Ponystar Celestia

T. Ponystar Celestia, starboard passageway #12.

It felt like time slowed to a crawl as Applejack began to vomit. All of Fluttershy’s usual anxieties, neuroses, phobias, legitimate fears, and shyness boiled away as her full attention settled on her orange-coated friend. Fluttershy didn’t know how, but Applejack was showing the symptoms of an advanced case of feather flu.

Coughing. It had been the lack of coughing that had thrown Fluttershy off of the feather flu’s scent. Instead of aggravating the lungs—as in every case she’d ever heard of—the disease had gone for the mucous membranes in Applejack’s muzzle. Fluids had built up, making her sneeze and making it hard for her to breathe without sniffling. Fluttershy couldn’t tell from where she stood, but she was reasonably certain that Applejack’s ankles and lymph nodes would be swollen, too… unless that was another area where the disease had gone off-track. As the feather flu continued to build it led to nausea, vomiting, delirium, and wing cramps. That was the stage Applejack had just entered… minus the wing cramps, obviously. Of course, she shouldn’t be at this stage because A) the disease took about three weeks to advance this far and B) Applejack wasn’t a pegasus.

Applejack began to fall, and Fluttershy raced to catch her. She narrowly succeeded, bracing the sturdy farmpony with both forelegs and her own torso. Fluttershy cradled Applejack’s head gently, turning her so that any remaining vomit came out smoothly instead of collecting in the earth pony’s throat and choking her. In the process Fluttershy was splattered with the remains of Applejack’s breakfast, but she didn’t care. Applejack needed proper medical attention, the sooner the better. The next stage of the feather flu was a high fever that—if left untreated—could cause brain damage or death.

“Action stations, action stations. Set Condition Two throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I repeat: action stations, action stations. Set Condition Two throughout the ship. This is not a drill.”

Scootaloo froze in shock for a moment before flying off down a connecting passageway.

Everyone else began to move towards the two mares on the deck, but Fluttershy waved them off with one hoof. “Give her room! She needs air!” she yelled. Once the vomit had stopped flowing Fluttershy looked into Applejack’s mouth and checked her throat to make sure she could breathe freely. Satisfied, Fluttershy laid Applejack on the deck on her side. She looked to Big Macintosh. “She’s breathing, but I can’t carry her to sickbay by myself.” Big Macintosh nodded and shucked off his collar. Small cracks appeared in the living wood of the deck where it landed.

“Wait!” Twilight said. Reflexively, Fluttershy glared at the purple unicorn—Applejack’s life was on the line!

Before Fluttershy or Big Macintosh could speak, Sweetie Belle cut in: “What’s this Condition Two?”

“‘Threat probable, but not present,’” Twilight quoted from memory, her face pale. She swallowed, then continued: “The Fleet has different levels of battle-readiness, from Condition Five—for holding anchor at a friendly port in peacetime—to Condition One, which is for when a ship is actively engaging an enemy.” She turned to Spike. “Spike, you and Fluttershy take Applejack to sickbay—”

“I’ll go,” Big Macintosh interrupted. “I’m faster.” He sounded so determined that he almost seemed angry; under normal circumstances Fluttershy would’ve been alarmed, but right now she just wanted her friends to make a decision and get Applejack to a doctor.

“I’m sure that’s true when you’re unburdened, but Spike can run on two legs and still carry Applejack securely,” said Twilight. “His overall speed will be higher under the circumstances. Besides, the rest of us need to head to the CIC to see if we can help in any way, and I need you to go ahead of us and assess the situation so we can get to work faster.” Despite her concern for Applejack, Fluttershy felt a small burst of proud joy for her unicorn friend. Twilight could never admit it, but her talent for organization and her impressive intellect made her a natural-born leader.

Big Macintosh glared at Twilight and frowned. “But—”

Twilight stamped a hoof. “Do I need to pull rank on you, soldier?” she asked, sounding almost like Colonel Tie. Fluttershy was confused for a moment, until she remembered that being knights of the realm meant that she and her friends were all technically officers in the Fleet. As best Fluttershy could recall, Big Macintosh was only an enlisted pony.

Big Macintosh snorted, still glaring. “No, ma’am,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Then get moving,” Twilight said.

Big Macintosh vanished in a blur of red. Fluttershy froze for a moment, astonished. She had only ever seen one earth pony move that fast before, and Pinkie wasn’t exactly a normal earth pony. A quick glance confirmed that most of the group was as surprised as she was.

Pinkie gestured to Big Macintosh’s discarded collar. “It’s heavier than it looks,” she said by way of explanation. “Mackie has to take it off when we…” she glanced at Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, then gestured with her hooves to make quotation marks, “…‘wrestle,’ or else he’d squash me flat as a pancake!”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes, and Sweetie Belle slapped a hoof to her forehead.

Twilight shook her head as though waking up from a dream, and turned to Spike again. “Applejack! Sickbay! CIC after! Go!”

“Uh, right!” Spike said. He moved to Fluttershy’s side in three long strides, and scooped Applejack up in a powerful-yet-gentle grip. “Come on, Fluttershy!”

