An Earthling Earth Pony at Celestia's School of Magic: Year One

"What in Celestia's name...?" Inkwell gasped as we returned to the auditorium. "Lunar Light! What were you doing out there? When did you even slip out of here?"

"When they didn't return with you, I slipped out the door. Nobody ever notices me," Lunar replied.

Summer ran in front of Inkwell to face us. "Where's my mom?!"

"Fighting plundervines," I answered. "They got in the hall, and they nearly got us."

Summer's dad instantly started running for the door, as did Summer, but Inkwell lit her horn and grabbed Summer, lifting her into the air before she could make it very far.

Summer erupted in flame. "Let me go! I need to help my mom!"

"Calm yourself," Inkwell instructed. "Your father can go help her, but you do neither of them any favors making them worry about you. Calm down, or I'll use a fire extinguisher on you."

Summer's flame didn't extinguish, but her tone became more pleading as her dad left out the door. "But I can help!"

"You wish to help?" Inkwell asked. "I seem to recall your mother telling me proudly that you have basic first aid training. There are supplies just behind the curtain of the stage. Your friends and Stockman look like they have some cuts and bruises. Plundervines aren't poisonous, but open wounds still need to be cleaned and bandaged."

Summer's dad stuck his head back in through the door. "Spring's alright! We're going to stand guard out here in case any more of those vines show up. They seem to be afraid of our fire."

Inkwell nodded. "Understood. Just do your best not to cause too much fire damage to the school."

Summer's dad looked directly at her. "Your mother and I can deal with some plants. You be good for your professor."

Summer's flames died out, and she hung her head, pouting. "Fine. Please, stay safe."

"Love you, baby filly," Summer's dad said and retreated back.

A quick gush of flame came off Summer's back. "I'm not a baby," she muttered.

Inkwell released Summer and put her down. Summer went to go search for the first aid kit.

Inkwell then turned her attention to Lunar.

"You, young colt, are to serve detention with me for a week once the new term begins," she said sternly.

"A week?!" Lunar protested.

"I assume you don't need me to explain why. Would you prefer a month?" Inkwell asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I helped save them! That's not fair!" Lunar protested even louder.

She shook her head. "That may be true, but you still violated safety procedures and instructions. We must accept consequences whenever we violate such things, even when violating the rules is the right call. If there were no consequences, there would be chaos. You should always weigh the consequences of your actions in your decision making. You seem to have made the right choice in this situation, but there are still consequences. The consequences of you not having broken the rules may have been worse than you serving detention. If it makes you feel better, I will be submitting myself for discipline after this entire affair is over. I have made several errors in judgment and I have broken at least two rules. The rule-breaking I feel was justified, but I still must accept the consequences of that. I wish I could justify my errors in judgment—even if no rule was broken in their case, they deserve the far harsher judgment."

Lunar lowered his head. "Fine, but I wish you would at least give me a little praise for helping out."

"You did do the right thing, but don't seek praise for doing the right thing. Do the right thing because it is right. Expecting rewards, even praise, for your actions makes your morality mercenary," Inkwell replied. She then smiled. "Don't worry, my detentions aren't so bad. Be happy it isn't Professor Newman or Professor Neighsay giving you detention. Those are miserable. Maybe we can find a fun, yet productive, way of having you serve your time. How do you feel about gardening?"

Lunar gaped. "Eh? Is that the best thing to suggest right now?"

"Perhaps not," Inkwell agreed.

Inkwell straightened up and addressed the room. "This room should be secure since it has no windows. I'm going to briefly step out and check with Professor Dawn to see how the defense is going. The plundervines are going to try to wrap this building up and will likely try to penetrate all the windows, grabbing whatever they can, but that should be the extent of the assault. We aren't the main target."

"You're just going to leave us alone in here?" one of the parents asked in disbelief.

Inkwell met his gaze steadily. "Tenor Voice is here, ready to defend you. The rest of the students here might be less trained, but most of them have at least some training, save for Turnip, and they've got strength in numbers. This is also the most secure room in the school. If this room is breached, that means our defense has fallen." She paused, her expression softening. "I need to go see to them. I'm sorry. I wish Headmaster was here, or Professor Newman, or Neighsay, or even Sweetie Belle. As you can guess, I'm not an experienced crisis leader. I'm used to just relaying the leaders' orders. Me, along with Professor Dawn, are going to do our best despite that. We won't let anything happen to you."

"You aren't very good at reassuring people, you know that?" Hannah's dad said with a hint of amusement.

Inkwell shrugged, a small smile playing at her lips. "I apologize for that. I wish I were better at it. All I can offer are my assurances. Do I seem particularly worried about our situation? It is because I know we'll get through this safely, even if the building sustains some damage. I've seen nearly eighty years of disasters and invasions. This is a rather minor one."

