Vacation to a Pleasant Country Retreat

Chapters

Conversations Among Academics Wishing to Retain Anonymity
Travel and Light Entertainment Via First-Class Rail Line
Best Methods of Graciously Inviting One’s Family into One’s Tidy Rural Cottage
Emotional Expression through Avante-Garde Performance
Self-Guided Tour of an Exclusive Exotic Facility
Discovering High Fashion in a Lower-Middle Class Locale
Engaging in Seances for Amusement and Social Gain
Politely Exiting the Home of an Undesirable Host with Aplomb and Alacrity
Acceptable Standards of Mourning for a Fallen Family Member
The Perils of Excessive Punctuation in Discourse
Acknowledging Affection in a Socially Acceptable Manner
A Brisk Constitutional Along a Historic Boulevard Towards a Popular Eatery
Hosting Acquaintances of a Greater Social Standing at a Musical Event
Accepting Social Weakness in a Stressful Situation
Undesired Packages and How to Graciously Accept Them
Gaining the Upper Hoof in Conversational Jujitsu
Communication with One's Sisters, and How to Avoid It
Surprisingly Sociable Drinking with Friends and Family

Conversations Among Academics Wishing to Retain Anonymity

Meanwhile, on a train bound from Trottingham: The conductor slammed the door, leaning her body weight against it. She pointed sharp green eyes accusingly at the head engineer, who merely shook her head, fighting back a smile. “I did try to warn you,” she said mildly.

“You did no such thing!” the conductor snapped. “All you said was that there was a ‘troublesome passenger’ in carriage three that needed dealt with! At no point did you mention that she would force me to polish my buttons before we could hold a conversation!”

“Is that all she made you do?” the engineer snorted. “She insisted that I clean off all the windows.”

The conductor blinked, nonplussed. “While… the train was moving?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” the engineer snorted. “That would be silly. No, we’d just have to stop the train until all the tidying was done. When I tried to explain the importance of the timetables, the absolute importance of keeping to a schedule—”

“Yes, yes, Whistle Stop,” the conductor interrupted. She had heard her coworker lecture on the importance of punctuality far too many times. “What did she say?”

The engineer’s normally brown face, grey with soot, had begun to turn red. Through clenched teeth, the mare ground out, “She said that perhaps that ‘for a destination so lower-middle class, we could consider tardiness a blessing.’ A blessing! I ask you, Spotter, have you ever heard such nonsense?”

Train Spotter bit her tongue. Whistle appeared not to have noticed. “I mean, perhaps Ponyville isn’t Canterlot, but they’ve got a bloody princess! What more do they need? Besides, if we only went to the interesting places, we certainly wouldn’t stop in Trottingham.”

“Oh yes,” Spotter said drily. “I’d somehow forgotten you were a West Egg supporter. Perhaps you should mention it more. Like, I don’t know, every time the subject comes up? And every day? Twice?”

Whistle puffed up slightly. “Best hoofball team there is.”

“I’m sure. How long until we arrive in Ponyville, anyway?”

Whistle paused and pulled out a watch. “Another… fifteen minutes,” she said with a nod.

Spotter breathed out. “Well, that’s not so bad. I can handle another fifteen minutes. There’s only so much even she can do in—”

She broke off suddenly, a horrified expression creeping over her face. Whistle frowned. “What?”

“Ssh,” Spotter hissed. “Listen.”

Whistle fell silent. The two mares listened. Mixed in with the clatter of hooves and wheels along the tracks, the rattle of the cars and the other mechanical noises, there was a new sound. A warbling sound. “She isn’t,” Whistle began.

“Oh, she is,” Spotter said grimly. The two listened with growing horror as the noise rose and rose— the dreadful sound of Hyacinth Bouquet butchering the opening lines of the Lunar Aria.

The two locked eyes. In perfect synchronisation, they stated, “You deal with it.”

It was a peaceful day in the house on Magnolia Street. To look at it, you could hardly imagine any other sort of day there. Flowers bloomed and grew from every available plot. Roses arched over the door. Flowering ivy climbed the walls. The thatched roof seemed to have been woven from daisy chains. In the center of the garden, a circular plot was carefully bricked into five portions. Daisies grew in one bed, lilies in another. Roses and violets filled the next two. They were all well kempt and free of weeds. The fifth plot contained hyacinths. They grew up straight and tall as arrows. The soil was tilled regularly. That bed was the only one in the entire garden that contained pesticides. It was beautiful, as beautiful as rest of the garden, but in a different way. Where the rest of the flowers grew around and intertwined with each other, the hyacinths grew apart, both from their fellows and the other plants.

Among the flowers, a bubblegum-pink mare with a blonde mane carefully, painstakingly held a pair of hedge clippers at just the right angle to deadhead the lilies. An unpleasant job, to be sure, but one which must be done, and done well. She breathed in slowly, adjusting the clippers by micrometers. There— perfect. She listened to the beating off her heart. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. In between one beat and the next, she made to snap the shears shut—

“Lily!”

The pink mare shrieked, the hedge clippers falling from their position and snipping much farther down than she had intended. Her heart pounded like a rabbit beating a foot against the ground. “R—Rose,” she murmured. “D—don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“No time. Where are Daisy and Carrot?”

Lily blinked. Her sister’s coat was dewed with sweat, and her eyes flickered like livid lightning. “Uh—um, in the parlor, I think?”

Rose grabbed her sister’s pink hoof. “Emergency meeting. Now,” she gasped, bodily heaving the flustered mare along behind her.

Carrot Top exhaled sharply through her nose. “Daze, how much longer do I have to sit like this?”

“Patience,” the green-maned mare replied mildly. “You can’t rush good art.” She swirled her paintbrush on the palette to pick up some more orange.

“Daze. You’re doing a paint by numbers kit.”

“Which I am not painting by the numbers, Topsy!” Daisy looked completely serious. “I don’t want to paint some random hussy lying on a chaise longue. I want to paint my hussy lying on a chaise longue.”

“No, stop. Please. You’re making me blush,” Carrot deadpanned.

“This from the mare who compared her wife to a potato?”

“Potatoes are the second-best vegetable there is! Don’t even tell me I’m wrong, I’ve seen you around potato chips.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to be called one, Carrot.”

Just as the yellow mare was preparing a retort, the door swung open. Daisy shrieked, and the palette went flying. Carrot Top blinked, suddenly finding herself miraculously transformed into a work by Jackson Paddock.

Rose either failed to notice this artistic alteration, or simply didn’t care. She waved toward the couch. “Sit down. Down! House meeting!”

Carrot Top sighed. “Can this wait until I’ve had a shower?”

“No! I need you to sit in the middle, just for a minute. Make sure nopony bashes their heads on anything when they faint.’

The yellow mare sighed, but grudgingly did as directed. “Now, what’s this all about?”

“I got a letter in the mail from Hyacinth.” There was a gasp and a thud as Lily fainted dead away.

“She’s coming over—” Another muffled shriek and a gentle thump as Daisy too entered the realm of the blissfully unaware.

“Today.” The cream mare took a deep breath and let it out. Then she too let out a sigh as her eyes rolled back in her head, and she passed out.

Carrot blinked. “Right. Better have that shower then, and clean the paint off the couch before Hyacinth gets here… Best fetch out the smelling salts.”

Back at the flower shop, Mac and Ditzy were waged in a staring contest against the robotic crab. “Mebbe,” Mac whispered, “If we stand still, it won’t see us.”

“Good idea,” Ditzy murmured back. “But how do we get rid of it if we can’t move?”

Mac hesitated. “Hope it falls asleep?”

“Wait. It’s moving,” the pegasus hissed.

The crablike robot was indeed scuttling away from them, down the counter. The duo relaxed slightly, watching the machine scurry off. “C’mon,” Ditzy whispered. “After it!”

Mac stalled. “Uh… ya sure that’s a good idea, Miss Ditzy?”

“Not really,” the pegasus confessed. “But I’m curious, aren’t you?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the big red stallion nodded his assent. “But slowly. We still dunno what that thing does…”

Ditzy gave a brief bob of the head, and set off at a slow tippy-hoof over the floor. Mac sighed the deep, sorrowful sigh of one who simply knows they will regret this, and did his best to mimic her with his much larger frame. The crab appeared not to notice, nor care. Quickly, however, it arrived at a mousehole and, with a fair bit of compression and a few hacks at the wall, it slipped through. Ditzy gawked. Mac sighed, settling back down with no small amount of relief. These hooves, Mac considered, were really not meant for travelling en pointe.

“What do you think it was?” Ditzy asked, peering into the mousehole.

Mac shrugged.

“What did it want?”

Again, the large red pony did not know.

“Do you think there were more?”

Mac made to shrug again, then stopped. “Huh. Good point. This might be a problem, after all. Mebbe we oughta tell somepony.”

Ditzy raised a brow. “Like who?”

That was a stumper. “Th’ mayor?”

The postmare shook her head. “The mayor might be really good at legalese and stuff, but I don’t think she’d know a, a, an exhaust pipe from a coolant delivery system, and she’s probably never even met an alien.”

“Outside yer family, how many have you met?”

“I— more than anypony else in town. Who isn’t in school today.” Ditzy flushed. “And I have a degree in engineering, minoring in astrophysics.”

Mac raised a brow. “What’s a physicist doin’ deliverin’ folks’ mail?”

“Same thing a mathematician’s doing on his family farm,” the pegasus said without flinching.

Mac fell quiet. “Who—”

“Pocket. He was very impressed with your grasp of logic and theory that time with—”

“Ah know, Ah know,” Mac sighed.”Ah’d ‘preciate it iffin ya didn’t go ‘round tellin’ folk that.”

Ditzy frowned. “Why not?”

Mac considered. “Ah’m happy. Happy with who Ah am as a pony, happy with where Ah am, what Ah do… Ah don’ wanter change. Ya know what it’s like there, up in Canterlot, all them snooty schools an’ such.”

Ditzy imagined the glistening ivory towers and academic rivalries of scholastic pursuit. She tried to picture Mac there, in tweed and a button-down shirt, seeking publication, and she slowly nodded. “Yeees,” she agreed. “But there’s no harm in other ponies knowing you’re gifted, is there? Nopony’s going to force you to write a book or anything.”

Mac shook his head firmly. “Nope.”

The pegasus opened her mouth once more, when a scream echoed down the street. Without a single word, the two broke into a gallop out of the shop.

Travel and Light Entertainment Via First-Class Rail Line

It had been such a NICE day, Rarity thought with the sort of vague indignation that tends to come when something wholly unexpected occurs. She had woken up on top of Spike’s side, with one of his arms wrapped around her as though she were some sort of teddy bear. It was a terrifically comfortable position, pleasantly warm and loving. “Mmm,” she had murmured. “Awake?”

“Well, I am now,” Spike sighed, shifting slightly. “Shall I make breakfast, or do you want to stay in bed for another few minutes. Hours? All day?”

Rarity chuckled. “As lovely as that sounds, I have a few errands to run this morning, so it would be for the best if you let go now.”

Spike pouted. It was a technique he had honed to perfection over his long, artificially extended youth, but Rarity had had just as much practice resisting it. “Come on, darling,” she said firmly, squeezing out of his grip. “Time to rise and shine.”

Now, in the back of her mind, she vaguely wished that she had just shut up and snuggled up. She sort of wondered, in a half-present way, whether she would ever return to her dear Spikey-wikey. Absent-mindedly, she worried that she would be late for her appointments later on in the day.

Most of her mind, however, was occupied with screaming. “Where did all these little beasts come from?” she wailed, tossing one of the little silver creatures against its comrades, who were in a semicircle slowly closing in upon her. Two of them grabbed it and hauled it back upright, continuing to advance toward her. She glanced around frantically, but nopony was around to help her. One of the metal crabs leapt for her face at a far greater rate than she would have expected. She flinched, casting a shield spell out of instinct. It wasn’t much of a shield; it had been awhile since she’d last cast one. It was enough, however, to deflect the jumping machine, sending it shooting backwards as though struck by a tennis racket. It hit the ground with a solid smack, shattering.

Rarity smirked, but her satisfaction was short-lived. The other little crabs kept coming, leaping for her face. She screamed as she dodged, unable to focus for long enough to grab the little beasts in her magic. “Stay still, you heathens!”

Her back hoof hit a tree root, and she stumbled. It was just the advantage the crabs needed. They swarmed. The unicorn opened her mouth to scream. “Yoink!”

Rarity stopped. “Yoink?” she echoed. She realized that she could no longer feel the grass beneath her hooves. She glanced up. A pair of crossed golden eyes smiled back at her. “This isn’t my normal pickup time,” Ditzy said. “But I felt it was probably best to make a rush delivery.”

Rarity blinked, glancing back. The small group of miniature robots were scuttling aimlessly, turning slowly around. They weren’t very quick about it. “What are those things?” she asked quietly.

“No clue! They seem kinda aggressive, don’t they? Small, though, and not very coordinated. See how their legs are in rows on either side? That seriously messes with their turning time, which gives us the opportunity to do…”

The ground shook as a big red juggernaut hurtled toward the crab-bots. “Nope!” Mac roared, leaping into the air. The crabs tried to scatter, but they weren’t fast enough. Four unshorn fetlocks smashed down, making the ground quake. A forehoof gently lifted. Pieces of scrap metal fell to the ground. “Ah reckon that’s ‘bout that,” Mac said with a slight smirk.

The ground quivered yet again. Mac blinked once in surprise as there was a sudden rush of wind. Four little metal crabs stood on the ground, one for each hoof. “Ulp— Then again…” And then there was a blur of red hurtling away at a highly improbable speed.

There was an ear-splitting scream of steam as the 1:45 from Trottingham screeched into the station. Even that, however, was sliced open by an off key, warbling high-C. The stationmaster, Time Table, checked his watch. The face had cracked from side to side. He groaned and shoved the timepiece back into his pocket as the train finally ground to a halt.

The doors opened, and an absolute stampede of ponies rushed out. One particularly beautiful young mare was beating off an elderly yellow stallion, who was apparently trying to climb up on her back. Finally, she spun about and punched the lustful geriatric in the face. “An’ there’s more where tha’ came fra’ if ye try tha’ again!” she shouted, then turned on a hoof and trotted away.

After the madding crowd had passed, one lone, weary-looking stallion exited the first-class carriage, holding the door open. The station master stared, Nopony else was leaving the train. Cautiously, he cantered over to the stallion. “Excuse me,” he began.

The door-holder sighed. “Give her a minute,” he said in the sort of tone that can only be gained by offering the same explanation over and over again for years on end.

Time Table blinked. “Who?” he asked.

“My wife.” This was said quietly. The stallion’s head hung low, his eyes full of the sorrows of the world.

Any follow-up questions died on the stationmaster’s lips as he heard a faint noise echoing down the train, a sort of continuing chatter. “What’s that?”

The stout stallion glanced up. “I told you. My wife. Just… just be glad she’s stopped singing.”

As Time Table watched, a magenta hoof passed over the threshold and onto the platform. This was promptly followed by the rest of the body. The stationmaster could only stand in mild astonishment. She carried a sort of… je ne sais quoi, as the Prench might say. There was a sort of gravitas to her, like an ingrained belief that of all the surrounding ponies, she was the greatest of them all. “Thank you, Civil,” she said to the door-holder. “Now, where has Daddy run off to?”

“I believe he, ah, decided to have a bit of a rest on that bench,” the short stallion (Civil? Presumably) replied, waving a hoof over to where the mare-molester from earlier had passed out.

“Oh, yes, of course,” the mare said, beaming. “Poor Daddy.” She leaned over to Time Table. “He does get so easily exhausted these days, you know. Used to be in the Guard, you see. I always thought that took up so very much of his energy in his youth that he hasn’t any left to spare now!”

“He looked rather energetic getting off the train,” Time Table said diplomatically.

“Oh?” said Civil, wincing. “Not… too energetic?”

“I… no.” This was a stallion who needed a break. And possibly a few drinks. “No, not too energetic.”

Civil breathed out a sigh of relief. The mare didn’t seem to notice, as she was busily scanning the platform for other signs of life. “Now, where can they be?” she sighed in exasperation. She turned back to Time Table. “Have you seen a group of mares? My sisters were meant to be here to pick us up, you see…”

“Rose?” Civil added helpfully. “Daisy, Lily? Carrot Top, perhaps?” Civil quite liked Carrot Top. She was eminently sensible, which probably went a long ways toward explaining why his wife didn’t much care for her. Hyacinth was not usually a sensible mare.

Time Table started to shake his head, then stopped. “Wait. Your sisters are Lily, Daisy, and Rose?”

“Oh, yes. Our mother, Poppy, named us, you see. Daisy, Lily, Rose, Hyacinth, and then there’s Violet. Violet lives up in Canterlot. She’s married into nobility, you know.”

“I see.”

“Lovely mansion she has these days. Swimming pool, sauna, room for a— for a—” she frowned, thinking deeply about what exactly her sister’s mansion had room for. “For an elephant,” she concluded at length, nodding her head firmly.

“I see,” Time Table repeated, nodding slowly. He was increasingly sure that he did see; this mare was just as crazy as all three of the Flower Shop Mares put together.

“Are you certain you told them when our train would arrive, Hyacinth?” Civil asked.

“I—” The mare’s neck straightened. “I— of course I did,” she snapped. “They’re just late. Now, come along, Civil. We’ll have to unpack our luggage ourselves.”

The shorter stallion sighed, trotting along after his wife. Time Table watched them go with a mixture of pity and resignation. Four Bouquet sisters in one town? And their father? He sighed, wishing (not for the first time) that he could just leap on one of the trains running through town, escape the events of whatever this latest arrival would doubtless bring. But he had a responsibility to Ponyville and to the railway system, and Tartarus if he was going to let either of them down.

Time Table turned away from the departing couple and started back toward his office. Suddenly, something silvery-bright flashed in the very corner of his vision. “Hm?”

He glanced to the side. Something metallic and tiny was scuttling out of sight into the washroom. The stationmaster frowned, turning to trot after it.

Pulling the door open, Time Table glanced inside the room. Nothing here, nothing there— what was that? Oh. Just toilet paper. Okay. Well, maybe his mind had just been play$h46*)bR# 5

Some ten minutes later, Hyacinth, Civil, and Daddy exited the train station with baggage in tow. Time Table watched them go, a strangely vacant expression on his face as he waved them on. The thing in Time Table’s body glanced quickly under the desk, where the little metal creature it had been in moments before struggled against its bindings. The Time Table-thing smiled far too wide. It stopped, wincing and feeling at the sides of its face. This new body was going to take some getting used to…

Best Methods of Graciously Inviting One’s Family into One’s Tidy Rural Cottage

Carrot Top emerged from the bathroom, feeling much refreshed after her nice, hot shower. It had relaxed her immensely. She felt, if not accepting of, then at least resigned to the fact that her sister-in-law was coming to stay indefinitely. Perhaps if Hyacinth wore out her welcome, Carrot might prevail upon her own siblings to help send the mare along. Goldie and Hyacinth would no doubt butt heads upon meeting. If the situation got too extreme, her brother, Carrot Cake, might be convinced to lend her the use of Pinkie Pie. Yes, she was certain that Hyacinth wouldn’t be staying in Ponyville for too long.

Then Carrot stepped into the living room and all the stress was back with interest. “Ladies,” she said calmly. “I am not an unreasonable mare. I go out and work in the fields just about every day of the week, and I can tell a pony’s limitations just by looking at them. So I feel certain in saying that you could have done a much better job than…” she waved a hoof. “Whatever you did.”

Three paint-smeared mares stared down at the equally-colorful floor in embarrassment. “We tried,” Rose said.

“But the paint just kept spreading,” Daisy continued.

“And it got a little out of hoof,” Lily finished.

Carrot rubbed her forehead. “Well, at least it’s uniformly messy,” she sighed. “Go. Shower, All of you. There’s no hope for this room now. I’ll just focus on tidying up the rest—”

~DING-dong~

There was no sound. Carrot quietly closed her eyes. “Alright. Go. I’ll take care of it. But hurry, before someone ends up in the hospital.”

“Thank you,” Daisy sighed, leaning over to give her wife a paint-smeared kiss on the cheek.

“Thank me after I avoid pushing her out a window. Now go, shower!”

The three sisters galloped off to the bathroom.

~dIng-Dong~

Carrot wasn’t quite sure how Hyacinth had managed to put inflection into the doorbell, and she was certain she didn’t want to know. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth, slowly forcing her face into the approximation of a smile.

~ding-DONG~

She threw open the door. “Hyacinth, Civil, Mr. Potter. What a surprise.”

Hyacinth raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Didn’t you get my letter detailing our… unfortunate circumstances?” Her tone was haughty as ever, and her expression suggested that whatever her sister-in-law answered, it would be scoffed at.

“Oh, we got it,” Carrot agreed. “About an hour ago, actually. And you didn’t mention what train you’d be arriving on.”

Hyacinth’s smug smile flickered. “Ah. Well. An understandable oversight, you know, in the face of such a dire plight.”

“Which was what, exactly? I don’t believe you mentioned that, either.”

“Oh, it was absolutely dreadful! Doesn’t bear thinking about, really. Why, just the mention of it is making me — oh — rather woozy~” She held a hoof to her forehead dramatically, swaying on her hooves.

Carrot sighed, rolling her eyes. “Please. Won’t you come in and take a load off of your hooves,” she droned. “How was your trip? You must tell me all about it.”

Hyacinth either didn’t notice the sarcasm or didn’t care, as she swept past the yellow mare, still talking. “Oh, it was simply dreadful. Really, how do they expect to run a railway if they can’t answer a simple complaint civilly? I ask you~”

She continued into the kitchen, still griping, her father following close behind. Carrot turned to Civil Service. “What happened?”

He sighed, making his worn old moustache flutter. “We had guests,” he explained. “Honest to goodness nobility, Sir Fancy Pants and his wife, Fleur. I’m still not sure how that happened.”

“But you know what happened next.”

“Oh, yes,” he agreed, wincing. “Hyacinth tried to sing.”

“Oh, no.”

“Worse than that. Apparently, it alarmed poor Fleur so much that she set off a burst of magic. Shattered all the crockery in the house, and the windows beside. They were very apologetic, of course, offered to replace everything, but the house is more or less nonfunctional for the next three days or so.”

“Three days?”

“Three days.”

Carrot nodded slowly. “That’s… not so bad. I’m sure we’ll all be able to handle three days.”

“Why, Carrot, I had no idea you were redecorating!” Hyacinth’s voice cut like the icy mountain winds. “Modern art is so terribly… carefree, isn’t it?”

The yellow mare’s teeth ground so hard she could swear she heard them crack like ice. “Three days,” she repeated, her tone slightly huskier than before. “Three days.”

Civil Service gave her an unsympathetic look. “You don’t have to go home with her afterwards.”

Carrot Top nodded in reluctant agreement, and together they turned to follow Hyacinth into the sitting room.

Macintosh had a beautiful baritone voice. It is the unfortunate case of several baritone voices that their screams tend to come off as particularly high and pitchy in comparison, but not Mac. The booming, billowing bellow echoed and reverberated through the streets as the red farmpony zoomed along, held aloft by four little metal crabs. A few ponies glanced up in mild surprise as the normally most stoic of ponies rocketed along, yelling fit to bring the sky down. Most of them looked away when Ditzy Doo passed by, flapping like mad trying to keep up. After Rarity passed, horn glowing like a flaming sword, everypony went back about their business. This was Element stuff. Or possibly timey-wimey stuff. Maybe both. None of their concern, either way.

“Come on! They’re getting away!” Ditzy shouted back to Rarity.

“This is— as fast— as I— can run!” the fashionista gasped. “How— are you— so fast?”

“Good diet, regular exercise, and travelling with the Doctor! But these things are even faster than he is!”

The edge of town was well in sight now, and coming up fast. Ditzy pushed herself to fly even faster after the foalnapping little robots, but they were well into the hills before she could make up even half the distance between them.

The grey pegasus had no difficulties in traversing the more treacherous terrain, as she could simply fly above it. Even with her depth-perception problems, she could certainly fly in a straight line provided a sufficient target upon which to focus. Mac performed that role admirably. That sweet apple flank… Ditzy was happily married, but she could certainly look. The auditory element also helped matters. Mac’s shouts could be heard easily from a mile away. Suddenly, however, the little robots and their captive turned a corner. The bellowing cut off abruptly.