Fluttershy nodded and hurried off, Spike and Applejack close behind.

* * *

T plus ten minutes. Ponystar Celestia, central passageway #02.

As she galloped with the group towards the CIC, Twilight Sparkle tried to plan out where she and her friends should go and what they should do if a battle really did break out.

Scootaloo had already left, no doubt to report to Spitfire in the pegasus bay. Rainbow Dash was also an active-duty flyer, but of course she and Applejack were stuck in the sickbay. Just by virtue of being a pegasus Fluttershy should technically follow Scootaloo, but Twilight highly doubted that the gentle yellow mare would be leaving the sickbay while two of her friends were so ill.

As for the Apples… Commander Agrippa would likely order Big Macintosh to join a repair team. The huge red stallion wouldn’t like such a passive role, agitated as he was by his sister’s condition, but unless enemy troops boarded the Celestia it was the best use of his abilities. Apple Bloom had enough experience with the CIC’s consoles to serve there, but given her talents she’d be better off on a repair team as well. Heck, she could probably be a repair team. Pinkie would likely sit the battle out due to her pregnancy.

That just left Sweetie Belle, Spike, and Twilight herself. They would probably all wind up on the outer hull of the ship with most of the Celestia’s unicorns, strapped into point-defense rigs and hurling spells—or fire, in Spike’s case—at any enemy flyers that got past the pegasi. Twilight blanched a little at the thought. She knew Apple Bloom had put all of her considerable ability into making the rigs as safe as possible, but she didn’t relish the thought of testing them firsthoof. On top of that, she doubted that Sweetie Belle knew any combat spells.

Twilight rounded a corner into passageway number one, but only a few paces in she skidded to a stop. She turned around in an effort to halt Pinkie and spare her the sight, but even pregnant the pink mare was surprisingly fast. She had already rounded the corner, and like Twilight she had frozen in horror.

“Mackie?” Pinkie squeaked, her eyes huge.

As the rest of the group caught up, Twilight looked back towards the CIC. The hatch was shut, Big Macintosh lying just outside it. He was on his side, back arched and legs twisted into unnatural positions. Bloody froth lined his lips, and his eyes had rolled back in their sockets. Twilight couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“Macintosh!”

Apple Bloom’s cry and her lunge towards her brother snapped Pinkie out of her shock. Together the two raced towards the fallen stallion. Twilight and Sweetie Belle held back; Twilight didn’t know Sweetie Belle’s reason, but she herself was recalling Fluttershy’s commands from a few minutes before.

“Mackie! Mackie!” Pinkie wailed, shaking her husband by his huge red shoulder.

“Mac! It’s Apple Bloom! Speak ta me!”

Twilight inched forward hesitantly. She’d never had medical training—not even a first aid class—but she knew that breathing was a good thing to check for. Luckily, once she was closer she could see Mac’s sides moving slowly with his weak breaths. Letting out a breath of her own, Twilight cast a spell and summoned a globe of water over Big Macintosh’s head. She quickly checked to make sure it wasn’t steaming—her spell had teleported the water from the nearest source, and for all she knew that was a water heater—before she released the water, letting it splash down on Big Macintosh’s head.

Whether from the shock of cold water or from Pinkie and Apple Bloom’s attentions, Big Macintosh finally stirred. His eyelids twitched, followed by his whole body. The twitches moved from his head to his hooves like a ripple in a pond; the overall effect deeply unsettled Twilight. Finally, Big Macintosh began to cough: loud, wet coughs that brought up more bloody foam.

Pinkie was sobbing into her husband’s coat, her forelegs wrapped about him as if to shield him from attack. Apple Bloom had crouched near her brother, her legs and tail curled under herself protectively as she nuzzled the top of Big Macintosh’s head. Dazed, the red stallion looked to both of them and croaked, “Get ‘way.”

Pinkie and Apple Bloom seemed too overwhelmed to speak, so Twilight asked, “Big Macintosh, what happened?”

“Get ‘way,” he repeated weakly. “Gas. Gotta shut th’ hatch…” he was obviously fighting to stay conscious. Twilight considered several different spells that could rejuvenate him, but without knowing exactly what was going on with his body it would be easy for her to exacerbate the damage.

Instead, Twilight turned her attention to the hatch leading to the CIC. Looking through the magically reinforced glass that made up the top third of the hatch, Twilight saw a billowing green cloud. Big Macintosh had taken advantage of his sister’s genius to protect the rest of the ship from whatever the cloud was, though he’d clearly been exposed himself.

Like most of the Celestia’s hatches, the CIC hatch could be made airtight. Apple Bloom’s plan had been that in the event of a water landing, the crew of the Celestia could seal the ship and use several wind talismans to provide a few days’ worth of breathable air. That would hopefully give them enough time for the crew to get the ship airborne again, or for outside ponies to come and save them.

