equestria : 1940
Friday 21 June - The Bridgehead, Equestria

“Behold, I send an Angel before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to bring thee into the place which I have prepared.”
— Exodus 23:20

To be honest, Jon had already heard the first part of Celestia’s story about how she supported the Germans to rescue her sister from the moon, so curling up on the floor of the stable chariot and falling asleep was a perfectly logical move. After all, there was no place in the wide vehicle where he could sit down and talk with Princess Luna privately for a few hours as he wanted, and the whistling wind would have interfered with talking anyway.

Besides, getting the bejesus shocked out of him by a dark equine goddess warranted a little extra nap time.

He woke up to a lurch of the chariot that made the floor tilt forward and a change in the wind that indicated they were on the way to landing. After a brief yawn, he moved to pick up his tweed jacket only to find that Nightshade was curled up on top of it, and that he had been using her warm belly as part of his pillow.

“Whazup?” She gave a sleepy blink and looked around at the other ponies all looking over the front rail of the chariot while Celestia and Luna were discussing something between them in the back. “We there already?”

“Depends. What are you doing here?”

“Riding instead of flying,” said Nightshade with a squinting blink. “I’m still assigned as your guard, after all. Whither thou goest and all that.”

The two of them stood up with considerable twinges, both from sleeping in that position and generalized aftereffects of being struck by lightning, but once they had regained their feet, all of the pains went away.

Even at this altitude he could recognize a broad, green swath cut out of a lightly forested plain with a long straight aircraft runway across it. Instead of airplanes, there were dragons scattered around it, and more glitters of golden armor than Jon could count. The Royal Guards were everywhere, moving things from supply piles and around the stationary dragons in a casual way that Jon had never expected, particularly after having been exposed to a high concentration of dragons before. Mixed in with the guards were a huge number of dark figures, most likely the same kind of batponies that Nightshade was, although mostly without the armor. And as they drew closer, he could pick out other races in the mix, from griffons flitting from place to place, to a squad of minotaurs marching in a close square. And most shocking of all were the humans he could see in close coordination with the pony guards, moving with them in matched pairs all over the area.

“Behold, the Bridgehead, the consequence of my misjudgement,” said Celestia, making all of Twilight’s friends turn around to face their monarch. She said a few more things while Jon was soaking in the scene, but he could not hear them because of the elated screaming he was doing inside his own head.

It’s a raid. No, it’s a rescue! She’s going after the hostages being held in Germany, with dragons for transport and all of the races working together to pull it off. If she succeeds, she’ll show the entire world how far she would go to protect her ponies. It’s crazy, but brilliant!

He turned around in the chariot with a growing smile, only to have a second realization slug him in the gut like a sledgehammer. Princess Luna, the former Nightmare Moon, was still looking down into the valley and ignoring the way her sister was speaking in low tones to the rest of the entranced ponies in the chariot. Instead, Luna lowered her head a little more until it was nearly over the chariot’s rail, and Jon could see tears begin to trickle down her dark cheeks.

...and if Twilight Sparkle had not defeated Nightmare Moon and brought Luna back, this entire military force would have been driven against the mad alicorn. It would have been the only chance for the world to be spared from eternal darkness. Shining Armor would have led them, of course, avenging his slain sister and protecting Cadence. Dragonfire, magic, bullets, and desperation would have eventually brought her down, and Celestia would have returned from where Nightmare Moon had banished her to find…

He moved without thinking, since Luna was only a step or two away, and put one arm over her cold neck. A little surreptitious motion using Celestia’s words as cover allowed him to pass over his folded pocket square, which Luna took in her magic, used to dab away the tears and wipe her nose, then passed back to him. Judging that a brief, one-armed hug was not out of the pale, he gave her a gentle squeeze while returning the damp kerchief to his pocket, and from the hint of a smile that showed on her face, he had made the right call.

“Ahem,” said Celestia after a time. “Doctor Walthers, if we could have your attention for a moment? I have something everypony should hear.”

Giving Luna one last quick squeeze, Jon turned around to see every pony (and one dragon) staring at him. Thankfully, Celestia was smiling, or as much as current circumstances permitted. Several sheets of paper coiled into existence in front of her, and she passed them over to Jon, who read it out loud as he had been prompted, pitching his voice loud to carry over the wind as they descended.

“Berlin 5.5.1940.” Jon cleared his throat. “Sehr geehrte Prinzessin Celestia… Oh, wait. Equestrian. Right.”

He continued reading and translating as close as he could, going through the polite diplomatic language where the ‘Greater Germanic Empire’ expressed its ‘undying appreciation’ for the ‘unique situation of the Equestrian principality.’ It seemed like standard boilerplate language, ending in a pleasant note by Joachim von Ribbentrop, Reich Minister of Foreign Affairs.

Then he reached the second page. After reading silently for a few lines, he shot Celestia a nervous glance. “This can’t be right. They’re demanding that you give them a base with a runway of sufficient length to land their heavy bombers and fighters, as well as the port of Manehattan.” He looked over the edge of the descending chariot at the obvious runway, and turned back to her, but before he could say a word, Celestia shook her head.

“No German aircraft will land here as long as I draw breath. From Equestria, they could dominate the sea lanes, ravage shipping, even bomb North America. The dragons made this runway to accommodate our actions here this evening, and I plan on an Equestrian force of aircraft to use it to defend our lands against any sort of German attack.”

Jon hesitated, looked at Twilight’s stunned friends, then asked the question that seemed to come naturally. “You have aircraft?”

She nodded. “In the process of being purchased from Canada and the United States over the last few months, ‘liberated’ at the last minute from the countries who had been overrun by the German war machine, and other places. That is a discussion for another time. You see, that second document was hand-carried to our embassy in Manehattan, for my eyes only. Two days ago.”

I was wrong. This is not just a hostage rescue.

After scanning down the blunt German text, Jon looked back up. “They expect you to step down for Reichsprotektor Konstantin von Neurath? Really?”

“He would control the military while I would be given domestic authority over my ponies. For now. In return, the German Reich would ‘protect’ them, much as over three hundred of my little ponies are protected by being trapped inside the German and Italian war machine. They have been concentrated into seven distinct places, held as hostages for my good behavior. Read the bottom of the letter.”

He did, with a sense of unreality that only grew when he looked at the close group of Twilight’s friends and Nightshade. He took a deep breath before continuing, because Celestia would not have given him the sheet to read if she did not want the rest of the story to be known. “The letter implies that the Germans will kill one Equestrian citizen a month until Celestia gives in. They never say so directly, only that it is dangerous for ponies from a hostile power to live inside the peaceful Reich.”

“It says something else too, don’t it?” said Applejack, giving him a level stare. “You’ve got that look.”

Celestia nodded acceptance, so Jon continued. “It says that if she doesn’t give in to the terms of the ‘agreement’ here, they are going to make an example out of Manehattan with a weapon so terrible that no pony will be able to survive. Tens of thousands of ponies will die.”

Nopony even seemed to notice the large chariot setting down on the runway and the scurrying of pony attendants outside until Celestia stepped out and gestured for them all to follow. The guards who had been pulling the chariot likewise unhitched themselves and strode away at her unspoken order, leaving the small group alone on the fire-hardened pavement until Fluttershy of all ponies broke the silence.

“They can’t, right?” she asked. “It’s all a bluff. They’re just trying to make themselves look bigger to frighten…”

“They can.” Celestia’s voice was flat, nearly devoid of emotion. “My only choices were to surrender or fight.”

“Then we fight,” said Luna, who had remained nearly camouflaged in her larger sister’s shadow. The dark alicorn stretched in a slow motion that extended faded feathers and allowed her dull mane to cascade down her neck. “I am weakened from my ordeal, sister, but I shall rise with you to confront our enemies.”

“If we fought in this fashion, we would lose, and our subjects would pay the price for our loss.” Celestia gestured to the outside of the chariot, where ponies, people, minotaurs, griffons, and no end of dragons continued in their preparations. “This new demand from the Reich has affected our plans for the rescue. While the German armies are busy on the plains of France and the Italians vacillate, we must both rescue our stranded citizens and destroy the facilities which they scheme to use against us.”

“You’re going to use the cloud cover over Europe to fly the Royal Guard in undetected,” said Twilight Sparkle with a gasp. “It’s a very long flight, so… No, the timing is wrong. It’s too long to fly in and out without rest.”

“A portal,” said Jon as the pieces all fell into place. “The same portal spell you used to rescue the Titanic’s passengers and crew. You’re going to send your guards and…” He looked out at the mixed collection of armed and preparing soldiers. “Humans too?”

“And griffons and minotaurs and any who would assist us in our hour of need.” She pointed with one wingtip at the end of the runway. “Cadence and I shall—”

“And myself,” said Luna in a terse voice that booked no argument.

“And my sister,” added Celestia. “We shall cast the portal spell at the end of the runway and rotate it to each new destination as the assigned groups pass through. It shall exhaust our magical reserves for a long time, so the groups will have to fly back over the thick clouds presently covering Europe. If rest is needed, the returning groups can land at Dover or Spain, with a rendezvous in the Azores before the final flight back. It may take several days for them all to return.”

“Cool!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash. “When do we leave?”

Celestia fixed the hovering pegasus with a quelling glance. “You shall not. Your part in this is done. Volunteers from my Royal Guard and other Equestrian sources have been training and planning this attack for months. The most critical element was the dragons, who we brought in just last week.”

“Just a moment, Princess.” Twilight Sparkle’s voice had a considerable bit of the same pepper she displayed when facing down Nightmare Moon, and she stepped forward just as firmly. “You said the second letter had not arrived until the day before yesterday, and that you needed to adjust your plans. If so, we can help just as well as anypony. We didn’t have any time to plan when we went to fight Nightmare Moon—” Twilight flinched slightly and stole a glance at the enigmatic Luna, who remained perfectly impassive “—so you shouldn’t turn down our assistance now.”

“No, Twilight. And that goes for all of you,” Celestia added with a sweep of her eyes across her limited audience. “You all have risked your lives enough for me already.”

“But—” Twilight’s voice cut off immediately at Celestia’s firm glance, and she remained silently glowering when her princess turned to greet two familiar figures who were walking up to the chariot with the human one step behind the unicorn.

“Captain Shining Armor. Colonel Bradley.” Celestia gave them each a brief nod. “Please tell me you have as much good news as I do.”

Shining Armor paused with his mouth partially open while looking at the strange dark alicorn. Luna was barely visible inside of Celestia’s sizable shadow against the runway instead of gathered together like the rest of the passengers. In contrast, Colonel Bradley’s face lit up with recognition and a broad smile spread across his face. “You did it,” he declared, looking almost as if he were about to break into a dance. “You saved your sister.”

“Sister?” echoed Shining Armor, seemingly irritated at his lack of Equestrian intelligence as compared to the US Army human who took three quick steps up to Luna and gave her a brief bob of the head.

“Your Highness, Princess Luna.” Bradley fought his grin down to something a little more formal, and obviously uncertain on how a serving member of the US Army should greet an unexpected royal, he saluted. “On behalf of the United States Army, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you. Did Lieutenant Walthers assist in your rescue?”

“In a way,” said Luna, clearly taken aback at the human’s forward approach.

“Formal recognition of your Mister Walther’s contribution will wait,” said Celestia in clipped tones that showed her impatience. “Shining Armor, report.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Shining Armor saluted and passed over a clipboard covered in squiggly lines. “We have modified our assault to cover nine of the ten regions you indicated, but lack dragon transport to adequately carry out a retrieval at Telemark, Norway. It was the smallest collection of Equestrian civilians with the heaviest concentration of personnel required to carry out an extraction, so it was first on the list to be cut. I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“After you sent that letter yesterday, we scrounged up every human in Manehattan who could shoot,” said Colonel Bradley. “Every merchant, clerk, and shoeshine boy regardless of nationality volunteered, except for Germans, of course. Rousted the heck out of a group of pony revolutionary Socialists who had been smuggling weapons into the city from the sub out in the harbor, too. Seems they were planning a little ‘spontaneous uprising’ against ‘Tyrant Celestia,’ if half of their members had not turned out to actually belong to your Night Guard, and it cleared up something that had been personally bothering me.”

Colonel Bradley passed several sheets of paper over to Jon, including a telegram receipt and a crumpled note that appeared to be some sort of incomplete get well card in Equestrian. “I don’t understand, Colonel.” Jon frowned as he considered the contents of the note, then passed it over to Celestia.

“The ringleader sent a coded telegram to a known Bund agent in the US a day before we got on the flying boat. Add in the note’s contents and we suspect she was behind the attack on Prince Blueblood as a means to embarrass the Crown. Our boys missed bagging the ringleader, but netted enough guns and ammo to kit out our boys for the additional strike points. Even with that, we’re still stretched thin, and two dragons shy of that last point.”

“I’m not cutting into the reserves,” said Shining with a stubborn expression that Jon had gotten quite used to seeing on Twilight’s face. “Without a backup dragon for transport in each of the strike packages, one of their injuries could leave dozens of our forces stranded in the middle of hostile territory. Including your men, Colonel.”

“They’ll be shot by the Germans if they’re captured and court martialed if they come back,” said Jon, feeling a little stunned.

“Any element of the US Army in this rescue effort is participating with my approval,” said Colonel Bradley. “Every single man is a volunteer. They’ll be on leave, acting on their own initiative like civilians. The rest of the volunteers from Manehattan are outside of my command structure, but most of them fought in the Great War so they know what they’re in for if captured.”

“The diplomats are going to explode,” said Jon. “The US is neutral. We’re not at war with Germany.”

“We are,” said Celestia softly. “Or more correctly, we will be shortly after eight this evening. I will move heaven and earth to keep all of the brave volunteers safe, both during and after their missions. They will be considered civilian auxiliaries to the Equestrian Crown, and as such, just as much my little ponies as the rest.”

The colonel grinned. “If everything goes according to plan, I’m going to go back to the War College in about two weeks with the biggest war story of all time. If not?” He shrugged. “It beats the hell out of guarding a mine in the states.”

A few more unpleasantries were exchanged before the two officers were dismissed, with Celestia following behind to look over the more detailed plan modifications. Twilight’s friends moved away also, headed for the welcome shade of a nearby tree while Jon took advantage of the lull to just look around.

From ground level, the preparations for war did not look quite so impressive. Admittedly, his perceptions of dragonkind had been warped by being in the extinct volcano surrounded by darkness and angry glowing eyes, so seeing dragons lazing around or flying in the bright daylight was an entirely different thing. Even the batponies seemed droopy, curled up in the shadows of trees for a brief nap or rushing back and forth in simulated assaults on simulated German facilities in the distance. It seemed obvious that Celestia was determined to coordinate the rescue mission for the hours of darkness, most probably the target’s midnight local time which would be…

He tried to remember if Equestria was four or five hours behind the German time zone, which made him check his broken watch out of reflex and completely miss the silent alicorn who slipped up beside him.

“My apologies,” said Princess Luna in a whisper, which nearly made him drop his wristwatch. “We did not mean to injure you.”

“Uh…” Jon turned the broken watch around in his hands and considered the nearby Equestrian princess who he had last emptied his revolver into. “Lightning,” he eventually managed.

“The Domain of the Night,” she said in that breathy whisper that brought goosepimples up the back of Jon’s neck while the watch was plucked effortlessly from his fingers by her magic. “We only meant to fling you away. Although We must admit to a certain amount of curiosity as to the nature of your impressive weapon.”

He moved without thinking, ejecting the cartridges and passing over the revolver butt-first to the looming princess, who examined it with great attention. “How clever,” she remarked, giving the cylinder a spin. “Each of the chambers contains the fire powder and projectile for a single shot.”

She passed the broken watch and the revolver back over to Jon, who reloaded it out of reflex under Luna’s watchful eye. She continued watching until he had returned it to the shoulder holster where it belonged, then lit her horn up again and floated several lead slugs over for Jon to catch in the palm of his hand.

“Your assault upon our person is forgiven, due to the circumstances,” said Luna. “Do be more careful in the future, however. We might have been injured.”

“There’s only four.” Jon stared at the oblong lumps of lead in his palm, then looked up. Luna made as if she were going to respond, then put on a contemplative look and coughed. Several rough coughs later, she spat into one hoof and held out the resulting flattened lump of lead, still shiny on one side.

“Beg pardon, and thank you for your time,” she said. “Now if you will excuse us, we need to see to our sister. Good day.”

Then she strode away, leaving Jon to stand there with the damp lead slugs in his hand.

“So… All alicorns are crazy?” Jon was walking slightly sideways in order to keep his eyes on the strolling batpony guard to his side, who was squinting in the bright sunlight. “And don’t tell me you didn’t hear anything from where you were hiding in the parked chariot. I could see your ears poking up over the edge.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to call them crazy,” hedged Nightshade. “There’s only three of them now, which is a small sample.”

“Celestia’s about to open ten… No, nine portals into the German heartland to rescue a few hundred ponies and blow the Reich’s chemical plants to hell and back in the middle of the European war. Her sister just got back from a thousand year vacation on the moon. Cadence is the sanest one, and she seriously thinks Twilight and I would make a cute couple.”

“Yeah, that is pretty much off the rails,” said Nightshade, still strolling along with her hooves making sharp clicking noises on the dragon-fused runway. “Personally, I’d pair her up with a university professor or a researcher of some sort who really likes books.” By complete coincidence, Nightshade’s tail thwacked against Jon’s leather satchel, which still held the mystery novel he had not even started reading over the last week.

“Very funny.”

“I’d share,” added Nightshade. “One of us for the day, one for the night. Seems to be an up and coming theme.”

“And your Dragonlord would eat me,” ended Jon.

“A short life but a happy one,” said Nightshade in a joyous voice that was nearly a chirp. “You shot an alicorn. Five times. He’s got to recognize your giant b—”

Nightshade’s nose was warm and prickled under Jon’s palm, but thankfully she did not lick his palm while they walked. Their destination was what at first glance appeared to be a rather large rock amidst a group of scattered trees, if he had not seen the immense bulk of the dragon earlier and recognized his shape.

When they got closer, they could see a circle of young batponies around Stone, who appeared to be sleeping, or as much as a dragon the size of a small building could appear to be doing anything other than being huge. A larger young batpony had a heavy book in front of him, and was working his way through reading out loud in English, with occasional pauses and hesitations when the words were too large for his limited vocabulary.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.

Stone gave out a low chuffing noise, and opened one immense eye just a slit in the bright sunlight. All of the surrounding young batponies abruptly stopped their quiet whispering to each other in order to squint at the new human and his muzzled guard, while the massive dragon simply let out a low chuckle much like an earth tremor before speaking.

“My dear Mister Walthers,” he rumbled. “Something is the matter with you. You are not the human that you were.”

Jon hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is that a literary reference? I don’t recognize it.”

The dragon simply chuffed out a short breath that smelled of brimstone and sulfur. “Humans. It does indeed seem that you have a tale to tell. Sit, and entertain the young ones.”

Confession was good for the soul. Confession while a pair of young batponies crawled up into his lap and listened to him was good for body and soul. Puff and Thistle had not gotten one bit less cute when viewed in the light of day, even though they kept their big golden eyes tightly closed in the sunlight. They wriggled impatiently when he started his story by telling about receiving the letter from Princess Celestia, then settled into rapt attention when he told about Colonel Bradley pulling a gun on him, although he left out the part about the bomb in the aircraft gas tank, just in case.

All of the batpony children loved hearing about the big flying boat, mostly because their parents had strictly forbidden them to fly anywhere near such a dangerous machine, which made Jon exaggerate the landing more than a little. He also left out the German encryption machine that Celestia had given Colonel Bradley, because that was certainly not something that should be waved about.

His young audience hopped around and flapped for joy when he described The Wizard of Oz, which only made him realize how little exposure these rural ponies had to humans. That made him go back and describe one of the human carnavals he had attended back in New Jersey as a boy, just to admire their rapt attention, as well as defining just exactly what human football and basketball were. It took a lot of work to get their attention back to the topic at hand, with a few more minor fibs about shooting at Nightmare Moon and some creativity to explain just how he thought Twilight and her friends had brought back Princess Luna.

The report I wind up writing for the State Department is going to get filed under Fiction and have more holes than swiss cheese. The only creature I can tell the whole truth to has wings and a horn.

“And then I came here to tell you little troublemakers all about it,” finished Jon. “Now, aren’t you all supposed to be sleeping?”

“I’m not tired,” declared Thistle from his comfortable spot curled up on Jon’s lap.

“Me neither.” Puff gave a sharp-toothed yawn and cuddled up to her brother, adding a little bit of pink tinged mane to the tiny pony pile in the middle of Jon’s lap.

“Come on you two.” Ember, the smaller bipedal dragon Jon had been introduced to before, scooped up Puff and Thistle and carried the protesting foals under her arms while following the rest of the herd of young batponies. “Let’s get you off to bed so Gran’pa Stone can get some sleep.”

Eat a bolt of lightning at dawn. Meet a new Equestrian princess for brunch. Send a bunch of cute little heart-breakers to bed at noon. Washington D.C. is going to look like a vacation after this.

He just sat there in the warm sunshine, feeling the levers of the world shift around him while pegasi darted and dodged in the distance, and hastily assembled human armed squads provided simulated cover fire. Brave ponies, people, minotaurs, and griffons transported by dragonback around the world, risking their lives to save a handful of Equestrian hostages. If Jon had not caught a bolt of lighting to the face a scant few hours ago, he would have been right there asking Colonel Bradley if there was a space for a linguist in one of the teams.

The distinct ‘tch-tch’ of disapproval sounded from behind Jon, and when he turned around, he saw a chubby yellowish earth pony with a covered tray on his back. His bright green eyes sparkled against the soft gold of his coat, looking very much like a pair of flawless emeralds on a bed of coins, with his perfect teeth shining like pearls and wisps of pure silver for a mane that drifted in the light breeze. The pony was smiling, at least, and looked as if he had just discovered something precious that he had been searching for.

“Doctor Walthers, I presume. We are Ping, of the Imperial Household. Oh, no. Do not get up,” the pony quickly said in clear, crisp tones with a most definite Asian accent when Jon shifted positions. “We have brought a humble repast for your refreshment in this late hour.”

One narrow slit opened in the immense draconic head next to Jon, revealing a golden eye which examined them like… well, a dragon. “Nothing for me?” grumbled Stone.

“You are a fat child!” declared the golden pony as he placed the tray down on the grass in front of Jon and extended small legs to make it into a table. “Too much lying around and eating. No challenges in your life.”

“True.” The heavy eyelid closed with a noise like a steamer trunk lid slamming about the same time that the first wafting scent of something batter-wrapped and fried drifted up into Jon’s nose and drew his eyes downward to the… He could have sworn the table was smaller a few moments ago. Now there was an empty plate on his side of table with several tidy silver tray lids shining in the sun while the golden pony busied himself by pouring a cup of tea from a porcelain kettle.

“It is good to see the Teacher of the Dawning Light finding himself at home with my distant relatives,” the pony said from behind the handle of the kettle. He pronounced another word, liquid with promise and grace, which made Nightshade perk up her ears and give him a wide-eyed look.

“Beg pardon, respected elder,” she responded.

“Xia, daughter of Rising Grain. Sit, please.” Despite the impossibility of it, there was another plate at the larger table now, and Ping proceeded to pour another cup of tea for the astonished batpony. “We must take our moments of joy in the sun where we can, for soon the winter will be here, and the grain will be put to the scythe.”

“Thank you, sir.” Nightshade settled down on the grass and regarded the set of chopsticks next to her plate with much the same expression as Jon had. She looked at him, and he looked at Ping, which made the old pony smile and give them both a nod.

“Go. Eat,” he urged. “Chicken tidbits braised in plum wine with vegetable rice, very good. Egg roll and won tons just like Americans, only without sticky fizzy drink. Much better than canned food given to rest of humans today. Special treat for one who helps bring our Chang’e back.”

“Thank you.” Jon felt a deep clunking in his mind of pieces falling into place. “Celestia spoke well of her missing sister,” he added, holding a tantalizing bit of chicken in his fork. “I’m really honored by your gift. I understand you used to cook for the Japanese emperor.”

There was an emotion of some sort behind those dark green eyes, but Jon could not determine if it was ire or exasperation so he shifted his gaze to the impassive batpony servant by Ping’s side, who had managed to remain almost completely unnoticed against his colorful companion..

“And you must be Anpan,” said Jon. “The young stallion who Laminia likes so much.”

The second the words came out of his mouth, Jon knew he had said too much. The batpony stallion blushed, the pony chef gave him a sly, sideways glance, and Nightshade went as far as to put a hoof against her forehead and groan.

“Oh, my,” said Ping, and moved to place a third and fourth plate on the table. “Romance? In the quiet Little Dragon who has studied at my side for the last five seasons? Sit, and tell us of your young mare. She is a mare, Doctor Walthers?”

Jon nodded, and Ping nudged the hefty batpony until he sat down at the now-larger table. He had not realized just how big the stallion was until he was seated next to the smaller Nightshade, most probably due to the fact that Jon had been looking down from altitude at both of them.

“Before this evolves into a misconception,” started Jon once they were all seated, “I must ask Anpan. You do know who Laminia is, right?”

The hefty stallion nodded, but remained silent.

After having spent most of a week with a chatty batpony who could not keep from talking about intimate relationships, Jon found it remarkably difficult to ask any more questions. He took a sip of his blistering hot tea and added a sugar cube while thinking, although Nightshade burst into the conversation almost at once.

“You have to be kidding,” she huffed. “They keep looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes but I don’t think they’ve said a word to each other since I’ve been in the castle.

“I said good morning.” The hefty batpony had a throaty tenor that flowed like liquid chocolate, a considerable contrast to the timid way he looked away and fiddled with his large forehooves at the table. “She ran into a doorframe,” he admitted.

The old golden pony nodded with his handleless-teacup gripped firmly in the crook of his fetlock. “Females are flighty, irrational, and react poorly to the unexpected.” He took a sip of his tea. “The only creatures more foolish are males in pursuit of them.”

Nightshade looked like she had just swallowed her tongue. Anpan simply nodded.

* * ✹ * *

Thankfully, their conversation wandered away from the topic of romance, although the discussion still distracted Jon away from trying to figure out just how the magic table continued to have food heaped upon it while the meal proceeded. There was the main course of delicious udon noodles with mushroom sauce and veggies in a miso broth, two soups, some sort of complicated bean salad that was as colorful as a bowl of gemstones, and three different desserts. To be honest, Jon had wanted to stop at the first of several daifuku, some sort of fruit and nut filled pastries, then had been enticed into a minty wasanbon to settle his stomach, and now was mostly engaged in a staring contest with some konpeito, which were innocent-appearing sugar candies with a density nearing lead.

The after-lunch discussion wandered over many Equestrian and American topics, which eventually turned to American jazz musicians and the difficulty of getting their new albums outside of the US. A quantitative discussion of Cab Calloway’s actual value to the progression of music was interrupted by several approaching ponies and one small dragon, all of whom looked more than a little tense. Jon used the distraction to drop one of the candies into his jacket pocket for later, but forgot all about it when Twilight Sparkle began to speak.

“I’ve discussed things with my friends, Doctor Walthers,” said Twilight straight off, in a direct line of words that Jon had thought he never would have heard before today’s events. “I checked the plans that Shining Armor and Colonel Bradley are following, with consideration how the Norwegian military assault was intended to free Moondancer and several other unicorns from Canterlot, and I think we can do it with a little help.”

“Do what?” asked Jon, a little confused by the abruptness and all of the eyes looking at him.

“Rescue my friend,” said Twilight, looking straight at Jon, “In short, we need a member of the Equestrian military and a human to command the last rescue mission in Norway.”

“Me?” said Jon.

“Us?” said Nightshade.

“And two dragons for transportation,” added Twilight.

17. Operation Market Garden Party

Equestria : 1940
Friday 21 June - The Bridgehead, Equestria

“Be prepared, and prepare yourself, you and all your companies that are assembled about you, and be a guard for them.”
— Ezekiel 38:7

“Let me get this straight.” Jon Walthers took a deep breath, soaking in the surrounding scents of the mixed armada of Equestrian and human forces prepared to foray into a wild military strike deep inside Germany and Italy. Cordite, sweat, draconic breath and the smell of crushed grass, it all mixed together into an unreal feeling of distance that made his words sound small.

