May 21, 8057 AD

Cell 48, Canterlot dungeons

I eat my lunch in silence. I'm not sure what to make of my dream/hallucination/bullshit magibabble. I'm trying to convince myself that I was hallucinating -- it's happened occasionally since I swallowed a bad batch of some weird Terran drug about ten years ago. Sure, there's a small part of my mind that protests, but what do I know? I really don't want to think about Luna's feather.

The guards have rotated since breakfast. Now I'm accompanied by a young mare named Persnickety Cricket, fresh from the training grounds, who wears the shining gold armour that I've learned is a trademark of something called the Equestrian Solar Guard.

Alongside her is none other than Shadowmane, the psycho unicorn. It's obvious from Cricket's body language that he scares her just by sitting there. She doesn't seem too pleased with the guard postings.

I set down my empty tray and lean against the wall, resting my arm on the huge rusting chains next to me. "You know," I begin in a conspiratorial tone, "if you let me out of here, I could really -- "

A low growl emanates from Shadowmane's throat, causing Persnickety Cricket to jump slightly and quiver in fear. "Sweet Empress above, give me strength," he prays, shuddering irritably. Cricket moves a little bit to the right, away from him.

" -- I could just stay right here," I finish in light of Shadowmane's anger.

Nobody says anything for three hours. I'm itching to start hunting down the Shoro, but I have no idea how strong or threatening Princess Luna is, and I seem to have gotten on her bad side. I hope she sees reason soon; her entire fucking world is in danger!

The Shoro probably has a head start of about a week now. If I break out soon, I should be able to find it eventually; repulsor discharge is pungent and lingers in the air for months.

There is, however, the problem of Princess Luna. She might be dangerously powerful, and, of course, there's the fact that she commands an entire army. I might be able to take on a few dozen soldiers at a time if I'm lucky, but if she puts everyone she has on the case I'll be in some deep shit.

Be that as it may, here I am, digesting a tall glass of milk and a delectably juicy manticore steak. I've no idea what a manticore is, but hot DAMN do they taste good. This isn't the worst prison I've been in, not by a long shot.

I keep my mind constantly on guard. I don't know why -- after all, what I experienced last night simply had to be a hallucination -- but it just feels proper to do. I don't know what's here, or what could be trying to break into my thoughts. Telepaths most certainly exist; I've experienced an Enceledan's wrath before, and believe me, it itsn't pretty. I head headaches and auditory hallucinations for the next three weeks, two of which were spent in a mental hospital.

Regardless, I allow myself to sit back and relax, staring at the ceiling in a half-drunken stupor. Words exchanged between other prisoners and their guards blur together into a muffled mumbling. I let out a silent hiccough, livers burning with the effort of processing lactose. I never was good at holding my dairy.

Three days pass without incident.

May 24, 8057 AD

I finish my post-meal business (kind of hard when the toilet is low down, your leg's broken, and your asshole is halfway up your back) and refasten my father's coat before washing my hands in the dented basin.

A conversation in the hall draws my attention to the front of my cell. I take hold of the window bars and peek through. Winter Gale, one of my current guards, is speaking to somebody who's just entered. It isn't time for guard rotation yet; who, then, is this?

"Good morning, Sprout!" the pegasus says happily. She's by far the cheeriest guard I've had. "What can we do for you today?"

"I, uh, I'm here to measure Prisoner 48 for his new uniform. That -- that's okay, right?"

Sprout is incredibly, incredibly nervous. I wonder if I can use that to my advantage somehow?

"Oh, yes, of course! He's still got two and a half weeks 'till trial. He needs one until then! Please, feel free."

She unlocks the cell door. I peek round to the prison's entrance and notice Shadowmane standing guard there. That's odd; he usually comes here after lunch.

I could probably take on most of these guards easily, but something about my old friend here seems... off. I can't put my finger on it exactly, but he sets off every alarm in my mind and then some.

I lay my broken leg on the stained granite bench and sit passively as Sprout measures me. He shivers fearfully as he does so. The tape doesn't shake, however; he's good at his job.

Should I try to give him a hard time? Do a bit of trolling?

You don't want to mess up his measurements and get a poorly-fitted uniform, do you? I doubt they'd give you another.

Rational Finsha's right. No, I don't. Phooey.

