Enjoy Your Stay: Blood and Sand

The Moon was gone.

Swift Wind stood atop a boulder and stared up. Her breath came in short, shaky bursts. Ever since that day six months ago, the day Luna had found her in that motel, the day She saved her life, Swift Wind went out every night to look at the Moon and stars. It was a constant reminder that at least one pony loved her. That at least one pony understood.

And now it was gone.

Even the stars didn’t have the courtesy to look right. The night sky was supposed to be beautiful. Supposed to be a pointillistic mosaic of light, made with care and intent. Supposed to be a congregation of carefully crafted constellations, coming together to create a captivating chronology of Equestria. Legend and history together, spinning the story of a nation in the sky.

Instead randomly scattered blotches of light poked out from the veil without thought or consideration. None of the familiar-

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her spear. She could not distract herself like this. That was the whole reason she had come up here in the first place, under the pretense of ‘taking watch’. Luna’s tapestry would have carried her away from this world. Away from the burning aches in her legs and wings. Away from the itch of sand in every single crevice of her body.

Away from the constant horror gnawing at the back of her skull. Away from old memories of splinted wood and scattered viscera. Away from new memories of monsters crawling from the shadows to tear her and Luna limb from limb. Chittering, skittering, slashing leaping rippingtearinggnawing-

“-Oi, Windbag! You listen’n to me?”

“WHAT??” Swift snarled reflexively. She regretted lashing out for a moment. She realized who had intruded, and then didn’t regret it anymore.

“Jeez, filly,” Stock-and-Key muttered, “Who put buttercup in your tea this morning?”

“If you’ll recall,” Swift dripped with ice and venom, “we didn’t serve tea this morning. We were busy running for our lives from a swarm of giant bug monsters. I don’t blame you for forgetting, though. All the smog down in Baltimare tends to give ponies memory issues.”

Stock scowled, “Well at least the air in Baltimare’s cleaner than your service record.”

“What was that?!”

“Oh, nothing,” Stock waved the air as if shooing a fly, dripping with sarcasm and venom, “I’m sure your little astrology session is more important than anything I have to say. After all, I’m just a low-down little harbor filly and you’re this Big Shot Cloudsdale Warrior, come from generations of-”

“You came up here for a reason,” she spat more venom, “Spit it out already. I don’t have time to listen to you prattle.”

Stock sighed, “Just the picture of love and tolerance, isn’t she? Alright, fine. The princess is awake, and she wanted-”

“What!?” she cut Stock off, “How long has she been awake?”

Stock blinked, “Um, like, ten minutes. She told me to come get you so we-”

Swift didn’t listen to the rest. She didn’t care. Luna was finally awake, that was all that mattered. She roughly brushed past Stock, glided off the rock and next to the campfire.

The boulder was about three miles South of the ruins. The custodians were huddled around a timid campfire. It cast playful, fluttering shadows against the rock. They had fled for two miles, until the monsters decided that their dinner was more trouble than it was worth. The cold forced them to find shelter early, else they would have endured until they reached the motel.

Lock had a patch of gauze tied over his eye, and was working with his brother to patch the tears in his chainmail haubergeon (his cuirass had been discarded as soon as the mantids stopped persuing; damaged beyond repair). Night Sentinel chewed a dried apricot as he sanded the shaft of his spear. And Luna-

Luna.

Swift’s heart turned to lead when she saw Her. Her coat was matted with sweat and dirt, ruffled askew by Her awkward slouch. She looked like a cheap parody of Herself- like a Nightmare Night costume who’s wearer had imbued one too many hard ciders. Her other coat, also soiled with sweat and dirt, was bunched up behind Her head as She reclined limply against the side of the rock.

“Luna!” Swift yelped. Her spear was discarded as she glided to Her side. She smelled like ginger and willow. “Lu- I- Your Highness, are you alright?”

Luna met her eyes with a tired ~~heartbreaking~~ grimace, “I am alive, Warrant Officer, and that is near enough to ‘alright’ for me,” she said. Her voice was edged, almost sharp. It was so unlike the gentle and patient mare Swift had come to know.

“But, Luna- Princess, you’ve been unconscious for hours. You need to-” Luna silenced her with a sharply raised hand. Swift swallowed her tongue and moved back, cowed and embarrassed.

“I overexerted myself. I will require several days rest before I am fully magically functional, but I will be fine. I shall hear no more of it.”

Swift stood up and ambled away, unsure of what to do with herself. She heard Stock thud to the ground behind her and walk to her sibling’s side. Everypony was silent for a long time.

“...So!” the youngest of the trio, Barrel, chirped, “Giant praying mantises, huh? That’s gotta be a-” ‘a first’, is what he didn’t say. What he choked on. What he quietly, desperately, tried to pass off as clearing his throat. “Ahem- ah- A, uh, a new one. Am I right?” The awkward miasma did not recede. If anything, Barrel’s juvenile, nigh-parodic attempt at an icebreaker had intensified it.

After too long, Luna finally spoke, “...The loss of Lieutenant Response is… devastating. But, we cannot spare the time to mourn properly. We must make haste for the lodge so we may plan our next moves.” Luna heaved herself indelicately to her feet. First instinctively moved to support her, and Luna sharply waved her off. “Master Sergeant,” She addressed Night Sentinel with regal authority as she pulled Her trench coat over Her sweater, “You know the route, yes?”

He nodded and said it was close; nearly an hour’s march away. Claimed there wouldn't be any trouble along the way.

“Pray you are right, Sentinel,” She muttered solemnly, “for all our sakes. Now break camp, with haste! We depart in five minutes.” Luna strode away with unquestionable finality. She extinguished the campfire with an offhand gesture as she passed.

The other custodians leapt into action, though it was more of a half-hearted hop than a leap. Spirits were still low and little enthusiasm could be mustered. Swift had neglected to unpack her things when they initially made camp, so she trotted anxiously after the Princess.

She was standing at the side of the wide, black-paved road, solemnly staring up at the night sky. Swift silently nestled in beside Her and clutched her hands together like a scolded schoolfilly. After a silence, Luna said, “I take it you noticed them too, yes?”

The stars. “I did.”

“I felt it the moment we awoke in this place,” she said, “I thought my senses had been frazzled by the portal, but now I know I am sensing them clearly. In Equestria, every star in the sky is a piece on a Draughts board. I can feel them all at once; their pull, their light, their power; all in perfect clarity. I can touch them, move them, arrange them as I please.