Extrapolating from Big Macintosh’s condition, Twilight already knew that everypony in the CIC was dead. That cold certainty lodged in her gut like a large, sharp-edged rock, heavy and painful. Still, she had to check—just in case—and the Celestia needed its CIC. She drew her magic to herself and cast another teleportation spell. Instead of bringing water to her, though, this one teleported the vile green cloud outside of the ship. Twilight bit her lip momentarily, hoping that nopony had been where the cloud had appeared. Then she used her magic to start turning the hatch’s wheel.

Apple Bloom gasped and Big Macintosh reached one hoof up towards Twilight beseechingly. “Nooo…” he said, the word coming out as a drawn-out whimper.

“It’s okay, everypony,” Twilight said. “I’ve cleared the gas out of the room.”

The hatch wouldn’t budge. Twilight frowned for a moment before realizing that she’d probably created a vacuum in the CIC. She waited a few moments for the wind talismans—which would have automatically activated—to do their work before trying again. This time the hatch opened easily on its well-oiled hinges.

Twilight’s ears had been tilted back for a while now thanks to her stress, but the stench that emerged from the CIC made them feel like they were trying to melt into her neck. She had never smelled this scent before, but in a drunken conversation years ago her big brother had described it: the sour-sweet smell of recent death on a large scale. Apple Bloom and Pinkie also smelled it judging by the way their muzzles scrunched up, but mercifully Big Macintosh was already unconscious again. Twilight couldn’t see Sweetie Belle without turning around. She stepped inside.

The CIC was lit exactly as it had been; dimly enough that the various officers could see the screens of their consoles easily, but brightly enough that walking wasn’t a hazard. This fact offended Twilight on some level. Something in her demanded that the lights be completely extinguished, the better to hide the tableau she was witnessing.

She had been right. Everypony was dead.

She couldn’t see every corpse from her place by the door, but the ones closest to her proved the point. Lieutenant Gate lay at her feet; somehow—Seizures?—his spine and neck had both snapped in multiple places. Blood had gushed out of every orifice on his head; at his eyes it looked like red tears.

Colonel Tie and Lieutenant Caramel had died holding each other, but judging by the extensive bruising on Tie’s face and Caramel’s missing teeth the two stallions hadn’t been looking for comfort.

Twilight could see Commander Agrippa’s hindquarters poking out from behind the table—the tactical board, if she recalled correctly—in the center of the room. Next to him were a broken saucer and a half-finished mug of coffee that had somehow gotten to the floor without spilling. Absurdly, that struck her as the most poignant thing in the room.

Overcome, Twilight vomited onto Lieutenant Gate’s corpse.

Two sounds reached Twilight as she finished. One of them was new: the sound of somepony else vomiting, just behind Twilight. Twilight belatedly realized that the second sound had repeating since she’d entered the room. The magically transmitted voice of Major Spitfire was saying, “I repeat: CAG to Celestia Actual. Come in, Actual. What’s the situation? I’ve got twenty pegasi on the catapults—ready to launch—and more waiting. Are we go for launch?” After a pause of a second or two, Spitfire repeated her transmission.

Twilight turned first to the other pony who had entered. Sweetie Belle wiped her mouth with one hoof before turning her sorrowful green eyes towards Twilight. “What do we do, Twilight?” she asked, her hushed words almost lost against the sound of Spitfire’s transmissions.

Twilight swallowed once—instantly regretting it—and stepped over to the communications console. She levitated a headset off of the corpse of a chocolate-colored mare. Suppressing her revulsion, Twilight settled the headset on her own head. She searched her memory for the proper wording, then pressed the flashing button in front of her.

Trying to keep her voice steady and professional, Twilight said, “CAG, this is Celestia Comm. Hold for further orders.”

Spitfire responded immediately. “You aren’t Dual Dulcet. Who am I speaking to?”

“This is Twili—uh—Dame Sparkle.” She glanced at the dead mare’s uniform. “PO2 Dulcet is—is occupied. I’m holding her post.”

“Put me on with Commander Agrippa,” the Wonderbolts’ leader demanded.

“He’s busy right now,” Twilight said. A frightened, twitchy part of her—perhaps ancient instincts left over from when ponies were prey animals—wanted to scream Busy being dead! but she restrained it; with the ship in such a tense state it would be far too easy to cause a panic.

“Listen, Dame Sparkle…” Even as bad as Twilight was with social cues, she knew irritated condescension when she heard it. “Just put Commander Agrippa on. I need to talk to him, and I promise you won’t get into any trouble or anything.”

Her own irritation building, Twilight spat out a curt, “Negative. By order of Commander Agrippa, remain at the ready but do not launch. Celestia Comm. out.” She jabbed the same button she’d pressed before, terminating the communications link. When Spitfire called back and began demanding that she respond, Twilight muted the console. That done, she let out a shaky breath.

Modest though it was, her relief was short-lived. She became aware of Sweetie Belle, who was softly weeping as she looked from the tactical board to a slip of scroll she had levitated and back.