Ditzy nearly fell out of the air. Behind her, Rarity skidded to a halt, her face gone deathly grey. “You don’t suppose…” she began.

“No. I don’t.”

“Oh, now,” Rarity started, then drew up short, frowning. “Wait. You don’t suppose?”

“That they killed him? Doubt it, yeah. There would’ve been some kind of noise, not…” she waved a hoof in the air. “Not just silence.”

“Mm,” Rarity nodded, trotting up to Ditzy’s side. “Well, we’d better rescue the poor dear. You go left, I go right?”

“Sounds good. I don’t think those little guys can fly.”

With a quick hoof-bump for good luck, the two mares quickly, quietly trotted around either side of the hill that Macintosh had disappeared behind.

Rarity scarcely dared breathe as she stealthily picked her way over field and fen toward the scene of the disappearance. Her eyes flicked rapidly from side to side, searching for even the smallest flash of silver in the shadow of the hill. Oh, it was simply all too exciting for words! She was Shadow Spade, private investigator— no, no, this was quite the wrong atmosphere for that.

She was Daring Do, archaeologist extraordinaire— No. That wouldn’t do either. This was quite a new type of adventure, different than any that she had encountered in print or film, a completely novel type of story, moreso even than the events that had led to the return of the Doctor’s Time Lady friend. That had had far too much nonsensical gadding about for Rarity’s liking. This, now. This, she could get behind. Stealthy creeping around the quaint countryside, searching for dangerous beasts not of this world, saving certain handsome stallions from the clutches of evil. Perhaps he would offer a kiss as thanks, but Rarity would refuse him, despite his handsomeness and sculpted flanks. She would remain faithful to her love. Then, Spike would arrive, and she would sweep him up in a perfect, fairy-tale kiss and—

Alien robots. Yes. Think about that, Rarity. Think about alien robots, rather than your painfully sweet and loving drakefriend and how much you’d rather be in bed with him. Or possibly just in bed at all. New genre or no, Rarity thought as she rounded to the side of the hill opposite where she had begun, today was very much a day she should have stayed under the covers until supper. At the very earliest.

It was at this point that Rarity realized something. She was on the other side of the hill. Ditzy was not on the other side of the hill.

Perhaps the hill was a more difficult trek, or a lengthier one, on the other side? Well then, she would just continue along until she met her friend coming in the other direction. Rarity gamely straightened herself up with a shake of the mane, and trotted along at possibly a slightly faster clip than she had before.

Absorbed with new thoughts, thoughts of fear and dread and trying desperately to remain calm, she never even saw the teleporter pad.

Emotional Expression through Avante-Garde Performance

Daisy eyed her wife closely. On the outside, Carrot Top seemed as calm and collected as ever. Those two words, ‘calm’ and ‘collected’ described Carrot quite well, most of the time. It was a farmpony thing, Daisy thought. Applejack, Big Macintosh, the Pies (other than Pinkie, but Pinkie defied all classification anyway), they were all the very definition of stolid dependability. And yet, there was something about Hyacinth that set the constantly collected mare on edge. The same sort of horror that Daisy felt over a broken flower stalk or rabbit stampede was reserved solely for the eldest Bouquet sister. Also rabbits and moles, but she had become much better about just going and asking Fluttershy for help after the incident with the garden hose and the bathtub of overripe tomatoes.

The point was, Daisy was familiar with how calm her wife usually was, and she could tell when Carrot was faking it. The signs were subtle, but they were there if you knew where to look. Little things, like the sharpened intensity of her gaze, the way she would close doors with a little more force than necessary, or the twitch in her jaw.

“GrrrrrRRRRAAAAGH!” Carrot screamed, dashing a copper kettle against the tile floor.

Well, not all signs were subtle.

Daisy watched her wife pick up a rolling pin and smash it into the pastry dough again and again, hard enough to make the walls shake. She continued to shout incoherently the entire time. The florist calmly picked up her coffee and sipped it lightly, glancing at the newspaper. Another riot in Griffonstone, then. Well, it was about time, too. They’d been rooted in by tradition for far too long. Carrot let out another scream of sheer agonized fury as she slammed one drawer after another over and over again. Daisy took another sip of coffee. Apparently the rebels, led by Rainbow Dash’s old friend from camp, had managed to set the Lord Mayor of Griffonstone to flight.

There were many things of which she was afraid; blight, drought, wild herbivores, to name but a few. But she could never be afraid of her wife, not even in this state. Carrot was safety. Carrot was protection. Carrot was angry, yes, but it was a carefully channeled and redirected anger. It was an anger which would pass in a few moments, and it was anger carefully hidden and construed so that nopony would be hurt by it save Carrot herself.

Already, the shouts were fading into tired grunts, and the swinging blunt instrument was barely even denting the pie crust. Daisy nodded to herself. “Wanna talk about it?”

Carrot sighed. The rolling pin clattered to the floor, making Daisy wince slightly. “Sorry. No, don’t really want to talk about it, actually. Not much more to say. Think that expressed everything pretty well.” She waved a hoof vaguely at the flattened dough. A pony could probably read a newspaper through it.

“Hm. I’ve never been one for interpretive dance,” Daisy said with mock seriousness. “Tell me, was my sister the rolling pin or the pastry in that little skit?”

“Daze. Do not.”

“Which one was me? Ooh, and which one was you? Was that what you were doing with those tongs?”

“I— ew. No. Those tongs were for picking up and squishing your sister in effigy.”

“Oh. I rescind that question, then. She is not sharing a bed with us.”

“Oh Celestia, don’t give me that image,” Carrot groaned. “She’d constantly be fluffing pillows, rearranging blankets, probably making us get up so she can fix up hospital corners.”

“She’s not that bad,” Daisy protested, frowning slightly.

“Okay, maybe not. But I bet she snores.”

“She does snore,” Daisy admitted. “And she pushes ponies out of bed.”

“Is that why Civil always looks so tired?”

“No, he invested in a sleeping bag and earplugs long ago. I think it’s more... what happens when she’s awake.”

Carrot snorted. “Yeah, I can see that,” she agreed. She sighed, long and low. “I’m sorry. She’s your sister. I shouldn’t harp on her all the time she’s here.”

“Seriously?” Daisy asked, eyebrows rising. “No. Go ahead. Celestia knows I’m not going to stop griping.”

“Yeah, but she’s your sister. You’re allowed to gripe about her.”

“She’s your sister-in-law,” Daisy replied.

“...Yeah, but—”

“Shush. We’re all family here, and family gripes about family even though they love each other deep down.” Daisy smiled serenely.

Carrot just stared. “Wow. I knew you guys were a little dysfunctional—”

“Oh, we aren’t,” Daisy said, her grin growing even wider. “Mom died when I was eight, Dad saw a new mare every week even while she was around, and all of us foals more or less had to raise ourselves.”

The orange-maned mare paused, frowning. “How is that an argument against your family being a little dysfunctional?”

“Like I said, we aren’t a little dysfunctional.” Daisy’s smile was too wide, and did not reach her eyes. “We’re extremely dysfunctional.”

Rarity blinked. She was quite confident that mere moments ago, she had been in a hilly patch of land, covered in grass and the odd wildflower. Very bucolic. She was quite sure that she had not been standing in a clinical white room with Macintosh and Ditzy. Under the circumstances, there was only one thing to be said. “...Uh?”

Ditzy sighed. “Teleporter,” she said succinctly. “The Doctor calls them ‘T-Mats’, I think.”

Mac lay in a corner, twitching occasionally. Rarity nodded at him. “Is he…”

“Fine,” Ditzy said quickly. “He’s fine. Just a little overexcited after that… y’know.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Well, he’s a strong stallion, I’m sure he’ll—”

Mac grunted and rose to his hooves. “Eeyup,” he said, nodding at Rarity. “Anypony catch th’ number on that cart?”

Rarity smiled wryly. “Good, recovered already. Just in time to face whatever is going on around here. Which is what, do you suppose? Nothing good, I’m sure…”

Ditzy shrugged. “Dunno. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what they want. They haven’t killed us already, which, y’know, is a good sign that they aren’t going to just randomly kill us in the immediate future, either.”

“Well,” Rarity said slowly, “While that is true, I don’t think that the fact that our deaths will be carefully timed and plotted out is terribly much comfort, do you, Mac?”

Macintosh considered this. “Well,” he said slowly, “Ah wouldn’t say it’s doin’ much ta relax me. But at least we can try an’ stop a plan.”

“‘Try’ being the operative word,” Rarity replied drily. “We’re in their— their lair, or prison or whatever. We know nothing about who or what they are, nor what they desire from us. We don’t even know where we are. They have every advantage over us.”

“Not every advantage,” Ditzy said, shaking her head. “There’s one thing that we have that they’ll never be able to take from us.”

The other two mulled this over. “Love?” Mac guessed.

“Style?” Rarity hazarded.

“The deductive method!” Ditzy said triumphantly.

Despite the fact that the room was devoid of life apart from the three ponies, Ditzy could swear she heard crickets chirping. “Deductive method!” she repeated with no less enthusiasm. “First, the obvious; we don’t know what sort of intelligence we’re dealing with.”

“Of course,” Rarity droned. “Genius.”

Mac, however, leaned forward. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but don’t we?” he asked. “They ain’t never tried ta attack us one-on-one. They react ta stimuli, but not much else. Take that with their numbers, Ah reckon we got us a swarm on our hooves.”

Ditzy beamed. “Good point,” she agreed. “We also know that these little guys are mechanical, meaning they must have been manufactured by some other life form. Now, I didn’t get too good a look at any of them, but I think we can all agree that they were way more advanced than anything any agency on Gaea can mass-produce.”

Rarity frowned. “Really? They scarcely seemed any more intelligent than parasprites. Swarm mentality indeed!”

Ditzy shrugged her wings. “Maybe we could build something like that. Maybe. Twilight Sparkle, sure, she could mock up an artificial intelligence like that given time, and she could build a little robot like that, too. But not without magic. Magic to build it, to power it, to keep it stable. Those guys? Magically inert, or else your picking it up and chucking it wouldn’t have interfered with its mobility so much.”

Rarity frowned. “You’ve lost me, darling.”

“Right, okay. Advanced Thaumodynamics 101,” Ditzy began, but Mac cut her off.

“Basically, whatever magic that powered that thing woulda pushed back on yer magic. Woulda kept movin’ even as you were holdin’ it, ‘less ya managed to exert enough force ta overpower th’ runnin’ spell.”

The two mares stared at the laconic workhorse. “Yeah, that,” Ditzy said with a nod.

Rarity nodded thoughtfully. “I see. In keeping with this little exercise, have you considered the design at all? Little spider-crab things, not outwardly offensive to sensibilities; at least, not alone. In groups, that is another story.”

“Not physically large or intimidating,” Ditzy said frowning. “And we saw one squeeze into a mousehole. They’re designed as some sort of infiltration… whatever they are.”

Rarity frowned. “Bright silver? For an infiltration? That’s absurd. Matte colors, muted shades, that would be they way to go. Dark greys and greens, browns. Not black, perhaps, that tends to stand out more than ponies think, but certainly not silver. Camouflage, not flash.”

Mac snorted. “Almost like they want ponies ta see ‘em.”

Ditzy frowned. “An invasion force that wants to be seen?” she muttered. “That’s ridiculo—” She stopped, staring at Rarity. The unicorn had gone very still. “What?”

“My father,” the unicorn began, “is, you may know, an avid fisher. He talks about it… often. Very often. Terribly often. Most of his tales aren't in the least interesting to my mind, but there was one that always stuck with me.”

Mac frowned. “An’ that is…”

Rarity swallowed. “The anglerfish.”

The anglerfish, Rarity’s father had told his daughters, was an ugly, misshapen fish that lived at the bottom of the ocean, where it was so dark, not even Celestia’s light could illuminate your hoof in front of your face. Or rather, your fin, since none but the hardiest of sea creatures could ever hope to survive at such a depth. And then, out of complete blindness, light. Welcoming. Comforting. Beckoning.

Rainbow Dash was in that comfortable middle ground between rising and shining, the bleary, muzzy-headed state that every sentient creature experiences when arising from a deep sleep. Cthulhu may well have already awoken, it just can’t be bothered to climb out from under the cozy blanket of millennia-old sand and sediment shot through with geothermic vents and the odd sunken city. Not when it’s just gotten comfortable.

Dash was not thinking about this. She was not thinking about any sort of sea life at all, which is unfortunate. Anglerfish, you know? It probably wouldn’t have helped her much at the time, but it might have lent some context later on. Instead, she was mostly thinking about clouds, and how it would be more efficient to farm them rather than produce them with generators. Utterly impossible, of course, and likely not at all practical, but everyone thinks about weird stuff when they’re waking up.

At any rate, she had just gotten to the part where the Apple family were all pegasi, when a stray ray of light reflected directly into her eye. She growled and rolled to one side. It was still there, in the corner of her vision, flashing her. “Don’ need that,” she growled. “‘F I want flashing, I’ll go sit in the Wonderbolts locker room.”

Instead of obeying her entirely reasonable request, the light flashed with greater intensity. “Ugh,” Dash groaned, sitting up. “What the rut is that thing?”

Looking down with greater focus, Dash could see a brown stallion holding some kind of silvery metal object. “The heck?” she muttered. “Isn’t that the train stallion?”

On reflection, Dash didn’t think she’d ever seen the pony outside of his workplace. Her brow knit. This required investigation. She spread her wings and leapt from the cloud. “Hey, fella! What’s that ya got there?”

The stallion made no response, merely staring at the pegasus. Dash hovered in place. “S’matter, you deaf? I mean, all the trains and stuff, they’re pretty loud, I could see that—” She paused as the brown stallion held up the object that had so disturbed her rest. “Oh. Hey, cool, what is that th—ARGFLFL!”

This last came as the little silver robot leapt out of Time Table’s hooves and onto Dash’s face. The pegasus desperately tried to claw it off, but to no avail. Little scratches were cut into her face as it climbed onto her mane and down the back of her neck. She felt a brief, sharp stab in the base of her skull a4%R8J)&9HB*Q

Curiosity killed the cat, they say. More often, it kills the fish. And the angler swims on…

Mac and Ditzy stared at Rarity. “Wow,” Mac said. “An’ yer pa told y’all that when you were how old, now?”

“Seven,” Rarity said brightly. “I think he learned his lesson after I had nightmares for three months. He waited until Sweetie was ten before he told her.”

Ditzy opened her mouth to comment, but she was interrupted by the faint swish of a door sliding open. Five eyes fell upon the hitherto unseen door as it opened out into the hallway. At first glance, nothing was there. Second glance only confirmed this. A careful scrutiny revealed no more. “...huh,” Mac said. “Trap?”

“Probably,” Rarity said, studiously examining the door. “Very interesting design here, too. Made for elegance, I would say.” She trotted over to the door and ran a hoof along the sides. “Astonishingly smooth,” she murmured, “I don’t recognize the material. Some sort of artificially manufactured polymer.”

“Okay,” Ditzy said slowly. “Where do we go from here?”

“If we leave, we’re doin’ what they want us to do,” Mac pointed out.

“But if we stay,” Ditzy reasoned, fluttering her wings anxiously, “there’s no chance of escape.”

Rarity glanced out into the hallway. “None of those little scuttlers as far as I can see. I vote we exit. At the very least, we’ll be able to increase our supply of information.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Ditzy said, pausing at the threshold. She glanced back. “Mac?”

Mac sighed, rolling beautifully clear green eyes toward the ceiling. “Alright,” he said grudgingly. “Reckon we won’t be in no more danger out there than in here.”

“That’s the spirit!” Ditzy beamed as she trotted out into the hall.

Rarity followed close on her tail, but Mac hesitated at the door. “...Are we sure ‘bout this?”

“Yes! Now c’mon already!” Ditzy said, exasperated.

The workhorse took a deep breath, and before he could think better of it, stepped into the hallway. The door to the room immediately slid shut behind them. There was a long, dead silence. The grey pegasus chuckled nervously, desperately trying to flatten down her feathers. “Um. Oops?”

Self-Guided Tour of an Exclusive Exotic Facility

Rarity sighed, staring at the now-closed door. “It’s alright, darling,” she said, putting a hoof around Ditzy. “None of us would have expected that. Isn’t that right, Mac?”

The farmer glared balefully at the closed door for another second, but then sighed, slumping a bit. “Eeyup. Reckon that’s so.”

Ditzy forced a smile, comforted by the assurances, but still displeased with the situation at hoof. “Okay. Thanks, guys. Left or right?”

“Left,” Mac said. “Ah see a window at th’ end o’ th’ hall.”

“Hold on,” Rarity said, holding up an elegant hoof. “What if we spring another trap while looking through it? Perhaps that too is where our captors wish us to go.”

It was a decent point. “Alright,” Ditzy said slowly. “Well, the first one was triggered only after all three of us walked out of the room. So maybe, if only one of us goes to look out the window, nothing will happen.”

Mac nodded. “Seems reasonable.”

“But what if it’s some kind of motion-detecting trap? Splitting up will only worsen our situation.”

That was a good point, too. “I’ll go,” Ditzy said at length. “Maybe there’s a trap, or maybe not, but if I fly, I’ll have a better chance of avoiding a tripwire than if either of you two go in walking.”

“But darling—”

“Rarity, have you heard the expression ‘you’re so sharp, you’ll cut yourself’?” Ditzy interrupted. “Anything might be a trap here, and if we assume that everything is going to hurt us, then we won’t be able to get anywhere. We’re going to have to take some risks.”

The unicorn chewed on her lower lip. “Oh, very well. Go, but hurry back.”

Ditzy nodded, taking to the air. She flew slowly, Rarity’s obsession with booby-traps having affected her more than she cared to admit. If anything started sliding out at her, she was gonna buck it to the moon.

Then she looked out the window and saw that they were already there.

There are many responses to realizing that you are on the moon. Neil Armstrong’s was among the most famous, even more so than Luna’s epic three-hour temper tantrum. Not Nightmare Moon’s. Luna’s. There’s a reason the princesses didn’t help more with the time Discord escaped, and that reason is related to the epic sunburn Celestia had for the next two weeks after the draconequus got stoned again. Ditzy’s may not have been the most finely-tuned reaction, or the most awe-struck, or the most inspiring.

…

There’s no ‘but’. That’s it.

“Huh,” said the pegasus. On the horizon, she could see the planetrise. Or maybe planetset. Considering that the same side of the moon always faced Gaea, it was pretty much irrelevant anyway. It was quite beautiful in the same way as deep, freshly-fallen snow; pretty to look at for maybe a minute before it got boring, and nowhere near so nice when you’re directly exposed to it. “Okay then.”

She turned and flew back to her companions. “Okay, so apparently we’re on the moon,” she said. Mac’s eyebrows shot up and Rarity’s jaw dropped. “In a few seconds, it’s probably going to hit me that we’re the first ponies on the moon other than Luna and probably also the Doctor and OH CELESTIA'S SWEET ASSCHEEKS WE’RE ON THE MOON! WE’RE ON THE ACTUAL FREAKING MOON!”

Ditzy grabbed Mac around the shoulders and shook him wildly. “MOOOOOOON!”

“Hm,” Mac said.

“Oh my,” Rarity said faintly, sinking back against the wall. “I appear to lack a chaise longue. Mac, would you mind…”

“Eeyup.” The farmer laid down against the wall.

“Thank you, darling.” Hoof met forehead, and unicorn fainted dramatically away on her friend’s brother’s back.

“Hm,” Mac said again, his brow furrowing in concern. Something was very wrong here, apart from the obvious. Actually, everything was wrong. He was drawing up a list of questions and concerns in his head, and it was a long one. The fact that they had been teleported by (alien?) robot spider-crabs was about the only thing about the story that made even a little sense. But why had they been taken? Why hadn’t the crabs already done whatever they were planning? And why would they station themselves on the moon? So many questions, and no answers to speak of. None, at least, that warranted much consideration. Mac rested his head on the floor, staring at nothing in particular, the gears in his mind turning slowly but steadily.

In Canterlot, the Doctor pouted, forehooves folded across his barrel as he was lifted in a golden aura and out of the carriage. Celestia struggled not to laugh— her old friend looked like a sulky foal. Luna, meanwhile, wasn’t even trying. She took one look at the Time Lord and burst into peals of laughter. The pale unicorn cracked a faint smile as well. “Come now, Doctor,” she said lightly. “I’m sure you can take some time out of your busy schedule of repairing clocks and toasters to come for a little visit.”

The Doctor snorted. “Oh— I suppose so,” he conceded with bad grace. “Come on, then, let’s have it. But would you mind putting me down? I feel ridiculous.”

“You most certainly look it,” Luna jibed.

He glared at her. “You’re one to talk. You’ve got a cream moustache from your coffee.”

“Truly?” The princess of the night glared at her sister. “Why did you not tell us this?”

“Oh, because you looked adorable,” Celestia replied with ease. “Also, revenge for that little trick you pulled with my lovely lemon cake last night.”

The third mare looked ill at ease. New to the command, the Doctor supposed, or at least new to this level of proximity to the princesses. He remembered introducing Fleur to GUIDE, some seven regenerations ago. She’d started rather low on the totem pole. Must've climbed ranks pretty quickly. Not had quite enough time to get used to her benevolent rulers sniping at each other and having prank wars. He smirked. “Commander de Lis? Shall we?”

Fleur de Lis, model extraordinaire, famed both for her extreme beauty and apparent airheadedness, and leader of the Equestrian branch of GUIDE nodded, relieved to have an excuse to escape the sisterly bickering. “Oui. Bien sur. I zink you will be impressed with ze improvements we have made since you last worked here.”

“Well, the canteen coffee can’t have gotten any worse,” the Doctor sighed.

Fleur snorted elegantly, more of an exhalation than anything else. “Alas, ze more zings change, ze more they stay ze same. Fortunately, I prefer tea, and my husband is very good at zat.”

“Ah, yes. Where is the old fellow, anyway?”

“Here!” a voice called from the doorway of the government building where they had arrived.

The Doctor glanced up to see a cheerfully grinning stallion waving at him. He wore a monocle over his left eye, which helped to hide the scar on his cheek. He also wore a moustache, which wasn’t to hide anything, so far as the Doctor was aware. It was just part of what made Fancy Pants Fancy Pants, along with his good nature, carefully tailored clothes, and (as the Doctor was reminded as the unicorn embraced him tightly) impressive energy and strength.

“Fancy… crushing…”

“Oh!” the unicorn said, pulling back. “Sorry, old sport.” His look of contrition was quickly replaced with a wide smile, though. “It’s been far too long, Doctor. One would think you were avoiding Canterlot!”

The Time Lord smiled uncomfortably. “Well, not so much avoiding…” he hedged.

Captain Fancy Pants of GUIDE nodded, catching on immediately. “Of course, your family must come first,” he agreed readily. “I certainly don’t blame you, old chap. And, well, you’re here now!”

The Doctor’s half-smile broadened into one of true happiness. “I certainly am,” he agreed. “So, shall we get started on the grand tour?”

Fancy smirked. “Well, we may need to wait.”

“Oh? What for?”

“You’re still being levitated.”

“Oh. Yes.”

Fancy, Luna, and Fleur looked over at Celestia, but she was far too busy arguing with Luna over who had instigated the pranking this time. “Nice weather we’ve been having,” Fancy said eventually.

“Yes. Very… weather-like.” The Doctor nodded firmly. “As opposed to not having any weather at all.”

Fleur raised an elegant brow. “Is such a zing possible?”

“Depends on how much atmosphere you’ve got. Or, well, haven’t got.”

“Ah.”

An awkward silence fell.

The Bouquet family was Out on the Town, for a given value of the phrase. This value would, to most ponies, barely qualify as an acceptable usage, but in a strictly literal sense, it was accurate. They were out of doors, walking down the main boulevard of Ponyville, Carrot having decided that if she heard one more subtle crack or veiled insult about her house, she was going to flip a table. For a little while, Hyacinth had actually been quiet. But then… “Good heavens! Who runs the weather in this town? That cloud is simply dreadfully positioned.”

Oh rutting Celestia. Carrot willed herself not to ask. If she asked, she would get an answer. If she got an answer… she didn’t want to think about that. Carrot did not say a word. Unfortunately, Lily did. “Well, they do drift, Hyacinth.”