I sit quietly, making constant eye contact with the tailor, just to fuck with him a bit. He can't seem to bring himself to look away from my chronically bloodshot eyes. At last, he wrenches his attention away to his measuring and gets back to work.

After several minutes of measuring and scribbling with a levitating notepad, Sprout packs up his things and, shaking horribly, moves out of the cell.

"Thanks so much!" Winter Gale calls behind him, fluttering her eyelashes. "Try to make sure it gets done quickly, please!"

Sprout leaves the dungeon, placing his tapes in a saddlebag. Shadowmane doesn't acknowledge him except to raise his spear and let the tailor through.

"What does the uniform look like?" I ask to kill time. I can't see any of the other prisoners from where my cell is situated, so I haven't seen the outfits yet.

"Oh, it's just a standard orange jumpsuit," she replies. "You'll have your name, cell number, and your trial date pinned on it. If you're sentenced here after your initial trial, we'll make sure you get the same cell to save time on tags. You'll look good in it, I promise!"

"I can't wait," I say distastefully.

I ponder my options. I can still escape anytime I want, I hope. I don't know how badly these guards were trained, but they didn't even check my coat. I have plenty of gizmos in there that I could probably use as weapons -- and, of course, I could punch through the wall.

However, there's still the matter of the presumed army of guards, both Lunar and Solar, beyond the confines of prison, and I seem to have lost my gun. I still have some nails, though. If I throw them right, they could be used as long-range weapons.

After making sure Winter Gale and Spearhead (my other guard) aren't looking, I discreetly check my nail pocket and frown. Only fifteen left. I'm sure there's a lot more than that who are going to fight me.

The thwap of a spear hitting flesh jolts me out of my thoughts, and I immediately rush forward and stick my head between the bars to catch a glimpse of what's going on.

"Stand down in the name of the Princess!" Shadowmane yells, standing over a strange creature I've never seen before, his pointed horn held at its neck.

The assailant looks vaguely equestrian, but it's jet-black and shiny, with a carapace like that of a beetle's. Even stranger, it seems to be riddled with open, festering wounds, showing off ocean-blue meat. Its massive compound eyes are a luminescent blue. A Solar Guard's armour hangs off its skeletal frame.

A curved, sharp horn on its forehead sporadically fires bursts of green light that bounce off Shadowmane's helmet, careening into the walls and gouging deep holes. The fur on Shadowmane's muzzle is singed, but he largely manages to avoid the luminescent pellets.

"What the fuck...?" I whisper to myself as even the amiable Winter Gale charges at the bug, screaming bloody murder and channeling the rage of hell with spittle flying out of her mouth.

They're distracted. Get your ass out of here!

Without a second thought, I obey Rational Finsha and punch straight through the steel door, slowly ripping a hole wide enough to climb through. I take a fallen spear and use it as a walking stick to hightail it out of the prison, sneaking past the guards, all of whom are focused on the strange arthropod.

Fate is finally giving me a break, it seems.

I break out into bright sunlight and vault over an unconscious Solar Guard. Canterlot's a lot prettier in the sun, I think vaguely, looking at the sparkling ivory bricks and golden accents everywhere. However, I haven't any time to admire it. I need to get the fuck away before Luna catches wind of my escape.

I drop the spear and jump, digging my claws into the wall of a tower. Something falls from one of my pockets as I scale the building, but I don't stop to catch it. It's probably not important. I need to keep up some triage here.

At last I reach the tower's conical roof and cling to it, looking over the city to get my bearings. Only the general area of the dungeons seems to be on high alert.

From here I can see everything, and nobody can see me. The world has a serious shortage of people who look up. The feeling is wildly empowering. A primal exhilaration fills my heart.

Voices drift upward.

"Where did he go!?"

"Prisoner 48 has escaped! Shadowmane, Cricket, with me! Gale, take a squad and search the towers!"

Oh, shit. The matter with the horse beetle seems to have been resolved. They're out here now, looking for me. I swing round to the other side of the roof, peeking around it to look down at the prison.

Ice settles in my heart. They're assembling a pegasus search team, led by Winter Gale. The soldiers are unfurling their wings and flapping them experimentally.

It's time to fuck off.

A pegasus swoops around the tower and decidedly does not see me.

I look down to examine the window I slid into. I'm hanging in mid-air, clinging to the sill with my sharp fingernails.