Twilight felt her stomach fall into her hooves; she recognized the type of scroll Sweetie was looking over. With its clipped-off corners it could only be a military correspondence scroll, used when the Fleet needed to communicate over distances farther than the vocal communication enchantments allowed. She’d been inspired by the way she and Princess Celestia had kept in touch down the years. “Sweetie Belle?” she asked, forcing the words past a lump of congealed dread. “What’s wro—” Stupid question. “I mean, what is it?”

“Rarity…” the younger mare whispered. “And—and Canterlot… and…”

Reaching out with her magic, Twilight grasped the small scroll—too easily; Sweetie Belle’s magical grip on it was worryingly unsteady—and floated it over to herself. Between the light from the consoles and the soft red-violet glow of her magic, Twilight could easily read:

CANTERLOT UNDER ATTACK – ALCHEMICAL WEAPONS DETECTED
MANEHATTAN UNDER ATTACK – ALCHEMICAL WEAPONS DETECTED
BALTIMARE UNDER ATTACK – ALCHEMICAL WEAPONS DETECTED
FILLYDELPHIA UNDER ATTACK – ALCHEMICAL WEAPONS DETECTED
LAS PEGASUS UNDER ATTACK
TROTTINGHAM UNDER ATTACK – ALCHEMICAL WEAPONS DETECTED
CLOUDSDALE UNDER ATTACK
DODGE JUNCTION UNDER ATTACK – ALCHEMICAL WEAPONS DETECTED
ENEMY UNKNOWN
ALL PONYSTARS: CONDITION 2
AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS

Twilight re-read the scroll three times, but her mind refused to process the words. She could feel the failed connection within her as a strange sense of unreality; it reminded her of the battle with Discord. She set the scroll aside and walked slowly over to the tactical board.

Tiny yellow triangles labeled ALCHEMICAL WEAPON were spreading across the map of Ponyville from a central point almost directly beneath the Celestia.

Something clicked in Twilight’s mind, trains of thought barreling straight through the emotional barricades she’d unconsciously erected. She turned to Sweetie Belle.

“Get Apple Bloom in here,” Twilight said. “We have a job to do.”

* * *

T plus sixteen minutes. Ponystar Celestia, pegasus bay.

Junior Lieutenant Scootaloo—future Best Young Flyer, future Wonderbolt, future leader of the Wonderbolts—was shaking. She wasn’t afraid—well, okay, maybe a little afraid—she was excited. She was ready. Since the day Apple Bloom had given her her glorious wings, Scootaloo had been training like a mare possessed. Heck, she’d been training before that, too, though of course back then it had been useless. Scootaloo still felt a little twinge of bitterness towards all of the doctors and flight coaches she’d consulted over the years, all of whom had failed her.

Her individual crusade had gone on long after she and her friends had gotten their cutie marks. At first she had had tons of support in her quest for flight, but down the years everypony had given up and advised her to do the same. Everypony except Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, of course. The doctors and coaches could claim that the problem was her slightly undersized wings all they liked, but unlike seemingly everypony else the former Cutie Mark Crusaders never forgot a certain muscular white stallion.

It had taken a huge amount of willpower for Scootaloo to take Apple Bloom’s advice and venture deep into the Everfree Forest. Sure, she’d gone in with her friends a few times—and with the occasional cute colt, once puberty struck—but she’d never ventured too far into that untamed region. As brave as she was when she was zipping around on her scooter, the wild darkness of the Everfree had always been too much for her. In the end, though, she’d ponied up and gone all the way to Zecora’s hut alone. To this day Scootaloo had no idea why she’d had to go alone, but that demand—relayed by Apple Bloom—had been the first of many from the zebra.

The next two weeks had been unlike anything else in the young pegasus’ life. She had participated in bizarre foreign rituals, consumed strange concoctions, and in the end had been told to walk deeper into the Everfree until it was time to stop—and of course she hadn’t been told how she would know when that was. Scootaloo’s memories of that walk were an odd mix of almost-forgotten blurs and unnaturally crisp images.

That poor rabbit…

When she’d finally woken up in Zecora’s hut Scootaloo had her answer: she couldn’t fly because her body wouldn’t channel her natural pegasus magic properly. She could still manipulate clouds and other weather phenomena, but flight was beyond her.

Zecora couldn’t help her any further—pony magic was even more alien to her than zebra rituals were to Scootaloo—but that was where Apple Bloom had stepped in. She’d picked up all kinds of obscure magical knowledge in the process of creating the ponystars with Twilight, and jumped at the chance to help Scootaloo out. It had taken Apple Bloom six tries to create Scootaloo’s wings—incredibly few considering that she was dabbling in both pegasus and unicorn magical theory to do so.

Scootaloo gave her enhanced wings a flex. She had worn the prosthetics almost every waking minute since she’d unwrapped them and was pretty well used to them now, but it never hurt to stay limber—that was one of Major Spitfire’s Rules to Fly By. Today the prosthetic was a little stiff around her right alula; Scootaloo made a mental note to ask Apple Bloom for some maintenance. As she continued her warm-ups Scootaloo took a quick glance around the bay. To her immediate left, twenty pegasi stood in a disciplined line. They were the second wave, standing ready to place themselves in the catapults as soon as the first wave launched. The first wave was father off to her left, growing more and more uncomfortable as they huddled—wings folded and bodies crouched—in the launch tubes.