“But these stars are distant. So… so distant. Even the largest and closest of them are but a flicker in the night sky—Like birthday candles in the Abyss. It doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s a constant reminder that we’re stuck here,” Swift said, “A reminder of how far we are from home.”

“Yes.” Gentle, but final. The silence that settled between them was… not pleasant, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. It lingered, content, until Luna spoke again, “I feel I should apologize for rejecting your ministrations. I was not myself. I still am not. Please, do not think my aches and grouses reflect my true feelings towards you.”

Aches? “Your Highness, are you in pain?”

Luna sighed a sigh of gentle amusement, “Merely a headache,” she said, “It happens to unicorns when we overuse our magic. Sergeant Sentinel gave me a scruple of herbs to alleviate the ache; I believe it will subside before dawn.

“Now come. Your fellow guards have nearly completed their preparations for the trek. We shan't dally if we wish to reach the lodge by dawn.”

Swift stayed behind for a moment to cast one final scowl at the stars. They still hung there, taunting her with their disobedience from their untouchable perches in space. She was only annoyed with them when they were just tormenting her with their existence. But now they were hurting Luna. The only pony to ever truly love her.

This was when she knew that she hated them.

It took them about an hour to reach the motel.

An hour of trudging down the long, seemingly endless road; counting the slow twirls of their shadows as they were pulled and twisted about by the powerful road lights; pulling scarves and scraps of cloth over their muzzles whenever a gust of wind kicked up a cloud of sand; jumping to fight at the slightest movement or noise from the darkness beyond the light of the road.

After about an hour, Swift saw a bright red billboard in the distance, just off the side of the road. It was lit even brighter than the road itself, and read, in bright white letters:

HOSTEL: 200 FEET

“Looks like the natives speak ponish.” Night Sentinel observed, “Imagine that.”

True to word, the hostel was just visible in the distance, behind a small sand dune just off the road. As they passed the dune, it turned out to be piled over an ancient, rusted chain link fence. The gate bore a worn sign marked:

NO ENTRY

A narrow service road ran through the dune. It led nowhere. Just before they passed it, Luna pulled everypony aside and reminded them of their expected conduct:

Allow the Princess to speak for all of them.
Do not show any outward reaction to anything they see or hear.
Remember that they have no understanding of the native culture or customs; what may be ghastly to us could be cause for ceremony to them.

Swift saw the logic in these. They couldn’t risk offending anycreature in this wretched place, especially whoever, or whatever, managed the motel. The custodians acknowledged Her words—agreed with them. Luna nodded, satisfied. “Alright, let us meet our new hosts.”

They did not meet their new hosts.

The hostel was situated a good distance away from the road, separated by a roundabout that circled around a barbed-wire enclosure and a tall stone fountain. It was a simple, modest water feature: a spout gently sprayed water up and out of the center pillar into a wide basin. It also had a small drinking basin at shoulder-height, where water flowed in and out through two meshed valves. A sign hung under the drinking basin:

Please feel free to take as much water as you like.

Visitors will be held responsible for any damages dealt to the fountain.

A haunting melody floated out of thin air. No music player was in sight, and the source seemed to dance about the yard like a wisp. The song itself was, paradoxically, soothing in a very unsettling sort of way; like the distant call of a siren. First saw Night Sentinel’s ears perk and twitch as he listened. “Wow. That’s uncanny.”

“What do you mean?” Luna asked.

“The tune,” he answered, as if it was obvious, “ ‘The Mare from Iponyma’. In the original D-flat major, too. I don’t recognize the language thou-” The gentle stallion singing in a foreign tongue was abruptly replaced by a soft-voiced mare singing in ponish. “Oh! Never mind, then. That’s odd.”

First felt her temper flare again at his flippancy towards the Princess. Who did he think he was, acting like Luna was some old friend or random pony? The only reason she hadn’t given him a thorough tongue-lashing (and maybe a real lashing for good measure) was that Luna herself didn’t seem to mind his disrespect. She couldn’t fathom why, but held her tongue all the same.

Barrel felt the side of the walls and pondered out loud, “What is this stuff? Clay?”

“Adobe,” Luna answered, “A mixture of clay, sand, and organic refuse. The Northern Abyssinian tribes use them to build their villages. Or, at least, they did last I visited them.”

The roundabout forked into a wide stone pathway, flanked by a paddle cactus on each side. Two adobe steps led to a tall doorway with two signs next to it. Night read them out loud:

“‘Hello, and welcome to the Salt Lake City NUC Long 15 hostel! Please feel free to stay for as long as you like and use as much as you need. We hope you enjoy your stay.’”

Swift turned the words over in her head for a moment before it clicked. “... Salt Lake City?” Everypony groaned. Stock-and-Key tossed her face into her palm.

“Well,” Luna said, “I think we can conclusively say we are in an alternate dimension of some kind.”

“Y’know, in hindsight,” Night muttered, “that lake did look awfully familiar. The coastline’s different near the city, otherwise I would’ve recognized it sooner.”

Stock wiped her hand off her face. “This place is a nightmare. No, scratch that, it’s a fever dream. At least nightmares have the courtesy of making some sense.” She glanced at Luna, “No offence, your highness.”

Luna barked a dry chuckle, “None taken. What does the rest of it say, Sergeant?”

“Oh, right,” He leaned in to read,

“‘Please keep all livestock within the provided pen. Solicitation, assass’- Wait.” He stopped. Wiped his eyes and stepped aside to give the sign better light. “‘Solicitation, assassination, and torture will not be tolerated on Hostel property.’???”

“... That’s disturbingly specific,” Lock muttered.

“Your Highness,” Swift said, “Are you sure we should stay here? That level of specificity has to have a story behind it, and I really don’t wish to find out what it is.”

Luna looked North. Desert to the horizon. She looked South. Desert to the horizon. She silently fixed Swift with a pointed look.

“...Alright, point taken. I still think this isn’t a good idea.”

“You are correct; it is not a good idea. But it is also our only option.”

“...Sooo,” Barrel drawled, “Do we knock or something?”

“Door’s open,” Night opened the door nonchalantly and peered inside. “Nopony in here–but Wow, you guys ought to take a look at this place.”