“You and your new friends, who you haven’t even known for a day want to travel through Celestia’s portal to Norway and rescue another one of your friends who may not even remember you, from the middle of a German occupation. Oh, and fly back here on dragons when it is all over. And you want me to command this…”

“Actually, Nightshade would command the attack,” said Twilight Sparkle while he was groping for suitable profanity. “Since it’s an Equestrian operation, we need a pony to be the leader, with a human adjunct to handle any human interactions that might occur.”

“You mean shooting people?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Corporal Nightshade has been trained as a Royal Guard, and I understand she’s been on missions into Germany before where she had to… um… engage other soldiers, so she has the most experience with violence. The plan we’ve developed depends on there not being any shooting. Violence is bad,” added Twilight with a nervous look at the lump in Jon’s jacket.

“Killing is bad,” agreed Nightshade, “but sometimes killing is necessary. Show us the plan first, then we’ll see if there’s a chance in Tartarus that it’s even possible.”

Twilight Sparkle produced a sheaf of papers with the details of a large building drawn out in careful inked lines, and a smaller building in a separate sketch. The flat roof of the larger building was indicated as the best place for a dragon to land and remain relatively undetected while a mixed team of ponies and people progressed down the stairs of the roof access, through a connecting tunnel, and up into the other building where the ponies were being held. Then once the rescue was over, the whole process would run in reverse until the dragon took off and returned via the scenic route to Equestria. Easy peasy, except…

“So is the roof access to the staircase on this building guarded?” asked Jon, starting at the obvious point that his military science professor from ROTC would have noted first on a long list of problems.

“We don’t know,” said Twilight. “These are the photos from two months ago before the initial invasion. The parachute attack on the city was so quick that only the pegasi managed to escape.”

“And assuming the stairs go all the way to the basement here,” said Jon, moving his fingers along the building sketch. “And the doors to the tunnel aren’t blocked, and there’s no guards, and the unicorns being held are actually in the second building—”

“We know that one.” Twilight floated a small scrap of paper over to the table. “Moondancer sent it last night. They don’t have many more strips of dragonfire parchment, so they’re being brief. They’ve been held in the same room for over a week now, and there’s somebody important coming today to interview them.”

Fighting down a snarky reaction at somepony who could not use the word ‘interrogate’ while she was getting ready to launch an invasion, Jon flipped over the weather prediction sheet. “At least the cloud cover is still supposed to be low and thick, with drizzle and low rain over all of Europe.” He glanced up at the clear blue sky that had moved over their marshaling area due to the natural wind patterns which would eventually blow it into Europe. “For a few days, at least.”

“How about this,” started Nightshade. “First, since there are Germans soldiers in the area, the whole thing gets called off at the first gunshot. We don’t actually land on the roof unless the cloud cover reaches the ground and is thick enough to keep any dragon hidden. Instead, the dragon sits on the cloud cover above the building and I take Jon down to scout out the roof.”

Jon wanted to say something. A brief sideways glance from the stern batpony convinced him otherwise. A plunge down through cloud-filled darkness over an occupied Norwegian building seemed positively vacation-like by comparison.

“I’ve done this before,” she continued. “If there are any guards on the roof, we can… stop them and tie them up. Then once the landing site is clear, the ponies come down on a chunk of cloud large enough to cover the descent. We form up there, leave two ponies behind to guard the roof, and the rest descend the staircase, through the tunnel…”

She hesitated with her hoof over the building floorplans, which looked fairly sketchy.

“We’ll have to play it by ear from there,” added Jon. He picked up the plans and gave them a frown, which did not change the numbers on them. “Even if we can find two dragons to carry us, we’re still short members for the team. If we don’t leave a pair of ponies behind to guard each major point on our line of retreat, we could get cut off, and I’m positive Shining Armor won’t let us proceed short-hooved. Plus, if any of the five hostages are injured and need to be carried out, that cuts into our numbers again. Two on the roof, the basement, and at each end of the tunnel—” Jon quirked his mouth to one side “—that just leaves Spike to climb the stairs, break the four ponies out of their room, and carry them back down to us.”

“It would be a lot easier if we could land on that second building’s roof,” said Spike, pointing to the photograph.

“There’s no stair entrance above the peaked roof,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Most probably tile. Built thick to withstand Norwegian snowfall, so we’d have to break through it if we didn’t slide off and fall several stories to the ground. And besides, what do you mean, ‘we’ Spike? You’re staying here, and that’s final. It’s too dangerous.”

“So…” Jon considered the plan, and the earnest expressions on the surrounding mares. “Other than being short two large dragons and ten or so ponies, the rescue mission is good?”

Seven furry noses and one scaled snout nodded slowly, which made Jon turn to the quiet golden pony chef and his batpony assistant. Neither of them had moved during the entire conversation other than to simply watch and give the occasional nod, which made Jon ask the question he just had to ask.

“I don’t suppose either of you would like to travel to the other side of the world to engage in a little positive ponynapping, would you?”

“We’re already going,” said Ping with his enigmatic smile. “The German Crown Prince Wilhelm has graciously given the use of his estate at Cecilienhof for the Equestrian guests. It is the largest concentration of ponies to pick up, slightly over a hundred, so there will be a great deal of work involved in the transportation. Six dragons total, counting the reserves.”

While talking, the golden-coated chef was folding up the table into an impossibly small package, which he placed on Anpan’s broad back. He smiled, nodded at each of the Ponyville mares in turn, then shook Jon’s hand. “I wish you all the success in the world, Jon of America. Little Sister,” he added, giving Nightshade a kiss on her raised hoof. “And most of all, Twilight Sparkle, the Student of the Sun. Your role in returning the Moon to her home will forever be remembered in my heart. Be safe in your journey.” Those dark emerald eyes shifted to one side, and Ping regarded the immense motionless bulk of Stone.

“And you, fat one. Youth are foolish. Keep them cautious, or I shall be most disappointed.”

One huge eyelid opened a crack, then Stone began to stand by stages. It was a little like watching an avalanche in reverse, with the end result being a dragon that towered over their little group. Fluttershy fainted, of course.

“The Dragonlord has said he will stay behind, to watch over the treasures of the ones who go,” rumbled the immense dragon. “I also had decided to stay. Unless you wish otherwise.”

Both of those immense golden eyes focused on Twilight Sparkle, who actually stood up and looked back instead of cringing as Jon had been afraid might happen.

“There are ponies who need us. One of them is my old friend. I want to help, and if you will go with us and convince the Dragonlord to assist, I will be grateful.”

“An old friend.” That titanic maw turned up into a small smile, limited by the stiffness of the dragon’s face. “I will do what you wish on behalf of my old friend. But I must warn you, young one. There will be a cost.”

“I… don’t have much money,” started Twilight.

“Not a price,” said Stone. “A cost. And I will pay it for you. Do you still wish for my assistance in rescuing your friend?”

“Yes,” said Twilight without a pause.

“Then I will go speak with the Dragonlord.” Then he turned ever so slightly and looked down at Spike, observing him for a long moment before reaching out with one immense claw and touching him gently on the forehead. “You are fortunate to have a friend such as this one, Spike. Treasure the time you have with her, for there will be a time in your future where you too shall discover the difference between a price and a cost. Until then, think of me and remember.”

Without another word, the gigantic dragon turned and strode down the runway, leaving shallow pits where his claws dragged.

“I will take my leave also, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” said Ping. “May luck smile upon your journey.”

The golden earth pony turned and began to trot away, only not on the ground as Jon had expected. Instead, he began to rise and glow, stretching, growing, and shifting as he departed until a immense legless and wingless Chinese dragon swam away through the sky, over to where a number of other dragons were being fitted with net harnesses covered in ‘pockets’ of a sort.

“So cool,” said Spike. “I want to be one of those when I grow up.”

“Spike,” chided Twilight with her head down while marking off something on her list, which meant that she probably missed the whole point of Spike’s comment. “That only leaves finding ten or twelve ponies to go with us.”

“That’s going to be rather difficult,” said Jon, tearing his eyes off the image of the huge golden dragon settling down next to a scaffolding where carrying nets were being fitted to the raid transportation. “Every single stallion in the Royal Guard seems to be grouped up with their dragons, and all of the male batponies too. Griffons, minotaurs… I don’t think there’s a man out there without an assignment.”

Nightshade kicked him in the shins.

While he was hopping up in down in agony, the batpony turned to Twilight Sparkle and continued, “How about some of the mares from our village? There’s a number of them with quite aggressive personalities.”

The collection of mares (and one dragon) headed off to where the batponies had been gathering, and true to Nightshade’s words, the gathering of the dark pegasi did look mostly female. He leaned up against Anpan and rubbed his throbbing shin while muttering under his breath, then stole one last konpeito from the tray across his back.

“So,” started Jon while flexing his ankle to get some of the feeling back, “did you want to ask me something, Mister Anpan? Or kick me in the other shin?”

“Actually…” The batpony’s deep voice was very quiet, and he glanced from side to side before continuing. “Before I put on my armor and prepare Master Ping for our mission, I wanted to discourage you from spreading that rumor.”

“Rumor?” Jon thought back. “What rumor?”

“That the young maid is… interested in me.” The hefty batpony’s expression grew stony. “It’s quite impossible.”

“Impossible?” Jon shook his head, trying to get rid of the echo. “What’s not for her to like? You’re… Oh. You prefer stallions.”

The stony expression the stallion was wearing developed a few fissures. “Not… exactly,” he put forward. “I mean she can’t possibly have feelings for me because I’m… incomplete.”

“A gelding?” asked Jon out of reflex before his mind could stop his mouth. From the lemon-sucking face that Anpan put on, his impulsive guess was most certainly wrong again. Instead, the hefty batpony turned away from him and waited, as if that were the answer to Jon’s awkward question. He was still puzzling out the implications of being ‘mooned’ by the dark pegasus when he spotted a group of pegasus air carriages that had just landed on the other end of the runway, and a certain dark figure that was headed in his direction with sincere purpose.

“It doesn’t rain but it pours,” he muttered, looking at the incoming mare. “Look, Mister Anpan. Everything is happening all at once to me. I mean I shot a goddess, got my ass zapped by lightning, and now I’ve gone and volunteered to fly on a dragon into Norway to rescue a couple of unicorns I’ve never seen before. I’m not very keen on twenty questions, and I’m about to be accosted by your not-girlfriend. So if you’ve got something wrong with your blank butt, tell me.”

Anpan was set back a step. “You don’t see it?”

“What?” asked Jon. “Other than you don’t have a cutie mark.”

There was a moment of silence. “Oh,” said Jon. “You’re LOST. Late Onset Symbol Trauma, that is. I see.”

“The Kirin do not get cutie marks,” explained Anpan. “Princess Celestia sent me to Japan in the hopes that I would fit in better there, despite the ongoing human war. I was trained in the culinary arts, as well as the art of warfare and defense under Master Ping’s guidance, in the hopes that I would find my inner peace.”

“Wait a moment.” Jon held up a hand. “You’re here. Master Ping brought you and the kirin here from Japan?” At Anpan’s reluctant nod, Jon continued, “So we don’t have any ponies to rescue from there. Right?”

“Master Ping was most cautious. If there are any left behind when we departed a year ago, he did not mention it to anypony.”

“Operational security,” muttered Jon. “I know how that goes. All secrets and hiding and running around without a word of truth because everybody is afraid of it.”

“There you are,” called out Laminia, who dropped down at his feet and started taking his lace-up shoes off. “The sun comes back out and everybody at the castle goes crazy. It’s like Operation Let’s Not Tell Me Anything! All I could make out is that there’s some sort of hostage rescue military mission alongside the humans, and I knew your sorry ass would be out there in a pair of oxfords if I didn’t bring your boots. I swear, you need a keeper.”

The cranky maid obviously had not recognized Anpan from the rear, and the hefty stallion started to back up while she was pulling Jon’s shoes and socks off, obviously intent on replacing them with the pair of boots she was wearing around her neck.

“Secrets,” grumbled Jon. “I’m starting to think you two are the worst. Anpan, stop!”

He did, although Laminia jerked upright with a broken shoelace dangling from her teeth.

“I’m done with secrets, particularly between you two.” Jon pointed at the hefty stallion, who still looked about to bolt. “Lamina, he thinks you can’t like him because he doesn’t have a cutie mark.” Then before the stunned mare could make some sort of snappish comeback, he pointed at her and added, “Anpan, she thinks you won’t like her because she’s had surgery on one wing to correct a birth defect. There. Now you don’t have any excuses.”

“Why do you think I won’t like him just because his cute butt is blank?” snapped Laminia. Literally, because her sharp teeth were uncomfortably close to his face, and she was spitting a little.

“I knew she had an injured wing,” said Anpan, sounding almost accusing in his deep voice that carried far too much threat for Jon’s comfort. “It’s not really a secret. Although she doesn’t ever display it.”

Mare and stallion stared at each other for a short time before Laminia ever so slowly began to extend her crippled wing out from under her cloak. Anpan sucked in a breath, moved closer until his nose was almost on the pattern of white lines criss-crossing her wing, and said in a near whisper. “That’s a lot of scars. Did it hurt?”

Laminia nodded. “You know what it’s like to be looked at whenever ponies think you can’t see.”

Jon cleared his throat. “Studies show nearly all cases of LOST resolve themselves by the mid twenties.”

“Jon,” said Laminia without looking at him at all. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anpan ever so gently helped Laminia fold her wing back up and put it back under her cloak. “You must be very strong to endure that,” he added once she was put to rights.

“You traveled all the way to Japan,” she responded. “It must have been quite difficult to be so far from home.”

Jon said nothing. He just watched as the two dark pegasi wandered away, speaking in low tones between them. It took a few minutes to finish changing his battered brown oxfords for the boots, which thankfully contained clean socks, before he had a chance to just look around.

In the distance, he could see the immense form of Stone speaking with the Dragonlord. Groups of soldiers and pony guards clustered together, getting pep talks from their team leaders and collecting gear. A mess tent had been set up and mixed groups of diners chatted as soldiers had probably done ever since the first caveman hunters roasted the results of their successful hunt over a fire. There was no sign of Twilight or her new friends anywhere, and since it was doubtful that they would go off to war without him, he settled down next to a tree, rolled his tweed jacket up as a pillow, and rested in the warm sunshine.

* * ✹ * *

“Doctor Walthers?”

Jon blinked away the aftereffects of his brief nap and considered his surroundings, which were much more populated than he had expected. There were over a dozen ponies all sleeping in the shade around him, cuddled up to each other with wings draped over flanks or heads resting on barrels. Six of them were Twilight and her friends, while the additional dark mass consisted of the dark grey batpony mares, who were mixed together in such a density that it was difficult to tell where one started and another stopped.

The only pony not sleeping was the brownish-yellow pegasus who had just woke him up. She was dressed in a pith helmet and jacket, but Jon would have recognized those dashing eyes anywhere.

“Professor Yearling!” He struggled to rise, eventually shifting Applejack’s head off his legs and easing his way back out of the snoozing group of equinity while putting his jacket back on. “So sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise, until I looked over the last-minute roster changes,” said the middle-aged archeologist. She gave him a quick look, bottom to top, and dusted a bit of grass off his tweed jacket. “I was told Twilight Sparkle was going use a spell to get her group rested before the mission takes off this evening, but I really didn’t expect to see you sleeping with so many beautiful young mares.” While he spluttered for a response, she gave a brief laugh and gestured him away from the impromptu napping spot to where a pony and a stocky man were hunched over a model of the Norwegian buildings, done in exacting scale with number markers on each of the steps on the hostage rescue plan.

The pony was a scarred and rough character with an unlit cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and several lines of white hairs marring his dirty brown coat. The cutie mark of a lit stick of dynamite made his role in the upcoming missions obvious. The man to his side was a little more difficult to place, although his face lit up in a huge smile when Jon drew close.

“Ah, it’s our Yank passenger,” he said in a pleasant Canadian accent with one broad hand stuck out to shake. “You probably don’t remember me, do you?”

“You’re Jimmy, our pilot trainee from the flight here,” said Jon, feeling the hefty muscles behind the man’s handshake. “I was wondering what became of you when your return trip caught fire in the harbor. Between you and Professor Yearling, it’s old home week. I’m Jon Walthers,” he added, shaking hooves with the scroungy earth pony.

“Boom Boom,” the pony responded, giving a solid shake back. “Let’s get down to business, Mister Walthers. The big lady wants you to discourage the nice gentlemen who decided to detain her little ponies. With that in mind, I’m going to loan you Jimmy here, and he’s going to give the facilities a display of his skills after the ponies have been evacuated.”

“The hydro plant drives a hydrogen production operation there, I think.” Jon picked up the operation plan that was sitting on top of the model buildings and paged through it. “They turn natural gas into fertilizer with it and pipe the leftover hydrogen to industrial sites in the village, if I remember right. They’re going to make an awfully big bang together.”

“At’s why the Brits made these,” said Jimmy, patting at a steel cylinder about the size of a coffee thermos he had on a bandolier thrown over his shoulder. “Thirty minute pencil detonators for using on quite a few blocks of Explosive 808.”

“I reserved your supplies over at the depot.” Boom Boom shifted his unlit cigar to the other side of his mouth and gave a wave of the hoof at a distant collection of crates where it appeared that humans were collecting weapons. “Use it all. The only thing I want you bringing back is your team and the hostages. If we don’t return you in good shape back to the Canucks, they’re going to be awfully upset, and probably won’t ship us any of the good toys they’re working on.”

“Boom Boom and I will walk you two through the plan twice, then we need to get with our own troupe of traveling entertainers,” said Miss Yearling with a fierce grin. “We’re dropping in on Wewelsburg castle. Around fifty ponies to rescue and Nobel only knows how many artifacts that have been stolen from around the world. Ponies first, of course.”

“An’ the safe in the basement of the west tower, if we can find that missing crate,” added Boom Boom. “Are you sure you want to head out with this lot, Doctor Walthers? We’ve got space, and there’s going to be a lot more excitement than just picking five or six ponies out of some hydroelectric generator building. Daring said some good things about you keeping a level head when the bullets start flying, and Jimmy here can take care of that hydrogen pipeline by himself. He’s an artist, that man is. Can blow a cap off a beer bottle without making it fizz.”

“You still owe me thirty dollars,” said Jimmy with a friendly grin. “Never bet against an Irishman when booze is on the line.”

* * ✹ * *

Admittedly, the plan was simple, and after going over it twice with his former archeology team leader and the demolitions experts, he could recite it with his eyes closed. Rescue the ponies first, blow things up on the way out if possible. And one additional thing.

“They’re variants on the pony dragonfire-imbued scrolls,” said Miss Yearling, passing Jon another silvery thermos on a web belt bandolier. “Every team has them. Twenty units of stabilized dragonfire in glass and plastic tubes. Break the tube and drop it into any paperwork that looks interesting, and the resulting… well, it’s magic. The paper will turn into attuned smoke and travel to the world’s highest magical potential, which is Princess Celestia. Don’t risk anypony’s lives to get one more stack of paper or map. Just break, drop, and run. Each tube is good for about an encyclopedia.”

“Thermos bottles with red tops have real fire, green tops have paperwork bombs,” explained Boom Boom. “We’ve got a lot of them, so we’ll set you up with a half-dozen or so of each. Just make sure you don’t get them mixed up. The red ones light up really fast when you break them. I figure a block of explosive to rupture the gas pipelines, a tube of red dragonfire to make sure it ignites, and a thirty minute pencil detonator to make it all go boom after you’ve gotten clear.”

“I’ve got it.” Jon looked at the sample thermos bottles and belts, trying not to think about using them halfway around the world in just a few hours. “Thank you, Boom Boom. And you, Professor Yearling.

Jimmy eased himself down and squinted across the miniature buildings that Twilight Sparkle had most likely created out of magic and dust. “Aye, ma’am. We’ll get everything ready for this evening, don’t you worry. We’ll meet after this is all over and have a beer. Boom Boom is paying.”

The scroungy demolitions pony chuckled, then gave the two humans a long look and a brief salute that was more of a hoof waved in the general vicinity of his forehead. “I’ll see you there. Double or nothing.”

Miss Yearling moved up to Jon and took his hand in both of her forehooves, giving him a small smile. “You take care, Jon. I owe you one, after all. I will see you at Philippi.”

“At Philippi, then,” said Jon in return. “Don’t take any cab rides from disreputable Romans.”

“Miss Do! Miss Do!” The distant shouting voice of a unicorn mare drifted over the runway as the pony galloped in their direction with a wooden crate drifting along in her magic. “Trixie found the gelignite we were missing! Does this mean Trixie can come along on your trip?”

“Gotta fly,” said Professor Yearling, darting off in the unicorn’s direction. “Be careful, Jon,” she called out over her shoulder.

Jon watched them trot off, collect their additional member and her floating crate, and head over in the distance to where the dragons were gathering, all dressed in their rope web carrying outfits for the trip. Jimmy watched alongside him, then clapped a hand across his shoulders, which felt a little strange since Jon had been exclusively around ponies for what had seemed to be so long.

“Here I was thinking it’d be a year afore I got the chance to kick the Germans in the nadgers,” said Jimmy. “Then I take the opportunity to get a little flying done on my leave, and this happens. You can’t keep a Scotsman out of a fight, because the fight always comes to him, like my grandfather MacTavish always said.”

“I thought you said you were Irish?” asked Jon.

Jimmy shrugged. “Scots-Irish, but the Scots claim we’re Irish, and the Irish claim we’re Scots, so my family moved to Canada to stay out of the squabble. And speaking of squabbling, let’s get over to the depot and get our gear while there’s still something left. Maybe get you a gun, just in case you have to shoot something.”

“I’ve got a pistol,” said Jon, producing his revolver while they walked. “I’m not sure if I’d be comfortable shooting anything else, and if there is shooting, we’re going to be on the way out. I should probably pick up a box of ammunition that hasn’t been through a lightning strike, though.” He checked the revolver’s cylinder anyway before holstering it again while Jimmy got out an Army issue .45 automatic and ejected the magazine, showing that he had already visited the depot once.

“Not sure if I can hit anything with this, but it’s gonna make one whale of a noise,” he admitted, making sure the chamber was empty before putting the magazine back in. “Besides, I’m going to be carrying most of the bombs, so somebody needs to be able to cover me.”

“Most unarmed modern invasion force ever,” admitted Jon. “Besides the two adult dragons we’re taking.”

* * ✹ * *

Preparing for the rescue mission was far easier than Jon expected, and much better than if he had a week or two for the tension to crank up. Simple and straightforward was the goal, with every step taken to reduce the complexity of their interactions. Even the batpony mares that Nightshade had recruited agreed to use code names and striped leg bands instead of the rest of the pony/human contingent trying to identify them by the subtle differences they used between their own race. Team One A and One B would stay behind at the top of the stairwell of the large building to guard their rear, Two A and Two B would guard the bottom of the stairs, Three A and B the tunnel entrance, and so forth. That left only the colorful bunch and the humans to go up the stairs of the smaller building and search one floor at a time until the hostages were found.

Then the whole thing would go in reverse, picking up ponies as they moved back to the large building, called Ruby down to the roof, then escaped up into the clouds. Jon had thought the Dragonlord would be providing primary transportation, but he had switched roles with one of the dragons who had been going to Wewelsburg, a reddish-colored female with suspicious eyes.

Ruby made no secret about the Dragonlord telling her to eat any impudent human who tried to get intimate with Nightshade. It had not helped Jon’s nerves, because he was fairly sure she would do it, too. Particularly with the way she kept sniffing him.

Not all of the sleeping bag-ish pockets on the dragon’s rope web outfits were for ponies and people to ride inside. Some of them held supplies in case the flight back took longer than anticipated, and additional weapons, just in case. Even Stone accepted his contribution to transportation, although the web of ropes looked almost flimsy against his gigantic bulk, and the bulges of supplies were nearly invisible.

In the few hours they had before taking off on the mission, ponies and people alike on the hastily built team familiarized themselves with the equipment. Several greatcoats had been rescued from the depot for use by the humans, for both disguise capacity and just in case summer evenings in Norway were more chilly than expected. Rarity had adjusted them for Jon and Jimmy while keeping one for her own ‘fantastic rescue outfit’ because after all, sneaking into a building undetected and saving other ponies was not good enough if you could not look fabulous in the process.

Weaponry was also checked. Jimmy explained the simple but unforgiving technique of using the chemical pencil detonators, which had to be activated in a specific sequence or one risked the potential of having it go off immediately instead of after the color-coded number of minutes. The explosives were carefully segregated from the detonators, and in particular kept in direct control of either Jon or Jimmy since many of the other batponies had come over to help get things ready, and both Puff and Thistle were running around underfoot, poking their curious noses into everything.

For a while, Applejack considered rigging up a revolver for her use by wiring back the trigger, but it was obvious that the rest of her friends disapproved, so that idea went nowhere. In any event, the muscular farm mare had enough power in her hind legs that in close quarters, she would probably be more effective with natural weaponry. Jon, for one, had no real desire to be kicked by those steel shoes, although he did volunteer his body for the task of training the assault team on how to tie up a human once they had been subdued. Surprisingly enough, Fluttershy was the best at using a rope to incapacitate a human captive, while Twilight could not tie a knot to save her life.

They went over the model buildings one last time as the sun sank close to the horizon, stepping through the checklist and the minimal contingency plans at each stage while the rest of the teams gathered near their dragons. It was obvious something was up, and from the looks of it, Princess Celestia was going to give an inspirational speech of some sort before they all took off.

* * ✹ * *

“My little ponies, and friends of all,” boomed Celestia’s voice over the assembled forces, each of them next to the dragons who would be carrying them to their destinations. That is all of them except for Stone, whose clawed hand was being used as an elevated platform so she could look out across the audience with her sister at her side.

Then as a hush fell over the crowd, she followed her introduction with words Jon never thought he would hear from the Alicorn of the Sun.

“Let us pray.”

An older pegasus came out from behind her, a stallion that Jon recognized, in fact. Shepherd stepped up to the front of Stone’s large palm, lifted his head, and spoke with such clarity and force that Jon was not sure if Celestia was boosting his voice with a spell.

“Oh, Lord most high. We beseech your blessing upon our endeavor this day. For it is written in the book of Luke, chapter fifteen, ‘which of you men, if you had one hundred sheep, and lost one of them, would not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that was lost, until he found it? When he has found it, he carries it on his shoulders, rejoicing. When he comes home, he calls together his friends, his family and his neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost!'

“As we go forth to rescue the lost lambs of Equestria, we have taken up the mantle of that Good Shepherd, facing the dangers of the wilderness in order that the innocents caught up in the dangers of war might be returned to the safety of their homes. May the Lord guide your arms and hold you safe, may all whom you are sent to save be returned, and may we all meet again, united in our victory over those who would cause harm.”

“Amen,” pronounced Celestia, and the echo of people and ponies repeating the word echoed around the vast area. Jon expected that to be the end of the inspirational Before-We-Do-Something-Heroic-And-Stupid speeches. He obviously had not learned enough about Celestia to anticipate her, because she continued just loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough that the entire audience was nearly holding their breath to hear every word. She spoke of family, of friends, and of companions thrust together by circumstance, all bonds that lasted lifetimes. About life and death, triumph and defeat, the power of hatred and the victory of love. And most of all, she thanked them all, in a way that seemed as if she meant it individually, from the greatest of them to the least in a long wave of overwhelming emotion that had even the dragons sniffling by the time she was done.

“Awright,” snarled the Dragonlord once Celestia finished speaking and stepped back. “Dragons! Take your places and load up! We’ve got puny ponies to save, and most of all—” Torch blasted his fire into the darkening sky “—remind the humans why they fear the night!”

- ☾ - -

Looking back at what he was actually doing made Jon more than a little uneasy. Not afraid, per se. Just oddly introspective, and with more than a few considerations of just how he was going to explain how he spent his time in Equestria over the family dinner table for some holiday meal. With or without Nightshade, this week would probably be just as difficult to explain over the mashed potatoes and cranberries. But he was not afraid of that social interaction either.