Ahead and to her right, Major Spitfire was chewing out Captain Soarin’. Scootaloo felt an odd pride for Soarin’; the light blue stallion hadn’t done anything wrong, but he was absorbing his commander’s tirade as placidly as if he were a cow. Nopony knew the details, but everypony knew that Spitfire’s conversation with the CIC had gone poorly. Like Scootaloo—heck, like every pegasus with half a brain—Soarin’ knew that Spitfire was lashing out because she was worried for the ponies stuck in the launch tubes. Spitfire was easygoing to a fault as a rule, but she hated seeing other ponies in trouble. Her concern was pretty well-founded in this case: just as unicorns had a tendency towards obsessive-compulsive behavior, pegasi were naturally inclined towards claustrophobia.

“And here we were so disappointed when we didn’t make the cut for the first wave… It’s funny how things work out,” said a young gray-coated stallion to Scootaloo’s right.

Scootaloo glared at Rumble. “I was disappointed. You looked like you couldn’t care less,” she said.

Rumble shrugged. “Hey, just because I’m not constantly jumping at the chance to get myself killed doesn’t mean I don’t have a little pride. Going out first would’ve been a nice plus-point on our records, sure, but we don’t even know what we’re supposedly going to fight.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes at her wingpony. “Gee, I wonder. If it was a dragon they would’ve told us by now, and scrambled the Wonderbolts first. Haven’t you been paying attention to the briefings? It’s griffons. It’s always griffons.”

“That’s not how I heard it,” Rumble said, his tone even and calm as always. “I heard that some ponies have turned to banditry too, because they’re having it rough out on the border. Places like Appleoosa and Dodge Junction, you know?”

“Oh, sure,” Scootaloo said sarcastically. “And just because Las Pegasus is out over a desert they’re cannibals, right?”

Rumble sighed and said nothing.

Irritated, Scootaloo pressed on. “There’s no way that ponies are attacking other ponies. Who told you this pile of horseapples anyway?”

Rumble mumbled something.

“What was that?” Scootaloo demanded.

“Thunderlane told me,” Rumble repeated.

“Well, I guess he just doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” she said smugly.

Rumble said nothing.

The silence between the two held for far longer than Scootaloo could stand. Finally, she blurted out, “Well?!”

Rumble frowned slightly. “What?”

“I said your big brother doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Rumble was silent a moment, as though waiting. “And…?”

Scootaloo stamped her front hooves on the deck a few times out of sheer frustration. She opened her mouth, but was cut off by Commander Agrippa’s augmented voice booming from the pegasus bay’s bulkheads and ceiling.

“This is the Commander. Moments ago, this ship received word of attacks against several Equestrian cities by an unidentified enemy. We do not know the size or the disposition or the strength of the enemy’s forces, but all indications point to an all-out assault by a foreign power.

“But right now, none of that matters.

“Right now, Ponyville is under attack. The enemy has deployed an unidentified alchemical weapon and innocent ponies are in danger. Any and all unicorns with spells of defense or spells that might neutralize the alchemical weapon are to deploy to the ventral point-defense rigs. All pegasi are to engage in weather-manipulation and search-and-rescue duties.

“Set Condition One throughout the ship. We’re going to save Ponyville, and then we’re going to war.

“You’ve trained for this. You’re ready for this. Stand to your duties, trust your fellow shipmates, and we’ll all get through this. Further updates as we get them. Thank you.”

In the now-silent pegasus bay, Spitfire turned from Soarin’ and rose a few feet into the air. “You heard the stallion!” she yelled to the only earth pony in the bay. “Launch pegasi!”

* * *

T plus twenty minutes. Ponystar Celestia, ventral point-defense rig #23.

The sky was dull purple.

Well, it wasn’t actually the sky, but that’s how Petty Officer First Class Amethyst Star chose to think of it. She had never pulled duty on the ventral point-defense rigs before, but she had already worked out why most ponies considered them a punishment detail. Whoever had designed the PDRs had better be locked up in either Tartarus or a mental ward, because they were either evil or insane.

All of the rigs were infused with gravity enchantments designed to orient the user’s personal gravity towards the Celestia; in other words, for a pony in a rig the Celestia was “down.” Amethyst had hardly noticed when she’d done dorsal PDR training, since the enchantment had had nothing to compete with except the wind. It had been much more noticeable when she’d pulled a shift in a lateral PDR, but even then she could just pretend she was on a very steep hill.

No such luck here. Up was down and down was up, and even though the gravity enchantment kept Amethyst’s blood from rushing to her head and her inner ear from freaking out, it couldn't do anything for her mind. If she allowed herself to recognize the fact that she was clinging to the underside of an airship with nothing but a few straps and somepony else’s magic to keep her there NonononononononostopitstopitlookattheprettypurpleskyI’mtotallynotupsidedown

Amethyst squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t open them again until her muzzle was pointed “down” at her forehooves. She stared at her forehooves for a long moment, and concentrated on breathing deeply.

