A Symbol Must Be Immortal
I never used to think much about death, despite always being so close to it. Crazy stunts, fighting monsters, saving Equestria from villains and bad guys. I could have died at any time. If Chrysalis had been smarter. If Sombra’d had better aim. Even waiting too long to pull out of a dive could have done it.
One wrong move and boom, splat, no more Rainbow Dash.
But I was young and invincible, and I remembered those times for the victories.
I didn’t know how lucky I was to even have the option.
I remember exactly when it all went wrong. The day of the tenth annual Friendship Festival. I don’t know if they chose that day for a reason or if it was just bad luck, but that was the day a military force like nothing we’d ever seen rolled over the horizon and laid siege to Canterlot.
Equestria was never the same after.
We thought it’d be an easy victory: that was how it usually worked in those days. Find the bad guy in charge, cut off the head of the snake, wait for their minions to surrender. But the Storm Army was different. Their king didn’t lead the charge from the front; he schemed from the back. And for every general and captain we captured, there was an equally competent commander or first officer ready to step into their horseshoes. A decisive strike turned into a grueling campaign.
War. Brutal, full-scale war. It was like some kind of sick joke. Celestia ruled for a thousand years of peace. Twilight barely got ten.
I was on the frontlines, of course. The enemy favored airships. I was a Wonderbolt. It was a match made in heaven.
But I wouldn’t say we were good at it. Equestria was peaceful and we weren’t used to the brutality of war. There were heavy losses in the early days, even among the Wonderbolts. For all our training and skill, a rehearsed performance only had so much in common with live aerial combat.
The first time I died was my own stupid fault. Spitfire had warned me, told me to be more cautious, but I didn’t listen. Flew right into an ambush. Sword to the gut before I even saw them.
That should have been the end. For anyone else, it would have been.
“Princess, it’s time for the strategy meeting.”
“Another half hour. I’m close. I can feel it!”
“Princess Twilight, your advisors have been waiting for an hour already.”
“Then I’m certain they’ll be fine waiting a little longer.”
“You’re also needed to sign off on the new budget and approve the new recruitment portfolios, and you still have to write your speech for the 31st’s memorial service.”
“It can wait. This is more important.”
“It— Ma’am, with all due respect, you can’t put the entire war effort on hold for a dead mare—
“SHE’S NOT DEAD! Not yet! Not… not unless I give up. There’s something here, there has to be. The calculations say it should work. But I can’t… I can’t…”
“...Twilight.”
“…I can’t lose another one.”
“...As you will it, Princess. I’ll tell them you’re dealing with a critical situation. I can delay the meeting for another twenty minutes at best.”
“Thank you, Raven.”
“I didn’t know her like you did, but I always thought of her as a fine mare. I know she’d be thankful for all the effort you spent, even if… well. I’m sure you’ll manage something.”
“…Thank you, Raven. I’ll be at the meeting.”
Coming back was like being pulled out of deep water. Like drowning and flying and stretching all at once.
I woke up in a private hospital room, Twilight passed out by my side, dried tears sticking her face to my hoof. The memories of whatever happened in the between faded too quickly to grasp, and left me nothing but a lingering sense of loss.
They told me afterward what happened. How Fleetfoot lost a wing dragging my body back to friendly territory. How Twilight nearly broke. How she was determined to move heaven and earth to bring me back. And how she, somehow, succeeded.
In all the times that came after, I never asked her how she did it. Maybe it was some dark spell from the pits of Sombra’s vilest libraries. Maybe she genuinely managed to crack true resurrection with the power of friendship. Or maybe she just shoved enough science at my broken body that it started working again.
However she did it, I was back. Fit and healthy, apart from some stitches and a long scar across my belly.
I was back on the frontlines in less than a month. Twilight tried to stop me. Offered me medals, a promotion, anything so long as I’d accept a rear position away from the fighting. But I couldn’t do that. It wasn’t me. Wouldn’t’ve been fair to the rest of my squad, or to all the ponies that were counting on me to keep them safe. So back to the front I went.
The war went on, and we got better at it. Better tactics, better strategy, better weapons. They say conflict is the mother of invention, and the Storm War was a breeding ground for innovative new ways for us to kill each other faster, farther, and in greater numbers.
Rifles were supposed to be the game changer that would win it all for us. I don’t know where Twilight plucked the prototype from, but once production ramped up we went from losing ground to retaking it overnight. Those were heady days, when we really thought victory could be within reach.