Inkwell was nearly eighty? Well... she looked good for eighty. She had some grey streaks, but I would have thought her sixty at most. Then again, I had heard that Luster Dawn was the only professor under forty years old—well, besides Headmaster. Sweetie Belle, who was considered young by faculty standards, had mentioned once that she had briefly instructed Luster Dawn when Luster was a filly. It was odd. They said over and over that they wanted to change things and innovate, but they had all these old professors.

The main door suddenly opened, and Professor Newman stepped in.

"Charlotte!" Inkwell cried out, her voice carrying a mix of relief and joy.

Newman nodded as she quickly surveyed the auditorium, her sharp eyes assessing everyone present. "Raven, good to see you well. Is this all the younger students?" Her gaze fell on Stockman's prone form and she immediately started walking towards him. "Is he hurt?"

"He's just asleep," Inkwell explained, her words coming out in a rush. "He said he was going to take off after you, and I couldn't let him put himself in that kind of danger so I... well... you know..." She trailed off, stammering slightly.

Newman knelt beside Stockman, her movement surprisingly gentle as she touched her hand to his face, brushing it softly. "Headstrong colt, what am I going to do with you?" she whispered. Looking up at Inkwell, she added more firmly, "Thank you. His protective streak doesn't pop up that often, but when it does, you'd think he didn't have a brain in his head.”

"Who are you?" one of the second-years' parents asked. Their colt immediately started whispering the answer, causing their eyebrows to shoot up in shock. "You're Professor Newman?! You're human!"

Newman stood up, her posture straight and commanding. "I see everyone here still has basic observational skills. Let's not waste time on such negligible details." Her tone shifted to one of strategic assessment. "On my way here, I noticed several broken windows in the building. I've instructed Professor Dawn to make some adjustments in her defensive strategy. We shouldn't have to worry about any further breaches."

Her voice remained analytical as she continued, "Princess Twilight is making her way here with her friends via hot air balloon, and although I couldn't get close, I spotted a large magical thaumic center within the mass of vines entering the city. I presume that is the Heart of the Forest. Given that Princess Twilight is also heading this way, I assume she has realized who she needs to deal with. That is good—things are progressing well, and this should hopefully be resolved soon. We just have to wait it out."

Inkwell's face brightened with a relieved smile. "That's good to hear. I was so worried when I heard you had taken off. Stockman seemed to think you were going to try to take care of things on your own."

"What a moronic idea," Newman replied curtly. "I have no authority to treat with that entity on behalf of Equestria, and trying to combat it directly could only end in disaster. I was simply trying to better assess the situation. Something I couldn't do from within the castle." Her attention suddenly shifted as she noticed my injury. "Mister Jones, why is your face bleeding?”

Summer came running over, first aid kit levitating alongside her. "He got injured by a plundervine. I'm going to bandage it!"

Newman gave a curt nod. "I see. Do try to be careful." Her gaze shifted to Summer. "Where are your parents, Miss Blaze?"

"In the hall, guarding against more plundervines getting in," Summer explained.

"That will no longer be necessary," Newman stated decisively. She turned to address the kitchen staff. "Go fetch the adult kirin. Have them escort you to the cafeteria to gather food and beverages—focus more on the beverages. I hope this is over quickly, but if it isn't, we need to eat and drink. We can't have anyone getting dehydrated." Her attention snapped back to Summer, who hadn't moved. "Miss Blaze, I believe you told me you were going to attend to Mister Jones's injury, but you're standing there like an idiot. That is not decisive action. Get on with your task."

Summer immediately began pulling bandages and disinfectant from the first aid kit. I winced as she started cleaning the cuts along my muzzle—the disinfectant stung, but her hooves were surprisingly gentle as she worked.

"What do you want me to do?" Inkwell asked over the sound of Summer muttering quiet apologies each time I flinched.

Newman pointed at Stockman's sleeping form. "Wake my would-be protector up. I need a flying pony, and he's who we have." She turned to address another pair of parents, while Summer carefully began applying the bandages. "Mister and Mrs. Moonbow, if the need arises, would you be able to quickly disassemble significant parts of the auditorium seating?"

Hannah's dad blinked and looked at the seats thoughtfully. "I suppose that wouldn't be too hard. The connecting joints look to be fairly—"

Newman cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I'm not interested in the details, just your affirmation.”

"Hey! I don't see why we should be taking orders from a human!" the parent exclaimed, clearly shocked to discover the Professor Newman he'd heard about wasn't a pony.