Breathe in… breathe out… in… out… in… My, what a perfectly normal day to be standing on top of the Celestia! Out… in… Hmmm, I’d better get a hooficure when I’m done. Yep, nothing wrong here that can’t be fixed with a hooficure… In…

Slowly—so as to help maintain her necessary self-delusion—she raised her eyes from her hooves to the Celestia’s iron-clad hull. She tried to ignore the cluster of civilian airships hovering “upside down” near the ponystar. Amethyst paused a moment and took in all of the other unicorns strapped in around her, who were absolutely not hurtling to their deaths on the ground/sky “above.”

That’s odd; I thought I heard that Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, and Sweetie Belle were aboard. Why aren’t they out here?

Nopony else seemed to notice the missing knights and diva; all of the unicorns Amethyst could see were too busy concentrating on their respective magical efforts. Even Dinky was out here, casting spells like they were going out of style. Amethyst steeled herself further; she had to set a good example for her little sister. Even if said sister was already handling the situation better than she herself. Amethyst forced herself to look “up” again.

The alchemical weapon looked back at her.

It was a terrible, amorphous thing, too large to be real yet constantly growing larger. A sickly dull purple in color, the alchemical weapon was a hodgepodge of boggling eyes and gibbering mouths that temporarily formed and then melted back into its overall mass. The location of the eyes and mouths seemed random, and the only consistent thing was that it always had more of each than it could possibly need. It didn’t even use the mouths as far as Amethyst could tell; rather than eating anything in the traditional sense, the alchemical weapon simply flowed over everything in its path. On the other hoof, the thing made good use of its eyes… to find targets. It seemed to prefer ponies over other life and living things over inanimate ones. The longest protrusions off of the main mass were always ones that led to ponies.

Amethyst followed one of the longer limb-blobs with her eyes, and saw that it was pursuing a young mare through Ponyville’s market district. The peach-coated earth pony ducked frantically around and between the now-empty stalls and tents, gradually putting distance between herself and the thing’s tendril. Amethyst cheered for her and was about to look for somepony in more need of aid when she saw a second pseudopod moving in to cut the mare off.

Amethyst took a deep breath and drew upon her magic. Her magical talents related to jewels and gemstones, so she went with what she knew. She levitated the fifty-odd diamonds she had in her saddlebag and sent them hurtling towards the new blob-limb. They wouldn’t be enough, but as they flew they passed near a jewelry store. Once her diamonds were close enough, Amethyst surged her magic and snared almost everything in the store. A massive blob of jewelry and raw gemstones wrapped in a violet-pink aura burst through the shop’s main window and hurtled towards the fleeing pony.

The first tendril was stretched so thin that Amethyst could hardly see it; it was apparently too small even to have eyes or mouths now. She quickly scanned the area and found a good bottleneck between a pair of long, sturdy-looking stalls; delaying the second limb there—even for a few seconds—should buy the mare enough time to escape. She waited until the alchemical weapon had committed to moving between the stalls; when it was almost to the end she slammed the mass of jewelry and gems down.

Working quickly and precisely, Amethyst shaped the baubles and trinkets into a wall twice the height of a pony and leaning slightly towards the alchemical weapon. There weren’t enough objects to form a perfect wall, but the few gaps wouldn’t let enough of the slime through to threaten the peach mare. Despite being fairly new to actual combat—or whatever the hay this was—Amethyst was confident in her barrier. She had used a smaller, less-solid lattice while sparring against a muscular earth pony stallion back in Basic Training; it had stopped him cold in mid-charge.

The alchemical weapon blew through her wall like it wasn’t there, and washed over the peach-coated pony.

Amethyst screamed in vain denial. Her concentration shattered, and she lost her grip on the gems and jewelry. At this range she wouldn’t be able to pick them up again, but what did that matter if this thing could power through them anyway? Her purple eyes overflowed with tears as she watched the peach mare’s now-limp form get dragged into the thing’s tendril. Instead of returning to the main mass the two limb-blobs just flopped where they were, as if spent. Judging from what Amethyst had seen earlier, though, the chase had simply expanded the thing’s territory and these limbs would become the origin point for new ones later.

Still stunned into inaction, Amethyst took another look at the scene “above.” All throughout Ponyville she could see colorful little flares of magical auras and completed spells. Most of them were turning out to be useless or fizzling outright, especially the ones that were directed against the alchemical weapon itself. A quick scan of her comrades revealed that she wasn’t the only unicorn to notice; despair was building on every face. As she watched, an earth pony who was slowly being lifted by the combined magic of three unicorns was casually swatted out of the air by a dull purple pseudopod. Amethyst could swear that she heard the thing laugh.