It was amazing how catching a lightning bolt to the face made every other suicidal action look reasonable. Probably after a few days went by and he had some time to think about it, he might resume his normal reluctance to engage in risky behavior. The week after his near-death encounter in Egypt had been a mixture of exhilaration and dread, after all, but life had returned to normal afterward.

Then again, ‘normal’ was relative, considering that he was climbing onto a dragon’s back along with a dozen or so magical ponies in order to be thrown through a portal to Norway where they were to rescue four other ponies and then fly back to Equestria, most likely with a short stop in southern England to rest and do some shopping.

Then the concept of normality got set back again when their dragon turned to one side and proceeded to apparently breathe out in the same way all the other dragons lined up were doing. Smoke coiled and writhed in front of Ruby, then coalesced into a pile of gems and gold tall enough that Jon could have been buried up to his neck inside.

“Transport smoke,” explained Nightshade from the next ‘pony bag’ where she was watching his reactions through narrowed eyes. “Dragons can carry around all or part of their hoard in their second belly that way, but it keeps them from using their fire as effectively.”

Jon looked across the runway and the piles of glittering gold and gems that now decorated the whole length like buttons on an expensive jacket.

“Cool.”

“It sure is, Jon,” said Nightshade. “Dragons are awesome.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Jon, looking around, although he was almost immediately drowned out by Nightshade calling out the roll, and each of the ponies in turn responding, from the ten batpony mares, Twilight’s friends, and finally the two humans at the end. All of them were snugged down in a bag of their own, although there was enough space to put two in a sack if needed, or three in extreme circumstances. Jon was positive the explosives were stored in the bags next to Jimmy due to his personal assistance in tying them down in case of in-flight turbulence. There were exactly four other supply bags, two on each side of Ruby, although there was a third bag on his side of the dragon that looked suspicious.

That was really all the time he had to think before immense wings opened up and the dragon shot up into the darkening sky, turning her path into a long, slow curve. At the far end of the runway, a shimmering disk appeared between three hovering alicorns, with nothing but darkness visible beyond it. The dragons in the first group vanished one at a time into the ebon maw of magic, then something changed in the way the portal was shimmering in the growing darkness and the second group lined themselves up for transport.

“We’re in the last group, right after Stone,” said Nightshade over her shoulder. It was a redundant piece of information since they had gone over the plan so many times, but still welcome, and kept Jon’s heart rate relatively calm.

“Tail End Charlie,” said Jimmy, who was socked into his own ‘pony bag’ behind Jon. “Bet you wished you were in the airplane now, don’t you, Jon?”

“No, not a chance.” Jon continued to crane his neck in order to watch the dragons below vanish into the dark portal. “Miss Ruby is handling the flight quite well. And she seems to be a quelling influence on Miss Nightshade’s constant attempt to get into my pants.”

“Not before a mission,” said Nightshade, seeming just as entranced by the dance of dragons as they swooped down and through the portal in neatly organized groups. “Or during a mission.”

“Ah…” Distracted away from the dragons, Jon looked at Nightshade, who gave him a wink. “Oh. I suppose if everything goes well…”

“Eww,” came a small voice from nearby, which was quickly hushed up.

“What was that?” asked Nightshade.

“Nothing!” said the small voice again, followed by a number of harsh shushings from another voice.

“Stowaways,” said Jon as realization hit him. “No time to deal with them now. Our place in the queue is coming up.”

“Puff and Thistle?” asked Nightshade, only to shake her head and turn back to the rapidly dwindling number of dragons in the sky. “You two need to shut up and hold on. There’s no way we’re putting you down now without scrubbing the mission.”

“But—” started one small voice from the lumpy bag.

“Can it, squirt!” snapped Nightshade at the same time Stone rolled his enormous bulk up on one wing and plummeted toward the ground. “Hang on!”

Then it was Ruby’s turn to roll to one side and plummet toward the ground, trading altitude for speed by pulling out of her dive. At the same moment, Stone tucked his wings up, held his legs tightly to his body, and whisked through the dark portal with no more than an inch or two clearance to either side. The way the portal fairly rocketed at him should have held Jon entranced, but his eyes were drawn to the three alicorns pouring their magic into the spell. Cadence had her forehooves held together as if she were praying, Luna’s face was screwed up in an expression of intense concentration with foamy sweat pouring down her forehead, but Celestia had her eyes firmly locked on Jon as they zipped past, as if he were being held personally responsible for what was about to happen.

Then they were through the portal, into the crisp, cold air of Norway.

18. With Bat-Like Tread

Equestria : 1940
Saturday 22 June - Norway

“Listen to me, my people; hear me, my nation:
Instruction will go out from me; my justice will become a light to the nations.
My righteousness draws near speedily, my salvation is on the way,
and my arm will bring justice to the nations.”
— Isaiah 51:4

Norway was cold and wet, although most of that was due to the altitude and the clinging cloudstuff that abruptly appeared around them. Jon was instantly disoriented, and nearly screamed despite his best efforts while the damp wind whistled past, caught in the soft abyssal darkness of the midnight cloud cover. Several short breaths later, he had calmed down enough to see the dim violet hornglow coming from Twilight Sparkle’s ponybag, most likely from her taking notes. It was refreshing, a tiny speck of familiarity in the dark, which was all he could cling to for several minutes until they broke out of the bottom of the thick overcast into a open gap over broken cloud cover.

Ruby slowed her progress with wide-spread flaps until she landed in the fluffy top of an oblong cloud, one of many scudding along silently above the Norwegian countryside. Far away, he could make out the dim silver shimmer of a lake several miles upstream, as well as the pale line of concrete covered with thick pipes to the waiting hydroelectric generators below. Oddly enough, there were black dots down there scattered along the rocky ridge and around other buildings, looking a little like vehicles.

Still, he had a more important task at the moment, and he tore his eyes away from the enticing vision in the dank darkness for a much closer target.

“Puff. Thistle.” Jon fought to keep his voice firm but level as he addressed the transport pony bag on Ruby’s broad sides. “Come out of there but be careful,” he hissed when the wet bag’s top flopped open and the two little batponies popped out into the moonlit darkness.

“He made me!” declared Puff with a pointed hoof while hovering in place.

“Did not!” called out Thistle just as loudly.

“Shh!!” hissed Jon, Nightshade, and every other batpony mare who had emerged out of their pony carrying bag, in a veritable chorus of hisses.

“Voices carry in the night,” chided Jon before realizing that the bag the two troublesome little batponies had emerged out of was still occupied. “The rest of you in the bag, come on out.”

The dragon Ember emerged first, picking her way along the wet rope webbing until she could sit on top of Ruby’s broad back, but Spike only stuck his head out of the bag.

“I can’t fly,” he whispered before looking down with an additional squeaked, “eep!”

“Stop it!” hissed Nightshade at where the two foals had started to squabble again. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? All of you!”

“They wanted to help,” said Ember quietly, although she moved over to the two foals and hooked an arm around each of their necks. “So did I. And Spike. We snuck in one at a time and didn’t know about each other until we started dropping into the same bag. Thistle and Puff can be very quiet when they want to be, as you’ve just seen, and if things go wrong, you may need another dragon.”

“Two,” said Spike, although he maintained his vice-like grip on the bag and refused to look down again, or over at where Twilight Sparkle was glaring at him.

“This is dangerous,” hissed Nightshade, much like an irate teapot. She pointed down with a damp wingtip into the gloomy landscape. “Those are anti-aircraft batteries. They are not in the plan. I was just a tail-hair away from aborting the mission and ordering Ruby to fly us home before you four popped out of that bag.”

“There’s four ponies down there depending on us,” said Jon quietly. “Four frightened ponies far away from home, surrounded by enemies who only want to use them as hostages. Picture yourself down there. All by yourself.”

He let the silence of the night speak for a while as the four stowaways looked back at him. Puff looked almost as if she were going to break into tears, so he added, “You’re going to need to obey every order Nightshade gives you, when she tells you, exactly how she tells you, and not give her any backtalk. If she tells you to sit through this whole thing and not make any noise, you sit.”

Four earnest stowaways nodded, and although Spike opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, he gave a brief glance down and closed his jaws with a snap.

“Commander,” said Jon with a nod to Nightshade. “Your orders?”

The slim batpony looked as if she had just bitten down into an unripe lemon. “I can remember every time Ian gave me orders, and I always thought I could do better. Right. Binoculars?”

“Here,” said Twilight Sparkle, floating them over. “I put two vision sharpening spells and a defogger on them.”

While Nightshade studied the dim landscape below, Jon turned to Jimmy and switched to English. “Use your red filter flashlight and check your fuses again. If we go in, it’s going to be just as fast as we can make it, because when those anti-aircraft units spot us, we’re going to have to leave in a hurry.”

“Even if their gunners are spot on, we’ve got a couple of minutes from the alert to first shot,” said Jimmy, who seemed to be digging out his flashlight by the red glow coming from his pony bag. “Unless there’s an alert on, artillery likes to keep its toys locked up. That way no private pops off a few dozen rounds in the middle of the night at ghosts. Plus, they’ll be relying on spotters to pass along word of any incoming aircraft. An’ in this murk, they ain’t gonna be expecting bombers. Probably huddled up around campfires, tryin’ to keep warm and dry.”

“I smell campfires,” said Ruby in a low rumble that sounded a little like thunder. “Wet and cold. Dragon weather. Give the word and I’ll warm them up.”

“They’ll blow you to pieces.” Nightshade swept her binoculars along the road that traced down the ridgeline with her lips moving as if she were counting. “No telling what’s out there in the darkness away from the campfires. All I can see are some 88s, a bunch of 20 millimeter guns, and some cobbled together pieces of junk they must have seized from the Norwegians. They’re still working on some of them, even in the drizzle, so they’re serious.”

“I’ll bet it’s because the Brits blew up a couple of cruisers in Trondheim last week.” Jon tapped one finger against his damp greatcoat. “Well, Commander? What do you think?”

“I’m thinking I should have dragged you off into some bushes before this started,” she growled, still scanning the ground with the binoculars. “Spike, you speak English, so you stick with Jimmy like glue. I don’t want any communication failures. Ember, go tell Stone we’re going to give this a shot. If everything goes to Tartarus, and only if we have to evacuate under fire, Ruby will drop down to the roof of the industrial building while he goes and distracts the anti-aircraft artillery. He’s to breathe and scoot, because I don’t expect Ruby to have to stick around on the roof longer than about ten seconds. After you tell him, get your tail back here and guard Team Harmony.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The teal dragon vanished off into the darkness while Nightshade turned to the rest of the nervous batpony mares.

“Girls, go collect a good sized cloud. We’re going to want it fuzzy around the edges so it doesn’t stand out when we use it to land Team Harmony on the roof. Twilight Sparkle will use her cloudwalking spell on anypony who can’t stand on it now, and on the hostages when we retrieve them. Hopefully we can just float the whole load back up to Ruby and be gone before they even know we were here. Go.”

They went, in a flurry of silent dark wings.

“The rest of you need to stay here for a few minutes.” Nightshade took one last look through the binoculars and hoofed them back over to Twilight, who had used the time to climb onto Ruby’s broad stationary back along with her friends so they could be closer to their commander. “Jon and I are going to go down and pacify the landing zone.”

“They have sentries?”

“I could see four of them,” said Nightshade, baring her teeth slightly over thinning lips. “Two at the corners of the building and two just walking around. I could take them out by myself if I had time, but a pair of them is problematic. I’ll need you to distract one of them while I put the other one down. Quietly and alive,” she added. “I’ve got it under control.”

“And if I have to shoot the other one?” asked Jon.

“Then the jig is up, and we go home.” Nightshade shuddered. “Sentries mean there are other people around who will hear the gunshots. You shoot, they shoot, same difference. We come back to Ruby and we leave before the whole place turns into a shooting gallery, with us being the ducks.”

“Let me see that, please.” Jon’s revolver took flight, floating out of the holster and over in front of Twilight Sparkle, who scowled at it while her horn glowed brighter. The light seemed like a beacon that would bring anti-aircraft fire, but only lasted for a few seconds until she floated the revolver back over to him and slipped it back into his holster. “If you do have to use it, there won’t be any noise now,” she explained. “I used Starswirl’s… Well, it doesn’t really matter, as long as you try not to need to use it.”

“Trust me. Shooting somebody is always the last thing you want to do.” Jon checked the hold-down strap on the holster, the contents of his wet greatcoat pockets, and ran fingers through his damp hair before a complication became obvious.

“Wait a minute. How am I supposed to get down there with you? We didn’t bring the cob. Landing a cloud on top of the building when nobody is up there is one thing, but even an idiot sentry will notice a cloud dropping on top of their head.”

“Easy-peasy.” Nightshade produced a short length of black rope with loops on each end. During training, she had called it a field expedient human extraction and insertion device. The Brits had insisted on giving it a part number but her human partner had just called it the Peter Pan. It would make a user wish he was dead if they used it for an hour, but for short trips by air, it should be fine.

Jon took the length of rope and tried to remember exactly just how it was supposed to be attached to Nightshade or himself. She showed him how to stick his hands through the rope loops and give a few wraps around his wrists until he was holding onto the rope like some sort of giant garrotte, then gave him a short nod.

“Yeah, just like that. And hold on tight. Real tight. You ready?”

“Yes, but isn’t this too fast… whoa!”

Nightshade ducked her head under the loop of rope and lifted, pulling Jon out of the pony bag like an ice cube out of a tray. He was suddenly and acutely aware of the several hundred feet of empty air between him and the unyielding ground as Nightshade drifted to one side and began to glide down through the chill damp air with the rope over her shoulders and her hooves right about where his nose was suspended.

He wanted to scream. The thought of just how abruptly the mission would be cancelled and what would happen to the four pony hostages reduced it to a brief squeak, a determined swallow, and a few short breaths.

Then he opened his eyes.

“Whoa. This is beautiful.”

“Stop looking up my tail,” whispered Nightshade back. “Later.”

“No, I mean Norway in the dark, from this… Yeah, it’ll wait. Mission first,” whispered Jon.

The square building below was only visible as a vague outline in the drizzle. His recent repetitive training allowed him to identify it due to the elevator machinery room that poked out on top, which is where the stairs down were going to be. Somewhere down there were four German soldiers who were going to find out how dangerous a trained batpony guard was, and if he could not see them right now, they could not see—

The surface of the building roof was a shock to his boots, and he sagged against the exterior wall of the elevator equipment room while trying to keep his legs under him. Nightshade touched down silently a few feet away and peeked around the corner of the building at something, most likely the German sentries she had mentioned before. Even with the short duration of the trip, the rope had bitten into his wrists, so he shrugged out of the loops and rubbed them.

“They’re headed this way,” whispered Nightshade. “Distract one, and I’ll take care of the other, then come back for yours.” Then she was gone behind him, most likely to circle around the short cinder block structure. The crunching of the sentries’ boots grew closer, and Jon pulled out a pack of cigarettes because it seemed like the natural thing to do. The two soldiers were hunched in their rain slickers with dripping helmets and a rifle over one shoulder, and looked up at the sight of another human on the roof with them.

“” asked Jon in his best German, shaking out a cigarette from the pack. One of the two sentries gave out a grunt and stepped forward, looking as bored as Jon was nervous while removing a lighter from his pocket. The soldier took a second cigarette as implied payment for the use of his lighter, and proceeded to light both of them before the drizzle damped them too much. “” added Jon as he took a brief and far too needed puff.

A surreptitious glance showed only one sentry now, which meant the second German had been abducted by Nightshade and was probably in the process of pony subdual at the moment. Any hopes he had of waiting out the time until her return with a relaxing smoke vanished when the sentry scowled at the cigarette he was smoking, then darted out a hand to grab Jon’s pack of cigarettes.

Crap! They’re Camels!

The sentry tried to unsling his rifle at the same time Jon scrambled for his pistol, a race that he barely won as the revolver bucked in his hand before the German could untangle the strap, then two rapid shots to the soldier’s center of mass just in case. True to Twilight Sparkle’s word, the only sound that came from the pistol’s discharge was a flat slapping noise of the slugs hitting the soldier in the chest, and a gurgle as he hit the ground and twitched. The silencing spell did not suppress the bright muzzle flashes, which Jon sincerely hoped would be excused as some sort of distant flicker from sheet lightning off in the distance.

For a few minutes it seemed as if he was going to get his wish. Then he could hear a voice out in the darkness ask, “”

Saying anything in return was probably more dangerous than just staying silent, so he crouched in the darkness next to the cooling corpse of the sentry. The crunching noise of military boots grew louder as another German walked in his direction, out of his direct sight in the gloomy dark even if the bulk of the elevator room structure was not blocking a direct line of sight.

Then nothing.

His frazzled nerves were nearly gone by the time Jon heard a quiet Equestrian voice from around the corner whisper, “Got these two. Don’t shoot me.”

“Jesus!” Jon peered around the corner at where Nightshade was holding the curious sentry with one foreleg around his neck, both hind legs clamped around his body, and balancing on her wingtips while the human’s twitches grew slower. “I had to shoot mine.”

“I can smell the blood,” hissed Nightshade. “Get your cuffs and the gag on this one while I grab the last one.”

One thing the hostage rescue forces had was handcuffs galore. A few months ago, some company in the US must have scratched their heads to no end as to why such a large order had been placed by a country with a negligible crime rate and no hands. He ratcheted the cuffs closed and gagged the unconscious sentry, dragging him to the side of the elevator structure so he would be out of the way before reaching around the corner and cuffing the other sentry that Nightshade had choked into unconsciousness.

“Three down and one out,” said Nightshade, drifting up to Jon with the last sentry wrapped up in her forelegs. “Tie up their legs too. I don’t want Candy and Cuspid to have to chase them.”

“You are so demandy. Like an ex-wife.” Jon got out the spool of nylon parachute cord and trussed the sentries, trying not to show how much his hands were trembling. He could not even get out his knife to cut the cord, so the three unconscious Germans wound up with their legs all tied together also.

“Here,” said Nightshade as he fumbled with the end of the cord. One of her wingtips flicked out and the thick nylon parted, allowing him to put the spool of nylon cord back into his pocket for whatever tying up he would do later. “Wingblades,” she added. “Going to check out the stairwell. Wait for me.”

“That’s—” Nightshade was gone, like a shadow in search of her Peter Pan, leaving Jon to check the knots on his captives and give the immobile corpse a nervous glance as if he were going to stand up at any moment. He checked for a pulse, just in case, and tied the legs and hands of the body together just to give himself something to do other than worry. At least his hands had quit shaking enough to cut the end off the cord with his own knife.

The flashes from the revolver had suppressed his night vision, but he could still see dim shapes on the rocky ridgeline above him, most likely the anti-aircraft guns Nightshade had mentioned. There were some low lights on the ground around the building, so there could have been other guns in the near vicinity, much as the rooftop sported its own squat and deadly gun emplacement.

Jon walked over to the sandbagged gun, which had a tarp over the barrels and the crates of ammunition to one side. It was small enough to have been carried up the stairs, which meant it was far too small to be effective on any kind of high-altitude bomber, and the odds of being able to make it work to defend their equine invasion were low indeed. At least there had not been any sign of alert Germans sounding sirens or warming up the guns on the ridge to shoot down at him.

Down… Oh, yes. Alerting Ruby and the rest of the All Amarezon Pony Assault team to hold in place.

He got out the flashlight with the red filter over the lens, put on the damp cardboard tube, and placed himself behind the small rooftop building where the light would not be seen from any alert sentries. Two slow flashes up into the dark sky were quickly returned, allowing Jon’s heart rate to slow slightly into what he feared would be a normal rhythm as long as he was in Norway. He flashed two more red blinks, then turned off the flashlight and sat it beside him while waiting.

There was enough time for him to eject the empty brass and reload the revolver before Nightshade ghosted back out of the stairwell door, giving him a hissed alert as not to test her armor against his reflexes.

“Building’s clear,” she whispered. “Thank heavens they’re doing maintenance on several of the chemical towers, so the power’s off to most the building, and there’s nopony downstairs. At least for now. The whole place stinks of ammonia, like some giant diaper.”

“Phase one is a go, right?”

“Phase one.” Nightshade dampened her lips with a quick lick and looked up at the looming shape of the dark ridgeline. “Signal them.”

- ☾ - -

If anything, the descending cloud full of ponies was more stealthy than Jon had ever expected. It touched down on the roof like… well, a cloud. Moments later, Nightshade began leading the assault team down the staircase with the everpresent click and clatter of hooves sounding like castanets in the darkness. Jon was responsible for counting members of the assault team, and hissed quietly under his breath the designation of each group as they passed. Group One spread out on either side of the elevator machinery structure to keep watch, and the last members to come out of the cloud were Jimmy and his draconic shadow, who was holding the human’s hand.

“Spike can see in the dark,” said Jimmy in English. “Should be a great help setting the charges, sir. Did you want one of the knapsacks for your rescue mission, in case you see something that needs blowing up over there?”

It took very little thought to answer that question. “Yes, please. If I need it and don’t have it…” He slung the knapsack in question over his shoulder, trying not to think of how large an explosion he would make in the event of an accident, and how few pieces would remain. “You have enough explosive without it, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimmy grinned, his white teeth looking like pearls in the subdued light. “Boom Boom likes to keep a little in reserves. If there’s anything down there that takes more than a dozen bombs to blow, I’ll rendezvous with you at the second building and pick that up.”

“This facility is shut down, so the natural gas pipeline probably isn’t under pressure. Place your charges in the building anyway and catch up if we’re not back yet. One A and B,” added Jon in Equestrian, turning to the two nervous batpony mares. “We’ve got three unconscious Germans on the other side of this wall, and one… I had to shoot. Puff and Thistle.” He grabbed the two foals, who were trying to sneak down the staircase. “You two stay here and watch for anything, anything out of the ordinary and tell A and B. Four pairs of eyes and ears will be better than two, and if anything goes wrong out here, I’ll need one of the adults to come get us. And most of all, stay quiet. Away from the body.”

Both little batponies nodded and paired off with their larger counterparts, giving him one last big-eyed glance as Jon headed down the stairs by the light of his red-lensed flashlight. At the bottom of the stairs, Team Two had taken their places with the door wedged open and a flickering red light of Jimmy’s flashlight visible in the pipe-clogged building indicating that he had started the process of setting the demolition charges. Hopefully he was abiding by the plan and had not crushed the timer capsules on any of the detonator fuses yet or the next hour would run by faster than anybody wanted, and end with a bang.

In the gloom of the bottom floor, the towering steel columns and thick pipes everywhere gave Jon the sensation of sneaking through some futuristic jungle with hidden monsters and quicksand around every corner. At least there were no German soldiers or construction workers to deal with at the moment, which was a blessing. Picking his way down a corridor with clusters of construction equipment scattered around, he drew up next to the colorful group in front of the steel doors to the underground tunnel, the one bottleneck in the plan that Jon was most worried about.

“They’re not just locked,” said Twilight, who was standing in front of the doors with a look of intense concentration and a low glow around her horn. “There’s something blocking my—”

“Move,” said Ember, striding up to in front of the doors and puckering up as if she were about to kiss somedragon. A thin jet of actinic fire blazed violet from where she played her fire up the center of the doors, then they swung open with a few droplets of molten metal when she gave them an additional push. “Ponies,” she scoffed, walking forward through the wisps of smoke curling around the dark corridor.

“Your fire could have been seen, or you could have cut through a steam line or something flammable,” said Twilight Sparkle, trotting along beside the fast-moving dragon.

“Shh,” chided Nightshade about a heartbeat before Jon was about to hiss the same thing. “Stay.”

Then she glided forward into the stygian darkness of the tunnel, leaving Twilight and Ember to exchange sharp glances in the gloom of his flashlight. “Ladies,” said Jon, trying to take on the role of a peacekeeper. “The building where the ponies are held is up ahead, so the Germans must have manually barred this doors to keep the construction workers from getting into it. We don’t need an argument now, so if either of you want to go back onto the roof and wait until we’re done, go.”

It did not eliminate the impending argument between unicorn style and dragon force, but it did quiet the two until Nightshade glided out of the gloom.

“Double doors at the end of the hallway, locked. Didn’t hear anything on the other side, but that’s not a certainty. I need you and you—” she pointed at Twilight and Jon in turn “—to come with me, quietly open the doors, and deal with any guards.”

Jon checked the cylinder on the pistol to make sure he had gotten the expended rounds replaced, then followed Twilight up the corridor by the reddish glow of her horn. The steel doors at the end had a pair of sliding latches which had been drawn back, most likely the same latching mechanism which had caused the mission to delay a few minutes ago.

This time, Twilight barely needed to light up her horn before the locks gave a quiet click. Jon eased the doors open, peered through the gap at the empty room beyond, and gave a short nod. It could have been a basement from anywhere in Washington D.C., with an open cage elevator, a few underwatt light bulbs making a valiant attempt at dispelling the gloom, and featureless grey doors scattered along the grey painted concrete corridors.

“Looks like an elevator lobby, couple of basement rooms, and a staircase going up.”

“Stinks like humans,” whispered Ember from just under Jon’s elbow, which nearly made him jump out of his boots. “Got bored back there,” she explained. “All I can smell up here is weapon oil and humans all over the place.”

“Any unicorns?” he asked. “Since you’re here, after all.”

“They’re up above us,” said Twilight Sparkle, who had her horn lit again. “The note said an upper floor.”

Nightshade shook her head. “Ember, sniff out those doors, just in case. Try not to be seen if anybody looks down the elevator shaft.”

“Now I’m a dog,” grumbled the dragon. She slipped into the illuminated lobby, gave each of the steel doors a brief sniff, then returned while shaking her head. “There’s some older pony scent on that back door, but I can only smell one human in there now, as well as ozone and some really odd chemicals.”

“Then up the fire stairs it is,” said Jon. “Hopefully they segregated the ponies from the soldiers.”

- ☾ - -

Leaving two batponies standing behind the tunnel doors was the hardest thing Jon had ever done, but if a German came down the elevator to use one of the rooms, having a couple of dark pegasi just lounging around the lobby would have been a dead giveaway. He left the last pair of batponies at the bottom of the stairwell just in case there was some sort of a tussle, because having four ponies swarming a lone sentry would be much quieter than one or two, and now he was feeling awfully vulnerable following the diminished line of ponies upstairs. There were only six colorful ponies now, not counting Nightshade leading the whole herd and himself bringing up the rear.

The quiet batpony stopped at the door, lifted her head up to peer through the tiny glass window, then flattened back down against the staircase landing. She whispered something to Applejack, who nodded and started up the stairs, followed one at a time by the rest of Twilight’s friends, until Jon reached her.

“Stay down,” she hissed into his ear. “There’s a couple of Germans in the hallway. If the anti-aircraft units are bivouacking in the offices here, they’ll stay to the lower floors first. I sent Twilight’s friends up to the top floor, and we’ll work our way down.”

Jon nodded and slipped a wooden wedge into the bottom of the door frame before following. He noticed out of the corner of his eyes as he passed the door that the locking mechanism was glowing just the faintest shade of violet. It was redundant, but made him feel a little more confident that some soldier was not going to slip into the stairwell for a smoke behind them, although he still stayed as quiet as possible while climbing. The second floor corridor behind the stairwell door was dark, but Nightshade took only a short peek through the door’s tiny window before flattening against the stairwell floor and continuing to climb.

Then they reached the third and final floor.

“Lights are on, but I don’t see anybody,” whispered Nightshade, peering through the tiny window in the fire door. “We don’t have time for me to search the whole place by myself, so spread out and stay quiet.”

“That means you too, Rainbow,” whispered Applejack while all of them slipped through the open door. Jon put another wedge down to make sure it would not close and lock behind them, then moved to where the ponies had gathered into a circle.

Ember opened her mouth to say something, but Fluttershy got there first. “Shh,” she chided. Somehow during the short trip she had picked up two rats and several mice, which she placed down on the ground and watched as they began scurrying down the corridors. Behind them, the slinking ponies lifted and put down their hooves with great care as not to make any more noise than Jon with his boots. Even the slightest noise echoed in the empty corridors, from the scrape of a hoof across tile to the creaking of doors being opened to check what was behind them.