“Ridiculous,” Hyacinth sniffed. “Back in Trottingham, I’ve explained the value of non-drifting clouds to the weather patrol.” She smiled in patronizing recollection. “Yes. It did take a few visits to the local offices, but I got there in the end. Such a lovely mare, that Dragonfly. Pity about her chronic migraines, of course, but they’re not her fault, poor dear.”

“No,” Carrot said flatly. “I’m sure they aren’t.”

That was the one good thing about Hyacinth. Anything you said to her went in one ear and out the other, keeping only the pieces that supported her own views on the subject. While that wasn’t the most redeeming quality to have, it did make it easy to work in a few clever jibes. Although Daisy shot her a mildly disapproving look if her snark got really out of hoof, Hyacinth was about the only pony with whom Carrot Top could really let loose on the sarcasm.

Take this present moment, for instance. Hyacinth smiled slightly, and merely said, “I’ve often wondered if she would be interested in Mother’s cure-all tea. It is something of a panacea. Just the other week, I used it to treat my sore throat.”

“Maybe you should have left it,” Carrot muttered.

“What was that, dear?” Hyacinth asked. Rose gave Carrot a sharp nudge in the flanks.

“Nothing, Hyacinth,” Carrot replied, forcing a smile.

All that had been about fifteen minutes and twenty complaints ago. Carrot no longer wanted to flip a table. She now felt like flipping a carriage. Everything was too dirty, too disorganized, or most frequently, “very lower-middle class”. And then, with a smile— an odious, plastic smile— Hyacinth would turn to her sisters and say, “Oh, but it’s so terribly quaint. It suits you.”

Lily could see that her sister-in-law was cracking up. She coughed lightly. “Hyacinth, I don’t believe you’ve seen the boutique, have you?”

Lily liked Carousel Boutique. It was always terrifically neat, very clean, and wonderfully quiet. The dragon had taken a little bit of getting used to, but, well, it was Spike. Spike didn’t even eat his vegetables, let alone flowers, and that was a point in his favor as far as the Bouquet sisters of Ponyville were concerned. Lily was absolutely certain that Hyacinth would like the boutique as well, though perhaps not for the same reasons. Nowhere in Ponyville was as urban or metropolitan as Rarity’s store.

Hyacinth’s ears perked up. “Boutique?”

Lily smiled slightly. “Oh, yes. Carousel Boutique. There are branches in Canterlot and Manehattan.”

“Really…” One could almost hear the connections spinning into place in Hyacinth’s head. A well-connected owner… Connected to her family… owns a fashion brand… “You know, I was rather looking for a new sun hat,” she said at length.

The bait had been taken. Hyacinth scheming wasn’t a great outcome, but it was much nicer than Hyacinth griping. “I’m sure Rarity would be happy to oblige,” Lily said, a smile playing over her lips.

Discovering High Fashion in a Lower-Middle Class Locale

Lily’s smile was plastic as she stared at the darkened windows and locked door of the Carousel Boutique. “It’s usually open today,” she said.

“Of course, darling.”

Rose frowned. “I hope everything’s alright. We should check on them.” So saying, she lifted a hoof and knocked firmly at the door.

There was a slight scuffling and fumbling with the locks, and then the door swung open, revealing a tall, smiling drake in a buttoned shirt and tie. “Rarity!”

Then, his smile faltered. “You’re not Rarity.”

Hyacinth, for once, said nothing, the common response to seeing that many sharp teeth. Daisy stepped forward. “No, we aren’t. Our sister, Hyacinth is visiting for a few days, and wanted to take the opportunity to get a new hat.”

Spike’s green eyes fixed on the magenta mare. “Dragon,” Hyacinth said faintly.

The dragon in question smirked at the flowershop trio. “Wanted to give her a scare?”

Daisy looked up at the sky. Lily looked at the ground. Rose suddenly became very interested in the Boutique’s flower beds. “Yeah, a little,” Carrot said with a shrug.

“A dragon tailor,” Hyacinth said, her voice regaining its usual force. “How terribly nouvelle!”

“Uh,” said Spike. “I’m not a tailor, actually.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Hyacinth said hastily. “Designer, I mean. I must say, I didn’t quite expect Ponyville to be so tolerant. I’m very impressed that all the usual stereotypes have been so successfully trounced.”

She trotted into the now-open shop, leaving Spike slightly dumbstruck on the doorstep. “Uh…”

“Just go with it,” Rose sighed. “It won’t make any difference, anyway.”

“...Alright…”

Hyacinth hummed to herself as she perused the ponniquins on display. “How delightful! You certainly do have an eye for design,” she said as she cast a twinkling eye over the dresses.

“Uh, ah, why thank you,” Spike said, rubbing at his horns nervously. Hyacinth had a strange air about her. She seemed to exude superiority, culture, and class in a way that not even Rarity’s clients could pull off. It was unnerving, this force of personality. “So, uh, I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh, I’ll only be in town for a few days,” Hyacinth said vaguely, scouring a shelf full of scarves. “I’m in from Trottingham, you see, and my… dear… sisters were kind enough to open wide their doors while I’m passing through.” She beamed.

Spike leaned down to Rose. “Okay, what’s the real story?” he muttered.

“The letter came about an hour before she did,” Rose hissed back. “We didn’t have time to make our excuses.”

“Jeez, that’s rough.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “That’s Our Hyacinth for you. She really does mean well, most of the time, but she can’t see past the end of her own nose. So, what’s been happening here? Where’s Rarity?”

“Dunno,” Spike replied. “She went out this morning to run some errands, and she never came back.”

Rose squinted. “And you haven’t gone looking for her?”

“This is Rarity we’re talking about. She can handle herself,” Spike said.

The corridors in the labyrinth were narrow and poorly-lit. They offended Rarity on a visceral level. “It’s just so… clinical!” she sighed, glaring at the plain white walls.

‘Clinical’ again, Ditzy noted absently. That made five times now. More than ‘tedious,’ but far fewer than ‘dull.’ Charting Rarity’s descriptions of the decor was a less-than-scintillating pastime, but it was at least more interesting than Mac’s vague, half-awake stare as he gazed through space at nothing in particular.

“These little beasts have terribly dull decorating abilities.”

On the other hoof, maybe she could talk to Mac. She nudged the big red pony. “Whatcha thinking about?”

It took him a moment to register the question.“Dunno.”

Ditzy frowned. “What do you mean, ‘don’t know’? You’re obviously thinking about something.”

“Eeyup.”

“So what is it?”

“Somethin’ ain’t right here,” Mac said simply.

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been saying,” Rarity agreed. “The decor—”

“No, that ain’t it.” Mac scowled. “Ah mean. That ain’t great, either, but it ain’t what Ah mean.”

“Oh. Then what are you talking about?” Ditzy asked.

“...Ah ain’t sure yet,” Mac admitted.

“Would it help you to explain your thoughts to us, darling?” Rarity asked brightly.

Mac considered this quietly. “Well, lemme start like this. How far away is the moon from Gaea?”

“Oh, pretty far, isn’t it?” Rarity said vaguely.

“Too far fer a unicorn ta teleport,” Mac continued.

“I… yes?” Rarity asked, perplexed.

“Now, why’s that?”

“Well, theoretically I suppose one could teleport from Gaea to the moon, but—”

“It would take too much power,” Ditzy finished, catching on.

“Right. So, how’d these li’l fellas get all that power? Seems an awful lotta trouble jes’ ta get us stuck up in here.”

“If it comes to that, why would they send us anywhere at all?” Ditzy asked, frowning. “What do they want with us?”

There was a groaning, grinding noise that echoed down the hallway. The grey mare closed her eyes. “I don’t want to know.”

“Ditzy,” Rarity began.

“Nope.”

“Miz Doo…” Mac said.

“Don’t tell me, please.”

“The walls are closing in, darling,” Rarity said.

“Guys! I told you not to tell me!” Ditzy groaned. “C’mon. We’d better run.”

“Ya don’t say,” Mac replied, starting off toward the end of the hall at a light canter.

“At least they aren’t very fast,” Rarity noted, trotting along. “Still, I’d much rather not end up stuck in two dimensions. I do take pride in my depth of character.”

The walls were barely inching along, it was true. They probably could have walked out of the hallway without so much as bumping the walls. Even Mac’s yoke would barely have brushed the edges. Still, best not to loiter. Once they were all safely out in the next hallway, all three turned to quietly watch the white walls slide steadily together. It took another three minutes for them to fully close. Ditzy examined the walls. “Huh. Well, I guess we know why we’re here,” she said calmly.

Rarity swallowed. “Though I feel I know what you are speaking of, darling, I feel I should get your confirmation…”

“We’re lab rats,” Mac said levelly. “They’re gonna test us.”

“But in turn, we can test them,” Ditzy said brightly. “Here, help me get into this wall…”

Mac examined the panel and nodded solemnly. “Let’s see what we kin find…”

Rarity stared flatly at both of them. “You’re both quite mad, aren’t you?” She sighed. “Hold on. You’ll get in there more quickly if I undo the screws…”

The Doctor nodded as he was led into the smooth, tidy laboratory. “I see things really have changed,” he said appreciatively. The walls were white marble, smooth and cool. The doors were fine hardwood and burnished bronze, and opened automatically.

“All the latest equipment and techniques,” Fancy Pants said proudly, glancing around the lab.

“Quite primitive, of course, but still, very well done!”

Fancy’s perennial smile drooped a bit at that, but he rallied. “Well, I suppose by the standards of the next several centuries it is, but as for now, well! Quite cutting edge.”

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course!” The Doctor nodded. “Sorry. Old habits die hard.”

“Quite alright, dear fellow.”

The tan stallion nodded, glancing around the room. “Spectrograph, laser array, Van der Giraffe generator… yes, very nice. But…” he squinted at a large machine in the corner. “Is that an MRI?”

Fancy grinned broadly, clapping the Doctor on the back. “A new addition, we’re very pleased.”

The Doctor cocked his head. “What d’you want one of those for?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Fancy said, shaking his head. “Plenty of invaders partial to a bit of mind control, you know.”

“Mm…” the Doctor said thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s true. The trick is figuring out if they’ve actually been taken over by another intelligence or if it’s just, well, Ponyville being Ponyville…”

Scootaloo peered nervously through the bushes. What was Rainbow Dash doing? She had landed on that hill nearly fifteen minutes ago, and just sort of… collapsed. And who was that stallion up there? Why wasn’t he helping her?

The orange pegasus shifted slightly in the foliage, trying to dislodge a pesky branch stabbing into her side. Suddenly, the two ponies on the hill whipped around to face her hiding spot.

She drew in a breath sharply, then stood perfectly still. She barely dared to exhale. Cyseyes! What was going on? Okay, they were looking away now. Okay. She still didn’t dare move. They were looking all around, now, scanning the ground with the sort of panicked air that comes from losing something important. Well. They were distracted now, at any rate. Slowly, Scootaloo eased herself backwards and out of the bushes. She finally allowed herself a faint sigh of relief as she all but fell backwards onto the ground. Not even rolling over, she propelled herself away from the bushes with her back legs and then somersaulted behind a tree. Only then did she relax.

Okay. Ponies acting creepy. Was it Tuesday already? She ran through the possibilities in her head. Changelings? Not likely, now that Chrysalis was gone and Thorax had taken over. Still, she had sworn that she would return, so, still a possibility. Other options? Scootaloo stared into space, brow furrowed.

...Aliens? It was distinctly possible. Ponyville already had two Time Lords living there, why not some kind of shape-shifter, too? Well, she’d just have to get some more inform—

Her train of thought cut off abruptly as she saw something flash in the underbrush. Scootaloo squinted. What was that? Her eyes widened as she saw sunlight flash off its back again. A robot. She glanced back up at the hill, where the two figures were still frantically searching the ground. She glanced back at the robot. Two and two became four.

Given that that… thing is five meters in front of me, and my scooter is twelve meters away at a vector roughly one hundred degrees off of that, let’s see… okay, and the nearest cover on that path is… six hooves away… Alright, let’s go.

She quickly scurried toward her scooter, keeping a careful eye on the ponies on the hill. Fortunately, their eyesight was apparently worse than their hearing. Mounting up, she angled herself just so and then pushed off. The pegasus skimmed over the ground, deftly steering away from rocks and sticks. With a single swoop, she nabbed the robot from the ground with one hoof and let her altered momentum carry her into the treeline.

The Dash-thing glanced up, peering in the general direction of where, just moments before, Scootaloo had been visible. Now, there was nothing but a faint cloud of dust. The blue pegasus stared for a moment longer, and then resumed her search.

Scootaloo straightened up on her scooter and pushed off the ground once more, sending her zipping along the path back to Ponyville proper. Her mind was racing. “Okay,” she muttered. “Who can I ask for help? Uh, the Doctor’s in Canterlot… and this probably isn’t Twilight’s area…” she frowned and looked down at the robot, which was clinging tightly to the handlebars. She nearly crashed out of sheer shock. Emblazoned on the shiny metal surface was a familiar stylized cloud with a multicolored lightning bolt. Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m taking you to an expert,” Scootaloo decided, propelling herself forward once more as fast as she possibly could.

Engaging in Seances for Amusement and Social Gain

The Doctor stared at Fancy Pants. Fancy Pants stared at the Doctor. “So,” said the unicorn. “What do you say?”

The Time Lord shook his head. “I’m sorry, old friend, but I can’t. I won’t,” he said firmly. “There are no circumstances which will change my response.”

Fancy’s moustache drooped. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “Might I ask why?”

The Doctor stared incredulously. “Fancy, I don’t want to go to the canteen for coffee because I’ve drunk it before! You know as well as I do that it’s absolute manure.”

“Oh, come now, it isn’t that bad—”

“Yes, it is,” said Fleur, sweeping into the room briskly. “Which is why I had Sergeant Steady go make us all a cup of tea.”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” the Doctor said with a grin. “Nothing like a good cup of tea! Superheated infusion of free-radicals and tannin, just the thing … Did I tell you about the time a cuppa saved my life?”

Fancy Pants leaned forward in his chair. “No, I don’t believe so. Sounds terribly fascinating, though, I must say.”

“Anozzer time,” Fleur said briskly. “Now, Doctor, ze question is zis; will you come back to work here or not?”

Fancy blinked, mildly disapproving of the abruptness but unsurprised. The Doctor exhaled. “It’s not quite as simple as that,” he said.

Commander de Lis raised a perfect eyebrow. “Explain…”

The tan stallion shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you see…”

At that moment, the door opened and a pale grey unicorn mare trotted in, a tea tray clutched between her teeth. “Ah, Sergeant! Thank you very much,” Fancy said happily, accepting the service gladly. “I’ll be mother, shall I?”

The Doctor leaned forward in his chair. “Oh, let me,” he said, pulling the kettle toward him. “Sergeant Steady, was it?”

The mare simply nodded once. Fleur frowned, her forehead creasing in concern. “Fancee,” she said slowly. “When we get home, remind me to dry clean my uniform.”

Every couple has their own little pass-phrases and subtle cues, warning signs ranging from “Your fly is open” to “Say one more word about politics and you're on the couch.” When the couple in question happen to also be high-ranked paramilitary officials, the code necessarily takes on new connotations.

The stallion stopped suddenly in the middle of reaching for a teacup. Was ‘dry clean my uniform’ code for ‘review subjects for recruitment’ or ‘beware, there is an interloper’?

Sergeant Steady’s eyes narrowed. In the next instant, her hoof was swinging toward the back of Fleur’s head, but Fancy grabbed her before she could connect. Steady whipped her body down and away from the stallion who, with a cry of surprise and pain, went flying. Fleur grabbed the mare in her magic, but she simply pushed off the floor and out of the aura. The commander, dazed from the backlash, stumbled backward. The sergeant pulled something shiny out of her saddlebag and prepared to throw it, but Fancy leapt up and bodychecked her to the floor. The object went flying and landed on the table. It sprung up on a dozen little scuttling legs and spun to face the Doctor. The tan stallion flinched back, then grabbed the teakettle and tray. The little machine leapt. The tray swung. They connected, and the crab was flung back.

The Doctor popped the lid off of the kettle and flung the hot tea at Steady. It splashed in her eyes and ears and she flinched back, screaming silently. Fancy pushed her away from him and Fleur lifted the mare into the air.

The mustachioed stallion smiled. “Job well done, there,” he said proudly.

Then the robot leapt onto his back and he screamed. The Doctor lunged across the table and scooped the device up in the teakettle before it could do a thing. Fancy breathed out, a slow, ragged exhalation. “Yes… well… good job all of us, what?” he asked.

The little silver machine rattled angrily around the inside of the kettle, stabbing at the sleek metal walls of its prison. “Yes,” the Doctor agreed, his face darkening. “But this job is far from done, I’d say…”

Scootaloo raced along the streets of Ponyville, her wings beating furiously to propel the pegasus forward. “Sorry! ‘Scuse me! Comin’ through!” she shouted as she bounced along the rough dirt roads, followed closely by a series of dismayed exclamations and colorful colloquialisms. Finally, however, she skidded to a halt outside the Stick and Carrot, Ponyville’s premier (and only) bar.

The orange pegasus quickly pushed the doors open and ran inside. Startled, Berry Punch glanced up from the counter, where she was rinsing out stein glasses. “Whoa, whoa, where’s the fire?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I may not be Pinkie Pie, but I know you won’t be twenty-one for another few years.”

“Hi, Berry. I’m actually here to see Minu— Romana. Is she in?”

The barkeeper's eyebrows rose and she nodded. “Yeah, she’s upstairs. Pinchy’s helping her build… something. Why, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet,” Scootaloo admitted. “But try to keep an eye out for ponies acting weird.”

Berry frowned. “We’re in a bar.”

“...Weirder than usual, then. And I think Rainbow Dash got hit by whatever it is.”

The wine-coated mare let out a low whistle. “Bit more than the average Tuesday, huh?”

“Like I said, I dunno. So, can I go up?”

“Yeah, sure.” Berry tossed a key over to the young mare. “Just… try not to make any loud noises, right? I’ve learned the hard way about interrupting any experiments up there.”

Scootaloo nodded and made for the door leading to the upstairs flat. Berry sighed and reached under the counter. When she pulled her hoof back out, there was a heavy plank of wood in it. She had a nasty feeling that she was going to need it for something worse than rowdy drunks…

Scootaloo hurried up the stairs to the flat that Berry had long shared with the town’s former dentist. When Colgate had been revealed to actually be a Time Lord, Berry had just shrugged and said that as long as Romana could put up her half of the rent and watch Ruby Pinch, she had no problems with her species or planet of origin. She soon learned that Time Lords made infuriating roommates, as they were constantly fiddling with machinery, wearing bizarre clothes, talking about far-distant times and places, and generally being impossibly arrogant. Ditzy and Berry had taken to meeting up every Sunday to drink and discuss their children and their Gallifreyan housemates.

Still, at least Ruby Pinch was never bored. She was the only pony in Scootaloo’s grade that was better at science than Dinky. She had become fascinated with Romana’s ability to build sonic disruptors out of radios and wind-up squirrels out of clockwork, and had become the Gallifreyan’s eager lab assistant. Apart, they were both serious, interesting scientists who did serious, interesting things. Together, they tended to loosen up a little. This tended to result in lots of very serious, but interesting, explosions. So, it was with some trepidation that Scootaloo knocked on the door at the top of the stairs.

There was a muffled shout and the sound of flying sparks, followed by near silence. “Come in,” somepony eventually shouted.

Scootaloo peered around the door and her eyes went wide. The ceiling had turned black and crispy with ash. The two mares at the kitchen table were sooty, their manes blown back in true mad scientist fashion. The elder one smiled gently at the pegasus in the doorway. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, only slightly apologetic as she wafted away clouds of smoke with her huge white hat.

“Uh, it’s cool,” Scootaloo said, trotting in slowly. “What were you trying to do?”

“We’re building a new K-9 unit!” Ruby Pinch proclaimed cheerfully. “I always wanted a dog.”

Romana coughed out a bit of smoke and looked at Scootaloo more closely. “So, what are you doing here?” she asked cheerfully. “Aliens invading Ponyville?”

Scootaloo’s mouth fell open. “How did you know?”

Romana’s smile fell like a bad souffle. The large hat slipped from her hooves, but Ruby caught it in her magic before it could hit the ground. “I was… joking. This body does that, I suppose. Wait, seriously?”

The orange pegasus pulled off her saddlebags and opened it. Romana and Ruby leaned closer to look inside. A little silver robot feebly waved its legs in the air. Scootaloo gently lifted it out so they could see the incriminating mark on its dorsal side.

“Well,” said Romana, plopping her enormous hat back on. “That’s definitely beyond anything this world’s level of technology. Do you think it can communicate?”

“It hasn’t yet,” Scootaloo replied.

Ruby’s brow furrowed. “Hold on,” she said, hopping off her chair and making for her bedroom.

Romana peered closely at the robot. Gently, she tapped its carapace, but it flinched away before she could touch it. “Interesting,” she murmured as Ruby rushed back to the table, holding what appeared to be a board game.

Scootaloo squinted. “What are we going to do, play chess with it?”

“This isn’t a chess set,” Ruby said, setting the box on the table and opening it up. “It’s a Ouija board.”

The pegasus blinked. “A Ouija board. Aren’t those a little…”

“Dangerous? A little, yeah,” Ruby admitted. “I tried it once. Long story. Didn’t work. Doesn’t matter. Here we go…”

She laid the board flat on the table and gently sat the robot on top. She leaned down close to it. “Can you read the board?”

The device rotated around slowly, then quickly scuttled over to YES.

Ruby grinned. Romana patted her on the back. “Cleverly done,” she said. “Quick and efficient. Well done, indeed.” The younger unicorn beamed.

“Okay…” Scootaloo said slowly. “What are you?”

The little crab tapped the letters R-D.

The orange pegasus’s mouth dropped. “Rainbow Dash?”

H-I S-Q-U-I-R-T.

Romana leaned over, frowning. “How did this happen?”

B-E-A-T-S M-E. I W-E-T T-O T-A-L-K T-O A S-T-A-L-L-I-O-N.

She paused. W-E-N-T. H-E D-I-D-N-T S-A-Y A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G. S-O-M-T-H-G L-A-N-D-E-D O-N M-E. W-H-E-N W-O-K-E U-P W-A-S L-I-K-E T-H-I-S.

She rested for a moment. Then, H-E-L-P.

“Of course,” Romana agreed. “Now, the question is, what sort of alien are you?”

No A-L-I-E-N.

“You’re in an alien body,” Romana said gently. “Or, well, a robot body. It’s quite interesting, really, some sort of uploading of consciousness into a theoretically immortal shell…”

G-R-E-A-T. H-O-W U-N-D-O

Romana shrugged. “No clue. Let me examine you, I’ll see what I can find out,” she replied.

There was a long pause. Then, grudgingly, Yes.

Civil sighed as he trotted on weary hooves to the next shop on the street. A bakery? Well, why not? The old stallion had to eat, didn’t he? He’d not been in the cinema, nor the local restaurant. Anyway, after the morning Civil had had, he certainly felt like having a nice cupcake. He pulled himself up to his full height. Yes. He would have a cupcake, and Daddy’s whereabouts be darned, er, danged. Proudly, he trotted into the shop and up to the counter. “Hello, there,” he said to the pink mare at the counter.

She stared at him for a moment, then gasped, leapt five feet in the air and dashed off.

Civil blinked in surprise. “Er,” he said.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” a male voice said from behind the counter. “It’s just Pinkie being— Civil!”

Civil turned his head and smiled. “Oh, hello, Carrot,” he said, inclining his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The lanky yellow stallion glanced around. “Well… it is my bakery,” he said.

Civil coughed. “Yes, of course, of course. How’s business?”

Carrot waggled a hoof from side to side. “Not terrible, but, y’know, with two kids…”

“Oh, yes,” Civil agreed. “You just wait until they’re in college.” He shook his head. “So, who was that mare there?”

“Hm? Oh, that’s just Pinkie. She’s our top employee! She’s very, uh, enthusiastic.”

“About baking?”

“About everything. She also likes to make new friends and… well, never mind.” He chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“I see. Well, I’d like a cupcake, if you please. Chocolate, with…” he scanned the glass-covered counters for a long moment. “Espresso frosting and mini-marshmallows,” he decided firmly.

Carrot smiled as he grabbed the treat out of the display case. “Got a bit of a sweet tooth?”