Luna followed closely behind Night into the building. Barrel-and-Key shrugged before falling in behind them. His siblings filed in at his heels. Swift took one last look behind her, scanning the landscape for anything suspicious. She saw nothing.

Well, it’s not as if we have anything to lose, is it?

Swift closed the door behind her as she entered, but she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that they were being watched.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were all adobe just like outside, but polished, sanded, and sanitized to feel smooth as stone. The eerie music was pumped in from outside. The source was still evasive. The beds, all eight of which were longer than Luna was tall, were immaculately made. Thin cotton sheets were pressed and wrapped flat around the mattress, like a coat of paint. The blankets were folded and placed literally in the exact center of each bed.

The room was kept at an imperceptibly perfect temperature by a small climate control device embedded in the wall. The small oven, sink, and countertop on the same wall were spotless and all worked perfectly. A menu was laminated and screwed into the countertop. It read:

ORDER ANYTHING!

If you desire any specific food or drink,

please write it down here.

We will do our best to provide whatever you request.

Regular meal services will be held at 6:AM, 11:AM, and 4:PM

A trash can and laundry hamper sat in the corner. Each bore a sign promising that no action need be taken by the guests to ensure their proper function. A narrow bookshelf that reached just higher than Luna’s horn (She knew this because Luna happened to be perusing the titles when she looked) bore a sign that promised the books would be sorted no matter what order the guests placed them in, and cautioned a vague retribution should any books go damaged or missing.

At face value, it was the picture of modest comfort. A perfect blend of luxury and humility. But several minor, disconcerting details stuck out to Swift. Details like how the inside of the building was significantly smaller than the outside; like how the Southwestern corner of the room was conspicuously devoid of furnishings, aside from an inoffensive landscape painting on the wall; like how, despite the constant promises to wait on guests hand and foot, the only signs of life anywhere were the cacti sitting outside; like how all the furniture was just too tall for anypony to use comfortably (except perhaps Luna, but even She would have to stretch).

The dissonance sent bolts of anxiety through her mind. A million worst-case scenarios zipped through her head in murky soup of terror. A honey-trap used to capture slaves. A carnivorous spirit that lived inside the walls. A coven of morally-alien creatures who would steal their souls if they accepted the hospitality.

Swift nearly tripped over a chair when she saw Barrel, gingerly poking one of the beds with the tip of his spear. “What in Equestria are you doing??” she asked, mystified.

“Mimics,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Bare, for Sister’s sake,” Stock groaned and shoved Barrel off balance, “Mimics aren’t real! How many times do we have to go over this?”

“You all saw Miss Bunsen’s desk get up and jump out the window! Don’t pretend you didn’t!”

“Bare, it didn’t ‘jump out’, it was a come-to-life spell her TA cast! As a Nightmare Night prank!”

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s what they want you to believe!”

“YES! They want you to believe it because It’s The Truth!”

As the two devolved into an increasingly vitriolic shouting match, Lock meandered over to Swift and Night. “Yeah, they’re gonna be at this for a while. Best to wait for it to burn out.”

Night cleared his throat and excused himself, said he would take a look around outside. He trotted out of the building a little too quickly to look casual and stumbled into the sky, cursing in an unfamiliar tongue every time his wings lost the air. Lock went over to his siblings (who had somehow gotten into the topic of whether or not a draft horse counted as a pony) to try and get them to fight more quietly. Swift decided it best to go see what Luna was doing.

As she ambled over, Luna addressed her without looking, “Tell me, Swift, where is the best place to look if you wish to learn about an alien culture?”

“Uh-um…” thrown for a loop, Swift struggled to respond, “The ponies in it?”

Luna tutted, “Nay, not the populace. The divide in beliefs, opinions, and experiences between two different individuals, even two living in the same social sphere, is more vast than the divide between realities. No, I believe the best place to go is their literature.”

“Literature, your Highness? I don’t follow.”

“A culture’s literature can tell you the most fundamental values and beliefs held by a culture and its people. For instance,” She gestured to the bookshelf, “These shelves are divided between fiction and non-fiction. this means they appreciate the value of storytelling and fictional tales. Furthermore, the fact that there are books here at all, in a remote rest stop in the desert, tells us that they believe that knowledge and fiction is a fundamental right to all peoples, which should be given freely and without restriction.”

Swift couldn’t help but frown. “I think you may be stretching just a bit, your Majesty.”

“Oh, it is by no means a completely accurate determination; It might just be that they have the means and resources to deliver and maintain books out here at miniscule cost. But I find it is almost always accurate to some degree. You must always consider not just the empirical information you receive, but the implicit context that comes hidden beneath it.

“Now then, you have a look. See what you can determine from the individual books.” Luna flinched as she instinctively tried to grab a chair with magic; Gingerly massaged her scalp around her horn. She settled for dragging it the rest of the way to the bookshelf. She sat down and took a drink from a waterskin, then fixed Swift with a light, encouraging smile.

Swift felt a bit miffed about being put on the spot like this. But it was Luna: she couldn’t even consider refusing. “Alright,” She knelt down to the non-fiction shelves and perused the titles. She picked out a few titles at random and decided to begin with a small, thin book wrapped in green posterboard. “First Aid: fourth edition. Published by the American National Red Cross.”

“So,” Luna lead, “What can we divine from this book?”

Swift searched for a satisfactory answer, and could only settle on “Theeeey… understand medicine?” Luna nodded, but motioned for her to continue. Swift thought some more about what Luna had said: Find the hidden implications. “... They value medicine enough to write it down?”

“Good, good. What else?”

Swift glanced at the paperback in her hands before nervously asking, “... can I open the book?”

Luna laughed heartily and shielded her muzzle with her hand. “You- hehehe! Y-yes, Swift. You may open the book.”

Swift’s face went red. Luna did not mean to mock or belittle her, but it still felt like she was back in the military camps her parents sent her to in the summer. She dragged her focus back on the book before the memories of home could take grip. Opening to the table of contents, it turned out to be uncannily similar to the manuals she received at Basic about combat medicine: patching basic injuries, recognizing shock, inducing artificial respiration, treating exposure to extreme temperatures, and so on. She looked back up to Luna, “It seems like their concept of ‘first aid’ is fairly similar to ours.” Ears perked as she had a minor epiphany. “Therefore, it’s likely that their notions of advanced medicine are similar to ours as well!.”