It was Applejack who found the hostages first, or at least an indication of where they were. She stopped at the corner of a corridor and waited, collecting other ponies as they too noticed her immobile stance. Moving slowly, Jon slipped past the other ponies, took a quick peek out into the corridor, and slipped back.

“One guard,” he mouthed to Nightshade, then pointed to her.

Nightshade took a brief peek around the corner too, shook her head, then held her forehooves a distance apart, indicating she would be unable to get close before the guard might be able to fire his weapon. To be honest, Jon had to agree. The German was holding his weapon in an entirely too alert fashion for an ordinary guard at midnight in a peaceful building. Frankly, Jon would have much preferred him to be sleeping in a corner.

Rainbow Dash promptly stuck up a hoof and waved it like a student who desperately needed to use the bathroom. Jon ignored her and pulled out his revolver, slipping up to the corner and bracing himself for—

Rainbow made a face, then vanished almost faster than the eye could see, followed by the muffled sound of a body hitting the ground. When the group of ponies came around the corner, Rainbow Dash was sitting proudly on the unconscious green-clad guard, looking much like a smug cat who had just caught a canary.

“See,” she declared, only to have all the ponies, one human, and one dragon all silently shush her. The resulting floppy-eared droop was too much for Jon to take, and he patted her gently on the head before getting another set of handcuffs out of their cardboard box. A few seconds later when the guard had been cuffed, the submachine gun moved well out of reach, and Jon’s hammering heartbeat had calmed down to something a little more reasonable, he added a quick ear-scratch as a reward.

“Anything?” Jon mouthed to Nightshade, who had one fuzzy ear up against the now-unguarded door. A bubbling scream from the inside of the room cut off any answer, and things promptly happened fast.

19. Everything According to Plan

Equestria : 1940
Saturday 22 June - Norway

“And he took all the gold and silver, and all the vessels that were found in the house of the LORD, and in the treasures of the king's house, and hostages, and returned to Samaria.”
— 2 Kings 14:14

The echoes of the scream were still echoing around the hallway when the door fairly exploded off its hinges as Nightshade, Applejack, and Rainbow Dash bolted inside all at the same instant, stacked high, medium, and low. Jon could have sworn he was only a heartbeat behind, but by the time he had his revolver leveled, the fight was over. Two of the green-clad Germans were sprawled out unconscious to either side of the small room, each with a colorful pony on top of them, and an officer of some sort was standing with his hands up in front of Nightshade, inadvertently shielding a civilian in a rumpled suit behind him. For the lack of any other target, Jon put the sights of the revolver where the officer’s grey-green jacket opened up to show a ruffled tie, just below the throat, and spoke quietly as he could in German.

“Make a noise and you’re dead. Both of you.”

The frozen tableau only lasted for a moment until the German officer smiled, a thin gesture totally devoid of any emotion other than cold satisfaction. “Ah,” he said quietly. “Celestia has sent a rescue. Are you ponies, or disgusting creatures like—”

Moving in one fluid motion as if the civilian had planned his actions for a long, long time, the chubby civilian reached forward, slid the officer’s Luger out of its holster, and shot him in the back several times. The crack of the shots filled the room with deafening sound compared to the silence before, and the German officer’s eyes grew large as he collapsed. The civilian also dropped the automatic and lifted his hands just a fraction of a second before Jon was about to pull the trigger on his own pistol.

“Amnesty,” he blurted out in a rapid burst of German while the pistol clattered on the floor. “Sanctuary, refuge, whatever you want to call it, just get me out of here with your people. That’s SS-Sturmbannführer Stein, and he’s the one who did this to your ponies. I had nothing to do with it. I’m a physicist! They forced me to—”

Nightshade uncoiled like a striking rattlesnake and had a foreleg around the babbling man’s neck before Jon could blink. In seconds, he was snapping a set of handcuffs around the man’s chubby wrists while Nightshade held him still on the cold tile floor. “I didn’t do it,” he blubbered into the floor, reduced to a raspy whisper by a furry foreleg. “Please don’t kill me.”

The officer was most certainly beyond saving, letting out his last breath in a gurgle of blood and not even twitching on the floor while the rest of the ponies stared in shocked horror.

“Rainbow, watch the corridor,” hissed Nightshade. “Take Ember. If the Germans on the floor below heard those shots, we’ll have to run. Twilight, find the hostages now!”

“Moondancer?” Jon could hear Twilight Sparkle suck in a desperate breath while the pitch of her voice showed she was trying her best not to scream. “What did they do to you?”

In all of the chaos, Jon had not noticed the table before. He wished he could not pay attention to it now. The body of a unicorn mare lay stretched out on it, bound down by chains and disguised from his casual glance by a wool blanket thrown over the top and weighted down by a damp, bloodstained sledgehammer. There was one leg sticking out, with a bloody white piece of bone protruding from her shin, but a far worse sight drew his attention higher. Those anguished eyes held him spellbound, as well as the cruel way chains had been fastened to immobilize her head so that her horn could be…

...shattered.

The pressure of the butt end of the revolver felt good to Jon when he pressed the barrel against the civilian’s forehead. Not as good as squeezing the trigger, but since the chubby man had killed the German officer first and could have easily killed Jon if any of the bullets had passed all the way through their target, he was content to settle for second best. “Why?”

“The other room,” the man whispered. “When we arrived, the unicorns were being uncooperative, so Herr Stein ordered their horns to be chained. One of them went mad when the iron went around its horn. Attacked the guards and got shot dead. Please—”

“Stop.” The whisper from the maimed unicorn barely rose over the clinking of the chains as Twilight’s friends worked on freeing Moondancer. “Doctor Houtermans tried…”

“Stay down, Moondancer. You’re hurt.” Twilight held a hoof over her old friend’s chest, although that did not stop the battered mare from struggling around to look over the edge of the table and spitting bloody phlegm on the cooling corpse of the German officer.

“We made a breakthrough,” she rasped. “Sturmbannführer Stein… From the Sicherheitsdienst, the security services. He brought Doctor Houtermans to verify…”

At that, the maimed unicorn sagged into unconsciousness.

“Buggerit.” Nightshade pointed with a wingtip at the other door in the room. “Pinkie. You’re with me. Twilight and Rarity, get your friend out of those chains. Jon—”

“Handcuffs,” he growled, putting away the unfired revolver and getting into his knapsack. The fat man made no attempt to resist his brusk cuffing, nor did the two unconscious green-clad guards. Both submachine guns and the pistol were put on the other empty table for now, and Jon moved over behind the two ponies getting ready to storm the room next door.

The storm provided to be more of a drizzle, thankfully, with far too many ponies chained together inside the limited space, and the distinct scent of urine in the air. Five ponies were huddled together, with both adult unicorns wearing some sort of cast-iron cone wired around their heads, a pegasus mare with a poorly bandaged head wound, an earth pony stallion who had been viciously chained with all four hooves together, and a tiny little unicorn foal who huddled up against the wounded pegasus. Her oversized metal horn cover had been wriggled out from underneath, and some tiny sparks shot from the stubby bare horn as she pointed it at Jon and squeaked, “Stay back! Don’t hurt Mommy!”

Something about her fierce demeanor struck Jon as bizarrely humorous, but before he could muster a tense laugh, Pinkie Pie gasped.

When Jon looked at the body sprawled out across the desk on the far side of the room, with a stake hammered into its chest and bloody bullet holes across its sides, he could not help but gasp in horror at what he saw also. Sharp bared teeth, coagulated green blood, and a chitinous skin instead of pony fur made for a gruesome sight. Whatever the creature was, it certainly had been killed by excessive gunfire, and the splintered chunk of wood driven into its chest was only from paranoia. Hopefully. This was not turning out to be nearly the hostage rescue mission he had hoped for.

“W-what is it, Pinkie?” he managed. “Nightshade? Have you ever seen any… thing like that?”

“No idea.” Nightshade swallowed hard and looked around the room. “We’ve got extras, and we’re missing Lemon Hearts. You don’t think…”

Jon swung his revolver to point at the terrified ponies trembling in their chains, then holstered his gun and bent down to see if he could start freeing the hostages with the key he had gotten from the officer’s pockets. “No, they’re not. The doctor said that thing went crazy when it was chained, like a Fey creature when confronted with cold iron. It’s dead, and not important right now. We need to get these ponies out of here, quietly.”

“Do you mind if I carry your Mommy?” asked Pinkie Pie once Jon had gotten the injured pegasus unchained. She bent down and wiped a tear off the little foal, who had not moved one step away. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” whispered the foal, who was still clinging to the groggy pegasus like a life vest in an ocean of violence. “The b-bad men tried to catch us on the road and she attacked them. They shot her. They shot at her a lot, but she didn’t fly away. Then they threw us both in the car trunk. Then they shot the crazy bug unicorn. Don’t let them shoot me. Please.”

“She’s my sister, Dinky,” said the next prisoner Jon unlocked, a purple on purple unicorn who could have passed for Twilight Sparkle’s scrawny little sister except for the unkempt mane. “I’m Sparkler, that’s Quantum, Rutabaga, and I gotta use the bathroom now.” With that, she darted into the nearby room and hurtled herself onto the human toilet, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

“Quantum?” asked Jon as he bent to unlock the earth pony’s heavy shackles.

“Rutabaga,” he responded, moving the first hoof that had been unlocked to the side so Jon had better access to the rest. “How many of the Royal Guard did Celestia send for us?”

“One.” Nightshade was still working with Fluttershy on unwrapping the last unicorn’s bindings, which included a great amount of thick copper wire around his head. “Once we get you all free—”

“And pottied,” said Dinky.

“Um, yes. And go to the bathroom, we have to get out of here.”

- ☾ - -

It was the first international hostage rescue mission to have an intermission in the middle so everypony could pee and take inventory. And a strange inventory it was.

The two extra unicorns had been hiking in the Norwegian countryside during the German invasion with their father, who as far as Jon could tell abandoned them to flee when the first parachutes blossomed over the town. Sparkler and her little sister Dinky had spent most of the intervening months scavenging out of gardens and yards, being shuttled from home to home by sympathetic locals. That is until last night when they had been nearly run over in the middle of the road by Sturmbannführer Stein and captured, with the addition of a grey pegasus who had flown to their rescue and been downed in a hail of gunfire. Strangely enough for all the bullets that supposedly had been flying around, the only wound she had was a graze to the head, but the littlest unicorn in the hostage group had glommed onto her like the mother she did not have, and Derpy, which is what they called her, seemed to appreciate the attention.

That left Rutabaga, a stubborn older earth pony and long-term resident of Hovin who had been swept up by the German occupation and tossed in with the three-unicorn research group for lack of anywhere else to keep him.

Then, of course, the Canterlot research group of Quantum, Moondancer, and Lemon Hearts. Quantum was nearly useless, lost in some speculative space between his ears, Moondancer was being carried despite her protests about being able to walk, with her head wrapped up in extensive bandages and the fragments of her horn collected just in case anything could be done with them, and Lemon Hearts…

Jon was stuffing the dead insectoid creature into a military body bag when Nightshade slipped up to him, intentionally ignoring the nauseating sight. “We’ve just about got them all ready to go. Fluttershy and her rats are scouting the exit route ahead of us, Applejack is carrying Moondancer, Sparkler is carrying Dinky, Pinkie is carrying Derpy, and Rutabaga is going to carry your bagged bug, although why in hellfire you want it is beyond me.”

“She was Lemon Hearts,” hissed Jon through clenched teeth. He really did not like blood, red or green, and the creature felt cold and stiff under his slick fingers, which did not help. “She’s one of Celestia’s subjects, or at least was pretending to be one, and I don’t want to have to explain to Celestia about leaving her when we get home,” hissed Jon while lashing the opening closed. “Nopony deserves this.”

“Well, that makes sense, I suppose. Still, it’s the first thing to get dumped if we have problems. Any last orders before we go?”

“No. Wait, yes.” After wiping his hands, Jon dug one of the thermos bottles out of his knapsack, made sure it had a green top, and tucked it under his arm. “I’m going to break one of those over anything that looks like paper here when we go. It’s supposed to be transport fire, and will carry anything it burns back to Celestia.”

“We should do that for the file cabinets in the lab in the basement,” said Quantum suddenly, his pale blue eyes looking a little less spaced out for a moment. “Too bad we can’t take the isotopic filter when we go.”

“Isotope filter?” echoed Jon.

“Oh, yes. It’s a breakthrough in isotopic separation.” The peach-colored unicorn smiled, looking off into the distance. “The Germans were very interested in it. That’s why Sturmbannführer Stein was sent here. It’s only a prototype now, but they should be able to expand Lemon Hearts’ work in Forschungslaboratoriums für Elektronenphysik inside of a year. Where is Lemony anyway? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Eee…” Jon gritted his teeth hard enough that he could taste iron. “Nightshade, take the hostages and the team. Send Ember back here, and we’ll catch up with you in the stairwell.”

“But—”

“Or I’ll have Pinkie lead them out of here,” he added.

Nightshade’s lips were so thin they were barely lines. She gave him an icy look that promised the conversation was not over yet, then turned and began to chivy the small herd out into the hallway. The German officer had quite a bit of paperwork scattered around tables, which had gotten mixed in with the older hydroelectric plant papers from the office’s original purpose. The broken green tubes of dragonfire treated them all the same, licking them up in hungry cold flames and launching the smoke out of the nearby window that had been opened for just that purpose. Somebody at Celestia’s end of the process was going to wind up hip-deep in scrambled papers from all of the rescue teams tossing green tubes into random file cabinets, but that really did not bother him at all right now. He was just emptying the dead officer’s pockets when Ember came strolling through the door behind him.

“Hey, I didn’t think we were supposed to loot.” The fairly small dragon cocked her head to one side and regarded the last wisps of smoke departing the room. “And you’re supposed to loot before you burn. Even hatchlings know that.”

“Help me put these guys into the other room.” Jon gave a grunt, hefted the officer’s corpse, and began to drag. The Luger along with the submachine guns of the guards had vanished off the table, although he knew exactly where they were. As they were leaving the room, Rarity had converted her mobster-ish outfit into one for a ferocious gun moll, with all of the firearms floating around her. Jon really did not know if she could fire them all at once but at least she knew how not to fire them, and he had no desire to ask what kind of experience she had with guns. Underestimating ponies was a bad habit. Underestimating dragons too, which became obvious when Ember almost casually hefted one of the unconscious guards and carried him into the other room, despite him being nearly twice her size.

“Why drag them in here?” she asked while headed back for a second load.

“The last thing we need is somebody stumbling on them while we’re leaving,” explained Jon. He grabbed the remainder of the military identification papers from the tunics of the passing passengers and tossed them on the last pile of papers. “I’ll send this to Celestia, you weld the steel door closed, and even if somebody wanders up here, they’ll never know. All they’ll see is an empty room.”

“Yeah, right.” Ember closed the steel door to the pony’s former prison and breathed a quick line of fire down the doorframe, spitting into the lock just to be sure. “They’ll never notice the big pool of blood right there.”

It isn’t polite to curse in front of a lady. Particularly one who could gut me with one claw.

He sent the papers to Equestria with one stick of green dragonfire, breaking it over them and dropping it before the flames erupted and engulfed the entire pile. Once they stepped outside, Ember wordlessly welded the office door closed, and Jon picked up the only sign they had been in the corridor, a black military cap that had rolled out of the room when Doctor Houtermans had been so impolite as to shoot the former owner in the back.

“Step eight, done. Now for step let’s get the hell out of here.” He put the cap on just so he would not have to carry it and hurried to the stairwell, which echoed with the sound of ponies down below even though it sounded as if they were being as quiet as possible.

“Weld?” asked Ember once they were in the stairwell.

“Damned right.” Jon waited until the draconic spot welding was finished, then followed Ember down the stairs, with his pistol drawn just in case. It was probably too much to expect everything to continue as planned when so much had gone wrong already.

They passed the door on the second floor of the stairwell, with Ember giving it a solid welding into the frame just in case, but he held her back on the first floor door for fear that the soldiers moving around on the other side might smell the smoke.

His position on the tail end of the evacuation left Jon waiting nervously in the basement elevator lobby while Ember welded the staircase door closed. Behind him, he could hear the muffled noises the hostages made while working their way down the narrow corridor back to the other building, the one that Jimmy had wired for a getaway fireworks display.

Which perfectly explained how Jimmy and Spike were coming back through the tunnel doorway. Not.

“The chemical towers in the other building are cast iron,” said Jimmy. “They’re built like safes, so we had to double up on the demolition charges. We’ve got the pencil detonators stuck in the blocks all ready to have the acid capsules crushed on the way out. If you’ve still got your charges, we’ll just follow the wee lasses and—”

“Got something that needs to be blown up here,” said Jon quietly, taking a look over his shoulder at the open elevator cage. They had not been talking very loud, but with that many Germans from the anti-aircraft battalion sleeping upstairs, he really did not want to take any chances.

“Quantum said they were developing some sort of isotopic separation system down here in the basement. He’s one of the science unicorns. Not really all there, as far as I could tell. More than most unicorns, I suppose.” Jon unslung his knapsack and checked the contents, which seemed to be explody enough to take out whatever kind of laboratory was hidden down here in the basement.

The two humans and two dragons were all that was left of the rescue mission in the basement, with the clattering sounds of the ponies growing quieter in the tunnel. Whatever they were going to do would need to be fast if they were going to catch their ride. Then again, the cloud would most probably take two trips to get the hostages and the ground-bound ponies up to Ruby, so they had more time than Jon really wanted.

“You’ve got a German officer’s hat,” said Jimmy. “If there’s a guard inside the room, you knock on the door and he’s just going to see the face and the hat. We can force the door when he opens it, secure him, toss him into a closet while we rig the place to blow, and make tracks.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jon pulled out his revolver and checked to make sure he had replaced any expended shells. “The door that Ember sniffed out is over there—”

Jon followed the direction he was pointing, only to see the hind end of the peach-colored unicorn sticking out of the doorway, and the face of a startled German guard attempting to work the action on his submachine gun. Apparently while the humans had been discussing their plan, Quantum had simply walked up to the door to his laboratory and opened it, to the shock of the guard and the baffled consternation of the clueless egghead pony.

There was no demand to stop from the guard when he saw the loose dragons and unidentified humans, just the stuttering explosions of his submachine gun and the whining of slugs ricocheting around the concrete walls of the basement. Jon and Jimmy went flat, although they both sprinted in the direction of the door once the first burst of slugs stopped and Quantum could be heard to say in a most aggrieved voice, “Now that wasn’t very nice.”

The guard’s submachine gun was being held in Quantum’s almost colorless magic field, which prevented it from firing any more. Rather than try to force himself past the unicorn and into the half-open door, Jon shot the guard twice in the chest, then twice more for good measure when Quantum recoiled away in apparent horror. The revolver’s sound-damping spell was still working, even though it would have been difficult to hear anyway with the stentorian echoes from the German’s brief attempt at putting an end to their lives.

“Aye, we made a right bags of that,” said Jimmy as he skidded to a halt. “Ah, shit!”

“Room’s clear,” said Jon, taking a quick look around the open laboratory area and not seeing any more Germans or doors. “Set your charges, grab Quantum, and let’s get out of here before they come storming down the elevator.”

“That’s a problem.” Jimmy had his hand clutched between his legs and blood was making a mess of things rapidly. “Ricochet shot my fucking finger off, I think. Doesn’t hurt much yet.”

“Got it,” declared Spike, producing a roll of bandages and scurrying over. “Twilight made me learn all about human— That’s an awful lot of blood.”

It had to have only been a few seconds, but Jon was feeling like hours had already passed since the first burst of gunfire. “Ember. Quantum. There’s an electrical distribution panel down here in the basement somewhere.”

“Next door down the hall,” said Quantum, who looked up from the guard’s body with what could have been a spark of self-awareness penetrating through his foggy brain. “We needed access to the full output of the hydroelectric generator in order—’

“Go put it out of action. Fire or magic, I don’t care, then get back here fast. No juice to the building means no elevator.”

“Means no more bullets,” said Ember, grabbing Quantum and pushing him down the hallway. It was more than a little disturbing that she had acquired a limp during the short gunfight. One teal leg had a bright patch much like a bruise across her scaled skin, which he simply did not have enough time to worry about at the moment as long as she could still walk.

Jon darted back into the laboratory, taking just enough time to dig his flashlight out and put it on a table before pulling out the wrapped blocks of explosive. There were a half-dozen short steel cylinders connected by piping and thick electrical cables against one wall, which made good spots to stick the charges and jab in the detonators, two per location as Boom Boom had lectured. He almost did not notice when the lights to the building went out with a solid ‘whump’ and a sharp hissing noise that followed because he was so intent on getting the plastic blocks and detonators set with tubes of glowing red dragonfire tied on for extra credit points.

He had just gotten the last block of explosive set when Spike called out behind him. “Hey, Mister Walthers. Quantum got shocked by the electrical panel, so Ember’s carrying him back to the other building. Jimmy says the elevator’s jammed and we should get the f— That is we should leave the second you’re done.”

“No argument here. I just wish we could take this with us.” Jon patted a silvery donut packed with wires and tied into a short maze of piping. “Let me get the capsules crushed on the fuses and you can weld the door closed behind us, so nobody disturbs our work.”

Use pliers to crush the capsule. Tug out the stiff plastic tab. Move to the next detonator, trying not to move fast. If one of the acid capsules broke their wire early and released the spring-loaded firing pin, yanking out the plastic tab that blocked it from the impact fuse would be a terrible mistake that he would not live to regret. Any kind of resistance and the tab was to stay.

From the sounds he heard behind him, Spike was using his own fire to send the contents of the filing cabinets on to Celestia, which was probably better than letting Twilight Sparkle’s baby dragon play with explosives. The last pencil detonator seemed slightly reluctant to allow the plastic tab out, so he left it there and stood up.

“Come on, Spike. Time to go.”

“Just a second.” Spike had climbed up on the equipment and squinted at the dinner plate sized silver donut of the isotope widget. “I think I can get this out.”

“Do it now or never,” said Jon. He dumped the cylinder on his revolver regardless of the mix of fired and unfired shells that rattled down on the floor and stuffed six new .38 shells in. The sharp hissing of focused dragonfire lit up the room, and a few seconds later, the little dragon headed for the door with his trophy in hand, sliced out of the wires and pipes just as neatly as if Jon had taken a whole day with a cutting torch. In fact, Jon had to hustle to scoop up his knapsack and get out of the door before Spike reached it, giving him only a moment to look back with the light of his flashlight playing across the rows of smoke-stained filing cabinets before the door closed.

I hope Celestia isn’t standing right under all that paper when it shows, or it could knock her flat.

“Done,” declared Spike, giving one quick pat against the line of molten steel tracking down the doorframe before grabbing the silvery donut of the isotopic whatzit. They all headed out of the basement tunnel, which got slammed closed behind them and both steel latches slid closed to hinder the pursuit that would inevitably follow.

Both humans hustled along behind the dragon, Jon with his knapsack clanking to the tune of glass bottle souvenirs that somedragon had stuffed inside and Jimmy with one bandaged hand stuck in his armpit and the .45 held awkwardly in his left hand. By the time they got about halfway down the pitch black tunnel, a bouncing source of violet unicorn light could be coming up the other direction. In moments, Twilight skidded to a halt in front of them and reversed course to trot along with the rag-tag bunch of saboteurs.

“Nightshade’s taking the first group up now,” she panted. “What took you so long? How did Quantum get injured? What happened to you?” Twilight Sparkle’s magic reached out as they ran and re-wrapped Jimmy’s bloodsoaked bandage, and although she winced at the blood, she did not slow her brisk pace while Jon spoke.

“Made an unexpected stop at Moondancer’s lab. Spike brought back the widget she was so worried about. We’re clear, although I’m not sure how long it will take for the Germans to recognize what happened and break through the doors.”

“So we’re still in Option A, set to transition to B at any time, with Option C held in reserve,” said Twilight, giving a brief nod as if putting an imaginary checkmark on a mental checklist.

“The fuses aren’t crimped on the main building,” said Jimmy. “Jon and I will get them started, but the first gunshot we hear, we’re headed back to the staircase, just like the plan.”

“What’s left of it.” Jon scooped up the silvery gadget out of Spike’s claws, stuffed it into the knapsack, and passed the clunking bundle over. “Twilight, take the isotope thing and go back to the roof. If we’re not back by the time the cloud lands—”

“Take off without you?” Twilight Sparkle’s eyes were huge and white in her violet hornglow.

“No. Wait for us.” He gave out a sharp sigh and stopped at the tunnel’s far doors, giving a quick look inside the cavernous dark building filled with pipes and shadowed machinery before gesturing the unicorn on. “Sheesh, you’ve been watching too many movies.”

- ☾ - -

Haste makes waste. Waste in this regard was an Equestrian friendship specialist turned into a thin red smear and distributed around a bunch of nitrogen fixation equipment in a Norwegian chemical plant in the middle of the night. Jon tried his best not to ‘haste’ anything. The absence of any howling sirens or gunfire outside helped.

“Next to last one is around this corner.” Spike had taken point in their chemical plant tour, holding Jimmy’s flashlight and keeping alert for any disturbances while Jon crimped the fuses on each of the explosive charges. Jimmy’s job was far simpler. If he saw anything out of the ordinary, he was to shoot up in the air, and the resulting concussion from the .45 would bring batponies Two A and B to provide cover for their immediate retreat.

One shot - Run.

Emptying the magazine - Run faster.

“Charge nine, fuse one and fuse two, crimped,” said Jon, easing the little red plastic safety tags out and sticking them in his pocket out of some misguided instinct in the back of his mind to avoid littering. “Head to the last charge and we’re out of here.”

The grinding noise of a side door being opened up ahead caught Jon by surprise, made only more dramatic when the German patrol flipped on the light switch inside the door frame and the whole area lit up. Jimmy flattened up against the bulk of a machine while Spike was too short to be seen over it, but Jon could see both Germans about twenty feet away at the door looking straight at him, although also blinking.

“” said the first one with a brisk salute. “”

“” responded Jon in his best German, giving a quick prayer of thanks to God that he was still wearing the dead officer’s hat, and that construction equipment blocked their view of anything below his neck. “”

“” The soldier turned off the light switch and the patrol went back outside, leaving Jon to blink in the darker darkness, trying to figure out where that burst of inspiration had come from and just how long the patrol would be distracted.

Jimmy popped up with the .45 automatic in his left hand and the flashlight clumsily gripped in his bandaged hand. He scanned the empty doorway, then turned to Jon with a whispered, “Run like a rabbit and to hell with the last charge?”

“Since it’s on the way out, get it as fast as we can without tripping over something and breaking our neck, and we’re gone,” said Jon. “Come on, Spike.”

“Jawohl, mein Kapitän, said Spike with an unseen smirk.

While they hurried along, the insides of the building passed in a red-tinged blur from the flashlight’s filtered lenses, giving Jon a terrible sense that they had missed the door to the stairs and were going to wander around the industrial construction zone for hours. The last charge took only a quick moment to set by crushing the capsules on the pencil detonators, hardly even a pause, then they kept moving. When they finally reached the stairwell door with two worried batponies peering out, it was a complete shock to his senses.

He hustled Jimmy and Spike inside first, giving one last look around the empty building before closing the door and climbing. The stairwell guard batponies, Two A and B, were just about as nervous about the whole production as he was, seeming to jump with every clang of their hooves on the steel steps as they ascended, with their tails frantically swishing from side to side.

The roof was not empty as Jon had feared, but held the last two batponies, Twilight Sparkle, and a jittery Rarity.

“Thank God,” said Jon, taking a long look at the distant anti-aircraft packed ridge and the glimmer of flashlights in the surrounding buildings. “I didn’t even want to think about running back down the stairs and trying the go-to-hell escape option. The roads will be covered in checkpoints shortly, and the only terrain around here is either up or down.”

“We’ve each got a Peter Pan if we have to fly,” said One A. “Four of you, four of us, and Spike can hitch a ride with Twilight Sparkle since she’s so skinny.”