The room I'm in seems to be a library of some sort. Bookshelves line the towering walls, crammed with books on magic or some other mystical bullshit.

Arcane Divinity: Withe Foreworde ande Commentarie by Queene Celeste ande Princesse Luna.

A Queen? Luna mentioned a sister who used to be a queen. That sister must have been this Celeste.

The Principles of Crystal Magicks - Have you ever wondered about the emotion conversion abilities of the Crystal Heart? The source of the Crystal Ponies' impenetrable coating? Or how about the nefarious focusing power of Lord Sombra's crystal arrays? Wonder no more, with this handy travel guide kept close to the heart of every Crystal Empire tourist!

Crystals this, crystals that. I once met a lady in downtown Seattle who told me she could mend my spirit with mystic crystals.

Pyromancy for Dummies

Holy fuck. For the sake of my compromised sanity, I'm going to stop reading.

My eyes wander downward and fall upon someone I've seen before.

"Oh, fuck my life," I eloquently interject.

Princess Twilight Sparkle is staring up at me as if she doesn't believe her eyes. Her jaw is heavily bandaged, and I note with a little bit of satisfaction that her head is still mildly bruised. A thick book hangs from a luminescent aura, glowing soft pink along with her horn.

We go into a sort of rudimentary staring contest.

"This is awkward," I comment.

Her face slowly morphs into a fierce scowl.

"I, uh, I'll be going now," I say, pulling myself partway through the window and looking around for watching pegasi. "Uh... it-was-nice-meeting-you-BYE!"

My leg is encased in magenta light and my body is yanked down. I turn, affronted, and glare at the Princess.

She yanks again and my fingers fail me, sending me plummeting to the floor.

May 27, 8057 AD

Cosmus Arts and Sciences research lab 7

Jallir, hand me the forty-micron spanner, will you?

I toss the requested tool over to Kutarn, who clicks his beak in thanks and starts dismantling the dead Shoro's arm brace under Hunter's watchful eye.

"Very good, officer," Hunter says as Kutarn hands him the brace. His manner of speech is a bit odd when he gets into 'the zone'; he starts speaking militaristically, even referring to people with such terms as 'officer' or 'Lieutenant'.

He labels the arm brace and places it carefully next to the broken battery pack and the High Ghartah's dismembered finger, and then he straightens his back stiffly.

"Kromah, Kutarn, McCalligan?" he calls, beckoning us to him with what looks like a piece of scrap metal in his hand.

"Yes, sir?" I answer, mildly annoyed by the use of my surname. I ignore my irritation and listen.

"There's a shipment of tools and, uh... perishables waiting for me in the fourth deck antechamber. Could you bring it up here, please? I think I might be able to salvage something from this camera if I can get my hands on a baryon probe."

Right away, sir! Kutarn says as he leads us to the elevator, his rocky tail wrapping around his shoulder to hit the button. The doors slide open and we board the lift, Kromah calling the elevator to deck four.

A mildly uncomfortable ride begins as grating muzak starts to play.

Finally, Kutarn breaks the silence. So... where in the Empire are you two from? he asks as the lift descends.

"I'm from the Farrl," Kromah states. "It's pretty rural. Well, it's on Altair VI, so of course it is, but it's rural even by their standards."

"Parqanto itself for me," I say, thinking back to the capital of the Empire. "I'm Countess Rukah's grandson."

Nobility, huh? That's cool. I'm the son of Lord-President Fitark of Mare Tranquilitatis -- not that that's saying much, considering the other thousand people who can say the same.

Kromah laughs. "What got you into P.I?"

My mother's a member of the 51st Garrison. She's inspired me all my life to help the cause, so here I am, stealing Shoro tech and turning it against them.

"The 'Damned 51st', huh? That's quite impressive," I comment as the elevator doors open. "Aren't they an all-cyborg legion or something?"

Used to be, until the Human Purity movement started throwing hissy fits about it. Either way, she's amazing. I think she's stationed in the Ogma system right now.

We enter the antechamber to find a neatly-stacked pile of small, heavy crates, most of which are labeled as coming from either Mintaka IV or Mendale. The Mintaka packages contain the Overseer's tools; the Mendale packages contain jar after jar of Sinistran salsa.

"Good Lord, who needs all this salsa!?" Kromah exclaims, backing away from the crate in disgust. "It's like a drug cover or something!"