The pegasi were faring better when it came to rescues; their speed mostly allowed them to zip into Ponyville and out with a passenger before the alchemical weapon could react. Mostly. Some had gone down right at the beginning when they tried to use their wings—sharpened by an enchantment worked into the launch tubes—to sever limbs from the thing. Instead of being cut, the slime had snared the pegasi as though it were flypaper. Others had been picked off by terrifyingly fast tendrils that lashed out like a frog’s tongue, usually as the pegasi in question were ascending with a frightened unicorn or earth pony in their grip. Still, they kept at it.

Nopony could accuse the civilian pegasi of Ponyville of being cowards, either; when the Celestia’s pegasus bay had opened several had been hovering outside with their ground-bound neighbors in hoof. Once they had deposited their passengers most had turned right back around and gone in for more alongside the Celestia’s flyers. Other pegasi had even left the safety of the civilian airships to chip in. Unfortunately, their heroism didn’t make them immune to the alchemical weapon; not all of the civilian pegasi would see the sun set today.

Like the unicorns, though, the pegasi weren’t having any luck slowing the thing. Amethyst saw them assault the alchemical weapon with rain and lightning, sleet and hail—early summer or no—and gale-force winds, all to no effect. They even worked together at one point to create a tornado, trying to suck the thing up into the sky. It had been lifted partway, but had lashed out and snagged half a dozen pegasi before the group could drop it. Amethyst said a brief prayer of thanks that the thing wasn’t terribly smart; if it had bided its time it could’ve killed every pony in the tornado.

The pegasi regrouped, and a small cluster including the blue-clad Wonderbolts hovered outside the alchemical weapon’s apparent reach. Amethyst was too far away to hear what they were saying—and her headset was attuned to a different spell than the one they were using—but judging from body language the discussion was heated. As the airborne ponies argued, an earth pony family emerged from a house and made a break for freedom. The alchemical weapon saw them and lurched bodily towards the family.

Two pairs of pegasi moved to intercept, apparently not waiting for orders. A buttermilk-colored colt and a gray stallion landed to either side of the family and waved them further on, towards a larger black stallion and an orange mare with strange, steely wings. Those two each grabbed a foal and took off towards the Celestia. The two pegasi who had landed began to stomp their hooves, rhythmically at first as though applauding, then wildly as though they were throwing temper tantrums. To Amethyst’s amazement, the ground ripped apart in a jagged line between the two pegasi. The fissure became deeper and wider as they continued, and more than one building began to collapse from the constant, powerful shaking.

When the leading edge of the alchemical weapon got to the fissure it tried to simply reach across, but what had been a hairline crack was now a broad pit. The thing groped down the near side as though seeking the bottom before giving up and going around. Fortunately for the earth ponies, this took long enough that the four pegasi—the orange and black ones having returned—were able to take off and ferry the parents to the Celestia. Finally, something had delayed the nightmarish slime… albeit at the cost of several buildings and a huge, ugly hole near the center of town. Amethyst began to hear cheers—both through her headset and through her uncovered ear—but a quick glance at the unicorns around her revealed that the cheers weren’t for the earth-rending pegasi.

Dame Twilight Sparkle—bearer of the Element of Magic and repeated savior of Equestria—had just arrived on the scene.

Showing no signs of Amethyst’s awkward reaction to being upside-down, Twilight immediately spoke into the PDR communications channel: “Doctor Minuette, are you out here?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ponyville’s resident dentist called out joyfully. “Here I am!” In the crowd Amethyst could see the blue-and-white maned mare rearing up on her hind legs, straining against the bonds of her PDR. The sight made Amethyst’s stomach flip-flop unpleasantly.

“Good,” said Twilight Sparkle. “I need you to cast your time-slowing spell on the alchemical weapon.”

Oh, so that’s what her cutie mark means, Amethyst thought. Then she did a double-take. Minuette had been gifted with a talent for time magic… and she had decided to be a dentist?! I guess you don’t have to do something connected to your cutie mark, but still…

“I’ve tried that already,” Minuette replied, sounding almost ashamed. “It didn’t work.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Twilight Sparkle said. “I’m going to try to copy and amplify your spell, but I need to see you cast it so I can get a feel for how it works.”

“O—okay…” Minuette stammered.

Fascinated, Amethyst watched closely as Minuette prepared her spell. The dentist gathered her magic and her horn flared with light, but when Amethyst looked back at the alchemical weapon it was still rampaging as though nothing had happened.

“Thank you,” Twilight Sparkle said calmly. As Amethyst—and everypony else in the PDRs—watched with bated breath, Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated. Her horn glowed brighter and brighter as she poured more of her magic into the spell, gradually becoming so brilliant that Amethyst could no longer look directly at it. She suddenly realized that she could feel Twilight Sparkle’s magic washing over her in gentle waves; until then the only magic Amethyst had ever sensed in such a way had been her own. She wondered what form the spell would take whe—

For a split second, every color in the world seemed to invert.

—n Twilight Sparkle finally cast it.

Amethyst blinked rapidly, and realized that Twilight Sparkle’s horn had gone out. The famous knight was slumped in her harness, panting, her coat soaked in lather. Amethyst looked from Twilight Sparkle to the alchemical weapon—and gasped.