Rarity ever so slightly turned away from the chatty batponies and looked off into the cloud-strewn darkness, as if she were hoping to shoot something with the four guns she still was keeping near her. Thankfully for Jon’s fraying nerves and their concealment, her arsenal had been placed on the gravel surface of the roof instead of floating in her glowing magic. The distant sound of a siren prevented Jon from making a futile attempt at peacekeeping, and he could feel his heart sink as lights began to illuminate areas on the distant rocky ridge where the anti-aircraft units were sited.

“They’re sounding an air raid,” said Jimmy. He checked his watch awkwardly, wincing when he bumped his bandaged hand, and nodded. “An’ we still have ten minutes or so until the first charges go off. What’s takin’ that bloody cloud so long?”

“Rainbow Dash took the prisoners too,” said Rarity in a rather terse voice. “The rather chubby one, and the three guards that Nightshade knocked out. Since the building we are standing on is going to blow up, that is.”

“I agreed with her decision,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I didn’t want anypony… that is anybody else hurt.” She eyed Jon with more than a little suspicion. “You didn’t leave a bomb with the other prisoners, did you?”

“No,” said Jon quickly. “Ember welded them into their room. Although I had to shoot another guard when we raided Moondancer’s lab. Wearing green, so he must have been one of the Sicherheitsdienst also. I’ll bet Sturmbannführer Stein—” Jon tapped his officer’s black cap “—brought them with him as his own private policing force when he was notified of Moondancer’s technical breakthrough. That means he probably radioed the local anti-aircraft units to deploy here first, a day or two ago. They’re regular army and wear field grey.”

“A ghastly color,” said Rarity, settling her dark fedora more firmly on her head and adjusting a loose seam on her greatcoat so she looked a little less obvious on the rooftop. “For humans, of course,” she added, giving the four attentive batponies a long, contemplative look, which they pretended not to notice. “For ponies, it goes with simply everything in subdued shades, and can be quite sensual. When this distasteful episode is all over, bring your marefriend by my shop and we’ll see what we can do. Perhaps something with silver chasing, and seed pearls.”

“When this is over, I expect to be explaining myself to an angry court martial board,” said Jon. “Provided they can find my enlistment paperwork. But for now, M’lady, it seems our chariot has arrived, and none too soon.”

All of the batponies had looked up at the same moment, so it was a fair guess that the transportation cloud had just emerged out of the drizzle.

“And a cloudwalking spell for you,” said Twilight Sparkle, moving past Spike to Jon. “And a cloudwalking spell for you, and for Mister Jimmy.”

“I’ll take it, but I’m hoping you got a wee bit of brandy for the trip home,” said Jimmy, still cradling his bandaged hand. “That finger I’m missing is hurtin’ a great deal, wherever it is.”

The cloud sat down on the rooftop with a soft not-noise, allowing Ember and Nightshade to be the first and only ones off. Ember went straight over to the four batpony mares and began directing them to the best places under the cloud to lift, while Nightshade cornered Jon and Jimmy.

“Charges set?” she asked.

Before either of them could answer, a deep rumbling sounded in the distance, and dust could be seen blowing out of several dark windows in the other building, followed by flames. Several other muffled explosions followed, and the shrill sounds of alarms pierced the night, adding to the wail of the air raid sirens. Jimmy started, and found himself in the awkward position of trying to hold a flashlight in his left hand to look at his watch. When Jon took the light and held it, the Canadian gave a low whistle.

“The red ones are less than half-hour fuses. No wonder Boom Boom said to not trust their timing.”

“With that being said, ladies, under the cloud with the descent team, please,” said Nightshade. “Let’s get it stable before our passengers climb on. Rarity, make sure—”

“To hunch down under the coat, because I’m a colorful beacon as we ascend,” she said while fiddling with the collar on her dark brown gun moll outfit. “It’s a burden I must bear.” She arranged herself at the cloud ramp behind Twilight Sparkle, looking only a little like a soggy marshmallow in the drizzle.

“The cloud’s a little unstable.” Nightshade gave it a poke and frowned at the water that poured out. “I’m going to need each of you to carry your Peter Pan devices, just in case somepony drops through.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to tie us all together?” asked Jimmy. “If the cloud breaks, and I never thought I’d ever say that, we wouldn’t be separated.”

Jon was not paying the process of loading much attention. As designated tail of the combat train, he was scanning the distant rocky ridge to the north and counting the number of anti-aircraft units from the flashlights darting around. Far worse, a beam of brilliant light shot up from a previously unseen spotlight and began to probe the soggy clouds. If it happened to sweep over Stone, lurking in reserve on a nearby cloud, or worse, swept down into the valley to where the last of his team was loading…

“Get your ass in here, Jon,” called out Nightshade quietly. “I think if we’re very quiet, and drift up and to the south—”

A piercing childish scream sounded, “Look out!”

Nightshade was a coiled spring of darkness leaping for him just about the same time Jon noticed that the distant searchlight probing up into the sky also scattered enough light that he was quite obviously visible on the building roof. Far worse, the two German soldiers who were in the process of coming through the stairwell door onto the roof could see him too, and one of them was raising his gun.

There was a stuttering burst of explosions and light that slammed Jon to the gravel roof just as hard as Nightshade’s impact, punching him in awkward places but not dislodging the revolver from his hand. In the glow of the distant searchlight, it was difficult to see the sights on the gun, but he lined them up as well as he could on the doorway and began to squeeze the trigger. It was a horrible mismatch with one sharp flash of light on his regard in exchange for what seemed like a thousand shots from the Germans, whizzing overhead and kicking up gravel.

Then Rarity used her magic to pick up the guns on the roof where she had carefully placed them, and the disparity in the exchange of fire rapidly shifted.

“I’m supposed to shout something while shooting,” she shouted over the sound of automatic weapons fire, “but I don’t know what it is!”

Although the two green-clad Germans had fallen back inside the stairwell, there were others behind them. A grenade bounced out onto the roof, only to reverse course rapidly in Twilight Sparkle’s magic and vanish into the stairwell fast enough that it most probably would explode on the other end of the metal catwalk. Quantity of fire did not necessitate quality, so Rarity’s bullets were making pockmarks all over the front of the cinder block building while the return fire was going high, since the guards were all on the stairs below line of sight. Jon was still fumbling shells into his revolver when Rarity’s machine-gun barrage abruptly stopped with a set of short clicking noises.

“Rarity!” Spike leapt off the cloud and scurried over to the door before letting out a blast of dragonfire that made the guards on the stairwell scramble for cover.

“That’s no way to breathe fire!” called out Ember, who swooped off the cloud and landed next to Spike. “Watch this!”

This time, the fire that roared down the staircase was much stronger, leaving screams of panic in its wake from the soldiers scattered across the metal catwalks below. Jon could feel the backwash of heat that lit up the entire rooftop, with a light that did not go away. It cast the red splatters of blood across his arms into terrifying highlights, and was made only worse by the way his right leg did not want to move when he tried to roll, and the growing numbness in his left shoulder.

Still, all of those paled into near-insignificance when he realized that the inert weight of Nightshade on top of him was not moving.

“Spotlight!” called out Twilight Sparkle. “Move the cloud to cover the wounded before they see us. Spike and Ember, keep that doorway covered in fire. Ruby will be down in a few moments since we gathered so much attention!”

“So sorry, darling,” said Rarity while using her magic to jab a replacement magazine in the vague vicinity of the bottom of her expended submachine gun. “I do believe they shot first!”

Twilight took cover behind a corner of the cinder block elevator machinery room and peered around it, looking at the blinding light coming from the rocky ridge above her. “It’s not going to matter if they keep that spotlight on us, and I don’t have enough magic to hit it from here.”

There was a short flicker of light from the ridge and glowing balls of fire seemed to float down at them, vanishing overhead and crashing into the rocky darkness instead of turning the rooftop into a exploding hell. Before the anti-aircraft gun could adjust its trajectory, a massive dark shadow dropped out of the sky, and fire erupted up from the ridge in a long line, leaving burning vehicles and an exploding spotlight in its wake.

“MENSCHEN!” bellowed a terrifying voice that fairly exploded down from the darkened sky. “”

Even with his night vision ruined by the spotlight, Jon knew it had to be Stone. He sounded absolutely furious, and his German could have been taken from Martin Luther himself, if the old priest had railed from the pulpit on Revelations, with text from Tolkien. While Jon held himself over Nightshade’s motionless body, trying to stuff his kerchief into a bloody hole in her chest, he could feel the ground shake as Stone swept down out of the sky between bellowed phrases. Gunfire filled the night with blazing streaks of light and explosions, thankfully away from their building, as the other batponies crowded in with medical kits and bandages.

“No,” croaked Nightshade when Jon tried to take off her punctured back-and-breast. “Stuff bandages beneath it. Armor will hold pressure. Medical enchantments.”

They pulled him away from Nightshade at the same time Ruby landed on the roof so hard that her clawed feet sank into the concrete to her ankles. She shoved her face forward into the stairwell and breathed once, a titanic blast that warmed the roof under Jon’s skinned knees and cut off the gunfire below like a razor, although there was one last blast of a grenade far too close for comfort.

“They’re both hurt, Twilight!” Fluttershy had almost teleported to Jon’s side where the batpony bandaging his shoulder had effortlessly sliced the greatcoat and his tweed jacket away with an unseen blade attached to her wingtip, as well as his pants where the other bullet had struck. “We need clotting spells over here, now!”

Twilight snapped a response without a pause. “Spike and Ember, onto our transport! Rarity, help Fluttershy bandage! We need to get them stable before we take off. Everypony else, stay on Ruby!”

“How’s Nightshade?” gasped Jon through the pain of having a wad of gauze jammed into the hole in his hip and other cloth strips being wrapped around it until Fluttershy tied them together into an ornate bow knot.

“She’s alive, darling. The guard armor stopped most of the bullets, but…” The way Rarity cut off left a cold weight of dread in his heart, distracting him away from the agonizing pain of a spell as his wounds burned with blue light. Instead, he tried his best to focus on the sound of Stone, battling the German anti-aircraft units in their own language.

“<Girion Lord of Dale is dead, and I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep, and where are his sons’ sons that dare approach me? I kill where I wish and none dare resist. I laid low the warriors of old and their like is not in the world today.>”

“Put pressure here, here and here,” ordered Twilight Sparkle. “We’re going to put you in the same bag so I can maintain the clotting spell easier. And… lift.” Magic surrounded Jon, floating him helplessly up into the air and stuffing him into one of the transportation bags strapped to Ruby’s side. A heartbeat later, Nightshade also was nestled into the same bag, along with his flashlight and the German officer’s hat, now with a ragged bullet hole in the top.

“Dragons loaded,” called out Jimmy from up in front somewhere. “Humans secured. Unicorns getting into their bags now. Spike, relay that to Ruby.”

“I understand English,” snarled the reddish dragon, seeming almost black in the damp night. “That last blasted grenade blew up in my face. I think I’ve got metal splinters in my eyes.”

“Scoot over, Jimmy. Ember, can you sit on Ruby’s neck and guide her out of here?” asked Twilight in more of a command than a question as she climbed into the transport bag with the other human. “And not you, Rainbow!” she added with what Jon was fairly sure included a magical lock on Rainbow Dash’s transportation bag.

“On it!”

“My armour is like tenfold shields,” bellowed Stone somewhere in the distance. “My teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!” The declaration was topped by the distinct sound of dragonfire, and several subsequent explosions as ammunition cooked off in the blaze.

“We’re leaving! Everybody, sound off!” continued Twilight Sparkle. “Puff and Thistle.”

“Here! You stepped on me!” sounded from inside Jon’s crowded transportation bag. Two little wriggling balls of fluff and trouble squirmed their way up until they were nearly eye-level, looking oddly flat in the ruddy red light of his filtered flashlight. “Is… she going to die?” asked Puff so quietly that Jon could barely hear her over the distant thunder of anti-aircraft fire and Twilight’s continued counting of the rescue team and hostages.

“Not as long as I’m here,” managed Jon, despite one of the little troublemakers putting a hind hoof into his bandaged hip during her climb.

“Darned right,” said Nightshade. She opened one golden eye a crack to look at Puff and Thistle. “Do you two think you can turn your backs for a few minutes. I’d like to do some kissing without your comments.”

“Ewww!” declared Thistle while sticking his orange tongue out.

“Gross!” added Puff.

Nightshade smiled, but gave a worrying cough too.

Then Ruby launched straight up into the damp air, guided by Ember holding onto her neck like some sort of barbarian, lacking only a spear or a pennant to make the scene complete. In relatively few minutes, they were above the cloud cover and still climbing as their course shifted in a long ascending spiral. Jon kept light pressure on the bandages where he had been ordered, trying to ignore the warm dampness under his fingers while looking around. All of the bags on his side of the dragon were full, including the one with the three tied-up German sentries, one of whom was peering out the top with wide eyes. The rest of the ponies and Jimmy were likewise peering out of their bags, while Rarity was covering their rear with her reloaded submachine gun like some sort of draconic tailgunner.

At first, Jon did not expect Stone to appear, but in due time the immense dark bulk of the dragon appeared out of a cloud and climbed up to their altitude. Although the anti-aircraft fire below was thin and scattered, with none of the shells ascending to their level, the fight had not been totally one-sided. There were gaping holes in the giant dragon’s wings, moonlit silver trails of blood traveling down his torso, and far too many charred holes in his armored chest that still smoldered with the explosive residue that caused them.

“Twilight Sparkle,” he called out much weaker than normal as he closed to fly by their sides. “Are the ponies safe?”

“All hostages are safe,” she declared. “Everypony and everybody made it out, thanks to you.”

“Good.” Those huge wings faltered for a moment, and his voice tightened to a shadow of its previous power, forced out between laborious strokes. “Tell Celestia. And Luna. They will always. Be my friends. Remember me, Twilight.”

With that, the huge dragon simply folded his wings and dropped.

“No!” shouted Twilight Sparkle, climbing almost out of her bag with her horn lit up as if she were about to leap after him. “Don’t die!”

“Oh, no you don’t, lassie!” snapped Jimmy with both arms around Twilight’s slender waist and his legs braced inside the bag to keep them from both falling. He wrestled the unicorn back into the bag regardless of his injured hand and held onto her, preventing an avalanche of batponies who had tensed up in preparation for leaping after her. Jimmy held onto Twilight until she stopped struggling and just looked over the edge of the transport bag at the falling dragon. She was still wrapped up in the human’s powerful embrace and crying nearly as much as he was. “You can’t save him,” rasped Jimmy. “He’s dead already.”

The immense form of the dragon vanished into the cloud layer as Ruby continued to circle, only turning her course to the west when the thunderous sound of explosions bellowed up from below and lit up the clouds in sheets of crimson fire.

“It’s my fault.” Nightshade leaned her head up against Jon’s unbandaged shoulder and trembled, although she continued in quiet English. “I should have heard the Germans coming up the metal staircase.”

The slipstream of Ruby’s rapid flight made the thick canvas of their bag thump against them, aggravating their covered wounds and making them huddle together much like affectionate porcupines, just close enough to stay warm and far enough apart not to bump sensitive bandages. The situation was made even more uncomfortable since Puff and Thistle were snuggled up to them for warmth, which warranted speaking in English to avoid unwanted curiosity.

“I should have watched the staircase,” countered Jon. “Or had Spike weld it closed.”

“That would have blocked the emergency escape route for anybody without wings.” Nightshade put her sharp chin on his shoulder and whispered, “Mission’s over. We lived. Since we’re getting court martialed and thrown out of the service anyway, wanna get busy?”

“You’ve got both of your wings bandaged up with more holes in them than a colander,” said Jon, feeling significantly uncomfortable even if Puff and Thistle had not been snuggled up to them. “You’ve got a couple of holes in your back, and one in your chest. Between the two of us, we must have lost a gallon of blood, and you want to… no.”

“We’re going to wind up civilians anyway,” said Nightshade, feeling along his leg with her entirely too curious tail. “Why not go out on a high note?”

“We can go out when we’re healed up,” said Jon. “And on the ground.”

“Finally!” huffed Nightshade. “I’m going to hold you to that. But first, something more important.” She lowered her voice and put her nose practically into his ear. “I don’t want to die a virgin,” said Nightshade with a giggle.

“You should have thought about that a few months ago,” responded Jon. “Besides, Ruby will eat me if we have sex.”

“What’s a virgin?” asked Puff in accented English with both of her furry ears perked straight up.

“What’s sex?” asked Thistle right on her heels with a similar alert pose.

Jon looked down into the dark bag at the four glittering golden eyes staring back, then over at Nightshade, who had moved up to nose-rubbing distance. “You better not die, because I’m not explaining the birds and the bees to your big-eared little siblings,” he murmured.

“Ngmph,” murmured Nightshade, shifting positions and giving out a wince. “I think Twilight Sparkle gave me a shot of morphine. Nothing hurts as much as it should.”

“Probably shock. I’m not feeling it as much—” Jon winced. “Wrong hip,” he added.

“Sorry. Was trying for the buttons.” The inquisitive hoof stopped poking around Jon’s waist, Nightshade coughed slightly, then added, “Which one of you two little troublemakers called out that warning when the soldiers came out of the stairwell?”

There was a brief silence before Puff quietly squeaked, “Me.”

“I saw them first,” said Thistle.

“But I yelled first,” countered Puff.

“But you wouldn’t have yelled if I hadn’t pointed,” said Thistle.

“And we both would be dead if you had not called out a warning,” said Nightshade. Her voice was not projected nearly as forcefully as before, which worried Jon. If it kept getting weaker, she was getting weaker too, and he tried his best to turn the focus to something he could control instead.

“I don’t think either of you were supposed to be on that cloud, either,” said Jon.

“We’re not supposed to ask about sex either,” said Puff in such a matter-of-fact way that Jon almost snorted with laughter. “Mama’s got a whole ‘Later’ list for us.”

“Later’s no fun,” said Thistle. “Nightshade will be back later, little ones. You can have candied apples for dessert later, after your broccoli. You’ll get your cutie marks later, so don’t be impatient.”

“I’m going to have to be patient, Mister Later,” whispered Nightshade as she nestled up to his warm neck. “Oh, I’m so tired. Wish I could sleep. Hurt too bad.”

Jon carefully touched her on the forehead, then peered into her eyes with the red filter on the flashlight. There was a groove on her helmet, and although the bullet had not penetrated, it made one of her golden eyes slightly larger than the other. “Headache?” he asked.

“Two of them.” She laboriously shifted positions to get one foreleg around Puff, who had started to slip down the bag, although she gave up trying to boost the little filly any higher after one weak grunt. “Seriously, I’ve never been this tired before. Or frightened. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I hate to admit it, but I’m glad you’re here too. Anyway, we’re on flight option three, then?” said Jon as he mentally paged through the plans for their hostage rescue mission. The first option had been to simply fly straight through the night along an ocean route between Britain and France, across the Bay of Biscay, and land in Portugal at dawn. The second was to land at Dover to rest, then go on from there. The third, he had not liked very much.

“We’ve got injured ponies and people,” said Nightshade through clenched teeth. “Edinburgh is our best option. Oh God that hurts.”

“Sorry,” said Thistle, and stopped touching her on the chest bandages.

Jon cracked the flap on the pony transport bag and peered out into the windy darkness. “Ember! We’re going to the hospital in Edinburgh, right?”

“Go tell your grandmother how to suck geodes!” snapped Ember. “We’ve been headed there since we left.”

It set Jon back a step, even in his quad-occupied ponybag, and made him look at the violet glowing ponybag directly in front of him where the other human was stored in close proximity to Twilight Sparkle. Hopefully, whatever they were doing in there was friendship related, although there was a lot of wriggling going on from the moving bumps and lumps showing on the moonlit canvas surface. It probably did not involve sex. Probably. Although Twilight had snuck into his own bed that once, and he had read strange things about surges of emotions following near death experiences...

“Already navigating there, Commander,” came Jimmy’s booming voice in response. “The wee lass here is taking star sightings and plotting our course on the map. Ow! Watch the sextant, lassie. Should be about two hours.”

“Two hours and five minutes,” called out Twilight Sparkle. “Adjusting for crosswinds, growing fatigue, migrating seabirds—”

“Two hours,” shouted Jimmy. “I’ve been there before, so I can guide Miss Ember and Miss Ruby to the hospital. You two just stay back there and enjoy the trip.”

“Thank you, Jimmy!” Jon avoided saying anything more about the hefty Canadian enjoying his own trip in such close quarters with a curious female unicorn. Besides, she was still holding the clotting spell on his own injuries, Nightshade’s bullet holes, and most likely Moondancer, wherever she had been stowed. Obviously, she would be too busy for ‘other’ explorations. He settled back down into the bag and pulled the flap shut, then gently discouraged an exploring tail. “That’s not the kind of enjoying the trip he meant.”

“Will you tell us a story?” asked Puff somewhere in the red-lit darkness of the bag. “That would be fun.”

“I bet Nightshade knows all kinds of stories” added Thistle.

“I don’t really feel like talking right now.” Nightshade stifled a short cough and wiped her mouth on his shoulder. “I’ll bet Mister Walthers has all kinds of stories about his adventures, though.”

“I’ve never really had adventures before this… week,” countered Jon weakly. “I mean I’ve been places and seen things, like the pyramids of Egypt and the Valley of the Kings.”

“And motorcars,” prompted Thistle.

“And aeroplanes,” said Puff. “And big giant buildings full of humans and the big white house that the American princess lives in and—”

“Okay, I’ve seen a lot of things that I really don’t appreciate.” Jon took a moment to consider what two small batponies who spent their entire life in a small rocky valley in northern Equestria might think of Washington D.C. with thousands of bustling humans and all the monuments and museums. “I suppose. Provided I don’t bore Nightshade. She’s not supposed to fall asleep until we get to the hospital.” Jon muffled a yawn and considered how cold he was feeling also. “There’s a wool blanket in the bottom of the bag. Ouch! Careful! Ow!”

Just like a real bat, the little batponies had the same tiny ‘thumbnail’ at the upper joint of their membranous wings, allowing them to scale rough surfaces like Jon’s slacks and most of his tweed suit. He provided a convenient ladder for the two tiny terrors to use while retrieving the warm wool blanket, which felt absolutely divine when he got it wrapped around them both. Well, them fourth, counting Thistle and Puff.

“Once upon a time, there was an ordinary young human who decided he wanted to see foreign lands, just like his father had traveled when he was young,” started Jon.

“And he came to Equestria?” Puff gave little hops of joy which turned into quiet immobility at a quelling glance from Jon.

“He went to Egypt,” said Jon. “With a bunch of elderly professors, some eager graduate students, and an Equestrian named A.K. Yearling, who specialized in artifacts.”

- Ω - -

Jon had never thought he was much of a storyteller until the dragon tilted downward and descended through the thick cloud cover for an endless period of time. The cloying greyness lasted far too long before it swept away and the lights of the damp city began to drift into sight. Stiff muscles twinged and his hip gave out a sharp dagger of pain as he checked his watch, gave it a shake to listen to it rattle, then turned to Nightshade, who had been very quiet.

“We’re here,” he murmured in a hoarse voice, trying to keep Thistle and Puff from kicking anything sensitive as they peered over the edge of the ponybag at the growing lights of Edinburgh. “Nightshade?”

There was no response, although her chest seemed to move slightly in the reddish glow of his flashlight. There was far too much dark blood soaking the surface of her bandages for his own hammering heart, and he repeated far too loud, “Nightshade! Twilight, she’s not responding! How close are we to the hospital?”

“Close,” called out Jimmy. “Change course, twelve points to starboard, reduce speed to half, increase your descent!”

“I still can’t see anything much past my nose!” growled Ruby.

“I’ve never landed in a city!” shouted Ember.

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight Sparkle came nearly all the way out of her ponybag, with Jimmy holding her around the waist again while she pointed. “Fly ahead of Ruby and guide her. We need to land in the parking lot behind the hospital, next to the doors on the north side.”

“Got it!” A colorful blur streaked in front of Ruby’s nose and began to shape her descent to a streetlight-lit building below.

“We’re almost there,” said Jon just as calmly as he could to the immobile batpony. “Hang in there, Nightshade.”

“Coming up on your landing flare,” called out Jimmy. “When we get on the ground, let me do the talking. They’re not going to take ponies seriously, and they’ll run away from the beautiful lady transporting us.”

Jon wanted to say something about the entirely too small space in the car park they were headed down toward, mostly about it being entirely too small, and partially about the number of cars about to get crushed.

And they did crunch rather dramatically when the dragon backwinged to a halt and dropped to the pavement, with only a few passers-by in the darkness taking the time to gawk at the unexpected sight.

Jimmy launched himself out of the ponybag and headed for the glass doors of the hospital, bellowing at the top of his lungs. The few nurses and patients stumbling outside were all in mute shock, partially due to the immense dragon resting in the wreckage of their expensive automobiles, and mostly because of Jimmy’s prolific profanity delivered at maximum volume and point-blank range.

“Aye, ye frightened bairns! Ah'm needin' a gurney fur General Nightshade an’ the rest o’ my soldiers, any doctor ye ken, an' Ah'm needin' them noo! Git movin’, ye gowks! My grandma cuid shift quicker than that!“

Ponies began to flow down the sides of the dragon as they popped out of the bags and helped the wounded even as a few policemen’s whistles could be heard in the background. It was a chaotic mess that faded in and out of his vision, because not all of the blood soaking the wool blanket and the ponybag was Nightshade’s, after all.

Twilight Sparkle did not even try to lift Nightshade and Jon out of the bag when the second gurney trundled up in the hands of a white-eyed orderly. A single slice of her magic opened the bag like a popped soap bubble, and she floated them both down to ground level.

“I don’t know if she’s breathing,” said Jon, who was trying his best to stand on either numb leg that several hours stuffed into the ponybag had not helped. “She’s going to need blood and surgery at the least! You have to—”

The touch of a hoof on his fly nearly made Jon jump out of his sodden boots. He looked down at Nightshade, looking so small and frail on the white sheets of the gurney, although with a tiny smile curling up the corner of her lips and letting bright white teeth glitter in the streetlights.

“Gotcha,” she whispered.

It was too much for Jon to handle between the shock and blood loss, and he let the darkness carry him away.

Author's Note

Profanity courtesy of Carabas, author of many wonderful stories of deep complexity and time well spent. When I was troubled by finding just the right language, I went straight to the expert. :)

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20. The Long Good Buy

Equestria : 1940
Friday 5 July - Western General Hospital, Edinburgh

“Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad. Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer.”
— Romans 13:1-4

It was not prison. It was not a grave. It also was not freedom. But the hospital bed that Jon remained on was life, and his short trip into Norway with his pony friends had made him appreciate that living more than any other time in his… well, life.

War complicated everything. Britain was at war, so if one of their soldiers had made a daring raid into occupied Norway, rescued a half-dozen hostages, and blew up some sort of strategic base, he would be heralded as a hero. The United States was very much not at war, and the instinctive reaction of the British system was to politely (in British fashion) detain him until somebody important somewhere else could make a decision. That meant no newspapers, no visitors, and no news from the outside world at all except for Twilight Sparkle’s brief communication a few days ago.

It had been his first attempt at using a crutch to get around and do some bathroom tasks, although he still could not bend his hip. At least it let him pee without a bedpan, and brush his own teeth so he felt less like an invalid. He had nearly spit out his toothbrush when Twilight’s reflection showed up in the bathroom mirror instead of his own, although he had been wearing the hospital gown so he was not caught totally flat barefooted.

She had given him a short briefing: They were going home.

Apparently, nobody had ordered them to stay at the hospital, and a Twilight left to her own devices went wherever she thought she needed to go. Since Moondancer had been stabilized with a cast on her leg and horn, getting her the best medical treatment possible was their primary concern. A shattered horn was an almost unthinkable injury for a unicorn, and the only specialists were in Manehattan.

Ruby had taken just a few minutes with an eye specialist and a pair of pliers earlier to deal with the metal fragments before being declared cured, and managed the almost impossible task of becoming ignorable afterwards by simply curling up behind the hospital’s hedges and pretending to sleep, so their transportation was set. Ember was… conflicted about the journey, mostly because of having to break the news about Stone and face up to her father the Dragonlord about defying his orders to stay behind. All of Twilight’s friends were prepared for the trip, including Jimmy and most of the batpony mares…

Except Nightshade.