That lasted about six weeks; then the Storm King’s forces showed up to battle with guns of their own.
My second death wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the best with a gun, but I had the best eyesight in my squad and had the quickest reaction times. I spotted the sniper before anyone else. I was fast enough to push Soarin out of the way, but not fast enough to get out myself.
That time I lived long enough to feel myself fall and hit the ground.
“What do you mean I can’t revive her? I’m the princess! You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. Especially when it involves my friend!”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Princess. What I meant was that even if you did bring her back, she wouldn’t survive very long. The damage to her body was… extensive. A shattered canon. Collapsed lung. Both wings dislocated. And that’s just the worst of it.”
“She’s recovered from worse injuries before.”
“When she was—to put it indelicately—alive. Healing magic does not work on the deceased, and her natural vitality had much to do with it besides.”
“So there’s nothing you can do? Absolutely nothing? Or is this a problem stemming more from my poor hiring decision for a Head Physician?”
“It’s… not impossible. We can stitch her wounds, install internal fixations to her bones, organize a transplant. But it is not a simple nor easy procedure. And even then there is no guarantee that she will survive whatever secretive process you use to revive her.”
“Do it. Whatever it takes. Anything you need—materials, staff, expenses—tell my secretary and you will have it. I’m not losing her again so soon after everything I did to bring her back the first time.”
“...As you command, Princess Twilight. I’ll begin assembling a team.”
Just like before, the first thing I noticed was Twilight’s teary grasp on my hoof. It was a good anchor to help stabilize my mind as I got used to being alive again.
Getting back on my hooves was harder that time. Screws in my forelegs, a false ear to adjust to, hours every week spent in intensive magical healing.
Meanwhile the war kept going and Equestria kept changing.
For the first time in eight hundred years, the Royal Council of Advisors was expanded to include a War Minister. Blue Falcon. He was a sharp one. A keen mind, a good eye for tactics and logistics, and most importantly: he was someone who didn’t mind being the one to whom Twilight could delegate the job of ordering lives to be deployed and lives to be taken. He never seemed to have a problem making that call.
He had his wings in every part of the military, but I felt his influence more than most. He was the one who first posed the idea of using my Sonic Rainboom as a weapon.
If it could demolish a barn, imagine what it could do to an airship or forward base.
A dozen missions and a dozen downed airships made both him and me famous. More famous.
The thirteenth, as it turned out, was as unlucky as we should have expected. I had just enough time to see the piece of shrapnel coming before it pierced me through the jaw like a javelin.
Didn’t actually kill me right away. I managed to hang on nearly an hour before I died in Spitfire’s hooves.
“This isn’t working. Every time I bring her back, she goes and gets hurt worse than before.”
“If I may make a suggestion, your highness.”
“Go ahead, Minister Falcon. Just because you’re new to the council doesn’t mean I don’t value your input. Speak freely.”
“Thank you. If we are going to continue to invest such an extensive amount of resources in a single unit, it would seem prudent to utilize the best materials and tools available.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Only that we equip her as well as possible to ensure her survival. Enchanted steel does not burn, nor does it part before a sword. Prosthetics are becoming more advanced by the day; some of them even surpass the functionality of the original. If it could be miniaturized, one of your new ‘radios communicators’ could be incorporated into her false ear. To be forewarned is to be forearmed. Why settle for repairing the same vulnerable flesh when there are superior options?”
“I don’t know. That seems… invasive.”
“She has already undergone more reconstructive surgery than any other mare in active duty, and if the trend holds, this will not be her last return. Princess, I recall you once said that she valued being the best of the best. Do you think she’d settle for second-best if she knew there was a better choice available?”
“I see why they call you the Silver-Tongued Minister; you make a good point. But this is going to take more time and planning than her revivals usually require. And I’m already stretched thin trying to manage an entire nation at war.”
“That is why we are here. For you to delegate duties to. I will happily volunteer to supervise the project.”
“Thank you, minister. Your help has been invaluable these past few months. I don’t know how we got along without you.”
“I thank you for your confidence in me. Rest assured, Major Dash is in good hooves. I will go to every length to make her the best asset she can be.”
Twilight was there when I woke up. My jaw wasn’t. There’d been no saving it. They had to replace the whole thing with metal and the teeth with ceramic. On the upside, no more brushing and I could bite through a walnut like an eggshell.