Newman turned to face him, her stance shifting subtly but meaningfully. "Gilt Leaf, father of Vintant Leaf—a misnamed colt if I ever heard of one. You run a business that does custom embossing work for buildings and furniture—a rather specific niche, but one that works well enough in Equestria where everyone wants to put their mark on everything. While you have some success at business, you choose your subordinates poorly, as evidenced by the fact your head accountant has been skimming money off your books for years without your notice."

The parent gaped in shock. "He what? How would you—"

She held up her hand, cutting him off. "I am not finished. As I was saying, this oversight and your speciest views suggest a very narrow mind incapable of fully accounting for most possibilities. While your son shares your regrettable views about non-ponies, I find that, unlike you, he understands that he doesn't have to like the person giving him good advice in order to listen to it, and just because someone is more likable to him doesn't mean they have his best interests at heart. When he eventually inherits your family business he will turn it into a much more profitable enterprise because of this. Your son is much smarter than you, and when I say jump, your son jumps, no matter how much he may grumble about having to listen to a 'dirty human,' because he has the wisdom at the end of the day to know that I'm operating on an entirely different level than he is capable of, and he isn't going to screw himself over by letting his prejudices get in the way of his own self-interest. Follow your son's lead. He's smarter than you'll ever be." Her voice took on an even sharper edge. "Oh... and take time to review those accounting books yourself when this is over and see how much your drinking buddy has been taking from your pockets as he laughs loudly when you joke about dumb humans."

Wow... how did Newman ever make any friends?

The stallion's wife patted him on the back, her expression a mix of concern and embarrassment. "Let's just let the human do what she wants, dear... and we'll look into what she accused after we get home."

Inkwell, who was now standing over Stockman with her horn lit, gave Newman a frown. "That could have been a little more gentle. You have enough enemies as it is without making more."

"There's a time and place for gentle," Newman replied as she continued to assess the situation, her eyes never stopping their constant scan of the room. "Let me know when he's awake. Mister Road, when the kitchen staff returns, please assist them in setting up a station.”

"He's waking up," Inkwell informed her as her horn dimmed.

"Good. Méng, can you hear me? I have a job for you," Newman said.

Stockman sat up a little too quickly for someone who had just woken up. "Méng? Who's Méng?"

"I told you before, I'm not calling you by the name of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle character. You have no need for an alias anyway—especially since you all but broadcast your identity," Newman said firmly.

"She's in a bit of a mood," Inkwell informed him quietly.

"I picked up on that," Stockman replied dryly. He then sighed, his expression softening. "At least she's alright." His eyes suddenly widened. "Wait... was I asleep? What happened?"

"Méng!" Newman snapped.

He turned to look at her, wincing slightly. "What?! I just woke up and my head hurts!"

"I'm sorry, but I have an urgent task that needs to be done and you are the only one who can do it," Newman replied, her tone softening slightly.

"Um... I don't have any of my equipment with me right now, so I'm not sure what I can help with," Stockman replied.

"I need you to fly to Twilight Sparkle's balloon and give her a message. You're the only pony with wings here," Newman informed him.

Stockman groaned. "But it's cold!"

"Méng!" Newman snapped.

Stockman stood up, his wings rustling with irritation. "Fine. Fine. What's the message?"

"The Heart of the Forest is at the southwestern market square," Newman answered.

He nodded. "Easy enough. Let me just go find a good window. I'm not going to try to take off from the ground with all those vines out there." He started walking to the side door, muttering things in English that were very inappropriate to be saying around foals.

Inkwell gave Newman a disapproving look. "You could have been nicer to him. He was really worried about you. You scared him by running off the way you did."

Newman briefly paused. "I'll make it up to him later. He understands that I need things done immediately during a crisis without all the backtalk."

"The name thing was completely out of line," Inkwell persisted.

Newman grunted. "I think it was a ridiculous choice of alias. Baxter Stockman, really?! Anyone over a certain age from Earth would see through that in one second—not that it mattered with him yapping about who his sister is. Still, I'll do something to make that up to him all the same.”

Inkwell surveyed the room with practiced eyes. "I'll try to ease some of the tension and raise some morale. Your methodology may give ponies confidence that someone competent is in charge, but that's as far as it manages the fear. These ponies are afraid."

Newman's expression softened fractionally. "As you wish. Find some minor tasks to keep the others occupied. I've already delegated most essential things, and most of these ponies are no good in a fight. I may steal the third-year away later to help with rotations, but I'm hoping things don't drag on that long." Her voice sharpened. "Oh! Have someone keep an eye on Lunar Light. That colt will wander off as soon as you take your eyes off him."

"He's already pulled it once," Inkwell assured her. "I won't let it happen again." She hesitated before adding, "Do you wish to consider Summer Blaze for rotation? I know she is only first-year, but a kirin might be useful."

Newman's response was immediate and firm. "Unlike her parents, she is far too uncontrolled with her powers. I don't want to have to deal with the school catching on fire in addition to everything else."