Luna smiled widely, “Very good, Swift. Anything else you can gleam from the opening pages? I have the feeling we will have plenty of time to read these books in full later.”

Swift skimmed the rest of the pages. “... no, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything- wait.” Swift’s attention was caught by a separate paragraph in the preface. She read it aloud:

“In the event of a nuclear attack on this country, survival may very well depend on what everyone does for himself, one’s family or neighbor during the first critical hours of such an attack.”

The sentence lingered in both their minds for a time. Luna eventually spoke first, “... Well, at least we can say for certain that they understand the value of friendship and community.” It was clearly an attempt to distract Swift from the darker implications. It didn’t work.

“Luna… what does it mean by ‘nuclear attack’?”

She sighed, “I do not know. But if the authors felt the need to mention it specifically, I fear it may be some sort of catastrophe. One of … singular calibre.”

Swift felt a lump of coal settle in her throat. ‘A catastrophe of singular calibre.’ Perhaps that’s what created the ruins, destroyed ‘Salt Lake City’. Her imagination weakly tried to sweep her up in a whirlwind of possibilities. But for all the horrible ‘what-ifs’ she could conjure, she had a sinking feeling that anything she imagined would pale in comparison to the reality.

Silence again settled on the pair, diluted only by the subtle, spine-chilling music, and vicious whispering from across the room.

Wait, whispering? What happened to-

Her question was answered prematurely as Lock pulled up a chair and collapsed into it with an exaggerated sigh. Glancing behind him, she saw his siblings still waist-deep in their argument, only now slinging their vitriol through whispers and hisses. Hilariously, they were still as physically animated as before, waving their arms about and occasionally grappling with each other. Swift couldn’t help but snicker behind her fist.

Lock chuckled, “Yeah they’re really something, aren’t they? It usually takes about five minutes of this before they realise how ridiculous they look and forget what they’re angry about.”

Luna, who could barely contain her own laughter, asked, “How are they able to do that seriously? Surely they must realize how silly they are?”

“Practice,” he answered, “I remember when we were foals, they were once able to sustain it for two hours. During a school play. While delivering their lines on queue.”

Swift blinked in awe, “Sweet Maker.”

“Yeah. To them, it’s almost a game; to see how long they can maintain the fight organically. It’s cathartic for them. Especially Stock.”

Swift cocked an eyebrow, “How so?”

Lock suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Well… we had something of a family emergency a few years ago. We all took it pretty hard, but Stock probably took it the hardest. Their fights help her work through stress, and it helps Barrel process his… darker impulses.”

It was an impressive dodge, she had to admit. She was tempted to press for more, but she would be a hypocrite if she pushed other ponies to talk about their painful histories. It was best to move on.

She cleared her throat and asked, “So, um… how’s your eye?”

Lock absently rubbed at the line of rope tied around his scalp. “Could be worse. The pain is going down, but we should probably get it looked at before infection sets in.”

Luna chimed in, “You seem awfully calm about this, Specialist.”

Lock shrugged, “It is what it is. I’ve still got the one eye left; that’s more than some ponies can claim.”

Swift and Luna exchanged looks. Even Swift could see that First’s death was affecting him more than he let on. But Luna subtly shook her head, ‘Let it go’, so she let it go

“Besides,” he continued, “I’m more worried about this motel.”

“Why is that?” Luna asked.

“I mean, it just doesn’t add up. I can understand why a hostel this far remote wouldn’t have regular staff, but why would it promise to provide service if there’s nopony around to provide it? I can’t sense anything that would indicate magical servants,” he asked Luna, “Can you?”

“Nay. Nor do I detect any signs of curses or hidden magical creatures. Besides, setting up automatic magical servants for a highway lodge, especially a lodge in the middle of nowhere, would be prohibitively impractical even in Equestria. And in a world with as unstable a thaumaturgic field as this one, it would be nigh-impossible.”

Lock did not look reassured, “Yeah, I get the logic behind that. I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s gonna jump out at us when we least expect-”

KA-THUNK.

“AIEEE!”

They scrambled to their feet. Luna nearly lost her balance as she stood before catching herself on the shelf. On the other side of the hostel, Barrel had jumped (literally jumped) into his sister’s arms. They were both staring at the Southeast corner of the room.

A section of the wall had retracted, revealing a small metal chamber hidden underneath a thin shell of faux-adobe. The interior lit up, and a-

Wait a minute, what is that?

It was a hodgepodge of metal bars and hinges, forming several bizarre pseudo-limbs which protruded out of a thick, chrome sphere that hovered inches off the ground. It inched forward, out of the hidden cubby, and unfolded into an alien machine. Three eye stalks faced outward around its body, taking in the entire room at once. Three arms(?) extended below it and curved upward, capped with unrecognizable devices and manipulators.

Everypony flinched as it rose up off the ground, eye stalks resting at just below Luna’s eye level. Nopony moved as it slowly floated to the door. Swift didn't even hear them breathe. It stopped at a small trail of sand that had pooled from the ponies’ boots. It stared at the refuse, shifted its arms clockwise before settling on a narrow nozzle.

The custodians all winced. Luna cautiously lit her horn, ignoring the pain that must have shot through her scalp. Swift was fairly certain she heard Barrel whimper.

The thing paid them no notice. Instead it turned on its vacuum cleaner and began cleaning the floor.

...

“...I’m sorry, what?” Stock choked.

The ponies waited for the other boot to drop. The thing quickly finished vacuuming around the entrance, and moved about the room gathering more sand from the corners and crevices. It worked fast, and after scant moments switched arms again and began fussing over the mussed bedsheets.

“Well.” Lock gulped, “...Mystery solved?” he chuckled nervously.

“Hey, sis?” Barrel chirped, “I know you’re a big, strong filly and all, but could you put me down? My back is starting to hurt.” Stock unceremoniously dropped him to the floor with a thud. “...Ow.” he squeaked.

“Your highness,” Swift asked, still keeping her voice down and movements steady, “Didn’t you say that setting up magical servants out here would be too difficult to be worth the effort?”

Luna had not relaxed like the others had. “Yes, I did. And it is true.”

Swift blinked. “Then, how…?” she trailed off, pointing to the metal orb which had taken to dusting off the shelves.