She was still being held isolated from anypony else after having gone through four surgeries, so several of the female batponies were staying behind as emergency blood donors, just in case. And although Doctor Prickle was less than congenial, he was one of the best trauma surgeons in all of Britain. Seven bullets and fragments had been dug out of her stubborn hide, where they had done substantial damage to her wings and several internal organs in the process.

The humans involved in the rescue were… each dealing with the results in their own way. Doctor Houtermans was under military detainment, where he undoubtedly was answering all kinds of questions about the operation with “I don’t know. I had my eyes closed and was begging for my life at the time.” Jimmy’s role had transitioned into ‘Canadian Armed Forces Equestrian Liaison Officer’ and as such had refused to answer any questions until he could consult with his superiors, whoever or wherever they might be, so he had managed to stay close to the ponies and would likewise be leaving with them. The kidnapped guards (or rescued, depending on the point of view) had been taken away by the British government. It turned out they were Slovaks caught at the wrong place at the wrong time and drafted into Hitler’s service. Apparently, they bore Jon no ill will for killing one of their own, only a debt of gratitude for their own lives and most likely a permanent phobia about dragons in the night.

In any event, Ruby and Twilight's friends had vanished the next evening, on their way home through the clouded night. And as much as Jon would have liked a jailbreak for himself, it would have meant leaving Nightshade behind for any more surgeries she might need. Besides, his right hip and left arm still were nowhere near recovered, and sitting inside one of the ponybags for twelve hours or so would have most likely killed him. Hell, sitting in bed for most of the day without a word from Nightshade was doing the trick pretty well on its own, even if he was permitted to hobble around with a crutch for a few minutes a day.

“All right, let me see about my patient,” grumbled the unicorn doctor who trudged into the front door of the hospital room. He eyed the uniformed officer sitting in a chair at the side of the room and cleared his throat. “That means get out.”

The police officer, who really did not want to be there in the first place, looked up with a sudden convulsive jerk. “I’m sorry, Doctor Prickle, but—”

“Get out.” The unicorn lowered his head, and entirely not by coincidence, his horn. “I’ve got some sensitive doctor stuff to do with this human, and I don’t want you contaminating the room while I’m doing it. So out.”

To be honest, Jon liked the unicorn doctor, he just was not sure if the unicorn doctor liked any pony or human in return. The ‘coincidence’ that put a unicorn trauma surgeon on one of the alternative exit routes for the hostage rescue mission… well, it certainly was not a coincidence, but finding one with a bedside manner would have been nice. Still, as prickly as the old unicorn was, he seemed extra-pokey this morning, and somehow just the slightest bit… off.

“Off with the sheets, boy. Let’s have a look at you.” Prickle put one hoof on the bed release and stood patiently while the mattress hissed down to the bottom of its travel, putting Jon at nose level with the shorter unicorn. Behind Dr. Prickle, the door closed, but he obviously was paying attention to it because his green magic scooted a chair over underneath the doorknob. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Shyness was not making him slow, the quantity of bandaging was. The bullet Dr. Prickle had pulled out of Jon’s shoulder had cracked his shoulderblade, and the one that had caromed off his hipbone had left some small fragments behind, so the invasive surgery to correct the damages had left him nearly immobile. Prickle hmm’d and umm’d his way along Jon’s ribcage, giving him a series of pokes with a cold hoof until releasing a satisfied grunt at the end.

“So why did you bring back the changeling?” he asked out of the blue.

“What? Um… What?”

“The bug-pony that was down in the morgue,” continued the doctor, moving around the head end of the bed and examining Jon’s ears. “Most people would have just left the gruesome thing there. Shot full of holes and with a broomstick stuck through its chest, like some sort of vampire, and you stuffed it into a body bag and brought it back. Why?”

“It… Well, she was Lemon Hearts. Or at least she looked like Lemon Hearts at one time,” started Jon, not feeling too secure in his logical argument. “She was one of Celestia’s ponies who worked with them, lived with them, and was imprisoned with them. It didn’t feel right to leave her behind, no matter what.”

“That was not one of Celestia’s little ponies,” said Prickle with a hint of steel in his voice. “She belonged to Queen Chrysalis, ruler of the changelings, and sworn enemy to Celestia.”

“Even so, Celestia would have wanted me to bring the body back home,” said Jon, feeling more comfortable with every word. “She cares.”

“Caring is the mark of fools and weaklings,” spat the doctor, who sounded much different than a few moments ago. When a much taller pony with a dark chitinous coat and jagged holes through her legs stepped out from behind Jon’s bed, he was almost expecting it. After all, it had been several days since he had the bejebbers shocked out of him by ponies, and he was far overdue.

“Queen Chrysalis, I presume,” started Jon with a brief nod. “Forgive me if I do not rise.”

He used the time while Chrysalis spluttered to look the queen over, from her ratty mane that seemed to be all snarls and knots to long limbs that had to be strong despite the holes in them. While Celestia and Luna were swans, the changeling queen was more of a rat, chewed over with holes and bites taken out of her but all the more dangerous for it. He had to wonder just how close changelings were related to ponies if they could disguise themselves as one, or if perhaps there were more changelings scattered among the pony populace than either Celestia or Chrysalis knew about. She certainly was a striking member of her species, with a feline grace and restrained power all her own. And if she had been a thorn in Celestia’s side for a long time, it was possible…

“Were you and your changelings at the Garden of Eden also?” he asked. “My Master’s thesis was supposed to be about the Eden theory, but I received enough resistance to the idea that I had to change it. If you’ve got a few hours, I’d love to interview… Or maybe not,” he added when he got a look at the changeling queen’s angry green eyes.

“I will be asking the questions and making demands here,” she snapped.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Jon, making sure to use the right form of address. “How may I assist you?”

“You can take a message to Celestia for me,” said Chrysalis. “Tell her—” The changeling’s lips curled up when she saw Jon grab his notepad and fountain pen, but she hesitated long enough for him to get ready. “Truce.”

“Truce?” echoed Jon, still holding his pen over the paper.

“What, do I have to spell out it for you?” snapped Chrysalis. “Until this… atrocity in Europe is over, I shall not move against her rule. I know all about the German chemical plants, and their rocketry program. My changelings are just as vulnerable to those poisons as her ponies.”

“If we do not hang together, we will certainly hang separately,” murmured Jon as he wrote. “Is that all? No assistance?”

The changeling queen’s dark lips curled back in a cruel smile. “What is the rule when dealing with creatures of the Fey, Doctor Walthers?”

He swallowed a sudden dry lump in his throat. “Don’t ask for things. You won’t like it.”

“Exactly.” There was a shimmering of green magic and ‘Doctor Prickle’ began to stroll toward the outside door. “I understand now why that bloated, cake-stuffed snob likes you, Walthers. Oh, and just one thing.”

He stopped with the door held part-way open and looked back with a glitter of green in his amber eyes. “At the garden, who do you think talked Eve into eating the apple?” The disguised changeling’s forked tongue flickered out for just a moment, and Doctor Prickle laughed as he trotted away.

- Ω - -

The changeling queen’s visit galvanized Jon into doing what he should have been doing all along instead of just sitting and feeling sorry for himself. An Army After-Action Report was properly dry as library paste, and very difficult to frame when certain phrases kept floating into his mind.

At oh nine hundred thirty hours, was met by the disguised supreme monarch of a previously unidentified race of insect-ponies called ‘changelings’ and pressed into service to carry a message to the diarchs of Equestria with regards to their mutual defense against German allied powers. Said monarch implied that she was a member of the Fey race (see Elves, Mythology) and had once taken on the role of Satan in early Christian history (see Genesis, Garden of Eden). The first statement has some basis in the literature, but the veracity of second statement is unknown.

Whatever the final version of his report, it would most likely be classified so high that even President Roosevelt might have to stand on a chair to see it.

Lunch proved a fair distraction, with the real Doctor Prickle coming by to give him a quick check, and an old battleaxe of a nurse who seemed to take it as a personal affront that his visit interfered with her feeding schedule. Jon could not help but wonder if she was in actuality Queen Chrysalis in disguise, although the changeling had been slightly more polite.

He suspected he would be having such concerns for quite a few of the upcoming weeks, more so when a slender man in a pinstripe suit poked his overly large nose into the room right after lunch was over. From his brusk mannerisms and authoritative tone, he was representing the substantially higher local authority that Jon had been dreading.

“Beg pardon, Officer Bock,” he said to the current police officer who had been sitting in a chair to one side. “I’m Mr. Thompson. You are relieved. Mister Walthers is about to have guests.”

“He’s not permitted,” said the officer. “I’ve got my orders straight from the precinct.”

“These are the exceptions,” said Thompson. He went about the job of a properly paranoid policeman, checking for bombs under the bed and making sure Jon did not have a revolver concealed in his copious bandages, then returned to the door to wait.

He did not wait long.

The two men who came through the door next were anything but alike, and yet they seemed inseparable. One was tall, aristocratic, and well kept with a fine suit and graceful mannerisms, while the other was a stodgy lump wearing a comfortable wrinkled jacket and carrying a tattered briefcase. It was a little puzzling at first to realize the two of them were quite nearly the same height, only carrying themselves differently like an English Whippet and an English Bulldog. Jon did not recognize them at first glance, but from the way the remaining police officer in the room stiffened into a rigid salute and stood there trembling, they could only be two people.

Jon struggled to get out of bed, only to have the somewhat taller of the two men step forward and hold out his hand, palm down.

“Please remain seated, Doctor Walthers.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Technically, he was King George VI, or Albert something Windsor, but after spending so much time with Celestia lately, Jon was a little afraid of calling him something like Al, and his rotund shadow Winnie. Just in case, he pulled the hospital blanket up a little higher and put on his best ‘visiting royalty of the non-insectile variety’ face.

“Beg pardon for not coming to see you earlier,” said King George. “We had a busy last few weeks, what with the French Armistice and such.”

“I’ve heard there’s a war on,” said Jon despite himself.

“A much larger war, now that Equestria has involved itself without informing us, and without a word over the last two weeks.” The king reached inside his suit pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes, which he shared with his prime minister and his American guest. Most likely there was some sort of hospital rule against smoking in a patient’s room, but king, so phooey on that particular rule for now.

“You Yanks and your horses certainly have knocked the Germans in the teeth,” said Churchill, who from the expression on his face would much rather have been smoking a cigar, or better, holding a machine gun jammed into the guts of certain politicians. “I had members of Parliament climbing up my arse since I made that damnable speech, half of them wanting to roll on their backs and show their fat bellies to the Germans, the other half demanding that we launch some sort of half-assed attack straight into their army and get a bunch of fine young men ground into sausage for their own bloated pride. Then no more than four nights later, I get woke up in the middle of the night by security and hustled over to a wireless to listen to the best night of my life. Bloody reports from all over the continent that night, and here you show up in the middle of Edinburgh on a dragon of all things, just waltzing into the hospital all shot full of holes.” He leaned forward in his chair, which creaked alarmingly. “How’d you manage to pull it off?”

“I believe,” started Jon slowly, “that I should report to Princess Celestia first, and have her tell you what she thinks you should know. That being said,” he added with increasing speed, because these were two humans he really did not want to cross. “Why don’t you tell me what the public has heard, and I’ll confirm anything that you’re going to find out is true eventually anyway. After all, I know she has worked with your government before, since she approved Nightshade to work with your espionage service. MI6, I believe,” added Jon in what was more or less an educated guess, since British Intelligence only officially had five branches, and Nightshade had never actually said exactly where she was assigned.

“Nightshade?” asked His Majesty.

“One of those devil horses,” said Churchill. “We’ll discuss it later.”

“She fought for you,” said Jon levelly. “She killed for you, and she very nearly died when we went to rescue the ponies held in Trondheim. I think she deserves better than to be called a devil.”

Winston Churchill did not respond at once, but opened his briefcase and dug among the papers inside, eventually extracting one bundle and handing it over to Jon. It turned out to be transcripts of an intercepted communication from a frantic radio operator somewhere in Germany, who had been having a very bad night indeed.

“Burning demons from Hell,” murmured Jon as he flipped the pages. “Bullets don’t stop it. Batwinged devil. Black death on the wind. Five minutes of incoherent screaming. Fire and blood, so much blood. Ah,” he added, poking a finger at the page. “Golden wingless dragon. That probably means the estate at Cecilienhof. It must not have gone quite so easily as Ping thought. I hope none of the ponies were hurt.”

“What kind of devilish weapon does your horse-queen have?” huffed Churchill.

“No devils that I know of,” mused Jon. “Although according to some of the legends, Kirin can turn into a burning creature called a Nirik, and all of the batponies are technically winged Kirin, so the Germans may have pissed off one of the rescue force in a way they really should not have. Maybe they threatened a hostage.”

“And the military strikes against Peenemünde and Münster,” said the king. “Those were not among the sites that intelligence had pegged as pony detention facilities. Some of the fires still haven’t been put out. Is there a particular reason they both blew sky-high that night also?”

“That’s… different,” said Jon. “I suppose it will be public knowledge, and if anybody deserves to know about it, you two should. Germany threatened Equestria.”

“My ancestors could have told the chancellor that was a particularly unwise thing to do,” said King George flatly.

“Indeed.” Churchill nodded. “When I became a minister, I was specifically briefed on Her Highness, and I have met the lady on several occasions. She is not one to be trifled with.”

“They,” said Jon. “She has a sister.” For one brief moment, Jon considered finding whatever the hospital had done with the five misshapen lumps of lead he had left in his ruined tweed jacket’s pocket and showing them to his guests, but decided against it.

“We know she has a sister,” admitted the king. “Now. France’s Admiral Darlan refused to accept the possibility. Admiral Gensoul did. Somehow after a week and a half of absolute silence from Equestria, yesterday she spirited five destroyers and a seaplane tender of the French fleet out of Mers El Kébir right under our fleet’s nose. Equestria now has a navy. God save us all.”

Jon took one last puff on his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on his bedside table before getting out his notebook and fountain pen. “Your Majesty, I would love to hear that story. As a historian.”

“And I would like to hear about your trip into Norway,” countered King George as he lit a second cigarette off the burning embers of the last one. “Particularly since we are going to have to deal with the repercussions.”

“I’d imagine the Germans are frantic.” Jon flipped back a few pages in his notebook to his draft report for whoever his commanding officer was at the moment. “Your government too. Ten strikes right into the heart of Germany and Italy. If Celestia can do this to them, she could do this to anybody. Including Britain.” He eyed the king and prime minister, trying to figure out just when he had gone from giving briefings to petty bureaucrats in Washington D.C. to giving foreign policy advice to the Great Powers.

“How does this sound? I’ll tell you how I wound up getting sucked into this, you tell me generally what you’ve heard over the last two weeks, and we’ll all try to figure out just what an immortal goddess-horse is up to. I have to warn you, though. It will only make sense if we had brandy.”

* * ✹ * *

It helped Jon to walk through the steps of the last few weeks, starting his story when he received The Letter, and stopping when the dragons all rose up into the sky, each carrying humans and Equestrians ready to save the hostages held half a world away.

“I wish I could have been there to see it,” said King George after a long pause. “Dragons. I’ve read all the reports, but there hasn’t been a dragon in Britain since my grandfather’s age.”

“Blasted good thing, if you ask me,” growed Churchill, who had been taking his own copious notes while Jon was talking. Their bodyguard had opened the hospital windows since storytelling and cigarette smoking went well together, and the prime minister was apparently engaged in a mental argument about lighting up a cigar.

“It was… terrifying,” admitted Jon. “Humbling. It made me feel as if I were an ant, clinging to a giant. And yet, I would not be here had not one of the dragons sacrificed his own life to save us. Don’t think that they are like us, or even generally like us, but they are creatures with their own codes of conduct and honor. Now,” he added, checking his fountain pen and flipping to a blank page on his notebook. “What has happened since I’ve been here?”

“Long or the short?” said Churchill. “Because if it’s the long, we could be here for days, and we don’t have that much time away from London. There’s still evacuations in process from France, and the Germans could invade us at any time if they were blasted idiots. In short, notwithstanding the damage the Equestrians did in their raids, the Jerrys have good and stomped the frogs, and it’ll take them a time to swallow them up. They’re setting up a puppet government in Vichy to rule in their stead, and God only knows where they’ll go from there. We had to send the fleet to Mers El Kébir in Algeria to sink the French fleet in port there, because if the Germans got their hands on those ships and brought them north, they could have sailed right across the English Channel.”

“Princess Celestia mentioned something about that,” mused Jon. “Something about Admiral Darlan talking to the Germans.”

“It would not surprise me, since there were reports of German troops all around his house,” growled Churchill. “All it would have taken was one telegram to their local admirals and the Germans would have doubled their navy. We had to disable or capture every French ship we could before that order went out, so two nights ago, we boarded every French ship in allied or neutral ports and put them under our control.”

“Except Mers El Kébir,” said Jon.

“True.” Churchill brought out the cigar he had been fidgeting with, nipped the end off with a cutter, and spent a few minutes bringing it into proper order. After blowing out a brief puff of smoke, he dug into his briefcase and produced several sheets of paper that had what appeared to be decrypted messages on them.

“At noon on the third, negotiations had broken down to the point where we ordered the Ark Royal to air-drop a series of mines across the harbor mouth. Seems the French were not impressed with the negotiator we sent, since they thought that only an admiral should hobnob with their admiral. Well, they didn’t have one who spoke English, and we didn’t have one who spoke French, so that was spot out until your Celestia and her sister just dropped out of the sky and landed on Admiral Somerville’s deck just like they owned the place.”

“Celestia does have a way of showing up when you least expect it,” admitted Jon, thinking about how he had been rousted out of his bedroom and sent to Ponyville. “When necessary,” he added.

“Anyway,” huffed Churchill, “after a brief discussion, the two of them fly over to Admiral Gensoul’s ship, and three hours later, here comes a seaplane tender and five destroyers, like a mother duck and her ducklings, waddling out of the harbor while flying Equestrian colors. The rest of the French fleet are settling at their moorings with sailors streaming off them like rats, Admiral Somerville is radioing up a storm back to England, and Celestia’s sister goes steaming past the HMS Hood like she’s out on a summer tour, waving at the sailors as she passes. Then she sends a message to him.”

Churchill wordlessly passed over a telegraph sheet with a single line of text.

NOTHING IN ADMIRAL GENSOUL’S ORDERS COVERED PIRACY STOP YARRR STOP

Struck speechless, Jon could do nothing but look at the paper while Churchill continued. “About six, lookouts from the fleet spot Celestia taking off, flying around the anchored French ships, then returning to the Hood. She informs him that the crews have been evacuated, the dockworkers close to the harbor ordered to move away, and that if he wished to carry out his orders, he could fire when ready. And he did. Put a couple of fifteen-inch shells into every ship in the harbor until their magazines went up without the shore batteries returning a single shell. The Germans won’t be raising them any time soon, and the only casualties were an aircrew involved in mining the harbor who got shot down.”

“I can’t argue with her methods,” said King George, who was morosely peeling the paper off his last cigarette butt. “I just wish I knew why she was in Algeria.”

“Shopping.” Princess Celestia pranced in through the hospital room door, looking more happy and healthy than Jon had ever seen her. She fairly glowed with joy, giving the poor police officer who had risen off his chair in a futile effort to block her a quick hug and a similar beaming smile.

“Officer Bock! Your police commissioner says such nice things about you. I’m so glad to see he trusted you with this assignment. Make sure to remind me before I go, because I brought a little present for your newborn. Oh, and Detective Thompson!”

She glided across the room and gave the older large-nosed officer a full, two-armed hug with wings. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again! How’s Mary? I know she doesn’t like it when you’re apart so often. We’ll have to have tea again sometime when our paths cross again. And Winston!”

It only took two steps for Celestia to reach Winston Churchill, who she gave an even more engulfing hug. “Oh, Winston,” she added with him still wrapped up in her forelegs. “You’re going through such a difficult time. I promise I’ll help you as much as I can, even though it doesn’t seem like nearly enough.”

“Ma’am,” said Churchill, somewhat muffled by all the feathers, “you have always done me right, no matter the circumstances, and I welcome your assistance on behalf of all Britons.”

“Thank you, Winston.” Celestia disengaged her hug, then turned sparkling eyes on King George. “Oh, Bertie,” she added with a slow shaking of her head. “It’s been far too long. Last time I saw you was—”

“I pulled your tail, I believe,” said the king, who was smiling despite the seriousness of the situation. “Mother was furious, although later she did ask me how I was able to grab it. Princess, I—”

“Just a moment, Bertie,” admonished Celestia. “Luna, come in, please.”

Jon had become accustomed to Luna rather swiftly. He attributed the flexibility to to his experiences during his week in Equestria, peaking when the older sister had scooped him out of his bed dressed only in his boxer shorts.

Well, no. Having to shoot Luna several times had really accelerated the accommodation process beyond all reason.

In any event, his personal experiences with Equestrian alicorns made any other interactions with lesser insanity less dramatic. In hindsight, he really should have expected the gobstopped reaction of King George and Winston Churchill when Luna quietly eased her way through the doorway and stopped, as if she were hesitant to approach the tobacco-reeking meeting. Both of the humans stared wide-eyed in abject silence at the dark alicorn, who looked faded and wan in the sunlight that poured in through the curtains, which made Jon carefully pick up the conversational ball and give it a gentle lob in the right direction.

“Your Highness, Princess Luna,” he began, “may I introduce His Majesty, King George the Sixth of the United Kingdom and the Dominions of the British Commonwealth, and his Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. Your Majesty, Minister. May I present Princess Luna, the younger and ever so slightly more beautiful sister of Her Highness, Princess Celestia of Equestria.”

Luna blushed crimson. Celestia gave him a light thwap from one wingtip, but still smiled.

“So what brings the two of you to my hospital bed?” asked Jon for lack of any better thing to say.

“Well, we had to stop in and check up on Nightshade,” started Celestia in a completely matter-of-fact voice as if divine goddess rulers of nations made it a rule to visit foreign hospitals where lowly soldiers were being treated. Then again, she was here, so it was not totally beyond the pale. “We were going to travel to Court of St. James’s and meet with Bertie next, but to our joy, we found him here also.”

“Ah,” said Jon, nodding his head at the king. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, Your Majesty. I only wish we had more time, but I don’t want to get in the way of your meeting.”

“Not so fast, Doctor Walthers,” countered Celestia. Several nearby cabinets opened up in her soft violet magic, and two pillows were placed on the floor next to his bed. “If you have not told Bertie about your trip into Norway, Luna and I would like to hear about it too. Reading about such things in stuffy reports always takes the excitement out of the experience.” She plunked her rump right down on the pillow and put on an air of divine anticipation of the upcoming story, which her sister duplicated almost identically to her side.

“Eh…” Jon exchanged a look with his two human guests in the hopes that one of them would throw him a conversational life ring, but both of them seemed more than happy to sit and watch somebody else get Celestia’d for a change. In all odds, they both had been through the experience before. “So before I start, what were you doing in Algeria, Princess Celestia?”

“Just coming back home after we did some shopping.” Celestia waved a dismissive hoof. “The speed which the German and Italian forces advanced left many airfields overrun before all of their aircraft could be flown out. It seemed such a waste to leave them. It only took six pegasi to harness themselves up and fly out an airplane in the middle of the night, with one pilot in the seat to work the controls. The freighters we landed them on will take a circuitous southern route back to Equestria, as not to run into any submarines, so it may take a few weeks or more to get them back to San Franciscolt and refurbished for pony use.”

“I see,” said Jon, more than a little stunned. He nodded, picturing waves of pegasi guards making midnight raids on airfields in southern France and floating their ill gotten booty down to dark freighters laying in wait. It certainly was a more productive use of their time after the hostage rescuing than just flying home, and another indication that Celestia played her games for keeps.

“They’ll make good replacements for the Airacobras we had on order from the US,” continued Celestia. “It seems though some terrible accident of shipping, they got loaded on a series of freighters headed for Cardiff instead. They should be showing up within the next week or so, Bertie. I hope you can find a use for them.”

“I… believe we can,” said the king.

The Celestial Empress gives and her Pirate Sister takes… Oh.

“So the French ships you stole—”

“Captured,” corrected Celestia. “Spoils of a mysterious pirate princess who spirited them away with their crew for a life on the high seas.”

“Yarr,” said Luna quietly.

“There was no way we could possibly handle the cruiser and the battleships at Mers El Kébir,” continued Celestia. “They draw too much water under the hull for Equestrian docking facilities, and have far too many crew for us to manage. So we opened the scuttling valves on them and told the crew that the ammunition would all explode in a few hours. Admiral Gensoul barely had to give the order before the crews were evacuating.”

“And you took one last pass over the sinking vessels to make sure nobody had been left behind before going back to the British fleet and watching them open fire on the abandoned hulls,” added Jon. “Very tidy.”

Celestia’s smile thinned. “The British were going to open fire regardless. The French refused to believe it. The slaughter would have been unforgivable. And yet, I understand why you gave your orders,” she added, turning to Winston Churchill, who had become very quiet, without even the scratching of his pencil in his own notebook. “Sometimes when we are not even at war, we find ourselves doing terrible things to prevent far worse. We can only pray that we are right.”

“A righteous notion indeed, Your Highness.” Churchill checked his watch and scowled at the time, as if he were able to change it with the proper discouraging expression. Celestia picked up on his motion without a pause.

“Our time here is limited, I’m afraid. Luna and I will be traveling with Bertie to London in about an hour, if the train being held at the station is yours, of course.” At the king’s positive nod, she flowed into the rest of her sentences with the grace and unexpectedness that Jon had come to expect. “We’ll have to find Cadence and Shining Armor a room in Windsor Castle, and their personal staff, of course. I expect young Elizabeth will have no end of questions for them, since she’s going through that awkward teenage phase right now. Did you know Shining Armor has enough power to put a shield spell over an entire city, Bertie? If the Germans try to bomb anything around him, they’re going to get quite a surprise. So Jon, if you will please give us a summary of your experiences in Norway, we can be off with the rest of our evening. Start where you and Ruby passed through the portal, be brief, but detailed, and I expect your and Nightshade’s full written report by the end of next week, or I shall be greatly disappointed.”

To Jon’s secret horror, Celestia’s magic lit up, one of Churchill’s cigars floated out of his suit pocket and over to her, where she delicately nipped the end off with her teeth, spat it into the nearby trash can, and proceeded to take a puff.

Alicorns have their own built-in magical cigar lighter. Who knew?

“Sister!” chided Luna with a deep scowl.

“Oh! Sorry, Luna.” A second cigar quickly followed the same path out of a smirking Winston Churchill’s pocket, and in mere moments, both alicorns were quietly puffing away while watching Jon with mischievous eyes. “Only one or two a decade,” explained Celestia. “Don’t tell anypony, but I’ve never been able to resist the occasional La Aroma deCuba. Now, proceed with your recollection of events, Mister Walthers.”

He did.

(Although he left out the part about Queen Chrysalis until he could catch Celestia alone for a moment. There were limits, after all.)

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21. Papers and Predictions

Equestria : 1940
Thursday 8 August - Hospital Outpatient Recovery Center

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.”
— Ephesians 6:12

Jon opened one eye and looked at his alarm clock.

His alarm clock looked back. Unfortunately, there was no way to turn this one off.

“It’s eight o’clock Mister Walthers,” chirped Laminia, who had plunged into the role of volunteer nurse with far too much enthusiasm. “We’ve let you sleep in enough, lazy monkey. Time to get up with the rest of the patients. Some of them are off to their jobs already.”

“I’m up,” he muttered, then when the nurse did not leave, he repeated the lie. “I said I’m up.”

It did not work. Laminia clamped her jaws down on the bedsheets and gave a brisk tug.

At least he still had his boxer shorts on, although the bandages around his hip made them sag in unexpected places, and forced him to keep the string fairly loose. He stumbled out of bed at the continued prodding of the outpatient nurse, took a limited sponge bath, and considered his shortened hair, which could probably go another day without shampoo. His shoulder had almost healed all the way up except for a bright pink puckered scar which twinged when he moved too fast, but the hip was going to take a few more weeks before he would be able to leave the cane behind.