“I’ve eaten plain oatmeal for breakfast every day for the past ten years. I can afford a little treat,” Civil said flatly.

The yellow stallion chuckled. “You won’t hear me argue. Anything else?”

“No—oo… yes, actually, I’m looking for Hyacinth’s father. He wandered off after lunch, and I’ve been sent to find him again.”

Carrot shook his head. “Sorry, haven’t seen him.”

“Ah, well. How much do I owe you?”

“Take it on the house,” Carrot replied. “Ten years of plain oatmeal? I consider this to be a public service.”

Civil grinned broadly. “Thanks. See you around, Carrot!”

“‘Bye,” the thin stallion replied, waving and smiling as he watched the other stallion leave. Still smiling, he turned and bumped straight into Pinkie Pie.

The smile dropped slightly. “Pinkie, remember what we talked about? Don’t run away from patrons?” Then he realized something very strange. Pinkie wasn’t smiling.

“Mr. Cake,” she said quietly. “My nose is twitchy and my throat is itchy and my left foreleg is wibbly and you need to take the twins and run.”

The lanky stallion’s brow knit. “What Pinkie sense is that?”

The pink pony shook her head. “I don’t know, but I know you need to run. And don’t tell Mrs. Cake.”

Carrot inhaled sharply. “You’re sure about this,”

Pinkie nodded. “Go. I’ll get Pound and Pumpkin,” she said. “I don’t like this Pinkie Sense, not one little bitty bit! Go to… to… I don’t know! Twilight’s castle, that should be a good hidey-hole. We’ll meet you there.”

He hesitated no longer. He ran out of the shop at a dead tilt. Carrot Cake was many things, but he was not stupid. He knew enough to wear a hard hat when Pinkie’s tail was twitchy.

Pinkie watched him go, a distant expression on her face. She had already sent Pound to Sweet Apple Acres and Pumpkin to Fluttershy’s cottage. They were old enough to get where they were going without her help. Hopefully, the thing her Pinkie Sense was detecting wouldn’t be able to get them all. As for her, well. A Pinkie had to do what a Pinkie had to do. She knew, somehow, that the whatever-it-was had already got Mrs. Cake. The Pinkie Sense had told her that much. So she had to keep Mrs. Cake in here.

There was a faint crashing sound from upstairs. Pinkie swallowed and planted her hooves firmly on the ground. And then the thing she had thought was a pie plate leapt up onto her back and stab#hY*89003&^th;;IOPARTYPARTYPARTYPARTbed her and then it fell off again. Pinkie blinked. She shook herself like a wet dog, her back suddenly aching like she’d gotten a flu shot to her spine. She had the sudden, unmistakable sense that something very important had just happened. She looked down at the little metal thing that had tried to jump her. It lay, twitching, on the ground. From upstairs, another crash.

The party pony glanced, indecisive, between the robot and the stairs. Ooh… she had locked all the windows and back doors already… Alright. She picked up the unmoving lump of metal with her mouth and made quickly for the door. As she reached the threshold, a great thumping sound came from the direction of the stairs. Pinkie glanced back for only a second. A rotund blue mare stood framed in the kitchen doorway, her eyes blank and her expression hard. In the next instant, Pinkie was on the other side of the door, slamming it closed and locking it up, her face twisted into an expression of pain. “Okie dokie,” she mumbled around the metal crab in her mouth. “Who can I take this to?” She sat in contemplation for a moment, then brightened. “Oh! Of course! Ditzy and the Doctor can help!” She hopped to her hooves and pronked off. From across the street, a yellow unicorn with staring eyes and blank expression watched her go. Watch this one, she told the hive, but do not approach.

MESSAGE RECEIVED.

Rarity stared at the collection of wires and machinery. “Well, I can’t make head nor tails of it,” she said. “Though I will say that the colors aren’t very well coordinated…”

Mac sighed. “We can’t rely on traditional wirin’ colors, neither,” he said. “Heck, Ah don’ even see any red wires."

Rarity brightened. “Ooh, that’s the one you’re always meant to cut in spy movies, yes? Or was it the blue one?”

Ditzy shrugged. “It’s only convention, anyway,” she said. “Actually, I’m pretty impressed that those little guys made something so complex with just their claws.”

“Hm,” said Mac. “Well, what if they didn’t make it?”

Rarity frowned. “Sorry, darling, I don’t follow.”

“These fellas are metal, too,” Mac said, “Metal don’t reproduce, ‘least not on its own.”

Ditzy frowned. “So you think there’s a third party? One who made the crabs and this base?”

“Eeyup.”

Rarity nodded thoughtfully. “Reasonable,” she agreed. “If, after all, you were on a walk across a heath and came upon a high-quality ball gown, you would not assume that it had arrived there of its own volition!”

Ditzy nodded, not looking away from the wiring in the wall. “That does seem to make sense,” she agreed. “But does that tell us anything new?”

“Well, it does highlight the gravity of the situation, somewhat,” Rarity said. “Likely, it means that this is a planned invasion.”

Mac blinked. “Say again?”

“This is a planned invasion?”

“Nope, b’fore that.”

Rarity hesitated. “It highlights the gravity—”

Mac stomped a hoof. “Gravity!” he exclaimed. “That’s what th’ trouble is!”

Ditzy glanced up from the wiring. “What do you—” she paused. “Do you two smell something funny?”

Rarity sniffed the air. Her eyes went wide. She spun around to see the hallway illuminated by an onrushing wall of flames. There was a flash of light—

Silence.

Politely Exiting the Home of an Undesirable Host with Aplomb and Alacrity

The silence abided for a few moments longer. “D’ya reckon it’s safe now?” Mac asked.

Rarity scrunched up her face. “Probably,” she conceded, dropping the shield spell she’d managed to construct.

Ditzy shook herself. “Another test, I guess,” she said. “They’re getting more dangerous.”

As if on cue, there was another whirring, crunching sound. Ditzy closed her eyes. “Again?” she asked.

“And a bit faster, this time,” Rarity observed, starting to trot quickly along the hall.

Mac shuddered. “Reckon they’re testin’ us ta breakin’ point,” they said grimly, starting up at a canter, Ditzy taking to the air a few moments later.

“The question is, why?” Ditzy asked. “Why do any of this?”

“Research?” Mac guessed.

“For an invasion, I assume,” Rarity agreed, nervously glancing between the ever-encroaching walls and the end of the hallway. “I doubt it’s entirely coincidental that this lot managed to pick up three representatives of ponykind and come up with a unicorn, a pegasus, and an earth pony. They want to see what makes each of us different, I suppose.”

“Okay, maybe, but why teleport us to the moon?”

“They didn’t,” Mac said shortly.

Ditzy nearly fell out of the air. “What?”

“Hurry, darlings~” Rarity sang, her nerves eminently obvious in her tone.

“Right,” Ditzy said, soaring over the heads of her friends and landing in the adjoining hallway. Rarity galloped through a moment later, and Mac squeezed through at the last moment.

“A’ight,” the red pony said. “Now, Ah know we ain’t on th’ moon.”

“How?” Rarity asked.

“‘Bout what size is th’ moon?”

Ditzy thought. “About… one-sixth the size of Gaea?”

“Smaller mass?”

“Well, yes.”

“So, shouldn’t we be feelin’ a heckuva lot lighter?” Mac bounced up and down to demonstrate. “Gravity changes based on mass an’ distance, an’ we’re on th’ surface of a mass that oughta be a whole lot smaller’n we’re used ta.”

Ditzy was quiet, staring into space. “So, what you’re saying is…”

“We ain’t even left th’ planet, is my guess,” Mac said with a nod. “Help me take down this here wall, Ah got a couple suspicions ‘bout what’s back there.”

All of a sudden, a malevolent clicking sound echoed down the hallway. Three heads whipped around to see a tide of silver flowing toward them on thousands and thousands of little metal legs. Rarity screamed. Ditzy blinked in surprise. Mac turned and bucked a metal panel from the wall. It fell, bent, to the ground, revealing a sheer rock wall behind it. The farmer nodded. “‘Spected as much,” Mac grunted. Then picking up the bent piece of metal, they hurled it back at the oncoming swarm. “Run!” Mac barked, turning tail and galloping. “Look fer a window!”

The mares didn’t need to be told twice. They followed their friend away from the robot army at top speed. But already, they could hear little clacks and clicks echoing from other halls. They needed a way out, and quickly at that. They needed a miracle. They needed

“A window!” Rarity shouted, pointing down a hall. She made a hairpin turn, galloping toward the image of the lunar surface that was displayed there.

“Rares, wait!” Mac bellowed, but she didn’t listen. She kept running and running until she was grabbed bodily by the tail and yanked back. A second later, one of the crabs landed where she would have been standing.

The alabaster unicorn swallowed and glanced back. “Thank you, Ditzy darling.”

“Can ya put up a shield an’ run with it?” Mac asked. The clattering from down the hall was getting louder, now, more insistent.

“I… no…” Rarity said slowly. “No, but I think… Buck off another bit of the wall, please?”

Mac nodded, then spun on his forehooves and smacked the metal of the wall. Rarity looked it over carefully and nodded. “It will do.” She levitated it over her head and ushered the others in more closely. “Now,” she said. “Run!”

Little metal crabs bounced off the makeshift shield like rain off an umbrella as the trio galloped for the end of the hall. They attacked from all sides, too, but between Ditzy’s frantic flapping and Mac’s powerful kicks, they were beaten away before they could get a firm fix on any of them. Eventually, they had fought their way to the window, and with their flanks to the cold glass, they continued to bat away the attackers. “Macintosh!” Rarity shouted over the now deafening din of metal clicking against metal. “Get us out of here!”

“EEYUP!”

Hooves toned by years of applebucking lashed against the glass, creating small fractures. Another impact, and the fine white crack lines covered half the window. One final bucking kick. One final crack. The window shattered, and the illusory moon fell away to reveal a dirt hole, rolling green hills and an opal-blue sky. Rarity waved the others through, then followed close after, using the metal sheet to seal off the hole behind them.

There was a long moment of tense silence as they stared at the revealed pane of glass in the side of the hill that they had just left. No skittering metal crabs emerged. After a moment, Rarity began to chuckle. It was the sort of exuberant, gleeful laugh that springs from sheerest exhaustion. After a moment, Ditzy began to laugh, too, followed by Mac. The big red pony rolled over, belly to the sky, halfway between guffaws and tears. The three sat there for several seconds, exulting in the sunshine after the artificial light of the subterranean labyrinth.

Eventually, however, laughter dissolved into faint wheezing and eventual silence. Rarity spoke first. “That’s far from the last of them.”

“... Eenope.”

Ditzy hauled herself upright, her expression grim and taut. “Right. This might have gone a little beyond anything we can handle. We need a professional.”

The Doctor carefully lowered the teakettle onto the table. Fancy Pants stared at it, incredulous. “Have you ever seen the like?” he asked quietly, shaking his head.

“Similar,” the Doctor replied, not glancing away from the kettle. “But I’ll admit, this fellow is quite new to me.

Fleur shut the door to the lab behind her as she trotted in once more. “Ze sergeant ‘as been incarcerated for ze time being,” she said crisply. “Doctor. You will tell me what ‘as ‘appened to my soldier.”

The tan stallion nodded. “Gladly. As soon as I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Fleur raised an eyebrow, her expression stormy. Fancy, sensing a brewing row, interceded. “How did you both know she was being controlled?”

At last, the Time Lord looked up from the kettle. “Well,” he began, “The first problem was, she was a unicorn. I’ve never known a unicorn to hold anything in their mouths when they could use magic. So, either GUIDE has a unicorn who can’t use magic, which I suppose isn't out of the question, or that unicorn has suddenly lost the ability to use magic. Then, there was her cutie mark.”

Fancy blinked. “Her cutie mark?”

“Didn’t you notice?” Fleur asked mildly. “It was a stylized hexagon, grey, metallic-looking. Very much unusual for a cutie mark, no? Especially given zat, last I knew, she ‘ad ze mark of a bullseye. But not unlike our little friend in ze teakettle.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor agreed. “Which suggests a couple of things to me. First, the less likely scenario; that crab is controlling her actions.”

Fancy frowned. “That doesn’t seem too unlikely to me,” he commented.

“Not on the surface, no,” the Doctor agreed. “But it doesn’t account for the cutie mark change. However, that leads me to a much more troubling conclusion.”

Fleur frowned. “And zat is?”

“They’re switching out their minds.” The Doctor’s face was cold and hard as steel used to build a polar research facility. “These little beasts are putting their own brains in equine bodies, and vice-versa. You don’t have the good Sergeant Steady locked up, Commander. They do.”

Fleur’s face, normally marble-like in its composure, pallor, and coolness, now bore more resemblance to molten lava. “Zey have one of my soldiers?” she whispered.

Fancy’s tail flicked as he glanced at Fleur, unsure as to whether he should address his wife or his superior. “Er, Fleur,” he began.

The commander of a global organization and world-famous fashion model spun to stare straight into Fancy’s monocled eye. “Zey have taken one of my soldiers,” she whispered. “Soon, zey shall find all ze rest at their doorstep, I assure you. Doctor! Where are zey based?”

The tan stallion shrugged helplessly. “Search me. Even if we assume this fellow is part of a larger invasion force, as I believe we safely can, that really doesn’t determine anything about where the rest of them might be hidden. Unless…” he lapsed into pensive silence.

“Doctor…” Fleur warned.

“Hang about, let me try something. No promises, mind, but…” The Doctor opened the top of the kettle. The robot inside renewed its scrabbling efforts to escape, but the Doctor disregarded its struggle. He merely pulled out his sonic and aimed it at the little robot. There was a brilliant blue light and a hum. Slowly, the Doctor started to grin. “Hah! The little buggers have a hive mind!”

Fancy coughed. “Forgive me my ignorance, Doctor, but how does that help us?”

Fleur frowned thoughtfully. “Could we use zis knowledge to… track down ze rest of zese little beasts?”

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor agreed. “The other signals are mostly bundled up together in a large area not far from here… about forty miles. About the same distance as…” he froze. “Ponyville.”

There was a long moment of silence. Fancy Pants exhaled through his nostrils. “I’ll get a carriage,” he sighed. “Really, I don’t know why we’re surprised...”

Lily reclined on an armchair. Daisy and Carrot Top shared the chaise longue. Rose lay slumped on the floor, beyond caring about propriety. Spike clutched his head in his talons. “Gah,” he groaned. “I can’t— just, I— everything I say, it’s just— GAH!”

Daisy shrugged weakly. “It’s just her way,” she said.

“Her way,” Spike repeated hollowly. “It’s ‘her way’ to completely ignore everything said by anyone and in doing so, knock over Rarity’s newly completed dress? Rearrange all of her hats? Moreover—”

“Oh, Mr. Spike,” a voice sang from the other room. “Would you be so good as to inform me of the nature of— Why, Daddy! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Spike looked at the assembled mares askance.

“Father ran off after breakfast,” Daisy said shortly. “We sent Civil off to look for him.”

“Does he often do that?”

The response was cut short by a sudden shriek from the other room. The assembled shared worried glances, then all ran out into the main floor of the boutique. “Ech,” Spike grumbled as something crunched underfoot like a large bug. Then he realized exactly how large of a bug that would have to be. “What the—”

Lily, Daisy, and Rose screamed. Carrot Top looked more than a little alarmed herself. The Boutique was crawling with little silver robots. Spike blinked. Then, recovering himself, he spun around, whipping his tail at the little creatures. Silvery crabs flew across the room like baseballs.

In the center of the chaos, Hyacinth was balanced precariously atop a ponnequin, her sunhat tilting over her face. The mare was whimpering slightly and staring at the other figure in the room. The elderly stallion’s face was blank and his eyes were empty. “...Daddy?” Rose called, dubious.

“No, look at his flank,” Carrot said, pointing. Instead of the usual stylized poppies that made their place there, a pair of metallic hexagons occupied the stallion’s hindquarters.

The geriatric stared blankly at his children, then advanced slowly toward them, picking up one of the crabs in the process.

Acceptable Standards of Mourning for a Fallen Family Member

Suddenly, the door to the boutique flew open. “HI~!” Pinkie cried. “Spike, are you here? I need your help! The Doctor and Ditzy aren’t home and Twilight is busy up in her castle and—” She stopped, glancing around the room. “Oh, so you already know about these guys, huh?”

“Pinkie! Run!” Carrot shouted.

The pink pony merely smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about me. Actually, if anypony should be worried about me, it’s them!” She waved a hoof at the little silver robots, and then pulled something out of her hair. It was another silver robot, apparently immobilized by threads of cotton candy which bound its dozens of little legs. “So,” she said smiling brightly. “Who wants to come after me now?”

There was a moment of brief consternation among the troops, and Spike made use of it. “Come on,” he roared, kicking little crabs out of the way to clear a path for the mares. “Run!”

Nopony waited to be asked twice. Four sets of hooves galloped across the floor. The old stallion tried vainly to block their path, but Spike stopped to lift him up and set him firmly over the top of a curtain rod. Daisy swatted a crab off of Carrot’s back, and Rose kicked another across the room. Pinkie chucked her captive crab squarely into a collection of others, sending them scattering like tenpins. Lily cowered in the midst of her sisters and sister-in-law. Quickly, however, they had made it out the door. “Great, we’re all here, now let’s gogogo!” Pinkie said.

“Wait,” said Rose, eyes widening. “What about Hyacinth?”

All six pairs of eyes fixed on the mare, still balancing on the dress figures as best she could. Carrot sighed. “Hold on.”

The yellow mare leapt back into the fray, silver crabs swarming her, climbing up her sides. The farmer shook herself fiercely, sending the robots flying like drops of water. She spun around, delivering a firm buck to the dress forms. Hyacinth shrieked and fell onto her sister-in-law’s back. The crabs made another strike, but Carrot was already off and running, back toward her wife, back toward the door, back toward safety. And then a silver robot launched itself at her face.

The assembled watched in horror as Carrot reared back. A slim metal tentacle slipped out and slid around to the back of her head. The mare flinched for the briefest of seconds, her head snapping back abruptly and then falling forward, Hyacinth pitching off her back and into a sea of crabs. Or she would have had Spike not incinerated her with a burst of green flame. Moments later, another burst of green fire deposited the terrified mare next to Pinkie Pie.

“Carrot,” Daisy whispered, horrified.

As though in response, the yellow mare lifted her head once more. Daisy gasped slightly, stepping forward, but Pinkie pulled her back firmly. “Don’t look,” she whispered, sorrowful. “Don’t look.”

But Daisy didn’t listen. She saw the blank expression, the empty eyes in the face that she had woken up next to and gone to bed with for fourteen years. Her own eyes watered, and she pitched over backward into Pinkie’s hooves.

“Spike?” Pinkie asked quietly. “Do you know what those things are?”

“No,” the dragon replied brusquely, slamming the Boutique’s door closed. “And honestly, I don’t much care.”

The premier party pony frowned slightly. “You don’t?”

“No. ‘Cause whatever those things are, I think they’ve got Rarity. And that means, no matter what those little creeps are, I’m gonna ROAST them,” Spike finished his declaration with a snarl.

The conscious members of the Bouquet family all backed away from the angry dragon. Hyacinth leaned over to Rose. “Rather intense, isn’t he? It must be the artistic temperament.”

Spike took in a deep, shuddering breath and sighed out slowly. Pinkie, meanwhile was squinting, unperturbed at the robot she held in her hooves. “Okay… who else in Ponyville would know about… OOH! Come on, everypony, we’re going to the bar!”

Hyacinth frowned slightly. “My dear mare, this is not a problem that can be solved with alcohol. Poor dear Daddy has been addled out of his wits! Oh, he was such a sharp mind in his youth…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Pinkie, meanwhile, was happily paying no attention whatsoever and pronking off in the direction of the Stick and Carrot. The Ponyvillians exchanged glances and shrugged. Better to trust Pinkie than stay here like sitting ducks, after all.

Probably.

Maybe.

They all trotted after her.

From the eaves, the crabs watched.

A farmer, a mailmare, and a fashionista walked into Ponyville. There was no punchline. There was no noise of any kind. No ponies lined the streets. A newspaper fluttered across the street. “Well,” said Rarity. “This isn’t the most promising of sights.”

“Mebbe everypony else got abducted too,” Mac suggested.

Ditzy nodded. “Possibly,” she agreed. “We’d better keep an eye out…”

The trio trotted through the silent streets of the normally bustling township. It was surreal, like listening to chamber music in a nightclub. Each pony was silent, lost in thoughts of what their loved ones’ fates might be. Rarity worried desperately about Spike, and far moreso about Sweetie Belle. Mac’s mind ran amuck with fears of where Granny, AJ, and Bloom might have gone. Ditzy was plotting violence against anything that might have hurt her little muffin.

Then, a motion caught Rarity’s eye, and she turned. A smile split her face as she saw who was hovering in the alleyway. “Rainbow Dash!” she called. “Thank Celestia! You have no idea how worried we’ve been, what’s going—”

She faltered as the pegasus turned to face her the blue mare’s face was devoid of emotion, her eyes as empty as the grave. “Rainbow?”

Dash opened her mouth, and a low note boomed out, unlike anything a pony ought to be able to produce. From every corner, every trash bin, every window pane, little silver figures emerged. “Uh-oh,” Ditzy said quietly. “Okay. Um, options?”

“Scream fer help?” Mac suggested.

“Uh…” Ditzy said, but the rest of the sentence was cut off as Rarity quickly got on board with Mac’s plan.

Rainbow faltered in midair, a grimace crossing her face. The crabs froze for a moment before resuming their advance as Rarity’s shriek dwindled.

Ditzy swallowed. “Mac? Other ideas?”

“Well, y’all’ve got wings.”

“Yeah, but I can’t carry both of you. Or either of you for very long.”

“Weren’t suggestin’ it.”

The grey pegasus froze. “You don’t mean—”

“Go. Somepony’s gotta get help. Ain’t no good you stayin’ here, so FLY!”

Grey wings shot out like sails. “I’ll save you,” Ditzy whispered. “I’ll save everypony, I promise.”

Mac grinned. “Ah believe ya. Now, git.”

Ditzy flapped frantically into the air and over the crabs. Rarity backed into Mac. “Darling. If we don’t get out of this alive, I just want you to know that I’ve always found your fashion sense atrocious and would have made you give up that yoke for a suit years ago were it not for your sister.”

Mac let out a low, dry chuckle. “Ah got a suit already. If we’re confessin’ stuff though, Ah’d not mind a nice dress. Er. Some days it fits me better.”

Rarity glanced up at the farmer, momentarily surprised. Then she smiled. “If we get out of here, I’ll make you one of each, gratis,” she said firmly. “You deserve to look good regardless of gender. I think yellow would suit, with highlights in green, or perhaps orange. Brown, possibly. You're absolutely an autumn.”

Mac blushed. “Much appreciated. Course,” he added, eyeing the oncoming silver tide, “that’s prob’ly academic.”

“Quite. Well, it was good knowing you, Macintosh.”

“Likewise, Miss RaR5%6yhb&(kJH!k

The thing in Rainbow Dash’s body watched impassively as the large red creature fell to the ground, followed immediately by the small white one. Their brandings faded, transforming into the familiar silver hexagon that symbolized their march toward conquest, toward eternal life and complete control. The diamonds and apple appeared on the backs of the two shells that had been able to land the final blow. Good. The others could take it from here. Cold magenta eyes snapped toward the last location of the grey subject. It must not escape. With a few powerful wingbeats, the Dash-thing lifted off from the ground; slowly, grudgingly, for it was still unused to this flesh, but it would follow for as long and far as it could go. More than far enough.

The Perils of Excessive Punctuation in Discourse

Ditzy’s lungs burned, her muscles beginning to feel rather as though they had been left to marinade in fermented cider. Her runs with the Doctor had improved her speed and stamina vastly, but the life of a postal worker did not often require top-speed flights for extended periods of time, and panic only made things worse. “After this,” she gasped to herself, “Gym membership.”

Where was she flying to? Where could she go that was safe? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t stop to think and figure it out. Her breaths were growing shorter, her eyes misting with tears and her brow with sweat. She could fly… left! Yes! Left was a good direction! Left was good! She dove, then smacked into a wall. Okay! Left was not a good direction, at least not at this height. She could fly higher, or fly right. Or straight! She could fly straight, or up, or down, left or right, top or bottom, strange or charmed. No. Focus. Pull yourself together, Ditzy. Think, what would Daring do? What would the Doctor do? Hm. No vines, no sonic screwdriver, no bananas. Okay. Different tactic. What, if she were reading this in a book, would she want the character to do? What would she shout at the screen of the movie theater?