“I have no idea how, but that thing,” she pointed; her arms were shaking, “is not magical.”

Before she could ask Her to elaborate, the door burst open and a haggard, wheezing Night Sentinel stumbled into the shelter. “Hey everypony- huff- I- huff- Sistersthisplacesucks -huff- I swept the whole outside and -huff- took a look around from the roof. -huff- Nothing else but sand dunes and where did that golem come from?”

The 'golem' (Swift had never heard the term before, but it was a better label than 'thing') twisted in place to fix an eyestalk on Night. His ears folded back as it leered down at him, and he stuttered, “Um… hi?”

“Language Recognized: North American English.”

“What.”

It’s eyestalks suddenly unfroze and swiveled independently to face each cluster of ponies. “Hello. Sirs and Madams! How are you Enjoying our Facilities!”

“...”

“...”

“... what’s a golem?” Barrel asked from the floor.

The golem(?) took a moment to respond, “Golem: Translation Of Hebrew ‘גולם’. An Anthropomorphic Autonomous Entity, Fashioned From Inanimate Material And Animated Through Supernatural Mechanisms.”

Swift cocked her head curiously at the golem’s strange speech patterns. It felt artificial. Manufactured, as if somepony had taken a recording of somepony reading a dictionary aloud, chopped it into individual words, and strung them together in a sentence.

Luna took the initiative and stepped forward, “Greetings. I am Crown Princess Luna Tenebrōsa, Heir Apparent to the throne of Equestria.” She gestured to the other ponies, “These are my Noctis Custodes, my personal praetorian guard. Please, forgive us our impudence for entering unannounced.” Luna bowed her head deeply. Swift immediately followed suit; the others fell into line after a moment’s hesitation.

The golem took a moment to respond, “Hello. Luna. And Others! Do not Concern yourself with such Trivialities as. Making Reservations. Our Facilities are open to All Guests at All Hours of the Day!”

There it is again, Swift thought. She couldn’t even get angry about it failing to address Luna by her Royal Title. She suspected it was physically incapable.

Nevertheless, Luna continued without comment, “We have been cast astray from our home and set upon by monsters, and we require rest and shelter. We will be indebted to you if you would grant us quarter for our recovery.”

The golem took a moment to respond, “Do not Concern yourself with such Trivialities as. Payment. Our Facilities are open to All Guests at All Hours of the Day!”

This was getting beyond creepy. Swift exchanged quick looks with the other custodians; they all were similarly perturbed. If Luna felt the same way, she did an impeccable job of concealing it.

“Thank you, sir, for granting us shelter.” She bowed even deeper, but this time the custodians didn’t follow suit. “Forgive me this trespass, but what is your name? I am of the understanding that you forwent to introduce yourself.”

The golem took a moment to respond, “I do Not have a Name. I am Merely the Housekeeper. How are you Enjoying our Facilities!”

Luna began to show the first signs of discomfort. This was clearly not how She imagined this conversation to go. “Well- it is- ah…they-they are wonderful facilities,” She declared, trying to bring back the pomp and ceremony she began with, “I have never enjoyed lodgings as quaint and comfortable in all my centuries of life! Truly, your lodge is without peer or equal.”

The Housekeeper took a moment to respond, “This Facility is one of twenty-nine Facilities located across Major Highways throughout the Nevada-Utah Confederacy.”

This time Luna was visibly thrown. “Oh! Oh. I- ah, um… I see?”

The Housekeeper took a moment to respond, “Breakfast will be Served in. One Hour. Two Minutes. And Thirty Six Seconds. If you Desire a specific Dish or Food item, Please write it On the Provided menu. If any Of you Cannot read, I will happily Dictate for you. Enjoy Your St-” It froze mid-sentence. Its arms fell limp and hung to the ground. It hovered in place, but made no movements or reactions.

“Um,” Lock stammered, “What just happened?”

“Remote Access Code Accepted. Decrypting Message.”

“Rrrremote access code?” Barrel drew out, “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

She saw Night slowly inch his way to the wall where their spears were propped up. Swift found herself unconsciously moving to shield Luna with her body. Before anypony could take action, the Housekeeper sprung back to life.

“Congratulations! You Have been Granted Level One Clearance Throughout the Hostel!”

Swift blinked, “Granted what now?”

“With these permissions, you now have Access to our Extended Facilities! Please Descend the Staircase to Enjoy your New accomodations!”

“Wait a minute, what stairca-YIPE!!” Stock yelped as she instinctively jumped forward, tripping over her brother and slamming onto a bed, snapping the frame in two. The floor had unfolded under her feet, revealing aforementioned staircase. It was harsh and angular. Made out of metal, as were the walls underneath the hidden entrance.

“I will replace That. Please Enjoy your New accommodations below.”

Stock moaned in pain as the Housekeeper began absently picking up the shards of wood scattered around her body. Swift turned to the Princess, “Your highness, what do we do now?”

“I vote to leave the room with the creepy null-magic golem.” Night announced, already shoveling their weapons and gear into his arms.

“Seconded!” Barrel shouted from the floor.

Finally, something inside of Swift snapped. “ALRIGHT, I have HAD it with you and your Horseapples!” she jabbed a finger at Night, “This is not a republic! She is your Princess, and you will show her the respect she-!”

“ENOUGH.” Luna bellowed. Everypony winced; the Royal Canterlot Voice was not pleasant to experience at point-blank range. “We will descend and see what awaits us below. Gather your things.” Without another word, she strode down the stairs, leaving the custodians to awkwardly gather their equipment and follow her.

Night Sentinel awkwardly offered her her satchel as he passed. She took it without acknowledging him. Mortified didn’t approach how she felt right then. To be silenced directly by the Princess was horrid, but to be silenced by Her while she was defending Her from that impudent jerk made her want to fall into the Abyss.

She didn’t meet anypony else’s eyes as she trudged downstairs. As the floor closed behind her, she heard the Housekeeper call out; “We hope You enjoy The rest of your Stay at the Salt Lake City Long 15 hostel. Have a Good day!”

And then the floor shut with a dull clang, sealing the uncanny automaton out of sight, but not out of mind.