Kutarn crawls onto the crates and sniffs them. I can't smell any drugs. They ought to be fine to transport.

Kromah blanches with disgust. She's hated all things spicy since I first met her.

"Help me out with this dolly, will ya?" I call to them from the supply closet. "It's stuck."

Kutarn comes over and pulls the hand truck out of the closet, toppling a couple of badly placed brooms.

All right. Let's get this junk loaded up.

Ten minutes of lifting and rearranging later, we're on our way back up, crates stacked on the dolly and in the corners.

The elevator shudders slightly, and we hear a muffled clunk from above. The floor indicator freezes halfway between decks six and seven. The muzak stops mid-beat.

Oh, stars above, what now? Kutarn says with a sigh, looking at the ceiling. If this damn elevator just broke, I swear to Halshoni...

"I'll call the maintenance crew," I offer, interrupting Kutarn's oath to the Lunarian constellation and dialing the number on my phone.

The dial tone goes for a few seconds as the phone on the other end rings. I get hopeful when the call is answered.

"This is Chief Orotez Kaudus of the Koh za engineering team. Unfortunately, we aren't available right now, but be sure to leave a message and a ticket for your issue! Have a good day."

"Oh, damn," I comment as I hang up. "They haven't got the new maintenance crew in yet." Chief Kaudus was killed in the battle over Harkonni homohowk, I'm pretty sure. I swallow my feelings of horror at hearing a dead man talking.

I've got the Overseer's number. I'll just give him a text real quick.

We wait for a moment as Kutarn fires off the message.

One moment becomes one minute, then two, then five.

He's usually quicker than this. Maybe he didn't hear.

Kutarn texts Hunter again, only to be met with the same silence.

Damn this. I'm checking up top. Keep up the calls, guys. Jallir, I'm going to have to climb on your shoulders.

Damn elevator. The lifts back home never acted up like this.

I reach from my vantage point on the tall Terran's shoulders and try to push aside the maintenance panel up top.

It's stuck. I think something heavy's lying on it, but I've no idea what it could be.

Brace yourself, Jallir, I tell him. Something's on top of the panel.

"What the crap, what the crap..." Kromah whispers nervously, beginning to pace. She strikes me as the claustrophobic type.

I put a lot more strength behind my pushes. Jallir grunts and wobbles, but he thankfully doesn't fall.

Just one more shove.... There! The panel finally yields, and Jallir's knees buckle, leaving me hanging by my claws.

Thanks, pal. Sorry about that.

He gives me a weary thumbs-up from the floor.

I clamber up and find myself on top of the metal pod, looking around at the mid-deck partitions. I can tell the elevator shaft used to have walls here, but something's punched them out. I can see straight to the fusion reactor in the aft section.

This isn't right. For all its ugliness, the Koh za was built to the highest possible standards. It shouldn't have exposed wiring like what I'm seeing hanging everywhere.

The cable pulling the elevator upward is shaking furiously. Rods on either side of the lift are keeping it in place; they must be some sort of safety mechanism.

"What do you see up there?" Kromah calls up, her voice quavering slightly.

I'm not sure. The walls of the elevator shaft have been punched out; it might have been during the Shoro attack, but we'd need to investigate closer. I can't see any of the standard partition barriers. It's like a giant crawl space, nothing but the upper deck supports. The fusion reactor's lighting up the place real nice.

"The fusion reactor!?" Jallir exclaims.

The fusion reactor, I confirm, deadpan.

"What about the thing on the door? Is that still there?" Kromah asks.

I squint. It's pretty dark, but there's something bulky in the shadows over in one of the partitions next to the shaft.

I'm checking it out now. Hang tight.

An orange light winks at me from the hunk of mystery in the shadows. It stars to whir.

I creep closer, dropping to all fours due to a sudden feeling of dread and a pressure weighing on my mind.

A pressure indicating somebody very close by, and one that I can tell isn't Jallir or Kromah.

The flickering of the safety lights around the shaft finally reveal a horrific silhouette.

The severed upper body of a Shoro warrior drags itself closer, sucking air in with a wet rattling sound. Its talonlike fingers scrape on the metal floor, and its mangled torso follows suit with loud creaking.

I stare, transfixed by its one working eye. It pulls me in, drowning me in its yellow-orange light, driving out of my mind thoughts and feelings and decisions and memories.