The gigantic purple mass looked like it had felt the wrath of the Princesses. Its surface was pocked with craters—some reaching all the way through to the bare ground—not to mention scorch marks, large patches of ice, and more exotic signs of violence. Better yet, the thing had stopped. Amethyst didn’t see any eyes or mouths, either; it was just a battered looking pond of slime. Everypony—not just the unicorns, now—let out a relieved cheer. Amethyst saw two pegasi hug each other in mid air, and could see civilians on the ground literally jumping for joy.

A single white eye large enough for five ponies to stand on opened in the middle of the alchemical weapon, and focused on the Celestia.

“Look!” Amethyst yelled, pointing towards the thing.

Before their very eyes the alchemical weapon repaired itself. Within seconds, every bit of damage was gone from the thing’s surface. More eyes had formed too, all of them staring at the ponystar high above. The alchemical weapon began to retract its various limbs, drawing them back into the ever-growing central mass. As the limbs returned the central eye rose up on a huge stalk, slowly reaching out towards the ponystar.

“It isn’t even scorched… Oh shit, what are going to do now?!” Minuette desperately cried.

A lance of green fire speared into the alchemical weapon’s eye. Hundreds of mouths instantly formed across the thing as it roared in what Amethyst hoped was pain. More blasts followed the first, and Amethyst traced them back to their source—a pony-sized purple and green dragon. It wasn’t in a PDR; it simply used its claws to cling to the underside of the Celestia like a huge reptilian spider. The titanic eyestalk backed off as the dragon breathed more of its strange green flames at the alchemical weapon, but what little damage it was taking was rapidly repaired. Worse, other gigantic limbs were forming and reaching up towards the ship, forcing the dragon to divide its attention.

Commander Agrippa’s voice came across the master communications spell. “Celestia Actual to all pegasi: return to the ship immediately. We are withdrawing from the engagement zone.”

A mare—presumably Major Spitfire—replied using the same spell, though her voice wasn’t amplified as much as the commander’s: “Actual, this is the CAG. We need a couple more minutes to get the last of the civilians aboard. Pegasi, return to your duties.” Amethyst could see several pegasi hovering, uncertain of what to do.

There was a slight pause before Agrippa replied, as though he was considering his words. “Belay that order. We’re moving out.”

“What?! We can’t just leave innocent ponies to die!” Spitfire yelled. Suiting actions to words, she and another Wonderbolt dropped off a civilian, turned, and began another run.

There was another pause. Amethyst looked to Twilight Sparkle, wondering how the famous heroine would react to the Commander’s cold-blooded order. It looked as though Twilight Sparkle was speaking into her headset, but if so she wasn’t using the master spell for some reason. Confused, Amethyst looked back to the monster-versus-monster battle. The strange, small dragon was visibly tiring as it shot flames at the half-dozen or so tentacles that had branched off of the alchemical weapon, and while the flames themselves still looked impressive they were getting less and less of a reaction from the thing each time.

"All pegasi have ninety seconds to return to the pegasus bay,” the Commander finally said. “After that we’re leaving without you.” The Celestia’s pegasi were in complete disarray now as each tried to decide which leader to listen to, and began to follow through on their choices. The civilian pegasi carried on with their rescue efforts, unaware of the conversation.

Thirty seconds later, Agrippa spoke again: “This is Commander Agrippa of the ponystar Celestia to all civilian ships in range of my voice.” The Commander rattled off a series of numbers and letters that made no sense to Amethyst. “All ships are to move away from Ponyville and meet at those coordinates on my mark.” He then repeated the transmission.

Some of the pegasi simply returned to the Celestia, but Amethyst saw others warning the various clusters of civilians. She also saw some—military and civilian alike—simply ignore Agrippa’s words and struggle to save more refugees. All the while the dragon and the relentless slime-thing continued their battle, and the dragon lost more ground. Several unicorns were pitching in too, but their spells still had no effect. Despite herself, Amethyst began to side with the Commander; those huge tentacles were getting awfully close…

Five seconds before the time limit was up—by Amethyst’s count, anyway—most of the pegasi were aboard. Spitfire herself hovered just outside the pegasus bay; Amethyst could see her urging a Wonderbolt stallion and another pegasus to fly faster, but they were slowed by their passenger, a gray-maned earth pony. About seven more pegasi were still outside though most of these were fleeing, no longer trying to save the civilians. “I’ll see you court-martialed for this, Agrippa!” Spitfire yelled desperately. “I’ll drag you to Tartarus myself! Don’t do this!”

There was one final pause. Amethyst could swear that it lasted for far more than five seconds. Before the Commander even spoke, Amethyst felt a lurch as her PDR began to retract into the Celestia. When Agrippa did speak, his voice seemed slightly distorted. “It’s done. All ships move out, wind talismans to full. Helmsmare, get us out of here—NOW!” Commander Agrippa’s voice cracked on the last word.

As the ship lurched into motion Amethyst looked “up” at Ponyville one last time, but all she could see through the closing hatch was dull purple.