The subterranean corridor was a stark clash from the cozy, desert-decor of the ground-level shelter. Monotony was the central theme here. Metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floors; the only non-metallic surface to be seen were the glass floodlights dotting the walls and the rubber, perforated mat that marked the walkway. It was an impassive, clinical feeling, like standing in an alien spacecraft. Or a morgue. Celestia knew Swift had been in too many of those.

The ceiling was just a little bit too high. So were the handrails. It was becoming too obvious to ignore: the native creatures here were much taller than the average pony.

The others were talking at the bottom of the staircase. Swift trotted down to listen.

“Why would somepony bother to make their underground lair out of iron when stone would work just as well?” Night Sentinel asked.

“It’s steel, actually,” Lock-and-Key caressed the wall, his horn gently lighting up as his hand slid across the material. “Steel’s easier to manufacture and shape than wrought iron. There's some other metals I don't recognize too."

Luna was silent. She regarded the hallway with the same impassive eye that it gave her. "This place is designed to unsettle. I recognize the signs of manufactured terror, and this place was conceived by a master of harnessing the insidious fear that lurks within the imaginations of ponies.

"Do not let this place sink its hooks into your mind. It will nurture your unease into panic and paranoia if allowed."

Night was visibly skeptical. He held his tongue, but Swift could tell he thought the Princess was being paranoid. She held her tongue as well.

“Hey guys!” Stock-and-Key shouted from down the hall, “Come take a look at this!” She was standing on her tip-toes, peeking through the window on a tall steel door. “Anypony got a light? I can’t see squat in there.”

Swift read the sign at the door:

Employee Use Only

“I’m not sure we should be messing around this,” she cautioned, “We really don’t want to get into trouble with whatever runs this-”

Night leapfrogged up onto Stock’s shoulders without warning. She squawked, “GYAA! WHA-What the Hay are you doing??”

“Hold still,” he said, nonchalantly peering through the window, “You’re blocking the light.”

“Get Off Me, you little rodent!” She reeled back, and Night gracefully dismounted her and fluttered to his feet. Stock fell flat on her rump with a clatter of metal on metal.

“Storage room.” he explained, “Bunch’a chests, lockers, and somesuch. Might hold something valuable inside if it's cordoned off like that.”

“Or something dangerous,” Lock added.

After a brief pause for Barrel to convince his sister not to throttle the insufferable thestral, they kept marching. They arrived at a shallow staircase, followed by tall, steel double doors at the far end of the hall. Tinted windows hid the chamber beyond.

Luna took a deep breath. Released it. She grabbed the handles, twisted them and threw them open.

And for the third time that night, all six of them were stunned silent.

If the ground level lodgings were the image of modest comfort, then the level one facilities were downright opulent. The door opened into a small foyer, with potted ferns flanking a wall-mounted floor map. Light hardwood coated the floor, under a bright red carpet that snaked out from under three doors on each wall.

The new music was soothing without being unsettling. She was reminded of the smoking room her father sometimes took her to in the Cloudsdale Veterans Club, where he would share war stories with other grizzled guardsponies inWe can talk more after y’all’ve had a good sleep.between cigars and shots of espresso.

Speaking of which, to their immediate right was a table short enough for the custodians to comfortably use. It hosted a coffee machine, full and hot, and a stack of pamphlets. Swift took one as she dumbly walked into the foyer.

“We, uh…” Luna muttered, “... I must confess, this is not what I anticipated.”

Everypony ambled in the foyer for about five minutes, neither of them quite brave enough to chance any of the three doors leading further inside. Swift Wind scanned the pamphlet for useful information, and found little of any immediate use. Barrel-and-Key poured himself a cup of coffee, ignoring Swift’s cautions to be wary of harmful substances within. He drank it black, to her surprise. He hadn’t seemed the type.

Lock was giving the pamphlet a less practical read-through. In sharp contrast with his normally subdued demeanor, he got very excited as he read aloud that the hostel hosted a movie theater. A rather large one, from the map, with regular screenings of ‘old world movies and holotapes’. Stock was examining the woodwork on the table and floors. She seemed to be impressed.

Princess Luna was rooted to Her position in the hallway. She stared out into the distance, focusing on nothing. Swift thought She might have been meditating, or at least was lost in thought, so she didn’t disturb Her.

Night Sentinel was peeking through the doors, looking around at the rooms within. As he hung on the rightmost door, peering through the window, he shouted, “Heads up, ponies! Another golem’s comin’ this way.”

This broke Luna out of her stupor. She strode to the door as Night dismounted, and opened it to another golem. It was identical to the one above.

“Hello. Sirs and Madams! Welcome to The Level One suites and Facilities! I Am The Bellhop. Please allow me To escort you to Your Quarters. You are of course Free to roam the Grounds to the extent Of your Clearance.”

It turned around (Could it turn around? It had eyes facing every direction.) and floated back the way it came. Luna began to say something, but stopped short. She followed the Bellhop, and the custodians followed Her. They passed a lounge, with red couches and reclining chairs circled around a strange device with a glass panel on the front. They passed the entrance to the movie theater, with a small concession stand manned by another golem. It was identical to the others. Finally they arrived at a typical, if luxurious, hotel hallway.

“Feel free to Choose Any room you Like. Have a good Morning!”

The triplets took a room together. Another bed had to be moved in for them. Night didn't offer to share his room with Swift; she would have declined if he had. She didn't ask to share his room either; she thought he would have refused if he had. She asked Luna to share her room, and she agreed.

As she entered the room, it suddenly occurred to her how exhausted she was. She had been awake for at least twenty four hours; constant adrenaline and sheer will to remain vigilant distracted her from her fatigue. Until now.

But Luna was awake. And her duty was to protect the Princess. So she didn't collapse on the bed and fall asleep, no matter how much she wanted to.

Luna gently sat on the foot of her bed. Staring at nothing. Swift noticed, finally, just how tired She looked. Baggy eyes, matted fur, drooping ears. She looked a lot like-

Like us.

Swift couldn't squash the thought before it took hold. She looked just as weary and haggard as everypony else.

Swift kept looking at Her until her heart could no longer bear it. She needed a distraction, quickly. Her eyes swept across the room and glued onto a metallic box sitting on top of their dressers. Curious, she gingerly picked up and turned over in her hand. The front of the box was white and the rest was a wooden brown, though it definitely was not made of wood. Two wires protruded out the back, and the front held some kind of needle-ish thing next to the words Radiation King in bold print. Several knobs and dials sat under the needle.