Find help. Find other ponies. There had to be somewhere that the crabs hadn’t gotten into yet. More importantly, stay in the air. Crabs couldn’t fly, and neither could robots, so far as she knew. Plus, she could see much farther from up there. Her course decided, she spread her wings and flapped upwards into the blue. From a not-so-distant rooftop, a blue mare watched her rise, scanning her motions carefully. Observing. Learning. Growing.

Pinkie pronked merrily down the streets, as was her wont even in the darkest of times. Especially, it seemed, in the darkest of times. Lily and Daisy had both more or less recovered from their brief bout with unconsciousness, evoking mixed feelings within the group. “Oh, poor, dear Daddy,” Hyacinth fretted. “You know, I don’t think being possessed can possibly be good for his constitution.”

Rose glanced sideways at Daisy, who was currently staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. She was staring very hard. “It was very brave of Carrot to come and rescue you like that, wasn’t it, Hyacinth?” Rose asked, not taking her eyes off of Daisy for a moment.

“Hm? What’s that, dear?” Hyacinth echoed vaguely. “I do hope Civil is alright. Imagine if he was attacked by one of those things. Imagine if Mrs. Number Twenty-Three found out!”

There was a faint sound like sandpaper running over brick. Rose grimaced. That was a sound that she had only heard a few times before, and it only heralded bad things. Not as bad as it was when it came from Lily, mark you, but bad nonetheless. Daisy’s teeth were grinding. Rose swallowed and repeated, “I said, it was very brave of Carrot to come rescue you, Hyacinth.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Hyacinth agreed vaguely. “Such a pity she couldn’t grab my hat as well…”

There was a faint but audible noise. It sounded very much like the cracking of a whip or the breaking of a chain after far, far too much strain was put on it. In short, something in Daisy’s brain glanced over the readouts, took a calm sip of its afternoon coffee, and pressed the button marked BERSERK.

Daisy stopped trotting. Pinkie stumbled as the air grew noticeably colder, but she turned it into a somersault culminating in a hoofstand. Rose took a few steps away from Daisy. Lily, much like a possum, fell backwards into a faint. Spike caught her before she hit the ground. “It was a lovely hat,” Hyacinth continued amiably. “Just the thing to really show up Mrs. Number Thirty-One. Show her to call my candlelit suppers—”

“SHUT UP!” Daisy roared. The following silence rang and echoed with the florist’s fury.

Hyacinth stared, gawping, at her sister. Rose quietly slipped over to hide behind Spike, as he was the largest thing in the immediate vicinity that probably didn’t conceal any crabs. Pinkie did a backflip and landed on all four hooves, her countenance uncharacteristically solemn. She too scooched over to Spike. “This isn’t gonna go well,” she muttered. “It’s gonna be like the time Marble yelled at Limestone for breaking her favorite rock doll.”

“Marble yells?”

“She did that day,” Pinkie replied grimly, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks as she gazed into the abyss. “And lo, the ground did open and spewed forth clouds of dust and rock and yea, the Boulder of Holder did shudder in its founding…”

Daisy, meanwhile, was still breathing furiously. Her pupils were pinpricks and the whites of her eyes were shot with blood and tears. “You shut up,” she repeated, more quietly. “You come into my home. You insult the decor. You insult the town. You insult my livelihood. Fine. I don’t care enough to fight you. But now, my wife, my Carrot, has sacrificed herself to save your flank, and all you can say is that she didn’t save your stupid HAT?”

Pinkie’s eyes went solid blue. “Ia, ia, Cthulu fh’tagn,” she intoned.

Hyacinth took a few steps backwards. The last time she had seen Daisy this mad was… well, never. “Well, of course, darling, Carrot was, ah, very brave,” she began.

“No.” Daisy shook her head. “She wasn’t brave. She didn’t need to be brave. She did what needed to be done, like she always has, and now she’s… she’s…” Daisy sniffled, her face softening for a moment.

“Dear…” Hyacinth murmured, stepping forward. Spike and the other mares cringed. Lily peeked an eye open and promptly decided that appearing unconscious was the better part of valor.

Daisy looked up at her sister, her eyes burning. If looks could kill, Hyacinth and the buildings immediately behind her for three blocks would have been incinerated, their ashes swallowed by the earth while lightning flashed overhead, and everypony present knew it. Everypony, that is, save Hyacinth. “I am terribly sorry that Carrot was caught up in that dreadful uproar, of course,” she said, smiling warmly. Her survival instinct was apparently on the blink, assuming she had ever had one to begin with. Why would she need one, after all? Up in Trottingham, about the worst thing you had to fear was the milk being late. The blood began to rush to Daisy’s cheeks.

“You’re… sorry,” she said slowly. “You’re sorry? YOU’RE SORRY? I’m not asking for your apologies, Hyacinth. I’m not asking for you to say you’re sorry and wish me the best. I’m asking for you to get down on the ground and kiss where my beautiful, brilliant, patient wife has walked!! I’m asking for you to set her above Celestia and Luna!!! I’m asking for your eternal gratitude to my Carrot for saving your obtuse flank!!!! I don’t think that’s so much to ask, do you?!?!” She turned to Spike and the others. “Do you!?!?!?”

The excess punctuation was audible and was a sure sign of a mind pushed too far. Nopony could answer a question with that many exclamation points in it.

Pinkie Pie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Daisy…” she said gently, “I understand. You’re feeling frowny-upside-downy, and that’s okay. But there are better things you can do with that.”

Daisy stared, confused. Pinkie Pie walked forward at what was, for her, a sluggardly pace. “Right now, you’re really mad, right?” she said quietly. “You wanna break things. You wanna hurt ponies, and Hyacinth makes the best target. But if you turn into a Shouty Snipperson, you aren’t helping anypony. Not yourself, not Hyacinth, and not Carrot Top, either.”

“I…” Daisy’s lower lip wobbled. “I just…”

“Shh, shh,” Pinkie consoled, wrapping her hooves around the mare. “It’s okay. I get it. So let Auntie Pinkie tell you what to do with that anger. Take it, and control it. Remember those crabs? Remember what they did? Get mad at them. Get… get that one off your sister!”

Daisy spun. Hyacinth was standing perfectly still as a silver crab scuttled up her back. A long, silver tentacle extended from its abdomen. For a moment, both sisters stood perfectly still as the robot, like a scorpion, prepared to strike...

Then, a blur of grey smashed Hyacinth to the ground, sending the little silver crab flying. Ditzy rose from the impromptu dogpile, grinning broadly. “Hooves up everypony not being controlled by little, shiny, and silver over there!” she said.

“Ditzy!” Pinkie cried happily. “Not everypony’s been gotten, then?”

The grey pegasus’s smile faded. “Well… not me, anyway,” she said quietly. “I was with Rarity and Mac…”

Pinkie’s smile faltered. “Oh…”

“Rarity?” Spike repeated. “Is… is she okay?”

Ditzy stared at the ground. “I was the only one who could escape,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, Spike.”

The dragon stared. He inhaled heavily, his fists clenching. “Okay,” he said calmly. “Fine. This is fine. We just need to undo whatever it is these crabs do to ponies and then make sure that they never do it again. Simple, simple, simple.”

Pinkie looked around helplessly. The situation was getting steadily worse. “Okay,” she said, her voice tinged with desperation. “Great. Let’s just keep moving until we can get to Romana.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Ditzy said, gratefully smiling at the pink pony. “I wish I’d thought of that instead of just flying toward the shouting.”

“Is that how you found us?” Rose asked, a small smile gracing her face. “Guess I’m not surprised. Everypony in town musta… heard that…”

There was a long moment of silence. In that silence, the sound that had been tingling at the back of every mind present became clear. It was the sound of beating wings. Everypony turned to look the way that Ditzy had come to see Rainbow Dash slowly but steadily flying toward them.

“Okay, time to go,” Ditzy said quickly, spinning quickly in the direction of the Stick and Carrot. She stopped when she saw the ponies blocking off the street ahead of them. The ponies blocking off the street behind them and to either side of them. Macintosh, Rarity, Carrot Top, and too many others to count. Each one had a blank expression and empty, empty eyes…

“Ya know,” Rose said, staring around. “There are days when I really hate living in this town."

And the things in the bodies of their friends and neighbors began to close in.

Acknowledging Affection in a Socially Acceptable Manner

Pinkie gestured frantically to the others. “Quick! This way!” she called, hightailing toward the nearest shop.

Ditzy and the Bouquet sisters followed suit. Spike stared out into the crowd. “Rarity,” he whispered.

“SPIKE!” Pinkie called. “IF YOU WANNA SAVE HER, RUN!”

Spike blinked. The crowd was continuing to close in. “Rut.”

He turned and ran toward the open door. There was a garbled cry, and a pair of cyan hooves wrapped around his head, effectively blinding him. The dragon shouted, yanking at the body, but to no avail. The only way to get her off would be to break her bones. So, instead, he charged straight for the door. “DUCK!” Pinkie shouted.

Spike hunkered down and felt his scales brush the top of the doorframe. He heard the door slam shut behind him. “Someone… help me?” he asked.

The Dash-thing clung on even more firmly, but she was no match for the combined efforts of Spike, Pinkie, Rose, and Daisy. Eventually, she was yanked off and fell painfully to the ground. “Ow,” Spike said, rubbing his head. He glanced around. Shelves full of jump ropes and space hoppers. Cuddly stuffed toys. A display of building blocks. He sighed. “Pinkie, did you choose this store on purpose?”

Pinkie, sitting in a basket filled with rubber ducks, grinned broadly. “Nope! Just lucky!”

“Right,” Spike said, nodding. “Just a coincidence that we ended up in the toy store.”

“Abso-doodly!”

Rainbow Dash blinked and leapt to her hooves, spinning to charge the door. Spike grabbed her by the tail and lifted her off the ground. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Anypony got any ideas about getting out of this one?”

Silence. Spike looked around the toy store again, this time looking at the ponies. Hyacinth was, for once, silent, sitting in a corner by herself. Daisy was sitting in the opposite corner. Rose was looking between the two, and Lily was looking miserable. Ditzy couldn’t meet the dragon’s eyes, and Pinkie… was still distracted by the toy ducks. Spike rolled his eyes. Okay, fine. “Let’s see,” he said aloud. “There must be some kind of… stockroom, right? Maybe there’s a backdoor in there.”

“Good plan!” Pinkie said, leaping out of the tub of duckies with a squeaking sound. “Let’s go look!”

She skipped along the floor, followed quickly by Ditzy and Spike. The Bouquet Sisters trailed along, with Hyacinth bringing up the rear. Outside, the ponies of Ponyville stared in through the large store window. Thunderlane pressed his hoof against the glass and tapped it softly. The others began to follow suit. Small cracks began to form.

Romana flipped Dash back over onto her little scuttling feet. “There! That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

The robot pointed a leg toward the Ouija board. “Oh. Right.” The Time Lady carefully picked her up and carried the crab over to the table.

Dash, as grudging as a mechanical crab could be, pointed to No.

Romana smiled. “Good to hear. I’d give you a lollipop for being such a good patient, but I don’t think you could eat it.”

Dash spelt out something very rude on the board. Romana tried to look stern, but a smile crept through. “Ruby! Scootaloo!” she called. “I’ve finished.”

“Just a sec!” Scootaloo called back. “I’ve almost solved the mystery.”

Romana dropped her screwdriver. “You what?” she asked, all but galloping into the other room.

The two young mares lay on the floor, staring at a board. “Okay,” Scootaloo said slowly. “I’ve eliminated all the other possibilities. So, is it… Sapphire Blue in the kitchen with the lead pipe?”

Ruby shook her head. “No. It was Sgt. Yellow.”

“Dang it!”

Romana sighed. “If we could focus?” she asked testily.

“Right.”

“Sorry.”

The Time Lady led the two back into the other room, where Robo Dash was impatiently tapping her legs on the table. W-E-L-L she demanded. W-H-A-T D-I-D Y-O-U F-I-N-D

Romana bit her lower lip. “Well… not much,” she admitted. “I know that this tendril here is a mind-swapping device, of sorts. A consciousness transfer, I suppose.”

“A personality transplant?” Ruby asked, grinning.

Scootaloo glared. Dash probably did as well, but it was hard to tell. Romana, however, beamed, her hat falling askew as she tilted back her head. “Exactly right. Instead of overwriting your mind, which is a tricky matter at the best of times, this little device switches the consciousness it’s carrying with the victim. So, to get you back to normal, all you have to do is stab yourself!”

Everyone stopped. “That… sounds like the worst advice ever,” Scootaloo said. “And how are we going to get Dash’s body back?”

“It’s a plan in progress,” Romana protested, smile faltering as she adjusted her hat.

Ruby cut in. “What else did you find?”

“Like I said, not much. The auditory receptors are unusually small, the body is highly compressible, and in an emergency, they can retract into an airtight shell.”

“Huh,” said Scootaloo, staring at the tiny robot. “You’d think that an alien robot would be more… cool.”

“It doesn’t need to be ‘cool,’” Romana said, a slight amount of grimness entering her tone. “In fact, I think too many bells and whistles would detract from its purpose.”

A-N-D T-H-A-T I-S…

Ruby cottoned on first. “Put the ponies in the robots,” she said. “This way, once they’ve been captured, they can’t fight back.”

“Finger on the nose, Ruby,” Romana said with a grin. “Wait, that expression doesn’t work here. Hm.” She tapped the filly on the nose. “Boop.”

“So…” said Scootaloo. “How do we undo that?”

“Well, I suppose we attack the same way they did,” said Romana, scratching the back of her head. “Get a body and the appropriate crab, chuck them together, moment of confusion, profit.”

“No, not what I meant,” Scootaloo said, shaking her head. “How do we keep them from fighting back? The way I see it, it’ll just turn into a big cycle of body swapping, and nopony wants that, right?”

Romana’s face fell. “Oh. Yes. I suppose you’re right…” She noticed that Ruby was no longer paying attention. “What’s wrong?”

The young mare pointed silently at the window. Hovering outside was a pair of pegasi, tapping firmly at the window. Their expressions were blank and their eyes empty. “Oh,” said Romana. “Right. Downstairs we go, and remember to lock the door behind you…”

The stockroom was tucked away behind a door beside the stairwell, which led up to a photo studio and down to a root cellar. The back room was almost pitch-black and cluttered with shadowed bric-a-brac.

“Anypony see a light switch?” Spike asked, squinting into the darkness.

A murmured chorus to the tune of “Nope” echoed from the others’ mouths.

“...Right, hold on.” Spike grabbed a teddy bear from a shelf. “Pinkie, you might wanna look away.”

“Ooh,” the pink pony said, frowning. “That’s not bear-y nice.”

Spike shrugged. “Desperate times, Pinkie.” He exhaled onto the bear with non-teleporting flames and held the green makeshift torch aloft.

The room was a strangely oppressive sight in the discolored firelight. It was cluttered with boxes upon boxes of toys, still in their packaging. Stuffed arms and legs spilled out of cardboard containers. An armada of dolls sat against the wall, staring at nothing at all. It was, in a word, creepy. In two words, really creepy. Ditzy shuddered. It was like being locked in Daring’s attic again, except with fewer cursed idols. Hopefully with fewer cursed idols. The way today was going, she wasn’t ruling anything out. “I don’t see a door,” she said.

“I do,” Rose said, squinting through the darkness. “Over there, by the Pumpkin Patch Foals.”

Spike grimaced. “They still make those things?”

“Who knows? Who cares?” Daisy asked, irritably. “Let’s just go already.” She made for the door, pushing her way through boxes and spilled toys.

Something nagged at the back of Lily’s mind. “The mess,” she murmured. “The mess! Daisy, get back!”

“Huh?” The green-maned mare turned back from the door. A moment later, a crab landed where she would have been standing. “AH!”

Suddenly, the stock room was a swarm. Robots crawled out of boxes, turning the creepy scene into a nightmare of glittering carapaces in green and silver flashes. Daisy screamed and ran back toward the huddled ponies and dragon. One crab landed on her back, preparing to strike. Daisy scrunched up her face preparing for the end. It never came. “Come on!” Hyacinth bellowed, pulling her sister toward safety.

Daisy’s mouth sat agape in a mixture of fear and astonishment as Hyacinth pulled her bodily back into the main shop. Pinkie slammed the door shut, and Spike and Rose shoved a shelf full of board games in front of it, while Ditzy and Lily guarded the possessed Dash. “That should hold them,” Rose said, half-panting.

“Yes…” Ditzy agreed, pointing to the window. “But what about them?”

The glass was now too opaque with fractures to make out details, but the figures of the townsponies were still tapping away, gently but unceasingly as the glass began to creak. “Okay,” Spike said. “New plan. Downstairs, go, go, go…”

There was a crash as the glass shards finally gave up the ghost. “Go!” Spike repeated, waving the others up the stairs. “Let’s see how well this can hold them off…”

He inhaled sharply and blew a gout of green fire at another series of shelves, which teleported in front of the oncoming stampede. Almost immediately, the shelves began to rock back and forth under the immense pressure put on it by the crowd. Spike turned tail and pounded down the steps after the ponies, slamming and locking the door at the bottom behind him. “Everypony here? Safe?” he gasped.

“Yepperoonie!” Pinkie said, but it sounded forced. “But, uh, now what? We’re kinda… stuck.”

Ditzy shuddered and pulled her wings into her sides. “If we’d gone up, we could have run along the rooftops,” she said mournfully. “Down here, there’s no way to escape.”

Spike smirked. “Oh, I dunno about that. Spend enough time with Twilight, and you kinda turn into a history nerd, see. So you know stuff like the fact that, during Prohibition, Ponyville was a massive bootleg town, courtesy of the Apple Family’s ancestors. Cider’s gonna flow.”

Lily sighed dreamily. “Gosh, just picture it. The dresses and sharp suits, the style, the music…”

“The speakeasies,” Pinkie added, glancing sidelong at a wall.

“Bingo,” said Spike. “The cider ring was, quite literally, underground. Every cellar in town was interconnected, and most ponies have forgotten that. It’s not a perfect system anymore, some of the tunnels have fallen in and a bunch of buildings have been renovated, but there’s a chance…”

Rose started tapping at the walls, and soon the others had joined in. Hyacinth stood apart from the others, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. Pinkie nudged Daisy and nodded at the mare. Daisy looked. Daisy sighed. She trotted over to Hyacinth. “...I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what dear?” Hyacinth asked, her smile too wide and toothy to be real, her voice a poor imitation for genuine ignorance.

Daisy struggled not to roll her eyes. “I’m sorry that I shouted at you. I’m sorry that I attacked you. I’m really sorry I attracted all the zombies.”

“Revenants, dear,” Hyacinth corrected. “‘Zombies’ are very lower-middle class. I refuse to be under attack by those shambling scruffbags.

“...Sure. The point is, you’re my sister and we all love you.”

Hyacinth stopped tapping. She turned to Daisy and smiled warmly. “I assure you, dear, I too possess a great deal of enduring affection for all of you.”

“Right. You just… don’t acknowledge it to our faces.”

“Well, that would be a bit common, wouldn’t it? Nevertheless, I must apologize as well.”

Daisy waited. “...For?”

“Oh, you know, dear,” Hyacinth said, waving a hoof.

The green-maned mare really did roll her eyes now, but with a smile on her face. “You’re forgiven, Hyacinth. Now, let’s see if we can’t—”

“Engage in a historical recreation in a pleasant country vista,” Hyacinth interrupted smoothly.

“...Sure.”

“Guys! I think I found a door!” Rose called. “Spike, can you give me a light?”

The dragon grinned, nodded, and blew out a thin stream of flame over the mare’s mane. Sure enough, under layers of dirt and a few old posters, the faintest outline of a door could just be seen.

A Brisk Constitutional Along a Historic Boulevard Towards a Popular Eatery

“Hi, Mom,” Ruby said as the group of ponies ran down the stairs into the bar. “Uh, don’t go upstairs.”

Berry sighed and leaned against the counter. “What did Romana blow up this time?”

“Nothing has exploded, Berry, and for once this is absolutely not my fault,” the blue unicorn said, locking the door behind her. “It’s just that we’re under attack by possessed pegasi.”

The stallion at the bar blinked and glanced up. “Excuse me, did you say ‘possessed pegasi’?”

Romana looked at Berry. “Tourist,” Berry explained, reaching under the bar and flipping a switch. Heavy steel shutters swung down over the front of the large windows.

“Gotcha. To sum up, Mr…”

“Service, Civil Service.”

“Mr. Service, Ponyville is essentially the Weirdness Capital of Equestria. This is… it's not exactly ‘normal’ for the town, but we’ve seen weirder stuff going down.”

“Oh. Should I be… worried?” Civil asked hesitantly. “My wife is out there, you see, and my sisters-in-law. And my father-in-law.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Berry said dismissively, pulling out a hefty bat. “If it’s a friendship problem, it’ll be solved in a half-hour. Maybe closer to an hour if it’s aliens again.”

“Oh, it’s aliens,” Romana assured her, locking the front door, then sliding a table in front of it for good measure. “Invasion of the mind-swappers. This one is actually Rainbow Dash.” She gestured at the little mechanical crab, still sitting on a Ouija board.

“Huh,” said Berry. “Can I get you anything? Can you… drink?”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

Civil glanced around, bewildered. Then, very carefully, he peered into his mug.

“Okay, keep it moving,” Pinkie said, ushering the others through the narrow passage, Robo Dash being carried on the backs of Ditzy and Daisy. She was tied up with jump ropes.

“Ponies must’ve been smaller back in the olden days,” Spike observed. “I’d better bring up the rear, just in case.”

Pinkie glanced between the passage and the dragon. “This would’ve been a lot easier before your growth spurt…”

“Yeah, I know. Go on, I’ll follow you,” Spike said, waving her on.

Pinkie frowned. “Spike? I’m getting a Pinkie Sense…”

Before the pink mare could react, the dragon shoved her into the tunnel and shut the door. “Spikey? Spike! What are you doing?”

“Sorry, Pinkie, but there’s no way I’m going to fit through there. I’ll stay here, guard the door. Your best bet is the bar—”

“Spike.”

“—it should be about a quarter of a mile—”

“Spikey, please!”

“—and I know for a fact that the door is still in the cellar. Berry’s very proud of its historical significance.”

“Spike, come on, please!”

“Pinkie, you need to go,” Spike said. “I’ll make sure they won’t follow, but I can’t come any farther. Go, or they will catch you.”

There was silence, and then a sniffle. “Don’t you dare,” Pinkie whispered. “Spike, Pinkie Promise me that you’ll be okay.”

“Pinkie, I—”

“Pinkie Promise, and I’ll go.”

Spike shut his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye, I promise you that I’ll be fine.”

“Forever,” Pinkie whispered, but her heart wasn’t in it. “See you soon, Spike.”

There was the sound of crunching dirt. It faded away slowly until the dragon couldn’t hear it any more. He waited a few more minutes for good measure. Then, he screwed up his face and exhaled a thin stream of green-white fire across the top of the door, melting and warping the metal into a solid chunk, then melting the handle for good measure. He watched the melting steel cool from white to red heat, then orange, then a layer of chitin-black slag. He nodded to himself. A job well done. Spike sat back against the still-hot door and stared across the room. There was a knock at the other door. Then another, and another until it seemed that it could grow no louder. Then it did. The wooden door began to buckle and creak. He closed his eyes and thought of Rarity.

Pinkie slouched along the hallway, absolutely silent. Nopony else said anything, either. In fact, apart from Robo Dash’s vain attempts at escape, there was no noise in the tunnel. Hyacinth broke first. “Lovely place for a stroll,” she said weakly. “So… uncluttered.”

Nopony else seemed willing to comment. “How much further…” Hyacinth tried again.

“I make it another fifty meters,” Ditzy said. “Keep your eyes peeled and your hooves to the wall.”

Silence fell in the hallway.