Summer's shoulders slumped as she listened, her ears drooping slightly.

Inkwell crossed the room to pat Summer's back encouragingly, then moved to Lunar, bending down to whisper something in his ear. The two of them walked away together, already deep in conversation.

Newman strode purposefully toward the fourth-year standing at the door. "Come with me. You need to relieve whoever is the most tired out of the other students in your class. Professor Dawn may not understand that you may not have the same thaumic reserves she has. We need to start a rotation system until this is finished."

As Newman departed, Hannah sidled up next to me, her eyes bright with recognition. "I knew that name seemed familiar! I knew it!"

Summer looked between us, confusion clear on her face. "I don't understand."

"Me neither," Bright added, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"I may have heard it once," I admitted, trying to remember. "I never really watched that cartoon."

Summer's confusion deepened, her head tilting. "What's a cartoon?"

The question caught me off guard. "You guys don't have cartoons?"

"Think my aunts mentioned 'em once," Bright offered, pawing at the ground thoughtfully. "Never seen one. Think they have 'em in Manehattan. Never been there."

Hannah's face lit up. "When we go visit the other schools, I'll make sure to show you two all the Looney Tunes cartoons. You have to watch Bugs Bunny!"

"Oh..." Summer's brow furrowed. "Is he friends with... what she say... the teen turtles?"

"No, no," Hannah laughed. "Looney Tunes are comedy and Turtles are superheroes, like Power Ponies." She turned to me, eyebrows raised. "You never watched Ninja Turtles?"

"Not a lot of people in my town had televisions," I explained with a shrug.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "No TV?! You are really pushing that stereotype that Kansas is boring."

"Well... it is," I defended, then added quickly, "and I said not many people had TVs, not no one. I'm pretty sure I saw that cartoon at least once." I glanced toward the door Stockman had left through. "So... do we call him Stockman or do we call him Méng?"

Inkwell materialized beside us, her expression stern. "You respect him and call him Stockman. Professor Newman really shouldn't have done that. I agree he could have chosen a better alias, and he isn't making much effort to protect his identity, but that is how he has asked to be identified."

Something in her tone made me press further. "His name sounds Chinese. Is he one of the ponies those Chinese ponies want?"

Inkwell's frown deepened. "Let's not discuss that, and let's keep discussion of his name in general to a minimum."

"Ya know Turnip is just goin' ta dig fer information somewhere else if ya don't say anythin' ta him now," Bright pointed out, earning a knowing look from Inkwell.

She sighed heavily, glancing around the room before speaking in a lower voice. "He is of Chinese origin and, yes, he is one of the ones they seek... hence the alias." Her gaze swept across the gathered students and parents. "And respecting his privacy goes for the rest of you too. We have a responsibility to protect our own, and he is one of us. I know some of you might not care for Earthlings, or perhaps you have a prejudice against night ponies, but he is someone the princesses have given shelter and a promise of protection, as well as citizenship in Equestria. If you can't honor anything else, honor those things."

The room had settled into a strange calm. Stockman, Newman, and the fourth-year were gone. Lunar and Rocky were examining different corners of the auditorium, clearly planning the food station setup. Hannah's parents were methodically collecting scattered Monopoly pieces from a game that had never really begun. Small clusters of ponies had formed, their quiet conversations creating a gentle murmur throughout the space.

"Think ya can look at my leg, Summer?" Bright asked, breaking our thoughtful silence. "Little sore where that there vine gripped it."

Summer's professional demeanor returned instantly. "Sure," she said, moving to examine his leg with careful precision. "Looks like you got some minor thorn pricks on it—a little bruising too. I'll get some antiseptic for the pricks, but we don't have any ice to put on it for the bruising."

"That's fine," Bright said, watching Inkwell move purposefully between the various groups. "Newman sure did take control fast when she got here."

"I think Inkwell was more than ready to let her," I observed, noting how the older professor's eyes kept tracking to the door Newman had left through.

Hannah's mouth curved into a knowing smile. "I think Inkwell has a thing for strong authority figures. I mean, what else could she find attractive about Newman?"

The suggestion caught me completely off guard. "Attractive? What do you mean?"

Hannah gave me the kind of look usually reserved for particularly slow students. "Well, it's obvious Inkwell is romantically interested in Newman. I don't really know for sure if they're a thing or not, since Newman doesn't really seem interested, but it is obvious with Inkwell."

"Are ya sure?" Bright asked, sounding as confused as I felt.

Hannah's exasperated look shifted to him. Summer chuckled as she carefully applied antiseptic to his leg.

"Colts are clueless," Summer said, the amusement clear in her voice.

“Clearly,“ Hannah agreed.

I rolled my eyes. Fillies.