Swift glanced back at Luna. Still sitting in a daze. She swallowed and turned a knob experimentally. It clicked and more music flowed out of the machine. Satisfied that it wasn’t going to explode, or come alive and attack them, or shoot out sonic blasts that would make their head explode, or-

CRACK

Satisfied that it wasn’t dangerous, Swift sighed and sat down. The music was slow, but not sad or mopey. More like it was lounging; unconcerned with making a point or arriving anywhere, content to recline and plod along pleasantly. Eventually the song ended, and a chipper, masculine voice piped up:

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, you’re listening to Oasis Radio! Your time is 5:46 AM, your date is October 23rd, 2286, and your host is Mr. New Vegas! Bringing you old hits and new news from Bakersfield to the Great Salt Lake.

“For those Early Birds and Night Owls just tuning in, tonight is Slow Jazz Saturday, keeping you company during these cold, cold, Autumn nights. Before we get back into the smoothest of tunes available this side of the Rocky Mountains, it’s time for breaking news:

“This just in from fabulous New Vegas: reports from the Nevada Confederate Union Civil Sector indicate that radiation scrubbing teams have been scaling back deployment across the Mojave, with most teams now consisting of rad-tracking robots and a few token scrubbing teams. This would indicate that their job in the Mojave is mostly finished, though the capital has provided no official statements on the subject.

“Additional sources report that the majority of personnel involved in these projects over the past year were members of the Confederacy’s mutant population, including several super mutants from the mountain village of Jacobstown. When approached, one super mutant spoke to our reporters:”

A new voice interjected, rough and growly, “Boss says that helping remove radiation ‘will help strengthen the bonds between mutant and man.’ Not sure what that means, but if it means that humans will shoot us less, then I'm happy.”

Just as quick as he had left, the host returned, “The preceding news segment has been brought to you by Cassidy Caravans. Cassidy Caravans: All sponsors get free whiskey with every delivery.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s been a slow night here at Oasis Radio, so we’re gonna keep those slow tunes coming ‘till sunrise, starting with ‘Danny’s Dream’. Keep dreamin’, folks.”

The new song was more purposeful than previous. It still wasn’t sad, but was a more melancholy melody. Swift glanced at the Princess. She had not moved. Swift thought back to the words of the stallion in the box, ‘Mr. New Vegas’. Very little of what he had said made sense to her. Come to think of it, very little of anything that had happened in the past nine hours made sense to her. It still felt like just a moment ago they were onstage in Salt Lick City, about to make history. She supposed they had still made history, just not in the way they anticipated.

“Swift Wind?” She’s awake. Swift whirled around at Her voice. Luna was still rooted to her seat on the bed, and stared into her eyes with intense desperation. “I- … Have I been a good leader to you?”

What? “Your Highness, I’m not sure I understand-”

“Have I led you adequately? Have I conducted Myself and my Subjects to a standard more Altitudinous and Baronial than the Highest Courts of the Heavens?”

She’s quoting the Magna Colta. Something isn’t right. “Your Highness, is something wrong?” The instant the words escaped her lips, she saw a single, glistering tear slide down Luna’s perfect face. “A-are you… ?”

The floodgates burst open. It was not dignified, regal, or calm. Princess Luna cried like…

… Swift Wind could find no comparison. She had never seen anypony weep like the Princess was weeping in front of her. Not even she had wept this hard, not during her darkest and deepest despondencies. Before she knew it she was sitting by Her side, a hand delicately placed on Her knee.

She was incoherent for a long time. Swift could only catch bits and pieces. Scattered regrets and lamentations, spanning millennia of life. Finally She calmed down enough for Swift to understand. “Everypony in Equestria fears me,” She said. “The only pony to ever love me was my Sister, and I pushed her away for the sake of this fool’s gambit,” She said. “The first time in a thousand years I ever found ponies I could truly trust, and I led them into a den of monsters,” She said. “I should have been the one to die in that city,” She said. She said other things. Similar things. Everything she said shook Swift Wind to her core.

Swift finally gathered her wits to swoop in, armed to the teeth with denial. “Not everypony in Equestria fears You,” she said. “Think about how the crowds cheered when You stood on that stage,” she said. “So many of Your subjects love You, Luna,” she said. “I love You,” she didn’t say, didn’t even think outside of an infinitesimal, viciously smothered part of her mind.

Luna did not stop crying, or shuddering, or wheezing. But She cried softer, breathed smoother. She thanked Swift for her kind words. She said She appreciated the sentiment, but that Swift’s words were ultimately hollow. Swift could not understand her plight, or her sorrows, She said. Swift responded, “Even if I can’t understand, I’ll always be here to listen.”

Luna finally smiled. “Thank you Swift,” She whispered, “You are a good friend.” She wanted to say more, struggled to put it into the proper words. After several false starts, She gave up and embraced her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

Luna showed no signs of discomfort despite Swift still being fully armored. Their muzzles were inches away from each other. Swift Wind’s face felt on fire.

Alicorns aren’t supposed to do this, she thought, They aren’t supposed to weep or bawl, they aren’t supposed to self-flagellate, and they certainly aren’t supposed to embrace their subjects, mere mortals before their divine radiance, like young newlyweds on honeymoon. The idea of her and Luna being newlyweds together was immediately shoved back into the infinitesimal, viciously smothered part of her mind it had escaped from. She still wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hug Luna back or not. Now was not the time for such troublesome (not to mention blasphemous) impulses to rear their grotesque heads.

And yet, despite this, Swift Wind found her muzzle creeping towards Luna’s. Luna didn’t see it; Her eyes were closed. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t proper. And yet her head moved of its own accord, close enough now to feel Her breath on her muzzle, close enough for their lips to almost-

*Knock Knock Knock*

Swift snapped back in control of her body, and somehow restrained herself from recoiling into a fighting stance. She retrieved her head, still unsure whether she was thankful for the intrusion or not, and turned it to look at the intruder.

It was a tall, pale creature, furless except for the top of his head and eyebrows, wearing a long brown vest and carrying an unconscious First Response on a stretcher made of light. “Hey, y’all,” he drawled in an almost offensively thick Appleoosan accent, “Just lett’n y’all know, Imma leave this here lil’ unicorn in the infirmary so the docs can give ‘er a once-over. Y’alls can visit her if you’s want’n to.” Swift nodded and waved him off, and he disappeared down the hall.