Civil Service was shaken, and more than a little confused. A strange mare and a couple of fillies had come into the bar with some story about an alien invasion, and the barkeep had believed it completely? Not only believed it, but treated it as though it were some sort of regrettable but unavoidable incidence, like a dentist appointment? Perhaps it was some sort of local prank. That, however, didn’t really account for the metal shutters that had been put up over the windows, or for the steady hammering at the top of the stairs and the front door. Berry sighed deeply. “Y’know, sometimes I really hate living here. Do you know how huge my insurance payments are these days?”

“Oh, dear,” Civil said uncertainly.

“Yeah.” The bartender shook her head. “Still, can’t complain. Good neighbors, generally. Crazy, of course, but good.”

Civil thought about his sisters-in-law. “I see what you mean,” he agreed.

“Anyway. Refill your glass, sir?”

Civil considered this. “Have you got anything that’ll make this make any kind of sense?”

“One Discord Special, coming up.” The mare turned to the liquor cabinet, then paused. “Shush.”

Civil blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“Hey, everypony, hush up!” Berry said. Silence fell over the bar. “Huh. Thought I heard—”

The door to the cellar swung open and a pink mare with deflating curls glanced out. Everypony screamed, and Berry made to swing her bat at the intruder’s head. “Aaah!” Pinkie screamed, throwing up her hooves. “Not possessed, still me!”

Berry relaxed. “Celestia, Pinkie, you frightened us half to death.”

“Sorry, Berry. I guess you know what’s going on, then?”

“Yes. Dash helped to shed some light on the situation,” Romana explained, leaning over the bar. “How many of you are there?”

“Six, plus Dashie. But I don’t know if she counts, ‘cause she’s possessed and also unconscious.”

“Possessed? Unconscious?” Civil repeated, his voice a register higher than normal.

“Civil? Is that you, dear? Something dreadful has happened to Daddy and Carrot Top.”

Oh, Civil thought. Hyacinth is mixed up in this. Well, alright then. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he had expected anything else.

In a minute, all of the Bouquet sisters in town, the strange pink pony he’d seen at Sugarcube Corner, and a grey pegasus were all congregated behind the bar. “So,” said the pegasus. “What’s been going on here?”

Berry shrugged. “The usual. I think we’re under attack from upstairs now.” The metal shutters rattled. “Okay, all sides. They gonna follow you the way you came in?”

There was a long pause. “...No,” Daisy said evenly. “Spike is… guarding it.”

“He’ll be fine,” Pinkie said, her smile tight. “Fine.”

Scootaloo coughed. “So, uh, you’ve got Dash’s body. Should we, I dunno, put her back in?”

Romana frowned slightly. “Not yet, I think. Remember, we still have to find a way to prevent these fellows from coming back… I think it might be best if we all sat down to talk about what’s been going on here…”

Outside, the bodies of the citizens of Ponyville gathered alongside the swarm of metal crabs. Resistance would not, could not, be tolerated. For the good of the Brachyura. For the survival of their kind. All of them closed in on the Stick and Carrot. It would be no more than a matter of time.

Romana ruminated over her ginger beer. “You think that they already knew that you were going to try and escape out the back, then?”

“I don’t see how it’s possible…” Lily said slowly.

“Oh, it is,” Romana assured her. “Actually, it makes a lot of sense. How those two pegasi knew where we were, how those robots and the ponies have been able to work together without outwardly appearing to communicate… and that means we have a means of communication.” She turned to Rainbow Dash’s body. “Don’t we?”

Magenta eyes glared up at the Time Lady. Romana sighed. “Come now. You’ve got vocal cords, you can talk. Am I right, or not?”

“...Yes…” the pegasus rasped. “We are… connected.”

Everypony in the bar stared. Romana smiled slightly. “Might I know to whom I am speaking, please?”

“We are… Brachyura.”

“Is that your name, designation, or species?”

“We are… the Brachyura… the elite… of the Pieces.”

“Ah, a club,” Romana said, nodding. “So. One chance, now, to be fair. The Doctor always does it, and I suppose I’m the substitute for today. If you get back in your robots and surrender now, I swear to you that I will help you peacefully accomplish… whatever it is that you’re trying to do. Which is what, exactly?”

Dash’s face twisted into a cold smile. “Think you’re so smart? Still have to ask?”

“That is generally the way one gets answers,” Romana replied calmly. “So?”

“Years ago… our society was… destroyed. Doctor… thought us dead. We were… clever… Built bodies… keep our minds… save ourselves…”

“Yourselves and no others,” Romana said, inclining her head to the side. Her hat began to slide off, but she fixed it with a hoof.

Scootaloo scowled. “How many did you kill, though? I think we know the Doctor well enough to know that he wouldn’t ruin you for nothing. So, who died?”

The Brachyura’s stolen face twisted into a sadistic smile. “No one of… worth.”

The atmosphere became notably cooler. The crab holding Dash’s brain skittered antsily on the counter. “All lives have worth,” Ditzy said coldly, staring with undisguised contempt at the possessed pegasus.

“Have they?” Dash’s shoulders shrugged under their bonds. “Perhaps, perhaps. But some have more worth than others, don’t they?” She gave Hyacinth a savage, knowing grin. “You, for instance, thought you were worth more than your sister-in-law, didn’t you?”

The magenta mare turned beetroot red. “I— I—” she sputtered.

“And you still think that, too,” the creature in Dash’s skin continued. “Even now. Condemn us all you like, but you’re no better—”

Her head snapped back. Dash had leapt at her body’s face and clung on for dear life. The Brachyura bucked wildly in its bonds. “Dashie!” Pinkie shrieked, lunging forward. The two fell to the floor, the alien beating its face against the floor to destroy the robotic shell.

Pinkie pulled the pegasus back upright and ripped the crab off, slapping the blue mare in the face. “No! Stop it, you, horrible, cancerous—”

“Pinkie! Pinkie, it’s me!” Dash coughed. “It’s Rainbow! I switched us back!”

“...Eh?”

Pinkie looked at Dash’s eyes. Then she looked at her flank. Cloud with rainbow lightning. Then, slowly, she looked at her hoof, where the crab was twitching. With a desperate twitch of the tail, it struck out. “NO!” Dash cried, leaning forward.

Pinkie’s eyes went blank, her expression falling. Then she blinked and frowned at the crab. “I’ve had about all I can take of you, you Greedy McMeanypants” she said, shaking a hoof in its face, or at least where she imagined its face would be.

The bar was absolutely silent. “How did you…” Romana began, then paused. “Does this have anything to do with the time the Doctor tried to create mental contact?”

Pinkie frowned. “When did he do that?”

Berry raised a hoof. “That was the day I invented ginger whiskey.”

Pinkie’s face lit up. “Oooh. Was that what he was doing? I thought he was trying to brush my mane! And then he fainted.”

“Sensory overload, then,” Ruby guessed. “Pinkie’s just too much for these guys to handle.”

“So, what, we just let all the little robots stab her?” Rose asked.

Pinkie shook her head. “Nope, nope, nope. They may not get my mind, but it still really hurts when they try to stab me. If I let all of them get me…”

“Yeah, speaking of hurting…” Dash groused.

Ditzy gasped. “Oh, gosh. You’re bleeding. Here, let me untie you….”

“Not to mention, whatever Pinkie does to them, it doesn’t appear to hold them very long,” Scootaloo said, staring at the struggling little creature.

The banging at the shutters began to pick up. Civil eyed them nervously and backed into the corner of the room. “Well, we’d better think of something else, then. And quickly!”

There was a crashing sound at the top of the staircase. They were in.

Hosting Acquaintances of a Greater Social Standing at a Musical Event

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then the hammering started on the door at the bottom of the stairs. “Okay,” Romana said, not quite disguising the quake in her voice. “I give it about… half an hour before they break that door down, and I’m not quite sure about the herd outside. Ideas, anypony?”

Ditzy closed her eyes tight. “Missing something…” she muttered. “Something, something…”

Scootaloo, hiding wide-eyed in the bushes from beings that heard her from several meters away.

Dash, faltering in the sky when Rarity screamed.

Romana, discovering the unusually small audio receptors.

Ditzy’s eyes went wide. “Noise! They’re sensitive to noise! That’s why the robots have smaller audio receptors, so they can minimize the input, but they can’t do that with pony bodies!”

Ruby looked up at the mare, impressed. “Are you sure?”

The pegasus nodded vigorously. Romana glanced at the door. “Only one way to find out.” She reached into her mane. “Sonic pick!” she said, triumphantly pulling out… nothing. She stared at her hoof. “Oh.”

Up in the rather wrecked apartment upstairs, a shiny silver stick lay atop the kitchen table beside part of a mechanical dog.

Romana rubbed at her mane awkwardly. “Um… plan B. Anypony, plan B?”

Nopony said anything. The blue unicorn sat down heavily. “Well. I’ll be honest, I never thought it would end this way. Dying in the Time War was pretty likely, or getting killed by Faction Paradox. A Dalek raid, conceivably. I’d even accept dying in the Tharil Rebellion. But robot crabs in a small village? Really?”

“Aw, come on,” Dash said. “We can’t just give up, there has to be some way to make enough noise… Pinkie? You got an airhorn?”

The party pony shook her head sadly.

Hyacinth looked around, her mouth a thin line. “Come on,” she said with false heartiness. “Brave heart. There’ll always be a Princess…”

“Hyacinth, not now,” Rose groaned, but the others had all turned to stare.

“Do you… always sing like that?” Scootaloo asked carefully.

The earth mare preened. “Naturally, dear.”

Slowly, Romana began to grin. “Tell me, my good mare, do you happen to know… opera?”

“Where should we set down, Commander?” The lead pegasus pulling the cart had to nearly shout to make herself heard over the roar of the wind.

Fleur scanned the ground. “I see nothing in particular,” she admitted.

“Oh no?” Fancy asked, pointing in the opposite direction. “And what do you call that?”

Fleur and the Doctor turned. An enormous crowd of ponies and little silver things were gathered around a building. None of them seemed to be moving. Fleur gestured to the soldiers indicating that they should land in the vicinity of the herd. As they drew closer, however, they started to hear something. Fleur frowned. “What is zat noise? It sounds very familiar…”

The Doctor furrowed his brow. “Like somepony… singing?”

Fancy Pants went even paler than usual. “Oh, no. Not her. Not the Bucket Mare!”

Fleur winced. “It is Bouquet, I believe.”

“...Sirs? Ma’am? You might want to take another look at that crowd…”

Fancy saw it first. “Good grief! I see they aren’t enjoying that music any more than we are.”

Indeed, all of the assembled ponies had their hooves to their ears, and the little crabs were jumping around like fleas. Fleur gnawed slightly at her lower lip. “Zey may still be dangerous. Land on top of ze roof,” she ordered, pointing at the building.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

The crowd did not react noticeably when the chariot settled down on the roof. The inhabitants of the structure, however, did. “What was that?” one cried.

“A higher insurance premium,” another grumbled.

“Hello?” the Doctor called. “Are you alright in there?”

“Doctor?”

“Ditzy! Are you okay?”

“I think so. I guess you found out about the infestation, huh?”

“There was an isolated case in Canterlot. At least, I hope it was isolated. GUIDE is looking for any other affected areas. Look, can we come in?”

“The window’s open.”

“...Right.” The Doctor looked at the pegasus soldiers. “Could you…”

They glanced at each other, and then at Fleur. She nodded once, sharply. The duo dove forward, grabbing the Doctor and Fancy. The mustachioed stallion let out a displeased shriek as they all flew through the air. An instant later, he found himself flat on his face on the floor. “Ouch,” Fancy Pants grumbled, straightening up. “Cheeky…”

Hyacinth broke off in her singing for a moment, beaming at the unicorn. “Why, Sir Fancy Pants, how delightful to see you again—”

“Hyacinth, the music,” Daisy warned.

“Oh! Of ~coooourse…” Hyacinth warbled into a shiny piece of equipment that the Doctor recognized.

“A sonic? Romana, did you give this mare a sonic?”

“Only as a loaner,” the blue unicorn protested. “Here, Ditzy, you explain, I’ll take control of the modulator…”

The grey pegasus rushed forward to wrap her wings around the Doctor. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she sighed. “We were doing our best, but…”

The Doctor chuckled. “Looks like you had the situation pretty well in hoof, actually. Why don’t you tell me what all this does?”

“Well, we worked out that the crabs had little tiny audio receptors, right? And when they’re in pony bodies, they can hear really well, better than ordinary ponies can. So that means that their brains must be uniquely designed to pick up sound around them, or vibrations or something. So, well, we decided to give them more vibrations than they could handle, and… tah-dah!” She giggled weakly. “So now, we have to go and find all the townsponies and get them back in their proper bodies. And then figure out what to do with the crabs. Um, Romana already tried negotiating with them, and they kind of… refused.”

“H’m. What are they called, do you know? Might’ve met them before…”

“They’re called the… break ya tours?”

“Brachyura?”

“Yeah, that. Do you know who they are?”

The Doctor frowned. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. Nasty bunch of seafood. They enslaved their planet’s populace and set up as the standard evil upper class. I overthrew them, of course.”

“Of course,” Ditzy said with mock seriousness. “So, what should we do with them?”

“Not sure. We’ll figure it out as we go,” the Doctor replied breezily. “Anyway, you’re okay, and that’s the— where’s Dinky?”

Ditzy’s lips tightened into a hard white line. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I am going to find out, and if those crabs have hurt her…”

The Doctor nodded grimly. “Right. Well, we’d best get looking, then. An opera can only go on for so long with one soloist, and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Oh, have we?” Romana asked smoothly, pulling out a cobbled-together device. “Daisy, take over for me on the frequency modulator. Here, Doctor, take a look at this.”

The tan stallion squinted at the boxy object. “Brainwave detector? Picks up on thought patterns? Based on standard brain scan technology. Oh, good job, Romana!”

“We helped!” Scootaloo said, nudging Ruby Pinch in the side. The pink unicorn blushed and grinned broadly.

“Well, well done all of you. Now, we just have to get over the crowd and follow the signal… Hold on, is that the train station?”

“Looks like it,” Fancy Pants agreed, leaning over.

“Hurry, whatever it is you’re going to do,” Dash said, sitting up painfully. “I dunno how much longer Hyacinth is gonna hold out.”

“Right.” The Doctor stuck his head out of the window. “Get us to the train station! Hurry!” He clung tightly to the windowsill as Ditzy swooshed by him, winging rapidly toward the tracks.

“Really hurry!” the Doctor shouted.

Ditzy beat her wings fiercely against the wind, pressing forth toward the train station. She heard other wings flapping frantically behind her. She grinned. Really, the Doctor was almost too predictable. “Ditzy… wait! Watch out!” she heard a voice call from a distance.

The grey pegasus’s mane furrowed and she glanced back. It wasn’t the Doctor that was flying behind her. It was easily half the weather patrol, their forehooves clapped over their ears, but their wings completely free. Ditzy’s eyes went wide. “Uh-oh.”

Quickly, she dove toward the ground, then sprung back up at the last possible second. The other pegasi followed, and while a few crashed into the ground, the rest mimicked Ditzy’s motions.

Ditzy frowned. “Alright. We’ll do this the hard way.” She spun in the air, diving down and around obstacles which collapsed behind (and occasionally on top of) her. Blossomforth found herself stuck in a fruit stand, Cloudkicker struggled to free herself from a bicycle rack. At there were still three ponies after her. Ditzy scrunched up her nose. “Hmph.” The pair of pegasi guards drew up next to her.

The Doctor waved her in frantically. “Let’s go, come on…”

Ditzy shook her head. “You go ahead. I’ll keep them off your tail.”

“What? No, I can’t let you—”

“I’ve held out this long,” Ditzy said, eyeing the remaining pursuers. “I can stay up a little longer, don't you think?”

“Of course I do!” the Doctor said. “But I’m not going to risk losing you again!”

Ditzy stared at him for a moment. “Together, then,” she said. “I’ve got an idea that’s just about crazy enough to work.”

The Doctor grinned. “My favorite sort.”

The male guard glanced back, brow raised. “If you two are about done flirting, can we start escaping now?”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” the Doctor said, blushing.

Ditzy smiled and pecked his cheek. “Now, when I give the signal, use the sonic. You’ll know what to do, promise.”

She pushed off from the side of the cart. “Hey, you crabs! Come and get me! One time I ate seafood at a Griffish restaurant!”

The Doctor watched her shrink as the chariot soared away. “I just want her to be safe…”

The female guard chuckled. “I think she can take care of herself, don’t you?”

The Time Lord gave a half-grin. “Heh. I s’pose she can, at that.”

“Dah...shing through the... snow…” Hyacinth gasped. She had long since run out of opera songs and moved onto Hearth's Warming carols. “Inna... one... horse... opensleigh...”

Romana stared down at the crowd below, then glanced toward the horizon. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up…” she muttered.

Rose poured a little water down Hyacinth’s throat. “Just a little longer,” she said encouragingly. “Almost there, I promise!”

“Rose… remember… what Mummy used to sing to us?” Hyacinth murmured. “Before we went to sleep?”

“I… think so?”

Hyacinth nodded. “Sing… with me?”

Rose hesitated for a moment, but then hummed a faint, low note. “The Sun has gone to sleep now, the moon is in the sky. It’s time to tuck in flower beds, and close your sleepy eye…”

Lily joined in. “The Sun, so hot, is gone now, the Moon now lights the ground, And little sleepy flowers close their petals all around.”

Hyacinth, having taken a large gulp of water, joined in once more. “So let day’s troubles end now, as we slip into night, the gardener will protect you from painful bugs and blight.”

Daisy eyed her sisters for a long second, letting her gaze linger for slightly longer on Hyacinth. Romana glanced back. “They’re snapping out of it,” she warned.

“So go to sleep, my little seeds, the gardener protects you from the weeds,” Daisy concluded.

Hyacinth smiled slightly. “Thank— I mean, thank you.” she crooned, setting down her water glass. “Now, let me see… Ah! Jingle bells jingle bells, jingle all the way— OH!”

When the mare cut off abruptly, everypony turned to stare. A pegasus mare stood over Hyacinth’s prone form. The interloper wore a pair of earplugs and a sinister smirk. Civil and Berry were keeled over against the wall, silvery crabs attached to their necks.

“Cyseyes,” Scootaloo cursed quietly, as the ponies below began to rise unsteadily to their hooves once more. Berry and Civil too rose up, staring with blank eyes and faces at the assembled.

Accepting Social Weakness in a Stressful Situation

Lily screamed, and that was enough to bring the possessed ponies up short. Quickly, Rose joined in, while Romana spun toward her work bench. Fancy lit his horn and bodily flung the invading pegasus out the window. “The crown will, of course cover damages in this instance,” he said, looking up at the hole in the thatched roof.

Romana held out a hoof testily. “Scootaloo, my sonic. Ruby, go get the radio. A frequency modulator won’t work quite as well as an organic, but it’ll hold out for a bit. And someone— ‘scuse me, somepony— get Berry and Civil back into their bodies, if you can.”

Ponies are, by nature, herd animals. This is, they will often insist, very different from a swarm or pack mentality. To some extent, this is true. The swarm is of one mind about everything. The pack is a complex and often bloody hierarchy. The herd is about following someone that seems like they know what they’re doing. This is more or less how Celestia and Luna have been able to lead Equestria for so long. They learned how to look like they know what they are doing, even when they don’t, from the Doctor, who mastered the art near the end of his first regeneration.

However, ponies are more than just herd animals. Interestingly enough, the self-same psychological mechanism that causes the absent following of authority figures can also result in outright rebellion under certain conditions. While not quite flying in the face of authority, what Daisy did next was still mildly surprising. Rather than follow Romana’s orders to help the two controlled ponies, she fell to the ground beside her sister. “Hyacinth?” she gasped, tears welling in her eyes. “Hyacinth, are you alright?”

Pinkie examined the scene for a moment, then pulled something out of her mane. “Use these,” she urged Daisy.

The florist took the object. Her brows lowered. “Are these… these aren’t smelling salts.” she said, perplexed.

“Nope! Gorgonzola cheese cookies. I made them for Maud’s birthday present, but fresher would be better anyway.”

Daisy blinked. “...Thanks. I think.” Carefully, she wafted the noxious treat under Hyacinth’s nostrils, which quivered slightly, while Pinkie leapt over to help Fancy Pants handle the matter of ponies-turned-crabs-and-vice-versa.

After a moment, Hyacinth’s nostrils froze. Her eyes shot open and she sat bolt upright. “Why, Daisy! What fine cheese, you shouldn’t have, dear…” She took the cookie from her sister’s hooves and took a refined bite. Then, she paused. “Why are Rose and Lily screaming?”

“Robot crabs.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Hyacinth?”

“Yes, dear?”

Daisy stared at Hyacinth. The elder mare’s eyes were, for once, full of open, honest curiosity. Or maybe they had been before, and Daisy had just never seen. Or she had never looked hard enough. “I’m sorry. What happened to Carrot wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. I—”

“Daisy.” Hyacinth smiled. “You were right. I was wrong. I suppose I’ve been a dreadful guest, haven’t I?”

Daisy stared. “What?”

“It’s just, oh you know, when you’re so out of your element…” Hyacinth said quietly. “Out of your little garden…”

Daisy breathed in, then sighed. “Yeah. I know how it is,” she said quietly. Her garden was the part of the world that she could control, the only part that she really could. Alien crabs, body-swapping robots, stampedes of rabbits, all were out of her hooves. In that moment, just for a second, she understood Hyacinth.

A hyacinth is bulbous, hardy, mildly toxic. A hyacinth is of the lily family, stronger than an ordinary lily, but still a lily. A hyacinth is spiky. A hyacinth is not always a pleasant flower, but it is a beautiful one. And a hyacinth is still a flower, stuck in the dirt and a pawn of the sun and rain, subservient to conditions outside of its power. Goodness, thought Daisy. Mummy didn’t half know what she was doing when she named us. Wish I’d been able to think of something better than ‘Tree Hugger’ for mine…

“There,” Romana said with an air of supreme satisfaction. “That’ll do for a time. Lily, Rose, you can stop screaming now.”

Rose did as she was told. Lily did not. It was quite supremely uncomfortable. “How long can she go on for?” Ruby asked.

“Indefinitely,” Daisy replied absently. “She learned to circular breathe when she was seven.”

“We’ve got things handled over here,” Fancy called, while Pinkie wrangled the two Brachyura onto their backs.

“Er,” said Berry. “Actually, I’m not quite sure you have.”

Rainbow Dash looked up from her position on the couch and burst out laughing. The two ponies, looking incredibly uncomfortable, had switched cutie marks.”

“Huh,” said Berry from Civil’s body. “So this is what being a stallion is like. Not really a fan, but to be honest, I was expecting a little more difference.”

Civil in Berry’s body sat down heavily, face contorted in a mixture of horror, shock, and profound discomfort. “Oh,” he said weakly. “Were you? More than this? Gosh.”

Fancy’s face fell. “Right. Hold on.”

Hyacinth glared. “Civil! Get out of that mare’s body this instant!”

Berry’s face twisted into an embarrassed cringe. “Just a moment, Hyacinth.”

“You can borrow it for a little bit,” Berry in Civil’s body offered. “I don’t mind.”

“...No, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Pinkie said. “We’ve got enough problems without this turning into a full on Freaky Friday story.”

Scootaloo frowned. “A what?”

“Never mind,” Pinkie said, waving a hoof dismissively. “Let’s just hurry and switch them back before any more Earpluggy McDeafersons fly in.”

“You mean like ze squadron rapidly approaching?” Fleur asked drily, gesturing to the sky.

Every pair of eyes in the room fixed on the model, who was pointing a pair of binoculars toward the sky. In the distance, a flurry of black dots were highlighted against the horizon. They were growing steadily larger. “Oh, cloverbuds,” Rose groaned.

“Language,” Hyacinth reprimanded, though without much heat, as she rose unsteadily to her hooves. Daisy grabbed her firmly around the barrel. “What would Daddy say?”

“The same thing that Rose did, but louder,” Daisy snarked.

“Downstairs, everypony,” Romana said firmly, straining to maintain her authority and to be heard over Lily’s continuous screaming. “Daisy, help Hyacinth. Pinkie, bring the crabs. And would somepony please make her shut up?”

Lily’s lips snapped shut, her expression one of affront. Now, only the continuous, shifting whine of the frequency modulator echoed through the burnt and battered room as the party moved toward the stairs. “They’re changing tack,” said Fancy grimly as he lifted the badly bruised Rainbow Dash into the air. “Developing. I wish the Doctor had stayed a little longer to tell us about them.”