Once the nurse had gotten him into his uniform jacket, Lieutenant Walthers looked almost military, except for the baggy sweatpants and the loafers. The full uniform would have to wait until he could touch his toes again, perhaps next week.

His fellow participants on the rescue mission had fared both better and worse than him. Jimmy had dropped him a letter every week, detailing his medical recovery but little else due to censorship, other than baseball team critique. Moondancer was recuperating in Manehattan, although her letters were being censored fairly hard, so she must have still been working on whatever heavy water project she had been under the Germans. Derpy was out delivering mail, and testing the structural integrity of the buildings by accidentally ramming into them at odd times during her erratic flights. And Nightshade…

“Come on, pokey butt. You’re going to be late.” Laminia walked very carefully into the kitchen where Jon was adjusting his tie in the mirror, stood up on her hind legs, and adjusted it for him. The two bullet holes in her dark crippled wing had almost healed up, and were covered by a pair of pink Band-Aides, while the bandage around her middle that covered a smaller bullet hole was merely a decoration by now. The dark pegasi healed remarkably fast, although part of that could be credited to Laminia’s iron determination not to be helpless in any way. Her coltfriend, though…

“So, are you planning on spending all day at the hospital with Anpan again?” asked Jon with a sideways glance. “I heard they’ve been pushing a bed up next to his so you can sleep together.”

“We talk,” said Laminia with a faint pinking tinge to her dark ears. “It’s just more comfortable to talk to him lying down, since he still has the catheter in, and they’ve only got part of the casts on his wings peeled back.”

“He picked up thirty-seven bullet holes and a cutie mark,” mused Nightshade, who took that moment to come strolling into the kitchen of the recovery center. She nuzzled her friend and fellow recovery-ee, then fixed her with a stern expression. “Be sure to remind him that the goal of a guard is to dodge the bullets, no matter what his special talent is. And speaking of bullet magnets...”

Moving on to Jon, Nightshade gave him a sharp tug on his baggy sweatpants, which remained intact. “Gonna get those off yet,” she muttered, giving him an affectionate nip on the leg instead.

“Once we’re both healed up and back in shape, we’ll talk,” countered Jon as he had every morning. “Until then, I believe you have an appointment at the hospital to see if you’re ready to get these—” he rapped his knuckles against the plaster casts across her back “—removed.”

“About time,” she groused, giving him a gentle nudge toward the door that only hurt a little when she bumped his hip. “My itches have itches. Gonna buy you a gallon of baby oil and spend a week doing nothing but having you rub ‘em.”

“After our jobs, of course.” Jon picked up the briefcase sitting on the table and the unopened packet that the night courier had delivered, along with several newspapers. “My orders fresh from my elders and betters at Washington D.C., the Times both New York and London, the Manehattan Sun, and a copy of the Quibbler for Twilight,” he quipped while opening up the seal on the packet. “Celestia’s spooks do good work. You could never tell it’s been opened and copied.”

“Roosevelt should just make her a second copy,” groused Nightshade while sticking a couple of carrots out of the icebox into her carrying bag. “It would take all of her fun out of it.”

“She’d just have to compare copies to make sure I’m not getting any secret orders from the General Staff.” Jon flipped back a few pages. “Not much unclassified on mine. The USSR annexed a couple of countries I can’t pronounce. Germany still hasn’t invaded Britain yet, but they’ve nipped a bit around the edges. Yours?”

“Not much. The St. Louis finally got that engine problem fixed, so it’s going to put out from San Franciscolt tomorrow and head back to Germany. For some reason, none of the Jewish passengers wanted to go back, so Celestia’s giving them a spot to stay until she can send them somewhere else. I’m starting to think the mechanical failure that made them dock in Equestria wasn’t accidental.”

“You’re just being paranoid,” said Jon while checking the comics. “Anything else?”

“A few things Celestia wanted leaked your way. I put the whole packet in your briefcase so you can carry it for me like a proper gentlecolt.” Nightshade yawned broadly. “Come on, let’s get over to the hospital. When we’re done, we can grab lunch and hit the library. You can read the lies in the newspaper, study, and write up stuff.”

“While you nap in the cushions,” added Jon.

“And I’ll watch over the lunkhead in the hospital,” said Lamina, who had left her traditional cloak off in the baking heat of the Ponyville summer sun. Since her near-death experience with the hostage rescue team, she liked showing off her scarred back to all of the town’s ponies. Jon secretly thought it was just for the shock value, although she claimed it was just a happy coincidence. She bounced over to the door and held it open, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, don’t be such lazybutts.”

Laminia trotted ahead of Jon and Nightshade, who walked together slowly down the narrow cobblestoned road, him with a cane and her with him to lean against. Ignoring the flouncing batpony up ahead, Jon ran his fingers through the shortened mane on Nightshade’s neck and gave out a short huff of breath. “At least we should have a more peaceful time of our lives now. Two dragons, a human, and six ponies⁽*⁾ never came back. Our peace was purchased at a high price.”
(*) An incorrect sum, since one dragon, a human, and two ponies had just returned after a trans-Atlantic flight to Peru, because they had to take an unstable magical artifact back to its Aztec temple before it exploded and destroyed the world. For details, check your bookstands for Daring Do and the Teyacapan Heart, out soon.

“I’ll take it, since I don’t think Celestia or Luna will be dropping us into anything more exciting than papercuts and report writing,” said Nightshade. “The great powers of the world are going to war, and Equestria is just a mouse compared to them.” She wrinkled up her nose and gave Jon an endearing squeak, much like a squeeze toy.

“A mouse that bit them on the butt pretty hard.” Jon held his tongue for a while as they walked. Being a military advisor for two divine horsie diarchs as the sole human representative for a hundred or so miles was still a pretty heavy responsibility, although with little chance of getting shot. It did come with an awful lot of paperwork, and he had typed more pages of reports on the manual typewriter in Twilight’s oak library than he had ever dreamed of before. Loud noises still made him flinch, and Ponyville thunderstorms were less an act of nature and more of a performance in percussion from the weather team, which did not help. “I think I can take a little boredom for a change. Maybe write a book, if I can find anything interesting to write about in this dull old town.”

Nightshade snorted, then turned her head and looked at a flier on the pony streetlight, which stood at about Jon’s nose level. “Hey, The Great and Powerful Trixie is doing a stage show this evening.” She thought for a moment with a frown. “Sounds familiar. Anyway, wanna go?”

“As friends, and fellow convalescents,” said Jon, “I would be honored. It will be a nice way to relax this evening after you get your casts off and take a nap in the library while I’m typing. Just the two of us and a show. It could be fun.”

“Are you sure?” Nightshade stopped and patted him on the chest. “After all, you’re a fragile human, and some pony entertainments can be pretty stressful.”

“Oh, relax,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s Ponyville. What could possibly happen?”

And that evening, as they were running in abject terror from the house-sized stellar bear that turned out to be the star of Trixie’s show, he made a note to never say those words again.

Author's Note

There we go, all done and tied up in a stellar bear ribbon. Hope you enjoyed the trip.

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1. Rumors of War

Equestria : 1940
12 June - Crossing the Atlantic

“And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet.”
— Matthew 24:6

Seeing the unicorn passenger in the airplane confused Jon Walthers at first.

The last thing that Jon had really expected when climbing on board the US Army OA-10 flying boat was to see one of the passenger seats occupied by a unicorn wearing sunglasses, a set of thick headphones, and nothing else. He had seen plenty of Equestrians over the last few years. After all, he had a job with the State Department using the degree he had earned in Equestrian anthropology (which purists insisted should actually be ‘hippopology’) which had came with a few four-legged teachers, but they were rare as hen’s teeth outside of academia and the occasional radio program. This one was odder than most of the elderly professors or Washington tourists that Jon had seen before, with a vibrant blue striped mane and a slow, rhythmic nodding to her head that indicated she was keeping time to some unheard music on her headphones.

While the polite Army private was stashing his limited luggage into the cargo hatch behind him, Jon was briefly tempted to go over to the unicorn and introduce himself, but the young mare was settled into the Position of Privacy. Her head was angled down and the book up in such a way that anypony… or any person entering the aircraft would be able to read the cover, thus eliminating the social first step of introduction by way of asking “So, what are you reading?”

Unicorn Gesture was a complicated language in which Jon was only roughly fluent, and was handicapped in attempting to speak it by the lack of movable ears and a tail. Still, he met the young mare’s subtle tilting of her head, a Motion of Acknowledgement, with a return Gesture of Respect for Privacy on his part, before moving the rest of the way into the cabin and checking for an available seat.

Since there were only six seats on the seaplane and four of them were in the back at a table, Jon took the opposite side single away from the Equestrian mare and removed a book of his own from his personal baggage. His two hefty suitcases were being stuffed into the belly of the seaplane by the Army attendant, but they mostly contained clothes and a few notebooks. Jon had always preferred to travel with what his colleagues preferred to mock as a ‘purse’ of sorts, a thick canvas over-the-shoulder satchel. Several years of overseas travel had thinned out and organized the contents, shifting slightly depending on whether he was going to the frozen tundra or the broiling desert sands, but at the barest minimum he had enough supplies to survive the upcoming twelve-hour flight. Once he got to his destination, however, he would be about as alone as a human being could get.

Equestrians were very inviting, but the Equestrian government was not. Tourism was discouraged outside of several coastal cities, and even the few official business delegations and several embassies in Manehattan were kept to a bare minimum. It was supposedly for the good of the skittish native ponies, but curious human tourists and nosy human reporters disagreed. There were even rumors of several humans with Equestrian citizenship, but other than a few newspapers writing unsubstantiated stories, nothing had ever been proven.

In comparison, the griffons who inhabited the eastern island kingdoms were very standoff-ish and their minotaur neighbors almost a myth, since they stayed in their underground warrens. Access to most of the United Principality of Greater Equestria — a rather pretentious title for an island country slightly larger than Ohio — was strictly limited to select diplomatic personnel, except for the one sudden exception of himself.

Which left Jon with nagging questions: Why me? And why now?

Not that he wanted to question his good fortune too severely, because most of his collegiate peers would be willing to break a leg (not their own, of course) to be in his seat right now, but there were more questions in his head than answers and not enough evidence to make a good try at assembling a theory. He did not even get the thin folder out of his bag to review it again, as he had several times over the last day and a half. The baffling papers inside were quite simple and short, consisting of one formal letter from the Equestrian embassy in New York granting Jon unconditional access to the UE, one passport page, pre-stamped for insertion into his official US passport, and the stub of the used train ticket he had expended getting to the seaplane base.

He had expected the usual difficulties when entering the US Army base, but all he had to do was pronounce his name correctly and he was treated like President Roosevelt arriving on a surprise inspection. The sentry actually saluted him, and within moments, a car and silent driver had appeared out of thin air and whisked him right out to the tarmac where the parked seaplane squatted awkwardly on its wheels. Jon suspected if the pilot had been present, the Catalina would have been airborne by the time he’d reached his seat..

Regardless of the reason for his presence, Jon meant to make the best of his trip. There were enough new film rolls in his luggage to make National Geographic jealous, including some color film for his brand new Kodak camera just in case this was all a mistake and he had to happily wander around Equestria while waiting to go back to Washington and his current job.

Of course, that was the best case scenario. The travel itinerary which had been couriered to Jon yesterday did not include a return ticket.

A thumping and clunking noise from the front of the aircraft preceded four Army soldiers of various ranks climbing through the hatch on their way to the back of the seaplane. Their passage made Jon pull his short legs back to allow them space and let him exchange a few pleasantries before the deck of cards came out and the soldiers dove into the resumption of a perpetual game of poker between them. Then the pilots arrived somewhere in front of the executive compartment behind the cockpit, and shortly thereafter, the engines started up with a sputtering roar.

Twelve hours of this noise without some sort of hearing protection would have left Jon deaf, and he envied the passive unicorn on the other side of the plane with the large headphones. The wax earplugs he had been given upon boarding were a good substitute, but they always left his ears feeling greasy for a few hours afterwards. Still, he stuck them in and returned his book to the shoulder bag just in case the seaplane would crash into the ocean at the end of the runway during takeoff and he had to swim for his life.

Think positive. With this much high-octane gasoline on board, I’ll burn to death before I have a chance to drown.

After attaching his restraining harness and keeping his fingernails dug into the armrests in order to help the fuel-laden aircraft in the air, Jon suffered through the bumpy ride down the runway until takeoff and the slow, wallowing climb to altitude. It took a lot of yawning to pop his ears during the ascent, but once the big seaplane leveled out, he relaxed enough to actually look out of the small circular window. It was noisy, but the drone of the engines that would be his companion for the rest of the day was a damned sight better than riding for a week on a ship and waiting for a German torpedo to come crashing into the side. Secrecy, misinformation, and downright lies hid the actual numbers of ships that had already been sunk around Europe, but Jon had no desire to discover first hand knowledge about any of them, or learn if Germany had decided to send its undersea fleet a little further afield.

At least Equestria was staying neutral during this conflict, much the same as it had during the Great War, so this was as close to Europe as he wanted to go until the fighting died down. It made a cold chill go up his neck at the thought of his relatives across scattered countries which had not yet been subjected to German or Italian armies and their following occupation. His father had a corkboard at home with little colored pins detailing the missing and the dead, or worse, the few relatives who wrote back suddenly happy letters extolling the joys of their new governments and going into great detail about how much better their lives were under the benevolent guidance of the German Reich or the expanding Soviet Union.

Still, there were rumors whispered around his home about Equestria’s neutrality, unsubstantiated tales of ponies working hoof in glove with the Nazi party technocrats on secret weapons or weird projects. He did his best not to stare at the yellowish-white unicorn with the vibrant blue mane on the other side of the aircraft. The logical section of his mind tamped down any fantasies of Nazi sympathizers or secret spy conspiracies with one simple fact: if the unicorn had gotten on board a US Army aircraft, she most certainly had gone through enough security screenings to prove her loyalty.

He checked his watch. Twenty minutes of flight down, and twelve hours to go.

Since the aircraft had reached altitude without exploding or crashing, Jon released his grip on the arms of the chair and considered what to do next while attempting to rub the cramps out of his fingers and make his ears finally pop. He certainly was not sleepy enough to doze off, nor was he calm enough to get out one of his quickly grabbed books on Equestrian etiquette and touch up his manners before the end of the flight. That left either the paperback copy of Doc Savage he had bought in a last-minute purchasing spree through town, Perry Mason’s The Case of the Baited Hook, or the newspaper. Well, those or the rather strange package of colorful periodicals he had picked up at the bookstore, which he still felt a little awkward and juvenile carrying in his shoulder bag.

He decided on the newspaper. After all, it might have been able to provide a clue as to why he had been picked for this singularly unique opportunity.

* * ✹ * *

“Excuse me, sir?” The middle-aged Army major did not look young enough to wear a uniform and be sent off into a senseless war, and just old enough to have missed the Great War, but his gravelly voice made it plain that he was just as tough as the non-regulation leather jacket he was wearing to protect himself from the chill of altitude. “Colonel Bradley would like to talk with you in the front.”

Jon Walthers looked forward to the small ‘executive’ compartment just behind the cockpit. It was far from a room at the Ritz-Carlton, but it had a table and padded chairs, as well as a coffee pot. It was possible that Colonel Bradley was the mysterious benefactor who had arranged for his trip to Equestria too, so it would only be polite to accept his invitation and get a quick cup of coffee while finding out just what in the world he was doing here.

“Thank you, Major Truscott,” said Jon after a quick glance at the soldier’s rank tabs, then his name embroidered into the leather jacket. Jon folded up the newspaper, considered it for a moment, then cocked an eyebrow in the Gesture of First Consideration at the unicorn on the other side of the aircraft. He couldn’t see any Third Order context in her response due to her sunglasses, but the ear-flick and subtle shaking of her head in response made it plain that she had no interest in the newspaper. He turned to the soldier instead with a polite nod.

“Would you and the rest of your men like the paper while I’m gone? The Brits may have gotten beaten in Dunkirk, but they went and bombed a couple of German cruisers outside of Trondheim just to show they’re still in the war.”

A grim smile appeared on the soldier’s face, making Jon very glad he was not a German citizen. “Thank you, Mister Walthers. Right this way.”

The huge flying boat might have been noisy, but while straight and level at elevation it was as stable as a house, and compared to some of the cramped deathtraps Jon had ridden in, about as spacious. Major Truscott knocked at the cabin door and opened it, allowing Jon to slide in and sit on one of the two small bench seats around the folding table while the colonel remained looking down into his briefcase and thumbing through several folders. Unsure whether to salute or try to shake hands, Jon settled for a brief hesitation before leaning back in the bench seat and casting a longing look at the coffee pot on the colonel’s side of the small cabin.

After several years of Equestrian study, Jon had come to the conclusion that human nonverbal communication was a distinctly inferior variety. The colonel’s stiff body language displayed none of his thoughts, nor did it radiate the kind of warmth one would expect from somebody who had greased the skids to share an aircraft with Jon on a long overseas trip. The colonel simply remained looking into his open briefcase until the door to the rest of the aircraft compartment had been closed and a certain amount of time had passed, presumably for the soldier who had escorted Jon into the cabin to go back to his seat.

“Mister Jon Walthers.” The colonel spared Jon a brief glance over the top of his open briefcase before looking back down. “Degrees in Equestrian Anthropology, Egyptian History, and Literature. Professional consultant to the State Department.” He turned a page. “Contacts in the greater German Reich, regular correspondence with known Nazi sympathizers, and now suddenly the golden boy of the Equestrian principality, which has been claiming neutrality while getting all comfortable in bed with the Nazis, too.”

The colonel lowered the lid of the briefcase, and Jon got a sudden appreciation for at least one version of body language practiced by the military. The muzzle of the .45 automatic looked as large as a train tunnel and did not waver even the slightest from his chest while Colonel Bradley continued.

“Convince me you’re not a German spy, or I’ll put a slug in you and drop you in the ocean. Nobody will ever know, particularly your Nazi superiors.”

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5. How Beautiful Are The Mountains

Equestria : 1940
Friday 14 June - Canterlot, Equestria

“I will also take a sprig from the lofty top of the cedar and set it out; I will pluck from the topmost of its young twigs a tender one and I will plant it on a high and lofty mountain.”
— Ezekiel 17:22

Morning came to the Canterlot castle, capitol building of the Equestrian principality, but did not go everywhere just yet. The day may have been busy outside with all of the early-rising ponies doing governmental things, but the thick stone walls of the guest quarters were far from the hustle and bustle of governance, and heavy curtains prevented Celestia’s sun from disturbing Jon’s sleep.

His welcome rest was about to come to an end.

Sometime late in the morning, perhaps when it had turned into afternoon, some base instinct roused him ever so slowly from his exhausted slumber. At first, he thought the last few days had been a dream, and he was still back in his small apartment in Washington DC. The fresh floral scent of the blankets made that highly unlikely, and as one detail or another began to filter into his perceptions, he began to get closer and closer to actually waking up.

The faint scratching of a quill against paper was the last detail that made him actually open his eyes just a little bit.

There was another set of eyes just a few inches away, staring back at him in rapt fascination.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, just to be sure.

The big violet eyes were still there, framed in a pale purple face that was unquestionably an Equestrian unicorn, although without the elaborate manestyles most of them sported. Instead, her blue and pink striped mane was almost brutally chopped off in a straight line right above the eyebrows, as if she had determined the exact minimum amount of time and effort needed to get her hair cut. Most probably she had cut it herself, because Jon could not imagine another pony cutting her mane so ineptly.

The same lack of social effort was obvious in the rest of her face as well. There were no earrings, bows, bracelets, bangles, or other shiny forms of self-expression to differentiate her from the herd, other than that most intent stare filled with burning curiosity. If he had not recognized the Student of the Sun from the detailed description Princess Celestia had given him earlier, he would have been deeply upset, but since this was the fragile vessel of the world’s salvation from a dark alicorn corrupted by Nightmares…

He needed coffee. Now.

Lacking the life-giving beverage, he took a deep breath instead. The air was fresh and crisp, cooled with the altitude of Canterlot and bearing with it the dust and general nature of an ancient structure that most probably had been built when Moses was still in nappies. Mixed in with the refreshing feeling of antiquity was a most current scent of a unicorn who apparently had not been keeping up with her personal hygiene the same extent that the more fastidious unicorns Jon had met before. It was not exactly a repellent scent, but a vague horsey-sweaty odor mixed with old paper, fresh ink, and tea, which most certainly wafted in his direction from Celestia’s young student, and made him realize something that would make his job of Friendship Instructor that much more difficult.

She looked and smelled like a complete and total nerdicorn.

“Hello?” he ventured, since “What are you doing in my bedroom?” was a little too direct, and “Good morning” had the distinct possibility of being wrong by a few hours.

The unicorn’s face lit up and she began babbling in rapid-fire German so quickly that Jon was unable to make out more than about one word in each sentence. If he had any doubts about the identity of Celestia’s student before, they were gone now, replaced by his expanding understanding of just why she had such a hard time making friends. She was at least prepared for her morning ambush of her new teacher, from the stack of books beside her. There were a few German phrasebooks, several Equestrian books on various topics, two scrolls for some reason, and a biology book with a naked human on the cover that was certainly not published outside of the Equestrian borders.

And triggered by the picture on the cover, Jon realized that he was likewise naked under the covers.

Rather than wait for a conversational hole in the unicorn’s rapid babble, Jon pulled the covers up a little more and blurted out, “Excuse me, Miss—”

Name, name! What was her name? Something light related, or sunrise maybe?

The young unicorn promptly looked totally mortified that she had been speaking in German and switched to English almost mid-syllable, starting right where she had before and repeating her previous burst of words, only this time marginally more understandable. He did manage to catch the phrase ‘lunch’ out of the waterfall of words before the presence of a second creature in the room drew his attention.

There was a dragon standing rather casually next to the babbling unicorn, nearly the same purple color as she was and holding a scroll and a quill as if he were expecting at any moment to take a letter. He was just as dissimilar as the other variegated dragons of Equestria, most certainly bipedal and counterbalanced by a thick tail, but lacking the wings the vast majority of the others had. If Jon had not already seen an entire extinct volcano filled with considerably larger dragons last night, the sight of the little dragon might have disturbed him. Since the little guy only would have come up to Jon’s waist at best, he was not exactly the most fearsome of beasts, even with the sharp teeth, pointed nails at the ends of his stubby little fingers, and…

Well, maybe he is a little scary. If the unicorn doesn’t talk me to death, he could always scratch me.

“Pardon me, Miss.” Jon had to talk as loud as he could to break the unicorn’s chain of speech, or at least fracture one link of it so he could get in a word edgewise. “Have you seen my pants?”

As introductions went, it was significantly lacking.

“I’ll get them, Twilight,” announced the little dragon before dashing away into the opulent suite. It gave Jon a moment of relative silence to soak in the surroundings, which appeared to be as fine as a penthouse in the Ritz-Carlton, only everything had been built on a shorter scale that would have left his feet sticking out of the bottom of the bed if he also had not been slightly shorter than the average human. The old-fashioned four poster bed had all of the side panels pulled back and tied up with red silk cords, and much of the polished granite floor was covered with warm throw rugs that made him want to run his toes through them. Being naked should not have been a good reason to hide in bed because nearly all of the Equestrians (and dragons) he had seen so far were just as bare, but…

“Here we go, Mister Walthers.” The little dragon staggered through the door under both of Jon’s large suitcases, looking a little like a pair of short purple legs with a pile of luggage on top. “Princess Celestia had some of your things sent out to be laundered since you slept in them most of last night. Let me put these on your bedstand.”

“Thank you, um…” Jon paused, hoping the dragon would pick up his cue because the last thing he wanted right now was to start up the unicorn’s mouth again.

“I’m Spike,” said the dragon, sticking out a chubby little hand to be shaken. “And this is Twilight Sparkle. Are we disturbing you, sir?”

“Of course we’re not disturbing him,” chided Twilight Sparkle in a rush of words. “We’re just… We’re not disturbing you, are we?” The look of abject fear sweeping over her face triggered even more words in a tidal wave of abused verbs and nouns. “I mean we’re in your room but it’s nearly lunch time and I didn’t think you would still be sleeping but you were, so we just waited until you woke up but then you did and I didn’t introduce us! I’m sorry! I’m Twilight Sparkle, private student to Princess Celestia and—” Twilight’s voice sped up considerably “—she sent me a teacher! Oh, isn’t this great, Spike! My own teacher!”

There was a brief pause, although not long enough for Jon to start speaking before the unicorn started up again, only slower. “But this means I’m not learning something she wanted me to learn, and I must have failed so badly that she had to send out for a human teacher because I wasn’t learning it from other ponies! Is she still going to want me as her student any more, or am I going to have to travel to the human world to learn my lessons now or did I do something wrong and she’s banishing me from the country until—”

Spike held a clawed hand over Twilight Sparkle’s mouth. “You could just ask him.”

Shortcutting the expected question, Jon pulled the sheet a little further across his bare chest and said, “I’m supposed to be teaching you about friendship.”

Twilight looked almost terrified, and promptly whined, “But I have friends! I have Spike and my family and my study group.”

Set aback by her reaction, Jon groped for words, as well as tugged the blankets a little higher. “Do you think we can put this conversation off until I’ve had a chance to freshen up? I’ve had—” He paused, trying to put the aircraft trip, almost being shot, and meeting more dragons than Washington D.C. had bureaucrats all into perspective, and settled for “—a very busy day yesterday.”

“Oh, of course!” Twilight Sparkle lit up with joy and she fairly danced across the bedroom floor in the direction of the bathroom to the tapping sound of steel shoes on the granite tiles. “We have the most modern bathing facilities in all of Equestria, with hot and cold running water, seven different kinds of soap, towels, washcloths, brushes—”

“All well and good,” said Jon, still in bed rather than try to make an impromptu toga out of the sheet. “But could you get out of my room for a few minutes while I change?”

The reaction Twilight displayed was unusual, but Jon had once been in a taxi with a driver who drove like Twilight Sparkle thought: full speed and right angle corners. He had survived that encounter, and certainly could survive this one. Maybe.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Because of human nudity taboos making you unwilling to undress in front of another species—”

“Two species,” said Spike, holding up two stubby fingers.

“—since the human body doesn’t have any protective coat or hair of any real significance except on the head and groin and your sexual organs would be on display which doesn’t make much sense because of your lack of other contextual social indicators would make arousal an important factor to display in order to propagate your species with—” Twilight Sparkle came to an abrupt halt, looked at Jon, then moved rapidly toward the door, towing her research materials and research assistant behind her in a cloud of soft violet magic. “I’m sorry we disturbed you Mister Walthers and we’ll wait while you get—” The closing door cut off her last words, although Jon got the feeling she was still talking out in the hallway.

“Excellent start with your student, Professor Walthers,” he groused, getting out of bed and beginning a futile search for some sort of warm fuzzy slippers to counteract the spaces of cold granite tile between throw rugs scattered across the floor. Finding none, he scooted the short distance over to the bathroom to take care of his most urgent need, and considered the pony toilet during the process. Like most bathroom fixtures in foreign lands, it was different than the American types, of course, being lower to the ground and longer, making him think about how the ponies in the human world managed their bathroom visits without feeling a little awkward too.

The tub likewise was both higher, narrower, and shorter than he expected, most probably to allow a pony to fully immerse themselves except for their heads and necks, and lacked a shower, which Jon was considering a needed modern amenity in a world of short bathtubs. In fact, the tub seemed more like an elaborate bucket in which he would have to squat uncomfortably in the bottom of in order to get properly wet, and shampooing would be nearly impossible.

He turned on the water anyway to run a bath, because it was afternoon, and whatever activities were scheduled for today would go better without smelling of dragon brimstone and sweaty ape. To his pleasant surprise, the hot water faucet had hot water, although the cold water was just a degree or two away from the snowmelt from which it most probably had been extracted. After a little fiddling with the faucets to get the temperature right, Jon straightened up, considered how long it was going to take for the bathtub to fill, and turned to dart back out into the chilly granite tiles of the bedroom to collect his clothes for after the bath was over.

The only problem was when he opened the bathroom door, it revealed a familiar lilac-shaded equine who obviously had been peering through the keyhole.