"What do you see up there?" Kromah calls, snapping me out of the Shoro's trance.

Its integrated arm cannon charges up and it spews yellow blood across the floor.

STAY THE FUCK DOWN!

The cannon shoots and my body combusts.

May 24, 8057 AD

Palace complex in Canterlot

"Oi! Lemme go! Let me go! Fuck you, Princess!"

Sparkle marches determinedly through grand hall after grand hall, dragging me behind her by the collar of my father's coat. I scrabble uselessly at the floor as she pulls me along.

"Hey, if you just put me down, I'm sure we could come to some sort of agreement!"

No beans. She keeps going without giving me a second glance.

"Seriously! I won't bother you again! I'll give you my first aid kit, I can patch you up better than your doctors can -- ow! Ow! Ow! OW!"

Thankfully, the staircase isn't very long.

The Princess still won't respond. She takes a right, then a left, and then we stop.

There's a pair of Solar Guards on either side of a grand set of gold-lined French doors, holding their trademark spears and wearing gilded bronze.

They bow to Sparkle. "Princesses Celestia and Luna are convening privately," one of them says. "I'm afraid we can't let you in until they're done."

She nods and sits. Apparently, she's content to wait.

I lock eyes with the younger of the guards and grimace. He remains stock still, breaking eye contact and looking straight ahead.

Twilight keeps a strong grip on my father's coat. I wouldn't dare to make a break for it; she might tear the upper cloth layer apart. I need to find a more subtle way out of this.

My keen hearing picks up on an unfamiliar voice behind the door. It belongs to a woman, and she sounds quite full of herself, but that's about all I can tell.

"Don't worry, sister. The dungeon guards are well-trained; I'm sure they have everything under control by now. I've just received a report that the changeling was captured and arrested."

"That is but a small comfort, Tia," an all-too-familiar voice replies. "I, too, am keeping tabs on the action. The Finsha has escaped."

"I've heard, but surely he can't get far. Search teams are working as we speak. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if he were already captured!"

Fuck you, lady. Whoever you are.

"I know, but... he disturbeth me, sister. Never hath he seen the wonders of sleep. Never doth he rest, and neither doth he dream. I see him before me with mine own eyes, and yet he is absent from the Astral Plane! He is an impossible creature, and I understand him not."

"Modern speech, Luna. Don't forget that. But I understand your concern. He's a wild card, a rogue element. We can't know what he might do next."

The voices are growing closer. I wonder idly if I should be concerned.

You ought to be. Miss Moon's probably going to kick our butt.

Even Rational Finsha's scared. Yeah, I'm worried now.

God, I'm really fucking worried.

The clicking of horseshoes on stone gets closer and closer until the doors glow gold and swing open.

"Just speak with me if you need anything else, sister. Until then -- "

The stranger stops mid-sentence when she sees me.

If I had to use one word to describe her, I'd say 'radiant'. Her fur is pearly white, as are her wings. Her mane and tail float like Luna's, but instead of the night sky, they look like the most vibrant fucking rainbow you could possibly imagine. She wears a crown, a necklace, and shoes made of polished gold.

Holy fuck, she's garish.

"Luna... is that the creature you spoke of?"

"Yes, sister," the Moon Woman says, not taking her eyes off me.

"Twilight, what is the meaning of this?" the Rainbow Fuck asks Sparkle.

"I caught him hiding in the east tower," she mumbles through her bandages. "I don't know how he got there, Celestia!"

Aha! So that's her name. It looks like I've finally met Luna's sister.

Celestia glowers at me. "Guards, take him to the prison tower. Make sure he's supervised by no less than eight sentries at all times. Twilight, come with me."

The Princesses march away, leaving me to the tender, loving care of the Equestrian Solar Guard.

This is going to suck.

Author's Note

Finally finished! So sorry about the half-year delay. I've been ridiculously busy -- worked at a summer camp for a couple of months, had my wisdom teeth removed, sprained the same ankle four times in one week... there's been a lot going on, but I'm back at last

This chapter was a nightmare to write. I knew I wanted some exposition for Jallir and co., but I could never figure out how to do it. I'm glad I found something that worked for me!

Oh yeah, and as per the usual, Korchikah's screwed. I wonder how he's getting out of this one.