The Doctor, meanwhile, was rather wishing he knew a bit more about the Brachyura himself. “It was only a quick affair,” he shouted, over the rushing wind to his inattentive audience. “The crustaceans had sort of set themselves up as an authoritarian government, the biggest fish in the ocean. I don’t remember much about it. I think I ran into another me.”

“Another you?” shouted the female guard. “How do you do that?”

“Time Lord!”

“And you don’t remember running into yourself? Sounds like it would stick in the mind,” the male guard reasoned.

“Blinovitch Limitation Effect! You can’t remember meeting your future self, or the timeline goes screwy!”

“Why?”

“Just… do you really want a lecture on quantum physics right now?!”

Neither guard replied, choosing to fly straight on. The Doctor went back to watching Ditzy corkscrew wildly through the air, the Brachyura spiraling after her. “Get closer!” he ordered. “The screwdriver’s near useless at this range.”

The guards did as they were told, leaning in, chasing after the chase. The mare frowned. “What in the— is that the schoolhouse? What’s at the schoolhouse?”

The stallion squinted. “She’s making for the belfry…”

The Doctor’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Oh, that’s clever. Closer, closer, fast as you can!”

The carriage shot forward, the two guards straining to accelerate. The Doctor steadied himself against the side, gripping the screwdriver tightly in his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the schoolhouse bell to the exclusion of all else. Ditzy zoomed beneath it, sending the massive bell swinging and clanging. The Doctor bit down hard on the activator button of the screwdriver, and as the pursuing pegasi flew under the bell, the rope snapped while the bell was at the height of its period. It flew through the air, plummeting to the schoolyard and trapping the trio beneath. Ditzy half flew and half plummeted to the ground. The Doctor nodded. “Land down there.”

“Gladly,” the male guard gasped. “I don’t think I’ve had to fly like that since drill sergeant Battering Ram retired.”

They coasted along on a light updraft until the schoolyard lay below. Ditzy was lying spread-eagle on the slide, her eyes closed. The Doctor was on the ground before the pegasi were. “Ditzy! Ditzy, are you alright? Ditzy!”

The grey pegasus smiled slightly, her eyes still shut. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, sitting up. “Good plan.”

“Wasn’t it? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you, Ditzy Doo, are absolutely brilliant. Hooves down, the cleverest pony in town. Well, except maybe Romana. Maybe. But she’s had years more practice, so, y’know, it’s… Y’know what, I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Ditzy smiled, showing all of her teeth. “I know what you meant. Thanks.”

The Doctor’s smile faltered slightly, but he bounced back gamely. “Right. Let’s all keep going. Allons-y, to the train station!”

He turned and trotted back to the chariot. Ditzy watched after him for a long moment before she followed. The smile had not faded from her face, as though it was a billboard put up which someone had forgotten to take down. Her eyes were focused and perfectly straight.

Undesired Packages and How to Graciously Accept Them

The chariot soared over Ponyville at a much slower clip, the pegasi flapping as little as they could to maintain altitude, taking advantage of every little breeze and updraft like eagles. The Doctor and Ditzy rested in the carriage, both of them silent. It was preferable that way. Neither wanted to talk about what had just occurred. The guards either sensed this desire for silence or were too out of breath to speak anyway.

And so it was in silence that they set down next to the equally silent train station, devoid of life and light and sound and motion. It was mundane, and yet to the Doctor it was the most soul-numbing dread he’d faced yet today. “S’not right,” he murmured, the first time he had spoken in nearly twenty minutes. Briefly he wondered if that was some sort of staying-shut-up record for this body, but quickly pushed that thought aside. “An empty public building.” He shook his head. “Best go in, I suppose.”

He made for the door, but the male guard held out a hoof to block his way. “Not yet. We need to make sure it’s safe, first.”

The Doctor frowned. “Oi, who’s the expert here, anyhow?”

“Nopony is debating your expertise, Doctor,” the female guard said, trotting up to the door. “But you said yourself, you remember very little about these creatures. Frankly, the pony with the most experience with the crabs here is your wife.”

The Doctor’s eyes flicked over to the blonde pegasus exiting the carriage. “...Yes,” he admitted. “That’s true. Alright, carry on.”

“Thank you. Alright, Marty, what’s the position?”

The Doctor snorted back a laugh. “Sorry, ‘scuse me, Marty?”

“Short for Marteaux, after the Prench pegasus warrior,” the stallion said shortly. “She’s named Lancey, after Platinum’s best knight, Lake Lancer.”

“Mom had a thing for military history,” Lancey said with a grin. “Anyway, I say we take entrance maneuver LB-Eight-Oh. I’ll take point.”

“Roger,” Marty said, pulling out a crossbow from the undercarriage of the chariot and dropping into an offensive posture. Ditzy’s eyebrows shot up.

Lancey, meanwhile, tugged her armor a little more snugly up on her back, then pressed the gem inset at the front. Golden spikes shot out from all angles until she resembled nothing so much as a statue of a porcupine. The Doctor grinned. “They still using that little add-on?”

Lancey shrugged. “Hey, if it works…”

Ditzy’s eyebrows rose further. “Impressive,” she murmured. “I’d like a look at that later on, if you don’t mind…”

Lancey winked at the other pegasus mare. “We’ll see. First, let’s survive this, eh?”

With that, she bucked the door wide open and somersaulted in backwards, landing on her hind hooves and drawing out a sword all in the same motion. She quickly scanned up, down, left, and right, then spun around behind her. “Clear,” she called.

Marty let the crossbow fall to his side. “Right,” he said, trotting toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

The Doctor and Ditzy followed him into the darkness of the abandoned station. “Right, ‘old on,” the Doctor said, drawing out his sonic. He lifted it up, and with a faint squeal, the screwdriver lit all the lamps alight.

Ditzy winced. “Uh, bright,” she muttered.

The Doctor looked at her, his brow crinkled and his brown eyes full of concern. “Where are they, do you think?” Lancey asked, glancing around. “I mean, there really aren’t that many places to hide in here, are there? Not for all the crabs they’d need to store.”

“Hm,” said the Doctor idly. “Not the question I was thinking of, but a good one, I suppose. Let’s see if you can answer this one, how did one of the Brachyura end up in Canterlot?”

Marty and Lancey glanced at one another, startled. “I… don’t know,” said Lancey.

The Doctor nodded. “There were other spots they’ve infected as well. Not as deeply, mark you, mostly just a couple of cases in any given city, but quite a few areas were impacted. How d’you reckon they got there?”

More blank stares. “Oh, come on,” the Doctor said. “Ditzy? I expect you’ll know.” He winked and nodded knowingly at a canvas bag hanging on a nail on a post near the tracks.

The grey pegasus gasped in dismay. “Oh, no. Oh, it’s not possible!”

Marty glanced between one face and the other. “Okay, what are we missing exactly?”

Ditzy sighed. “They travelled to other cities the same way they invaded all the homes and businesses in town. Through the mail…”

The bar was quiet, but buzzing with activity. Romana and Ruby continued to work on the oscillations of the frequency modulator, while Fleur helped Pinkie store the struggling silver crabs in Mason jars. The party pony’s forelimbs were alive with stinging welts and scratches from where the crabs had tried to stab at her, but she still reported that she was fine.

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, was decidedly not fine. Fancy Pants and Scootaloo were attempting to keep her comfortable in a darkened booth, but considering that the mare was more or less a walking bruise after the fevered struggles the Brachyura had set her body through, there was only so much that they could do. Berry and Civil sat in a booth near the back of the tavern, adjusting to the rapid-fire shifts that had ended with the return of all parties to the correct bodies. The flower sisters huddled around a table, scared and exhausted beyond description. Rose’s forehead was pressed against the table. Hyacinth held a cold compress to her head. Lily, at a glance, seemed fine, but she kept twitching every so often. Daisy was staring at absolutely nothing at all, lost in a world of her own. “I suppose this is unusual?” Hyacinth asked quietly.

“The crabs are new,” Rose said, not lifting her head. “Invasions, attacks, chaos… nah, pretty normal for us.”

“Well, not normal,” Daisy says, frowning slightly. “It usually isn’t quite so intense.”

“Unless Discord is involved,” Rose agrees.

“Or Starlight Glimmer.”

“The Elements.”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

Lily twitched again, far more violently.

Hyacinth stares and shakes her head. “How in the world do you live here.” It was half a question, half a statement of sheerest exasperation.

Rose lifts her head from the table. Daisy and Lily blink their eyes, returning to reality. The three glanced at each other. “Well, it isn’t all bad,” Daisy said. “Most of our problems are actually quite well-intentions. Even Discord, usually.”

Rose nodded. “Besides, we’ve got the Princess around to protect us. Well, when she isn’t the root cause of the problem. Then we have the, um, Chancellors of Harmony.”

Lily frowned. “Is it chancellors? I thought it was Advisors.”

“Are you sure it isn’t Burghers? Or Bursars?” Daisy asked. “Anyway, them. They’re generally the first line of defense against all the crazy that springs up.”

“Most of the crazy,” Lily corrected. “Remember, Pinkie Pie is the… the… Grand Pooh-bah of Laughter.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the other two. Hyacinth simply stared blankly. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I still simply don’t understand. All of your problem solvers are… also the problems themselves?”

Another three-way glance. “It’s complicated,” Rose admitted.

“But it’s a nice place… usually,” Lily added.

“Carrot can’t move away from her farm anyway,” Daisy said with a shrug. “You get used to it eventually.”

Daisy looked at Hyacinth. Hyacinth did not appear to be convinced. “Well, it’s not for everypony,” she admitted.

“Especially not me,” Hyacinth agreed drily. “Well, at least we’re safe now.”

Frightened faces stared at her suddenly. “What?” asked Hyacinth, her throat dry. “What is it?”

Ground-shaking vibrations rocked the bar, and the group of survivors soon found themselves on the floor. Ruby barely managed to grab the modulator with her magic before it smashed to smithereens.

“Hyacinth!” Lily howled. “You can’t say things like that!”

“I did nothing!” the fuschia mare huffed, affronted. Rose looked ready to argue.

Just then, however, the bar shook once more, bottles and jars falling from the shelves and smashing into alcoholic puddles on the floor. “It’s okay!” Berry called. “I got a massive deduction for those shutters. They could keep out an Ursa if need be! We’re safe!”

“...Kinda,” said Ruby, staring at the ground. Everypony paused.

Limply, the young mare looked up from the boards. “Pinchy, what are you talking about?” Berry asked slowly.

“Mama, those attacks weren’t coming from outside,” Ruby said quietly.

“No,” Daisy whispered, setting a hoof against her heart..

“Oh no,” said Rose. “Oh, no, no, no.”

Pinkie said nothing, simply covering her mouth in silent horror.

Quietly, Hyacinth let her head fall against the table.

Rainbow Dash stared into space, furious at the world, her eyes burning with anger and what she would never admit were tears.

“Spike…” Lily whispered.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Berry demanded. “Somepony, anypony, tell me!”

“Underground,” Ruby said quietly. “They’re coming in from the cellar, mom.”

Vicious banging noises arose from beneath the boards, along with the sound of cracking wood.

“Well,” said Berry quietly. “There goes my backup stock.” In the corner, Dash let out a strangled snort of laughter.

“Xenophobes,” Romana whispered, gripping her sonic pick tightly. Her mouth was a perfect line. “Bloody—homogenizing—xenophobes! Cybermen and Sontarans and— and!”

“Yes, yes,” Fancy said idly, sliding a table over the top of the trapdoor to the cellar. “That ought to slow them up for a little while at least.” Nopony corrected him. Nopony said what they were all thinking, that a dragon, a pair of locked doors plus one melted one had only slowed the Brachyura down, and a table wouldn’t even keep them away for that long.

Zero hour had arrived.

“They were clever!” the Doctor exclaimed, gesturing to the mailbag as the sibling royal guards stared, stupefied. Ditzy quietly glared at the offending object. “They took advantage of their relatively small size to infiltrate homes and businesses in cardboard boxes, shipping themselves all over Ponyville and Equestria. They couldn’t do it at the post office, of course, oh no. The mail is watched too closely there. Here, though, the train station? They’ve probably got a backroom full of packages and stuff, all stamped and ready to go. Horribly understaffed, not given much thought or bother, the perfect spot to plan an invasion. That’s probably where all the ponies are. Wherever it is. Ditzy?”

“Oh! Uh, right, hang on…” The pegasus fluttered over the ticket counter and up to the door. She reached out a hoof and rattled the knob. “Locked. Doctor, can I have the sonic?”

“Right, setting… four-oh-five-point-eight… no, point-nine… Catch!”

Ditzy smiled as the screwdriver flew through the air. It was not a nice smile. It was a cruelty foreign to her facial muscles. She caught the screwdriver in one hoof. She made no move to open the door.

Marty frowned. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

The Doctor said nothing. He just stared at Ditzy sadly. “Is she safe?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, yes. We wouldn’t want to harm any of the little robots. Not when they can be so useful in the future,” Ditzy replied. Then, she whistled. An army of little silver crabs crawled out from behind the counter.

The Brachyura in Ditzy’s body pointed at the trio. “Attack.”

Author's Note

I decided to play a little game with myself while I was writing this chapter. There's a series of lines with a particular pattern to them. One hurrah to whoever first guesses my little joke.

Gaining the Upper Hoof in Conversational Jujitsu

The crabs surged forward. “Wait!” the Doctor said. “Wait just a moment. Don’t you want to know why I’m not surprised?”

The swarm stopped, more out of confusion than anything else. The thing in Ditzy blinked, nonplussed. The Doctor glanced at the guards. “Aren’t you a bit curious?” he asked.

Marty stared. “Doctor, that’s hardly the question—”

“Yes, actually,” Lancey said, her face stony. “How long did you know she’d been replaced?”

“Oh, ever since we picked her up,” the Doctor said casually. “I mean, look at her eyes, perfectly aligned. That never happens. Then, she didn’t say a word on the way here, even after that muddle I was talking about her and Romana. Ditzy definitely would’ve taken the mickey out of me for that one. Most damning of all though? Ditzy is the postmistress. She takes the post out of the train station daily. And that’s not the postal room. I’ve been on her routes with her, I’d know.”

“And yet, you gave me your only real weapon against us,” the Ditzy-thing said with a cruel smile. “You talk a big game, Doctor, but you are a fool.”

Marty looked perplexed. Lancey’s expression made it clear that she agreed with the Brachyura. The Doctor grinned. “I didn’t set it to unlock the door,” he said cryptically.

The thing in Ditzy’s body frowned, her snout crinkling in confusion. “Then… what did you…”

She glanced at her hooves. The screwdriver was flashing, faster and faster. “Oh—”

The blast of high-pitched noise blotted out whatever she was going to say. Marty and Lancey clapped their hooves over their ears, falling to the ground in pain. The Doctor just stood there, his expression blank and his eyes empty. “I’m sorry, Ditzy.” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

He walked toward the door of the break room, absently kicking aside the burnt-out remains of his screwdriver in the process. He would build another one, eventually. Unresponsive silver crabs were kicked aside as well as he stopped and looked over Ditzy’s body. Still had a pulse, and at a glance the worst pain that she would suffer was a mild case of tinnitus. Annoying, but better than the alternative by a wide margin.

He rose and turned to the door. He jiggled the knob. It was locked after all. Sometimes, he reflected, turning around, it really was nice being an earth pony. He stared for a long moment at his wife’s unconscious body on the ground. Her body, but not her mind. His vision was tinged with red, and his jaw had subconsciously set. He lifted a back hoof, and channeled all that anger into kinetic energy.

The door flew off its hinges and slammed to the floor. The Doctor breathed in and let out a long sigh. “I needed that,” he said to nopony in particular.

The Doctor glanced around the converted break room with a critical eye. Little scurrying crabs halted, frightened, as soon as he arrived. He smiled. “Hello, you lot. Who’s up for a nice jailbreak?”

There was no motion in the bar. Everypony’s attention was focused on the bouncing table behind the bar. Fancy stared at it moodily. “It’ll hold,” he said, a hollow promise that fell on deaf ears.

In the corner, Rainbow sighed. Scootaloo glanced over at her. “Need another pillow?”

“Nah, nah, it’s fine, Squirt. I probably won’t have to deal with this much longer anyway…”

“Don’t say that!” Pinkie cut in. “We’re all gonna be fine!”

Dash stared, raising a brow. Scootaloo coughed awkwardly. “Pinkie,” Dash said. “We’re trapped. No way out. It’s only a matter of time before those Achy-breaky-whatevers break through.”

“We could go upstairs,” Civil suggested.

Dash glared. “And then what? Where do we go after that? What, exactly is the point of running? I say we stay and fight!”

There was absolute silence, save for the continuing whine of the modulator. “Fight,” Rose said flatly. “Fight the entire town, which at this point probably includes a magic-spewing dragon.”

Dash flushed. “Well, when you say it like that it sounds kinda dumb,” she muttered.

“She’s not wrong, though,” Berry said. “We can’t just keep running upstairs and downstairs. Maybe it’s time we went on the offensive.”

“Alright,” Romana said, lifting up the frequency modulator. “They’ve developed immunity against the one weakness we know they’ve got. What exactly do you suggest that we do?”

Hyacinth stared into space, thoughtful. “Keep up appearances,” she murmured, half to herself. “We wait, and we do what we can to survive.”

There was a long silence. Romana put a hoof to her chin, frowning thoughtfully at the barricaded trapdoor “Maybe we can put another table on top of that one,” she said.

A murmur of general assent spread through the bar.

The last of the crabs-that-were-still-crabs were shoveled into the break room, and Marty closed the door firmly. “That should hold them for a bit,” he said.

Lancey stared at Ditzy. “What about her?”

“I’ll take care of it,” the Doctor said, picking up a ball of packing twine from under the counter. “You two need to get this lot back to the bar. I’ll take care of this one myself. After that… well, I’ve got an idea or two. Oh, yes. And, uh, Thunderlane, Cloudchaser, and… Hail Comet? Yes, you ought to come as well. Your bodies are at the schoolhouse. Actually, I think most of the weather patrol is stuck around town, so you all might want to tag along.”

The Doctor made to leave, but Lancey blocked his path. “You knew,” she said quietly. “And you didn’t tell us. Why not?”

There was a long silence. “I didn’t want to give up the game too early.” He does not, will not, say the real reason. That even if Ditzy’s mind is not present, he needs to keep her body alive, and he can’t trust that to ponies with spiked armor and crossbows. “I knew what I was doing, didn’t I?”

She holds his gaze a moment longer. “Yes. This time, you did.”

‘This time,’ she does not repeat. She does not have to. She turns before the Doctor’s face can harden into a scowl. “Come on, Marty,” she said shortly. “Let’s get going.”

The pegasus stallion glanced helplessly back at the Doctor. What can you do, right? Then, they are gone.

The Doctor sighed. She hadn’t been wrong. Caring too much had killed him before. “Come on,” he said to the Brachyura-ponies. “Let’s go fix this mess.”

And so, a parade of silver crabs skittered out of the building, led by a tan stallion, while a grey mare was carried behind like a Sleeping Beauty in a coffin of glass.

The extra tables had helped to slow the cellar-dwellers down, but they were still obstinately trying to break through. The party had, therefore, adjourned to the stairwell. With doors barricaded at either end, it was the safest place to be. For now. Romana had long since turned off the modulator. It wasn’t repelling anything anymore anyway.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Scootaloo said flatly.

Rainbow snorted lightly. “See? See? Somepony else agrees with me.”

“Shut up, Rainbow,” Berry said flatly.

“You don’t suppose something’s happened to the recovery party, do you?” Fancy asked anxiously. “They really should be back by now.”

Fleur shrugged as elegantly as she could in the claustrophobic space. “Perhaps ze robots hid zeir prisoners somewhere more difficult to enter zan expected.”

“It’s a train station, not a labyrinth,” Fancy muttered. “How many hidey-holes can there possibly be?”

There was a knock from downstairs, and the stallion brightened. “Do you suppose that that’s them?” he asked.

There was a knock from upstairs. Dash raised an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s them.”

There was a long moment. There was a knock from downstairs, more desperate now. There was a knock from upstairs, almost a pounding.

Fleur breathed out. “I will get ze lower door.”

Romana nodded. “I’ll take the top.”

The two unicorns shifted and squeezed through the crowd toward the doors, where the knocking was getting steadily more desperate. “Hold on!” Romana said, throwing open the door.

At the top of the staircase, a trio of pegasi stood, expressions and eyes blank. Fleur glanced up, and quickly threw open the other door. A group of blank-faced unicorns and earth ponies stared back at her. “Merde,” she muttered, as the controlled ponies closed in from either side.

Communication with One's Sisters, and How to Avoid It

Ponyville, Spring of 8 BAT: The Bouquet Flower Shop was a very well-respected store in Ponyville. The sisters who ran it, Rose, Lily, and Daisy, were very good at what they did; namely, caring for flowering plants. The flowers seemed to respond to their emotions, thriving on their attention. Ditzy always enjoyed picking up and dropping off letters there— the envelopes and packages always carried a pleasing perfume. So it was one morning when the mailmare fluttered into the beautifully verdant shop. “Good morning, Ditzy,” Rose said with a smile.

Rose was considered to be the most stable and down-to-earth of the three sisters— where Lily and Daisy would faint at the drop of a hat (or, more likely, a flowerpot), probably screaming and carrying on all the while, it took a lot more to faze Rose. “Letters?” she prompted.

Ditzy hoofed over a few envelopes and a big brown package. “Ah, the new flowerpots, I suppose. Excellent,” Rose murmured, setting the package aside. “Let me see, bill, bill, junk, bill—” she stiffened as she looked at the last letter on the pile.

Ditzy’s brief romp among the flowers was suddenly cut short by Rose’s scream of abject horror, as she collapsed into a heap. The postmare broke off from sniffing a particularly delightful daisy and hastened over to the mare. She had fainted dead away.

“Rose?” Ditzy asked, waving her wings in the other mare’s face. The florist groaned and blinked her eyes open. “What’s wrong? Is it an audit? Or a really big bill?”

It didn’t look like a bill. The address was hoofwritten in a neatly curving script, and it carried the perfume of— well, some kind of flower.

Rose thrust the letter forwards. “Read it,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I… I’m not allowed to read other ponies’ mail...”

“I need you to read it aloud for me, Ditzy” Rose snapped. “I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Hurriedly, the pegasus opened the envelope and took out the letter. It was printed on a beautiful piece of pink paper, edged with embossed flowers. She peered closely at the tidy script and read,

My dear sisters,

Due to a regrettable incident at one of my recent soirees, my house has been rendered temporarily uninhabitable. As such, Daddy, Civil, & I will be arriving tomorrow to stay at your hovelhouse abode for the next week. Please, for Daddy’s sake, try to clean at least a little bit. You know how he feels about uncleanliness. Just last week he chased a mare (of low cleanliness &, I am sure, lower morals) into the river to tidy her up some, & then jumped in after her to save her, injuring himself quite badly in the process (I neglect to mention where, as it would be most distressing & uncivil to name). Dear, brave Daddy! To think that dreadful milkmare would accuse him of assaulting her. We shall be arriving by the first-class express rail, & I do expect you all to be there to help with luggage, especially that boorish Carrot Top.
Love,
Hyacinth

P.S. I invited Violet to come along, so that we could have a family reunion. Regrettably, however, events forced her to decline. Something about her husband not wearing the pants in the family.

Rose sighed. “I don’t know if I should be pleased that we aren’t having more unexpected houseguests or upset that Violet won’t be there to help keep Hyacinth under control.”

Ditzy looked at the other mare. “Why? What does she do?”

“She—” Rose hesitated. “She cleans. And organizes.”

Ditzy frowned. “That doesn’t sound bad…”

“Well, no,” Rose admitted. “Nothing wrong with a nice, clean home, or an organized dinner party. But the way she does it…” She trailed off, deep in thought.

“The way she does it is, that if anything can go wrong, it had better not. She goes to terrifying lengths to keep everything exactly the way she wants it, and Celestia help you if you go off-script or do anything that isn’t quite the way she wants it.”

“Oh.” Ditzy thought about this. “Isn’t your house always clean, though? I’ve visited you before, and I couldn’t believe how nice it was! And why is she calling Carrot a boor? She’s really, really nice!”