Looking back at Luna, Swift realised just how beautiful She was, even now in such a disheveled state. Her’s was a face she could stare at for hours, basking in the glow of her perfect–

…

…

wait a minute.

Luna’s eyes popped open. Literally, audibly popped open. There was a flash of movement and a hard impact to Swift’s chestplate. The next thing she knew she was partially embedded in the wall, and Luna was sprinting down the hall after the creature, screaming “WAIT!!” at the top of her lungs. She probably hadn’t even noticed shoving Swift aside.

Splinters of wood rained onto the carpet as Swift dislodged herself from the wall. Her cuirass was dented uncomfortably—she tore it off as she ran out the door into the hall. A flash of Luna’s ever-undulating tail whipped around the corner at the far end of the hall. Lock-and-Key poked his head out, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Wha- what’s going on?” he groaned, wiping his muzzle with a sleeve.

“First Response’s alive!” she replied as she ran after the Princess, “Something found her and brought her!” She didn’t stop to indulge the confused shouts for clarity behind her. Night Sentinel burst out of his room as she passed it, fully decked and armed. She shouted, “First Response-”

“I heard,” he interrupted, “and I am suspicious.” Swift could relate. They barged through the door at the end of the hall to find themselves in another metal hallway, perpendicular to the residential hall. A directory opposite the door bore directions:

<----- MUSEUM

<-----GARDEN

GYMNASIUM----->

INFIRMARY----->

They turned right. One of the two doors had a large red plus sign hanging from the ceiling. I guess some symbols are omniversal, Swift thought. Night threw the door open and rushed in. Swift squeezed in after him.

The infirmary was the first room in the hostel so far that hadn’t been surprising to look at. Every surface was white or light blue, beds lined the walls separated by thin curtains. Luna stood behind a row of hanging plastic dividers, motionless. Swift pushed past Night Sentinel and ran through the threshold.

First Response was lying on a gurney against the wall. She didn’t move, and she hardly breathed. A compact metal cube with a glass screen was attached to the gurney. It displayed lines and numbers that Swift could make no sense of.

Luna was crying again. Different tears, this time. She tenderly approached First’s side and hovered over her body. The triplets burst in behind them, shouting and stumbling over each other. They stopped inside the nook, and one of them gasped.

“Is… is she...?” Barrel-and-Key whispered.

“She’s alive,” said Luna, “Sweet Mother above, she’s alive.”

“What happened?” Stock pondered, “How did she get here?”

“That’d be me that done it.”

Everypony yelped and recoiled from the voice. The tall creature Swift had seen carrying First Response was casually leaning against the wall right next to Swift’s gurney. He hadn’t been there a moment ago. She was certain that nopony saw him there. It was as if he had just… appeared in front of them.

Under his long brown vest, he wore a thick black jumper and cargo pants. He was sipping from an orange bottle, as if everything was perfectly normal. “Howdy there. Name’s Sam. I found’er and drove’er over when I heard y’alls were stayin ‘ere. Gave’er a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ to put ‘er to sleep before we get ‘ere.”

Sudden movement in the corner of her eye tore Swift’s attention away. First Response was stirring. When she looked back, Sam was gone.

“WHA- Who- How the Hay? WHAT?!?” Night Sentinel stammered as he frantically searched the room for Sam. He had simply vanished.

“She’s gonna be in a bad way when she finishes wake’n up,” Sam drawled from across the room, halfway out the door to the hallway, “We can talk more after y’all’ve had a good sleep. Right now, y’all should be there when she comes out’a it. Ain’t nothin’ worse than comin’ to in a strange place, without no one y’know in sight.” With a brief wave, he stepped out of sight in one fluid motion.

“HEY, WAIT!” Swift shouted, blowing past the other custodians, the plastic curtains, and the door. “YOU CAN’T JUST-”

The hallway was empty. All her accusations and demands hung impotently off her teeth, dissipating into confusion and shock after being robbed of a target.

Night Sentinel was behind her. She shook her head, and Night understood immediately. He was visibly shell-shocked by the creature’s, Sam’s, disappearing act. Even his ears can’t detect him moving around, Swift thought, What sort of creature have we stumbled into?

Back in the infirmary, Luna was bent over First’s body. The unicorn was thrashing violently, her left arm flailing about while her other appendages sluggishly trembled in place. Luna placed her horn to First’s forehead and sent a pulse of magic into her head, soothing her panic and sending her into a deep sleep. “I will stay here to ensure that Lieutenant Response recovers peacefully. You all should get some sleep while you can.”

“Wait Wait Wait a minute. Hold up.” Stock-and-Key yawped, “Is nopony going to acknowledge what just happened?”

“Sis, I love you,” Barrel groaned, “but I am completely tapped out after tonight. Nopony has the energy to examine the existence of alien life, its implications, or the possible explanations for its weird, mystical powers. I just wanna go to bed and sleep for the next twelve hours, at least.”

Swift was appalled. “Barrel!” she shouted, “You have a duty to consider at all times! You cannot just abandon your vigil because you’re tired or-”

Lock interrupted, “The thestral left as soon as the Princess said ‘sleep’.”

Night Sentinel was indeed gone. That damned rodent. I swear, one day I’ll just destroy him. Swift tried to continue, but the triplets were already trudging out of the room. Soon it was only her, Luna, and First Response.

“Please, Swift.” Luna said, “I will be fine. Go get some rest.”

Swift objected, “But, your Highness-”

“Go.” Luna interrupted, “Don’t make me make that an order.”

Swift slumped in defeat and trudged out of the room. White noise filled her head as she returned to her quarters. Her thoughts were jumbled up and twisted around each other, and she was too tired to even begin to make sense of them. She opened the door, hesitated for a long time, and then crawled into Luna’s bed.

In the morning, she would tell herself that she was too tired to notice. That she had stumbled into the Princess’s bed by accident. If she was lucky, the others would believe it. If she was very lucky, she would believe it herself. They would all laugh it off—it was just a silly mixup, after all. She would endure a few jokes at her expense, but that would be the end of it. But for now, for tonight, Swift Wind wrapped herself in her Princess’s scent, and rocked herself into a deep sleep.

For the first time in months, she had no nightmares. For the first time in months, she slept peacefully.