“Oh!” said Twilight Sparkle, looking up with a quill floating in her magic and several lines of observations in her anthropological journal. “You’re… um…” She glanced down, then back up again. “Smaller than I expected,” she finished.

“Out!” snapped Jon, pointing toward the front door of the suite where Spike was nervously waiting. “Out! Out of my bedroom!” He grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and wrapped it around himself before stalking forward, shooing the stammering unicorn out into the hallway and closing the door behind her. Just in case, he picked up a nearby chair and stuck it under the doorknob, then turned back to his suitcases and the tweed jacket Spike had laid out. Picking up his clothes, Jon stalked back to the bathroom and arranged his shirt and pants next to the sink.

The level of the bath still was not all the way up to where he wanted it, giving Jon a few minutes of relative sanity in the closed bathroom. He had new respect for Princess Celestia’s evaluation of her student and Twilight’s single-minded pursuit of knowledge without the restrictions of social interaction.

Out of an impulse, Jon cracked open the bathroom door and watched out in the main room. It only took a few moments before what he expected happened, when a pale violet glow gently lifted up the chair he had stuck under the suite doorknob. The door swung open to reveal two nonplussed pegasus guards out in the hallway, along with one curious purple unicorn who gave out a brief yelp of surprise. Then after a long and silent pause, the door glided closed again and the chair floated back over where it was before.

Jon closed the bathroom door and returned to his bath preparations with a grumble.

“It’s no wonder the girl doesn’t have any friends.”

- Ω - -

A brisk bath later, with some awkward kneeling and bending in the tub to get his hair properly shampooed, and Jon Walthers was ready to face the day. Well, what was left of it.

He put on his tweed jacket, which had been cleaned and pressed, as well as trimmed and tidied up to the point where it was nearly indistinguishable from when he had purchased it. A fresh linen pocket square with an Equestrian emblem was stuck in his vest pocket, and even the one chipped button had been replaced so expertly Jon could not even remember which one it was. There was no need for his formal rose gold cufflinks since he most likely was going to spend the rest of the day with his new student, so he put on his plain silver cufflinks, a comfortable shirt and khaki pants. Then he looked around for his shoulder holster, which of course was missing, along with the small cardboard box of extra rounds in his luggage, although there was a note in Celestia’s exquisite calligraphy.

My city is perfectly safe, Mister Walthers.

Since he really could not argue with her logic, he went back into the bathroom and measured out a small dab of Brylcreem to get his hair to lie down correctly and prepared a little dose of patience when he walked out of the bathroom to find Twilight Sparkle and Spike waiting for him in the suite.

“Sorry for taking so long, Miss Sparkle.” Jon slipped on his shoulder bag, which after a quick peek, showed signs of having been carefully inventoried by the unicorn student while he had not been looking. “Shall we be off to find something for lunch? We’re not going to be going outside for a while, I suppose, or I should change shoes.”

After spending all of yesterday in his lace-up boots, Jon was looking forward to some time in comfortable loafers, and relaxed a little when Twilight shook her head. “No, Mister Walthers. Ah…” She stopped, and the dragon opened his mouth to speak in her place.

“Aren’t we—” The dragon cut off abruptly when Twilight Sparkle clapped a hoof over his mouth, then she grinned insecurely, pushed Spike out the front door and briskly strode down the corridor with Jon following along.

- Ω - -

Jon had been in a few European castles before, mostly as part of several tours when he was still in elementary school and his parents had been determined to expand his world beyond the library. Every tour had been led by a dour guide who expounded upon the critical nature of the huge stone structures and how on this date, this king tried to break them down, and on that date, that king took refuge inside them. Twilight Sparkle was quite the change from the usual doddering old lady who ran the tours, and answered his questions about various wings and hallways of the Canterlot castle with an unbroken string of “I don’t know” and “I’m not sure.”

She did know about the library wing, or more correctly wings. The huge building had multiple places where flocks of books seemed to overwinter or migrate between seasons, perching in related groups from the spellbooks of the magic school, to the history books in the administrative section of the castle, and the books of art and poetry in the more cultural portions.

The whole castle seemed to be made of stairs and corridors, intermixed with art galleries in the interior spaces and brightly colored stained glass windows for the exterior, although something must have been wrong with Jon’s sense of direction, because ‘outside’ walls quite frequently were not where he expected. He brushed off the confusing sensation by attributing it to magic, because after all, if he were an immortal powerful alicorn who was supposed to control the sun and moon, he would have outside walls wherever he wanted them too. His questions caused the tour to take on a randomness with more than a few missed turns and sections while they backtracked through previously discovered areas. No doubt, the three of them could have wandered the halls for hours, but after several distracting diversions, Jon remembered to mention the topic of their delayed lunch again.

With that word, the tour came to an abrupt end, and Twilight turned to head down the maze of corridors at a near trot. The decor and quality of the artwork on the walls was certainly increasing at a rapid rate with their current path, and despite their goal and his growing hunger, Jon had to stop abruptly to marvel at an oil painting in a small niche.

“My word.” He leaned closer to inspect it at close range, feeling vaguely guilty that there was not some museum guard to order him away from the masterpiece. The image of a man dressed in seventeenth century clothing and holding a tall black hat looked back at him, although his face was lacking the typical tidy beard of the period. “Is this a Rembrandt?”

“Portrait of a Man Holding a Hat,” said Twilight Sparkle, sparing a glance back over her shoulder and moving her hooves in little click-click-click noises against the granite tiles as if she were in desperate need of a bathroom. “Princess Celestia has several of them. Can we hurry, please? We’re almost there.”

“But…” Sparing the portrait one last look, Jon trailed along after his guide, up one last set of stairs and to a set of double doors with a pair of armored Equestrian guards in front of them. Between the guards was a large dark pegasus with a slicked-back violet mane and a look of suffering patience, which he directed at the incoming three individuals of varied species.

“Miss Sparkle. Sir.” His low baritone voice raised the hair on the back of Jon’s neck and made him oddly interested in what the pegasus’ singing voice sounded like. “Her Highness and her guests are waiting on you. Shall I announce you and your…” The pegasus’ golden eyes swept up to Jon’s face, considered him for a moment, then returned to Twilight with an unspoken question.

“Guest,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Or teacher. Or both, I suppose. Doctor Walthers,” she finished with a sharp nod before a hesitant quaver snuck into her voice. “Is she… upset?”

The dark pegasus turned much like he had not even heard her question, and opened the door. Beyond it, a full dozen or more ponies, each dressed in their finest clothes, looked back. They were seated around large tables with pristine white linen tablecloths and priceless crystal glasses, and what Jon suddenly realized were very empty plates, which most likely were supposed to have been filled with food more than an hour ago. At the head table slightly above the rest was Princess Celestia, sitting just as patiently as if she was willing to wait years or even decades for her wayward student and embarrassed teacher to arrive and fill the empty seats to the right side of her.

“Announcing Lady Twilight Sparkle,” said the dark pegasus in that low, rumbling baritone voice. “And her guests, Spike the Dragon, and Doctor Walthers.”

There might possibly have been one or two of the wealthy ponies in the room who whispered “At last” under their breath, but that was drowned out by Princess Celestia rising regally from her cushion and gesturing toward the door. “Come in, come in, Twilight. Prince Blueblood had to depart on a previous engagement, so you and Spike can sit right here next to me, and Doctor Walthers, was it? You may be seated here.”

- Ω - -

There was really no subtle way to ask how late they were to the luncheon, but Jon had a sneaking notion the answer was “Very” if not “Extraordinarily.” He had barely put his rump rather uncomfortably into a human-scaled chair on the other side of Twilight Sparkle while Spike sat down on Celestia’s left side, when the waiters began to flow into the room with plates of hor d’ oeuvres, some of which were nearly eaten right off the trays by the impatient diners. The dish of butternut squash ravioli that was slipped in front of him looked fine, and after a momentary glance to one side to ensure Princess Celestia had begun to eat, he dipped his spoon into the bowl.

Equestrian dining review: Although the butternut squash ravioli at this establishment was visually appealing, the pasta was rubbery enough to be used as rubber, and the sauce had turned into a thick gluey substance by the time I was served. No Michelin star for you.

“I’m sorry.” The voice was barely over a whisper while Twilight Sparkle’s head was nearly touching the tablecloth, and if Jon had not heard his new student speak before, he would have never known it was her because her lips just barely moved.

“That’s quite alright, Twilight.” Celestia’s spoon moved with the inevitable grace of a ballet dancer, making Jon suddenly realize how much larger the bowls and spoons were at her place setting, and the corresponding larger number of calories the Sun Princess would need as opposed to her much smaller subjects. “I’m certain you and Mister… that is Doctor Walthers were learning all about each other.”

Until I chased her away from the bedroom keyhole.

“I must beg your pardon, Your Highness,” said Jon once he had chewed his way down to a place where he could swallow without choking. He took a quick sip of wine and continued, “I was unaware of the schedule for today, and I’m afraid I detained your student with a number of questions during our trip here.”

“No, it’s my fault,” insisted Twilight Sparkle, although she managed to say it while lifting her head and turning unexpectedly in Jon’s direction. Her rising horn jostled his wineglass in the process, making a splash of crimson droplets spray over the tablecloth. “Oh, I’m sorry! That’s my fault too. Let me get—”

Her magic formed around the linen napkin at her place setting, which would have completed the disaster due to the full wineglass on top of it. But when she yanked the napkin in his direction, a faint gold aura formed around the glass and caught it before it spilled, floating it back into position while Twilight dabbed away at the stain and murmured something about having once read about a spell which could ‘fix it’ if she could just remember how it went.

It was only natural to look at Celestia’s face, and it caught him by surprise when he found her looking right back at him, and even winking once, as if to reassure Jon that episodes like this were only natural, and that with enough patience, things would normalize out again.

In the few minutes it took for the appetizers to all vanish, the lunch did settle down, although most of that was from Twilight Sparkle having opened one of her books below the table edge and spending her time reading instead of upsetting glasses. The salad course was adapted for the presence of the human guest, with the wilted tulip petals on the ponies’ plates replaced by shriveled spinach leaves for him, and kale for all of them, even though Jon considered the tough green to be… less than desirable.

Once imminent starvation had been averted, there was polite conversation at the table, in that slightly disconnected fashion that Jon had become familiar with when talking with somepony who did not need to be looking directly at their conversational partner to hear every word spoken. It made him wish his own ears could be swiveled in the same fashion, or that he could look around the room and take in all of the Equestrian colors and clothing fashions while still eating. Primarily, he was introduced to one of Celestia’s oldest friends, Fancy Pants and his beautiful wife Fleur, recently back from their estate in France where he had met and wed the elegant unicorn.

She was a third-generation French pony, who had a fairly established family and fashion business until ‘le boche!’ His name earned Jon more than a few cross looks at the beginning of the meal, but tapered off into a grudging acceptance when she found he was actually from the US, spoke Equestrian, and had opinions of the German Reich quite similar to her own.

Jon had always considered Equestrians to be visiting wherever they were, since nearly every teacher or student he had met in his career was measuring the days until they could return to their home. Now that he was at their home, the few expatriates who had returned here due to Celestia’s command stood out as much as the occasional pony had amidst all the humans from his own home. A few more questions unleashed a flood of information from the popular fashion model about France and the beautiful place it had been, until ‘le boche’ again, of course. It was not until the portabella mushroom bourguignon with rice, a dish that suited both pony and people palates, was served for the main course before Jon remembered the reclusive unicorn he was supposed to be working with.

He had never thought purple made for good camouflage before, but Twilight Sparkle had managed to make it work. By remaining silent and nearly motionless, she had become almost invisible against the powerful Princess of the Sun to one side and the exotic and out of place human being on her other side.

A state of semi-privacy in a public venue seemed to be perfectly acceptable to Twilight. She looked to be nearly through her second book, and was only poking absently at the delicious main course, even when Jon leaned over and asked her, “So, do you have mushrooms for lunch very often?”

“Yes,” she responded almost automatically.

After waiting for a polite few seconds to see if any more words were forthcoming, Jon looked up and over to Princess Celestia with a questioning look that she read just as easily as the book Twilight Sparkle had tucked under the table edge.

“Twilight,” she gently chided. “I’ve told you before to not read at the table.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight turned a page.

The quiet clink and rattle of silverware against ceramic died down over a few seconds as all of the rest of the diners surreptitiously pretended not to notice the way Princess Celestia’s student was disobeying the Supreme Monarch of the Principality. Jon could see what was going to happen when Twilight quit turning pages, and moved quickly to counter what could easily be a quite embarrassing moment for her.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” said Jon relatively briskly while slipping a hand over the open book. “She’s so eager to get started on her lessons. I’ve never had a student this focused on a new field of study.”

Twilight Sparkle looked up with a start and opened her mouth to object, only to have Princess Celestia’s strong voice override her.

“Of course, Doctor Walthers. You will find my student to be very attentive.”

“A new course of study?” A well-groomed stallion a few seats down the table looked over with his ears perked up to sharp points. “Has she run out of topics in Equestria already?”

“No, of course not,” countered Jon over the sound of discreet giggles from the rest of the guests. He tried to remember just what subjects Celestia had mentioned her student was already advanced in, and did not come up with any specifics other than ‘lots.’

“I’m supposed to be learning about friendship,” blurted out Twilight. “Even though I’m already really accomplished in that regard.”

It was a statement which seemed to be regarded as quietly funny by most of the lunch guests, although the resulting snorts of laughter and occasional loud giggle were strenuously suppressed by the presence of their liege just a few yards away, who quite obviously did not consider the statement to be humorous at all.

“It’s true,” insisted Twilight as she picked up her metaphorical shovel and continued to dig. “I have a lot of friends. Well, some friends,” she qualified. “Enough friends.”

- Ω - -

Having survived lunch with Princess Celestia, an unknown number of minor nobility and close friends of Her Highness, and a dragon, Jon considered his life to be going pretty well, at least by comparison to his student. Twilight Sparkle fairly moped through the rest of the lunch, although she did eat more than her previous bird-like pecking after her nose was pried out of her book. Once dessert was served—a delicious honey yogurt panna cotta, chilled and served with fresh raspberries—the dinner guests were encouraged to migrate next door to a comfortable sitting room.

Jon found himself clinging rather irrationally to his flute of red wine on the short walk, not from the size or the impact of the fairly small amount of wine he had managed to hold himself to, but as a symbol of comfort. Even after having been exposed to other ponies during his travels, he still found it fascinating the way a pegasus or earth pony could bend their flexible fetlocks around a delicate glass and sip from it while walking.

It gave them all a few minutes before new little knots of conversation were to start up again, and Jon took advantage of the pause to quietly apologize to Twilight Sparkle.

“I’m sorry for taking so long to get ready for lunch, Miss Sparkle. Once we’re done mingling, is there anything else on the agenda this afternoon?”

It did seem to cheer up the dejected pony, because her ears went from drooped flat on both sides of her face to almost erect again.

“Spike,” she announced. “The list, please.”

“Here you go.” Spike handed Jon several sheets of thick paper which were nearly covered in the spidery Unicorn script that he always had trouble reading. “And a copy in German,” added the little dragon while passing up a similar sized bundle.

Naturally, the first item on the checklist was ‘Make a copy of the checklist in German just in case Professor Walthers does not read Equestrian,’ followed by a box ‘Remember to check off boxes on both checklists when each item is complete.’

With great solemnity, Jon removed the fountain pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, made sure the nib was damp, and checked both boxes on both sheets. “Seems fairly straightforward. Lunch, a few drinks to unwind afterward, a movie…” He glanced up from the list, then down again when he realized he was not talking to a human, and that Twilight Sparkle, horn and all, only came up to his chest. “Any idea what the movie is?”

“I hope it’s the baseball movie!” proclaimed Spike.

“You like baseball?” asked Jon.

“We don’t have baseball games here,” insisted Twilight. “But I know all about baseball from the movies, with all the mobsters and murders. It seems very dangerous, and not very friendly.”

“Murders?” Jon thought back to the last Dodgers game he had listened to on the radio. It had gotten a little rough, but nothing deadly.

“Death on the Diamond,” said Spike. “It’s a really great movie with motorcars and crooks and cops.” He put on a frown and crossed his arms. “Ever since I took her to see it, she won’t let me watch movies any more.”

“Spike,” chided Twilight Sparkle. “Violence never solves any problem. Besides, I don’t think it has been dubbed in Equestrian for the rest of the guests. Or at least I hope not,” she added in a low undertone.

Skipping ahead on the list, Jon checked his watch. “We’re too late for the movie, anyway, but Princess Celestia has a discussion scheduled afterward, and then a tour of a new art gallery in the…” He stopped and squinted at Twilight Sparkle’s precise German writing on the list. “Hall of Suggestive Pillars?”

“Oh, we’re not late for the movie.”

Twilight Sparkle was obviously wrong. Jon checked his watch again just as Celestia proceeded out the door with all of the minor royalty and associated socialites following along like baby ducks after their mother. He really expected some sort of subtle shift in their social schedule, such as moving directly to the art gallery and just not mentioning the missed movie at all, but after a brisk walk with the rest of the royal herd, he found himself in what was obviously a private movie theatre lobby for the exclusive use of the Princess and her guests.

Well, an Equestrian movie theatre lobby, done in a style that fairly screamed ‘Cost is No Object.’

A Rockefeller or Carnegie would have felt perfectly at ease here, and perhaps would have taken notes on the carved frescoes and elaborate decor for the constant struggle for affluence recognition that the wealthy seemed to treat as a contest with prizes. The lines of sparkling rhinestones along the intricate carvings glittered in new electric lights, reflecting off gilded statues and mirrored glass until it seemed as if the dozen or so ponies moving through the room were hundreds, if not thousands prepared to be taken away from the world for a few hours by the magic of film.

Jon felt more like an old maid kernel in a bag of popcorn, which was served in ceramic bowls (also precious works of art in their own right) with very little salt (which was understandable, due to the effect it had on the Equestrian physiology) and enough butter to satisfy even the most greedy dragon. He turned down an offer of sugared hay cubes, studied the clock in the lobby, and reset his watch to the correct time. It most certainly did not seem to be as early as the clock said, but he put it behind him, took an ice-cold bottle of Pepsi-Cola from the selection presented to him by the staff, and followed his student into the theatre.

Instead of theatre seats, there were only about thirty cushions in the small room, but one was quite obviously Celestia’s. By the color coding of the remaining cushions, Twilight Sparkle would sit at her right hoof, with Spike next and the human’s not-quite-a-chair-but-taller-than-a-cushion spot on the outside. There was a little table with indents for the refreshments between each seat, leaving Jon enough space to put his drink while Spike plunked down the big bowl of buttered popcorn between them and began eating.

- Ω - -

Equestrian movie theatres were… different. Not too different in material, because there was the traditional brief newsreel about the war ongoing in Europe, although the audio was dubbed in Equestrian, and the latest episode of Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe, which was not dubbed, but had subtitles in the much more readable Earth Pony script, then at long last, the featured movie.

No, Equestrian movies were more of an experience than anything Jon had attended before. He had expected perhaps a hissed ‘le boche’ from Fancy Pants’ French wife during the newsreel, but not the murmurs of sympathy for the humans caught up in both sides of the conflict, and gasps of horror at the sight of huge metal war machines or droning bombers.

Flash Gordon was a welcome break, greeted with cheers for the main characters and boos for the villains, calls out from the audience to warn of ambushes and subdued grumbling when the women were left behind during the rescue attempt.

But when the opening title for The Wizard of Oz splashed up on the screen, Jon thought he was going to go deaf from the cheering. The ponies sang along with everything under the rainbow, maintained a hushed silence between musical numbers while whispering into each other’s ears, and danced around the theatre during the Jitterbug number. Well, except for Princess Celestia, who he suspected did not dance for anything, and Twilight Sparkle, who was taking notes. What was weirder, he had never done the Jitterbug before, but when the well-dressed and otherwise serious ponies dragged him out into the theatre aisles, he had no problem dancing along with them, in step for a change.

When he returned to his seat, panting and out of breath, it took several minutes and the last of his soda before he could ask Spike, “Was that normal?”

“Naa,” he whispered in a gust of coconut oil and butter-flavored breath. “Normally, there’s a few ponies with musical instruments who will join in.”

A silent usher who refilled their popcorn bowl and brought the confused teacher a fresh soda gave him a few minutes to think, and once he had taken another drink, Jon decided to defer any further questions until later. And when later came, after the movie was over and the social group was in the lobby, discussing what had happened on screen and theorizing on whether Oz was a real subdimensional reality or physical place or not, Jon still could not get up the courage to speak up.

Maybe I need a medal too. Funny, I don’t feel like a lion.

“Since Doctor Walthers is an expert in humans, maybe he can tell us what the various characters in the movie signify.”

Celestia’s casual comment in the ongoing discussion made Jon look up with a start, seeing all of the socialite ponies looking back at him with an anticipatory expression, as if they expected him to start tap-dancing while singing. It was quite ‘on the spot’ compared to his normal tendency to lurk around the edges of a conversation and offer the occasional contribution when the discussion lagged, so he fell back on his earlier musings.

“It’s obviously a story about the application of friendship to solve Dorothy's problem,” he started, trying to steer the conversation in a productive direction toward his goal of preventing world-wide disaster. After all, the old saying ‘If you have a hammer, all problems look like nails’ was seeming all too real to him lately, particularly with the world-ending return of Nightmare Moon upcoming.

And… the prospective hammer he was supposed to be training still had her nose stuck in a book. He took a breath and continued, trying to sound as professional as possible but feeling a lot like Professor Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs instead.

“Although she was stranded in a strange foreign land, Dorothy could have remained in the relatively safe Munchkin village. Instead, she set out on a journey to achieve her goal of returning to Kansas and her family. She offered her help to all of the strangers she met during her journey, and in return, she received assistance in achieving her goal. It’s a very pony characteristic,” he added.

Fancy Pants cleared his throat and wiped away a fragment of popcorn clinging to his elaborate mustache. “In my experience, ponies are creatures of comfort, much like Mister Tolkien’s hobbits. You very rarely find ponies out climbing mountains, or trying to reach the North Pole.”

“Except for Daring Do,” said Spike. “She travels all over the world, fighting bad guys and—”

“Daring Do isn’t real, Spike.” Twilight Sparkle looked up from her notes as if caught in the headlights of a car by her instinctual outburst, and froze with the attention of so many curious eyes on her. “She’s… um… fictional. A.K. Yearling collects outlandish tales from human archeologists and makes up the stories in her books. Right, Princess?”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever met Miss Yearling,” said Celestia, just as calm and content in the theatre lobby as Jon could imagine her in formal court. “Your new teacher, however, was being asked about this movie. Perhaps you have some insights into the iconography?”

“It’s very violent and quite anti-unicorn, Princess Celestia.” Twilight produced the notebook she had been scratching on during the movie and flipped back a few pages to the chart labelled ‘Fatalities’ in large red letters.

“It’s not really—” started Jon before being cut off quite solidly.

“After all, a young human girl from a magic-starved world gets thrown into a new dimension where she kills the first magic-using citizen she finds, steals her shoes, and teams up with an idiot, a coward, and a violent tree-killer to murder another magic-using citizen, then flees back to her ordinary world to avoid prosecution for her crimes.”

The resulting silence was so thick it could have been sliced into blocks and used as construction material.

* * ✹ * *

By the time the collection of royalty and odd ‘others’ reached the scheduled art exhibit, Jon was beginning to doubt his own sanity, as well as most of the Equestrian citizens in his immediate vicinity. Spike was a great help, although short enough that Jon was uncomfortably walking hunched-over in order to talk with him in the crowded corridor. It was during the speech by the art historian in charge of the new exhibit—and Equestrians certainly loved their speeches—while Jon was setting his watch for the third time, when Spike poked him gently in the leg and motioned him a little closer.

“Give it up. Just leave your watch alone until after dinner this evening.”

“What?” Jon glanced at the ornate clock on the wall, which must not have been one of the exhibits because it was recognizable, and adjusted his watch to the last minute anyway. “Is it some sort of time magic?” he whispered in return.

“Uh… Yeah, if you want to think of it that way.” Spike glanced down the corridor. “I’ll let Twilight explain it to you when she gets back. I never could make sense of it.”

“When Twilight gets back?” Jon took a few minutes to look around at the crowd of ponies, thankful that they were color-coded, but no purple ponies were in the audience, alert and attentive to the museum curator’s speech while taking notes.

“Research.” Spike rolled his eyes, but kept his voice very low. “Every time she messes up, she writes a justification for her position to Princess Celestia. She’s never wrong, and is willing to prove that in blocks of a hundred pages each.”

“So—” Jon caught the pointed glance the museum curator shot at him and lowered his voice to a bare whisper while remaining painfully stooped over in order to keep his conversation with Spike fairly private. “She’s never wrong?”

“Not unless Princess Celestia says so. Then she… goes a little nuts.”

Spike scuffed a clawed toe through the thick carpet, but that was as much as he was willing to say on the subject until the tour was over and the group wound up back at their starting point, with the nearby clock displaying yet another time that could not be possible. Jon shook various hooves as the group departed in various directions, each notable or noble taking a few moments to say their goodbyes to the odd biped and the dragon by his side, until the only pony left was the princess. It left him with an opportunity to have a private conversation with Her Highness, which he was starting to guess was most certainly not a coincidence.

Celestia gave Spike a subtle head gesture and added, “Go ahead, Spike. I’m sure Twilight will need your assistance to prepare for the diplomatic dinner this evening.”

“Yeah,” said Spike, perking up as a thought seemed to occur to him. “Unless Mister Walthers needs me for anything.” He paused with the green frills to the side of his head slowly drooping before turning and jogging away with a final wave. “Guess not. See you this evening!”

“Bye, Spike.” Jon waited until he was around a corner before adding to Celestia, “Twilight Sparkle certainly seems to take him for granted.”

“She’s been with Spike since the day he was hatched. In fact, she hatched him during her admission to my school. But don’t ask her about it,” added Celestia. “She’s still a little self-conscious about the whole thing. They never did get the roof tiles to match up from where Spike’s head poked out during his growth spurt, and turning one’s parents into potted plants…” Celestia tutted quietly under her breath. “That’s when I knew she was the one. The Elements of Harmony are destined for her. It’s written right there on her flank.”

“The six-pointed star with five little white stars around it.” Jon puzzled over the imagery without asking, since some ponies were sensitive about their cutie marks. Asking a pony how they got their mark was far more intimate than asking for an astrological sign, and Celestia made no further informative releases of information to give him a clue. “Very Jewish,” he added after a period of thoughtful silence. “A leben ahf dir!”

“Bite your tongue.” The tranquil peace that surrounded Celestia like a bubble wavered. “I know you’re Jewish from your mother, but I would prefer you not influence my student with your religion.”

“Actually, I’m Methodist. Well, raised Methodist Episcopal.” Jon held out a hand and wobbled it back and forth. “I was raised Kosher, but my father is Methodist, which was a great disappointment to my Lutheran grandfather back in Germany and most of my mother’s relatives across New York and elsewhere. It made childhood very complicated, but I had both a bar mitzvah and a first communion, so I really didn’t fit into either congregation and turned mostly agnostic. It did make my college less expensive, though. Scholarships from both communities.”

“Oh.” Celestia looked honestly surprised, most likely because that little fact had not made it into his dossier, but she recovered quickly. “Well, in any event, I do not wish to find my student taking Catholic vows or dressing up in feathers to dance around a ceremonial fire with a bone through her nose.”

“No bones.” Jon held up his hand. “I promise. Boy Scout’s honor.”

Celestia huffed and began striding down the hall. “None of that either, please. We shall see you at the dinner this evening. White tie, please.”

A guard appeared as if by magic and led Jon away through the maze of hallways and back to his room, but he could not help but think of what Spike would look like in a cub scout uniform. After all, he was a very clever young dragon who enjoyed the company of his pony peers. And if Jon remembered correctly, there was a version of the Scouts who had gotten a hoof-hold in the Equestrian principality, with uniforms and cookies just like their human counterparts.

Certainly, Spike would be able to get a merit badge in fire-building, at the very least.

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