Rose sighed. “The house is clean, and my sister-in-law is a wonderful pony, but they aren’t... classy, I think would be the word. They aren’t classy enough for Hyacinth.”

“Oh. So that’s why you never mentioned having any other sisters?”

“Yes, though my other sister, Violet, did very well for herself. Married a duke. Although, from the letters she sends, she certainly doesn’t seem best pleased with how all that worked out.”

Ditzy looked at the letter once more. “He’s the one that ‘doesn’t wear the pants’?”

“Yes. Though, I think it’s less about that, and more about what he wears instead.”

“Oh?”

“He raids Vi’s closet and alters all her dresses.”

Ditzy gave this due consideration. “...Can’t he buy his own dresses?”

Rose shrugged. “That’s what Vi always asks, but he doesn’t listen. That’s the idle rich for you. No sense.”

Looking at the letter Ditzy held, she sighed. “I suppose there’s no stopping it. There never is, with Hyacinth. We’ll just have to sterilize the house this evening.”

“Um.”

Rose looked up. “What?”

“It’s postmarked yesterday.”

Rose frowned. “...So?”

“Well, if she wrote that she was going to arrive tomorrow…”

The earth pony’s face froze. “Oh, BUCK ME SIDEWAYS!” she screeched, leaping to her hooves and breaking for the door, leaving a startled Ditzy Doo and a few overturned flowerpots in her wake.

A few moments later, a startled red face poked through the doorway. Ditzy looked at Mac. “It wasn’t my fault this time, I swear,” she said, holding up her right hoof. “Come help me tidy this up, or Rose won’t be the only one of the Flowershop Crowd having a conniption fit…”

Mac mosied into the store, carefully avoiding the shards of terracotta and spilled soil. Sighing slightly, but chuckling beneath, the farmer grabbed a broom from the wall, surveying the scene.“What’s th’ trouble?”

“Unexpected family visit,” Ditzy sighed. “I suppose you’ve got a lot of experience with that?”

Mac chuckled. “Aw, well. Most o’ us Apples stick purty close ta th’ farms. ‘Course, there’s a couple exceptions. Th’ Manehattan Oranges, f’r instance, or… well… Orchard Blossom.”

Ditzy looked at him in mild surprise. “I thought Orchard Blossom was just you in a wig and a dress.”

“Nope. Second cousin twice removed. Dressed up as her ‘cause she’s ‘bout th’ only mare in th’ family bigger’n me.”

Ditzy goggled. “Really? Bigger than you? I thought only Snowflake was that size! Well, and the Princesses, of course.”

Mac shook his head. “Oh, ol’ Blossom’s got a good few inches on me. Mound o’ muscle, tough as ya like, but she still goes ‘round in that frou-frou dress o’ hers. Gentle as a summer breeze, but stronger’n rock.”

Ditzy smiled. “Well, I hope I can meet her someday. You know, Mac, you’re a lot more talkative than usual today.”

Mac shrugged. “Most ponies don’t try’n hold up a conversation. ‘Sides, when you live in th’ same house as mah sisters an’ granny, you learn t’ keep a low profile.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that,” the pegasus consoled.

Mac rolled his eyes. “Eeyup.” Suddenly, his brow creased and his freckled cheeks turned down in a thoughtful frown. “Hey, what’s this doohickey here?”

“Hm?” Ditzy glanced over her shoulder.

Mac gestured at a strange, crablike metal sculpture on the counter. “Ah ain’t never seen nothin’ like this afore, certainly not in here.”

Ditzy fluttered over to examine the object. “Huh. You know, I’m almost positive that wasn’t here when I came in…”

Mac coughed. “Uh, well, not t’ offend. But, uh, yer eyes…”

Ditzy let out a faint snort. “I’ve got lousy depth perception, but I can see shapes just fine. And I definitely didn’t see this.”

The large red earth pony stared at the metal crab for a long moment. Gingerly, ever so gingerly, a yellow hoof reached out toward it. “Don’t,” Ditzy warned. Mac drew back.

“What d’ya reckon it is?”

“I don’t know,” the pegasus admitted. “The Doctor would, I bet… but he’s in Canterlot today.”

Mac frowned. “Why’s that?”

“Tea with the princesses, I think. Or something like that. Matter of national urgency, he said.”

Meanwhile, in Canterlot: “So then,” the Doctor continued, leaning in dramatically, “Donna starts shouting at the monster.”

Celestia’s jaw dropped open in a wide, gaping grin. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Luna merely settled for rolling away from the central cushion, cackling like a madmare.

The final guest at the storytelling session merely cracked a slim smile. “And zen?”

“Well,” said the Doctor, “it was just so unused to confrontation, it actually stopped out of sheer surprise to listen to her lecture. It was a good one, too, one of her best. Would’ve recovered itself in a couple more seconds, but she gave me enough time to get out of the airlock.”

“This ‘Donna’ sounds like a rare mare indeed,” Luna gasped, recovering herself from her giggle fit enough to sit upright once more. “I wish we could have met her.”

The Doctor’s brow darkened. “So do I,” he murmured.

The other guest coughed loudly, before the situation could turn for the worse. “Well, Doctor, zat was a story most interesting. It is my opinion, however, that we really must get down to the affair at hoof.”

The Doctor blinked, then broke into a smile. “Yes, of course. Tell us, Commander, what is new in the old Gaean Unified Investigation, Defense, and Espionage Agency, hm? Must’ve gone rather downhill since I left…”

Celestia smirked slightly. “About that, Doctor… you know, when you returned to your universe, you never actually resigned your post…”

The Doctor stared at Celestia. Then, he glanced at the other two. “Oh, no.”

Luna smiled. “Ohhh, yes.”

Back in Ponyville: Mac regarded the object. “It ain’t moved yet.”

Ditzy puffed out her cheeks. “We really shouldn’t.”

Mac scowled at the metal crab. “Yeah. Yer right,” he sighed, shoulders slumping. Ditzy relaxed. “Dunno what came over me,” the farmer said, shaking his head and turning around. The counter shook as apple-marked flank met glass and rock.

The two spun around to look at the crab in horror. It didn’t move. Ditzy let out a sigh. “Maybe it was here all along after all,” she conceded.

Then, the crab’s eyes, glowing bright red, shot open. “Aaaand hello to you, too, Murphy,” the pegasus sighed.

Surprisingly Sociable Drinking with Friends and Family

Suddenly, one of the pegasi stiffened. Her blank eyes rolled back in his head, and he hit the ground. Then the other two dropped in quick succession. “Surprise!” a voice called from above.

The first pegasus, white with a blonde mane, blinked awake. “Somepony… mention my name?” she murmured.

Everypony, even the possessed ponies, glanced up to the top of the stairwell, where a pair of royal pegasus guards grinned back at them, an army of silver crabs in tow. In the next instant, there was a swarm of metal flowing down the stairs. Hyacinth shrieked, but it soon became apparent that the robots weren’t after them. The Brachyura at the base of the stairs were swept away by the silver tide, knocked to the ground. Soon enough, they rose again, dazed and wincing in deepest aching pain. Scootaloo grinned. “Awesome!”

Dash smirked at her young fan’s exuberant enthusiasm. Fancy Pants exhaled, blowing up the ends of his moustache. “Well done, both of you. Just in time.”

Fleur, however, scans behind the two guards, concern evident in her eyes. “Ze Doctor and Miss Doo. Where are zey?”

At that moment, the Doctor and his merry band were approaching the Ponyville schoolhouse. Ditzy— the thing in her body, he reminded himself forcibly— had regained consciousness. She was glaring up at him, he could feel it. It felt wrong. Obviously. It was wrong. The thing inside his wife was diametrically opposed to her in every conceivable way. He refused to look back, to see those bright golden eyes brimming with hatred rather than kindness, fury rather than friendship. He still couldn’t remember much about the Brachyura. Did I do this to them? He wondered guiltily. Were they always like this, or did I change them somehow?

He vaguely remembered that they used to be much larger and not made of metal. Other than that? A complete blank. Which one was it that first met them, anyway? Oh, yes, Ears. He vaguely remembered Blueblood threatening to bring along the Griffon Ambassador, fond as she was of seafood. There was definitely another version there, though. All he could remember was an immense feeling of… grumpiness.

Time enough for that later. Right now, he had other things to worry about. Such as the angry… thing installed in Ditzy’s body. Ah, yes. Full circle. Reluctantly, he glanced back. Quickly, he spun forward again. It was as terrible as he had feared. Her eyes were not Ditzy’s, filled as they were with foreign rage and desire to destroy.

“Doctor…” Ditzy’s voice. But it was not her tone, neither were they her words. “It is you, then. You’ve changed bodies.”

“Whatever you’re going on about, I don’t remember doing it yet,” the Doctor said. “It takes place in my future. So, if you could avoid spoilers?”

“You destroyed us,” Ditzy said. No, not Ditzy, he had to remember that. “You interfered with our world, and you brought it crashing down.”

The Doctor stared straight ahead. “Do you think our underlings would thank you, Doctor? You set them adrift, without guidance or order. I wonder how long civilization stood after we fell.”

“Despite what you might think, civilization tends not to ride on the existence of one group,” the Doctor said coolly. “Particularly not the political elite. I mean, if all the sanitation workers vanished, then you’d have problems.”

“How many others, Doctor? How many others have you—”

The Doctor frowned and glanced back. Ditzy was unconscious again, a crab hanging from her neck. She blinked awake. “Sorry,” she said. “I figured you really didn’t need to hear that.”

The Doctor smiled slightly. “Thanks… whoever you are.”

“Thunderlane. Mind untying me?”

“Right.”

There was a long moment as the Doctor fiddled with the bonds. “Okay, I can’t see anything, because your wife’s eyes are seriously messed up,” Thunderlane said, rising to his hooves and stretching. “You’re going to have to be my seeing-eye pony or whatever.”

“Right. Thanks again, by the way. For… y’know.”

“Sure, yeah. I always hate it when the bad guys do that in Daring Do. Uh, you do read Daring Do, right?”

“I travelled with her.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. She’s actually Ditzy’s sister, did you know?”

“I… didn’t even think she was real up until now…”

The Doctor shrugged, heedless of Thunderlane’s existential angst, quickly snatching a straying crab off the ground. “Oh, don’t go running off,” he said, grinning. “I’ve got plans for you.”

As soon as the tables had been removed from the trapdoor, the possessed ponies had come swarming up from the depths. They had been anticipating a frightened, tired herd of ponies. They had not been expecting an angry army of silver crabs. Within seconds, half of the invaders were in retreat. Unfortunately for them, it was the front half. In the chaos, the crabs attacked, diving and skittering through the herd to find their bodies once more. The crowd grew only more chaotic from there, dissolving into a regular punch-up. Any unmarked crabs were thrown onto their backs, or trapped in bottles. Any ponies with hexagonal cutie marks soon found themselves tossed into booths and dogpiled upon, which was rather unfortunate in the case of jeweler Trilliant Cut, whose mark was a hexagon-cut gem, despite her name. Later, partially due to the unfortunate incident of being sat upon for a good twenty minutes, Trilliant moved to Lawndon, where she met a pony with two heads, a spaceship, and some very good liquor. That, however, is a tale for another day.

Naturally, even after the crabs were all crabs and the ponies were all ponies, there were still a few matters to sort out. Pinkie noticed it first. “Mackie! Where’s your cutie mark gone?”

“Ah ain’t Mac,” the large red currently-a-stallion grumbled. “Look over there.”

Pinkie glanced over and saw Applejack with a wide smirk on her face and a big green apple on either flank. “Heh. Mebbe now y’all’ll listen when Ah got somethin’ ta say.”

Pinkie glanced from side to side. Then, tapping the red stallion on the nose, she said, “I dub thee Jackintosh, and thee,” she spun and booped the amused orange mare on the nose, “Applemac.”

Applemac grinned. “Ah like it.”

Jackintosh scowled. “...Gimme back mah hat.”

A blue form sidled up beside Jackintosh. “Ya know,” Rainbow rasped, “there’s really no rush to switch back. Maybe we can go—”

Applejack’s scowl was bad enough on her own face. On Mac, it was terrifying. Dash quickly buttoned her lip. “Can you at least run, like, an ice bath or something in the barn? I’m a living bruise, and I don’t think my wings can hold me up right now…”

The terrifying face softened, and red lips brushed a blue forehead. “Sure thang, sugarcube.” Her green eyes narrowed. "After Ah get mah own body back. Get me one of them crabs, quick-like. Ah don't like this body one bit!"

Rainbow gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Yeah, sure. I like you better as yourself, anyway."

Meanwhile, Scootaloo, with help from Ruby, was telling the other Crusaders about the harrowing adventure at the bar. “Wow,” Button marveled. “You really saved Rainbow Dash? That must've been awesome!”

The others nodded their assent. Then, glancing down, Dinky gasped. “Sweetie Belle! You got your cutie mark!”

All attention focused on the off-white filly, who glanced nervously around. “Come on, Sweetie, show us!”

“How did you get it?”

“Wait, that’s a hexagon.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Sweetie Brachyura leapt up from the booth and made for the door. “Oh, no you don’t!” Pinkie said, scooping up the mind-controlled filly. “Now, let’s just find which crab has the right… cutie… mark…” She stopped, frowning at the assembled crabs, whose backs were all as blank as Sweetie’s flank usually was. Her eyes dilated. “Uh-oh.”

Rarity sidled up beside the pink party pony. “Not to worry, darling. Rarity has the situation under control.” She cleared her throat, and narrowed her eyes. “Sweetie Belle!" she said sharply. "What did you do to my spring line?”

On the shelf, one jar shot back and smacked the wall as its inhabitant sought to run away. Rarity beamed. “Found her.”

Caramel stared at Caramel. Caramel stared back. Dr. Stable Condition coughed uncomfortably. Toffee, Caramel, and Caramel all tried desperately to look anywhere but down, while Toffee looked unconcerned. “I never realized this was such a common coat and mane pairing,” Caramel said weakly.

“Okay, do any of you remember which body you started in?” Caramel asked.

“How much does it actually matter?” Caramel wondered.

“Guys, I think I might secretly be a changeling,” Caramel said.

“Oh, yup, that’s me,” Toffee said, raising a hoof.

There was a long silence. “After this is over, none of us ever speak of this again,” Dr. Stable said flatly,

“I think I speak for all of us when I say ‘no argument,’” Caramel said.

Caramel squirmed. “Does that include keeping this from the hive? ‘Cause I think they already know.”

Thunderlane, still in Ditzy’s body, sighed and sat down heavily on the swingset. “Doctor, we’ve looked everywhere for her. She must‘ve run off to try and help.”

The Doctor shook his head, still glaring at the slide. “No. She’s just hidden somewhere. I mean, think about it, all they’ve done is lock the trapped ponies away. The Brachyura mentioned that the idea was sort of that the robot crabs would be used as slaves later on. She has to be—”

He stopped. He glanced over at the bell. “Oh, I am an idiot. Help me lift this thing up.”

Thunderlane frowned. “Uh, didn’t you say something about a bunch of the Brachyura being under there?”

“Yourself included, yes. Gather round, everypony, and if you see your body, go for it.”

Thunderlane shook her head— his head, he corrected himself. Or was it ‘her’? It was still Ditzy's body, after all, so it was her head that he was shaking. Pronouns really didn’t describe this situation, Thunderlane decided. Thunderlane was also increasingly of the opinion that gender was weird and stupid. Their head. They shook their head. That worked.

“Thunderlane?” The Doctor was leaning up against the side of the bell, staring at him expectantly.

Right. Lifting the bell. That was both more urgent and way easier than figuring out the meaning of 'gender' from first principles. Thunderlane got up on their hind legs and stood alongside the Doctor. “Right,” said the Time Lord. “Now, PUSH!”

The large copper bell tilted, slowly at first, and then gravity overcame it. Like water from a spilled cup, three pegasi tumbled out. Three pegasi and a crab marked with bubbles on its back.

“HAHA!” the Doctor crowed, scooping the little robot up. “Ditzy Doo, you are a marvel, an absolute marvel. Let’s get you back where you belong.”

“Doc? If you could hurry?” Thunderlane was frantically trying to keep the three pegasi from flying off once again.

“Oh, right. Ditzy?” He held the crab out and she scuttled onto her body’s back. There was a brief moment of confusiii*00j pjjjio98*(HJ8h*&7

When Ditzy came to, the first thing she noticed was the incessant ringing in her ears. The second thing she noticed was that the Doctor was forcibly restraining Thunderlane.

...Huh. That was new. Also kind of hot.

“Ditzy? The crab?”

She blinked. “Oh! Right!” She swiftly brought the silver robot up to the side of the charcoal stallion’s head. It lashed out andHhgi89&(*u98fiuhf9

Thunderlane, his head swimming, sat up. The Doctor and Ditzy were poring over one of the little silver robots. Of the others, there was no sign. “Urgh,” he said intelligently.

Ditzy glanced up and grinned. “Well hello, sleepyhead. You’ve been out for a good long while.”

“Not altogether unexpected, given the number of shifts you’ve undergone in the last hour or so,” the Doctor said, glancing up with a small smile. “Though, I think between us, we’ve nearly cracked how to keep this from ever happening again.”

“Great. Good. Good,” Thunderlane muttered, rubbing his head. “I need a freakin’ drink.”

“Don’t worry, the bar’s our next stop,” said Ditzy, a tad loudly. Her ears were still ringing.

Thunderlane nodded. “Great. Let’s go.” he stumbled forwards.

The Doctor and Ditzy exchanged glances, and then each took one of Thunderlane’s forelegs and helped him trot along.

The party was in full swing by the time the trio arrived. After a day spent in entirely the wrong body, you really do need a good way to relax. Romana raised her glass in recognition as they all trotted in. The Doctor grinned back as he and Ditzy poured Thunderlane into a chair. While the grey pegasus sat down to enjoy a nice mug of cider, the Time Lord trotted over to his friend. “Good show, Romana,” he said cheerfully. “All turned out alright?”

“Mm.” Romana shrugged. “More or less. But what are we going to do with all of them?” She gestured vaguely at the jars full of crabs that lined the wall.

“Borrow your sonic a minute? Mine sort of blew up.”

Romana smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. “You see, this is why we can’t have nice things.”

“Oh, stow it,” the Doctor chuckled, shoving his friend lightly. “Come on, I just need it a second.”

“Mm. I already offered the standard ‘last chance,’ by the way. They said you brought down their society?”

“Not yet,” the Doctor said, accepting the little silver rod.

“Ah,” said Romana, raising a brow and taking another sip of her ginger and tonic. “Timey-wimey, then?”

The tan stallion smirked. “I’ve taught you well. Now, if I could have everypony’s attention?”

The rumble of the bar died down. The Doctor glanced around, his expression grimmer. “I’d like to take a vote, if I may? There are two ways that I can think of to ensure this lot never hurts anything ever again. Number one, we can kill them all off.”

A startled murmur rose from the crowd. The Doctor raised a hoof for silence. “I would understand if any of you wanted to do that, after what you’ve all been through. So, hooves up for the death penalty?”

There was a long silence. No hooves rose. Several of the patrons looked rather angry at the Doctor. The Time Lord grinned broadly. “That’s what I thought. Still, best to make sure before taking crab rangoon off the menu. So now, I’d like to show you… this.” He brought down one of the mason jars from the shelf. “Really, it’s a miracle of engineering and data storage, this mind-swapper. Keeps all the hive mind together, regardless of body. Take a good look, now. ‘Cause I’m going to blow it up.”

Gasps of shock rose from around the bar. Twilight Sparkle rose. “Doctor, you said you weren’t going to kill them!”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m only blowing up the brain-swapper. And then, I’m going to take all these jars and let the little buggers run loose on an abandoned planet. Nice place, lots of beaches. They can live out the rest of their crabby little lives there, create a civilization, whatever. Build some sandcastles.” That got a few chuckles.

The Doctor smiled broadly. “Mercy. It’s a beautiful quality, isn’t it?” He held the pick up to the jar and let it whir. A few sparks flew. The whole cabinet looked, briefly, like a fireworks display. “And… done.”

The crowd broke into whoops of joy and relief before settling into their booths once more, too sore and tired to do much celebrating. The Doctor snorted and sat back in his chair. Berry slid over a banana daiquiri, and he sipped it lightly, watching the four sisters Bouquet relax and joke and gossip over their cocktails in a way that they hadn’t done together in years. In a corner, Rarity cooed over her ‘big, brave Spikey-Wikey,’ who was recovering from having been tied up and forcibly used as a welding torch to break down the door to the tunnel. Fancy Pants and Fleur were sharing a booth and a martini, discussing how best to report this day to their mysterious superiors.

Tomorrow, he would take the Brachyura to the beach. Tomorrow, he would help Twilight invent a tinnitus cure for Ditzy. Tomorrow, he would help rebuild Ponyville. But for right now, everypony was relaxing and making merry, and that was enough for now.

Late that night, after the party had dissipated and the bar had closed, and Berry taken Ruby to sleep at Aunt Cheerilee’s, one faint chittering noise could be heard. And then, out of the darkness, the lights above the bar lit up with an infernal red light. Yes, a voice in the darkness said, We made a deal. We held up our side, but you did not follow through on yours.

More screechy chittering from above the bar. The lights darkened to crimson. Do not presume to control me, said the voice, its tone like the unknown bump in the night, the unfamiliar tread on the stair. I created you. I could as easily unmake you utterly, if I could be bothered. I have no time for failures, however, and so I will leave you to your fate. But know this. Our next meeting will be our last.

The bar was dark again. There was no sign, save some extra scorch marks on the wood, that anything had happened at all. The Brachyura were alone, forsaken by their guide, their savior. Their Nightmare.

Author's Note

Next Time on Doctor Whooves

The door to the little cottage burst open. “Scootaloo Easterly Breeze Windfall!” Auntie Lofty shouted. “You get back here right this minute!”

Scootaloo paused only for a moment, her cold expression softening for the space of a moment. Then, as soon as she laid eyes on her aunts’ panicked, angry faces, she scowled again, picked up her spare scooter from where it was parked, and zipped away from the house, her aunts, and the past.

There was a strange grumbling from deep within the TARDIS, like a dyspeptic old mare, followed up by a disgruntled wheezing. The Doctor frowned and tapped a monitor gently. “She's never made that sound before,” Ditzy said, furrowing her brow at the Time Rotor, which was sparking erratically. “Is she sick?”

The Doctor hissed through his teeth. “Hope not. If she is, then getting where we want is the least of our worries.”

“Wait, TARDISes can get sick? Really?”

“Sort of. It's quite nasty, really, especially if she needs to, ah, toss up. Some rooms. And possibly inhabitants.”

Ditzy paled. “Don't worry! I'm sure it isn't that. Mostly sure. Actually, I think the old girl seems… confused, more than anything. Check the coordinates over on the far console, read ‘em out.”

The pegasus nodded once, then dashed to a panel next to the concentrating orange mare. “Vanhoover, 991 Celestial Era,” she said.

“And this one purports to be… Skyzantium, 1273 Pre-Unification, only three years before the first Hearth’s Warming.”

“So which is it?” Ditzy asked, frowning.

There was a dull, oleaginous sputtering that died out after several seconds. “We’re about to find out,” the Doctor said quietly.

There was… a figure… at the door. Vaguely equine in form, he could discern no other details other than its color, a dull, dead white. It was like a rough drawing transplanted in the middle of an oil painting. The very wrongness of its existence set the Time Lord’s teeth on edge.

Scootaloo’s eyes were glazed and strangely calm. “I think I just watched somepony get foalnapped.”

When the mare walked, her model-thin legs moved with preposterous efficiency, and every move she made seemed to have been calculated and designed by a team of artists and scientists, right down to the unconscious flick of her tail against the pendulum cutie mark on her pert flank. To make a long story short, Ditzy’s brain short circuited so hard she couldn't speak.

Twilight was backed up against a table of test tubes, and Romana was standing on the bloody dissection table, while the disembodied leg hopped around angrily. “You know, I’m not sure this thing actually has any capability to harm me,” she observed.

The dismembered limb lashed out at one of the table legs, making the whole thing quake and putting a dent in the metal. “I stand corrected!” Romana shouted.

The light grew even brighter. The noise grew louder. Scootaloo leaned against the wall as her head began to swim. “What are you doing to her? Let her out right now, you monster!”

“It’s all part of the process. I did tell her it would hurt.”