Like always, she begged me not to go back. Like always, I denied her.
There was too much at stake. Too many ponies counting on me. Good ponies had gotten hurt, maimed, killed just trying to get my body home. Giving up would have been like spitting on their graves.
So, I deployed again.
One week out I was doing a stealth run on a suspicious spot that radar had pinged as a probable secret command base.
It was.
That was the day I met General Tempest Shadow and the day I learned my new metal jaw combined with the pins and screws in my legs to leave me incredibly vulnerable to arcs of raw magic.
I felt the metal pins boiling before my nerves burned away and I died again.
“Oh Faust. Oh Faust.”
“I know it looks dire, Princess, but rest assured I have requisitioned the best mares and stallions possible for the job.”
“What kind of weapon could even do that to a pony?”
“We’re unsure. The recovery team found her only after the battle had passed and there were no eyewitnesses, save the Major herself. Our current theory is some kind of powerful weapon that discharges a massive store of raw magical energy in a single burst.”
“They’re escalating. Again.”
“It would seem so.”
“You were right, Minister Falcon. We need better weapons. Better technology. Before they can unleash this on our troops at large. I need to stop being so cautious.”
“Your empathy is a virtue, not a weakness, your highness. Would that I could end this war peacefully, I would do so in a heartbeat. But the enemy will not allow us that. They will not relent. They will not withdraw. Which is why we must strike, and strike hard.”
“You’re right, as always. I’m going to leave for a few days. In the meantime, I’m giving you full authority over the Council while I’m gone. When I return, it’ll be with the kind of technology we should have been using from the start.”
“Thank you, Princess. I’m sure the soldiers will appreciate it. Though I do wonder when I’ll be given the clearance to know the details about this research black site that keeps producing marvel after marvel.”
“Hm. Maybe one day. But for now it’s best if some secrets remain secrets. Tell the doctors to preserve her, but hold off on the reconstruction until I return something better for them to use.”
“As you will, Princess.”
“Mph… Wha’s…Twilight?”
“I’m afraid not, Major. Only me.”
“Oh. Hey. You’re… that guy. The new one.”
“Indeed. I am the new Minister of War. A pleasure to properly make your acquaintance after all this time.”
“Yeah… same. Where’s Twilight? She’s usually here when I come back.”
“She was. You’ve been among the living for several days. You had an adverse reaction upon waking. You were hysterical. Violent. You had to be sedated for your own safety.”
“Oh. Issat why my head still feels like it’s full of cloud?”
“Most likely. We didn’t want a repeat occurrence.”
“Huh. Probably why my forelegs are all numb too.”
“...No. Though it is related. I suggest you take a moment to refamiliarize yourself.”
“Oh. Oh. They’re just… fully gone, huh?”
“I believe the term the recovery team used in their report was ‘a fine paste’.”
“Shouldn’t I be reacting a lot more than this?”
“Again, the sedatives. Dampens emotional responses. A necessary precaution. But I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that your new prosthetics are the best that medical science currently has to offer. Enchanted brass. Internal suspension springs. The hooves are even articulated.”
“Huh. Guess you can count on Twi to spring for the good stuff. So what kind of recovery period am I looking at? I need to pay that whorse of a unicorn back for what she did to me.”
“Regarding that. I’ve been considering you for a special reassignment. Now, I could order you to take it, but things will work out much better if you agree willingly.”
“I’m not taking some cushy ‘advising’ job in the backlines. My job’s being out there fighting on the front with my squad.”
“There is more than one front, Major. The war at home is just as important as the one in the skies over no-mare’s-land.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am speaking of morale. Major—may I call you Dash?—Ponies are scared, Miss Dash. True war is still new and frightening to them. They need someone to reassure them that this war can be won. That they can sleep soundly in their homes. That the brave ponies fighting the good fight haven’t lost hope, so neither should they. Someone who's been there, in the thick of it, and returned. Again and again. A familiar, trusted face. They need a symbol. A hero. I want you to be that hero for them.”
“...It feels like running away.”
“You don’t have to decide immediately. But do keep this in mind: you’ve had both forelegs replaced up to the shoulder. Your jaw completely. Several organs are being supported by technomagical implants. You have enough metal plates and screws in your body to make taking medical X-rays pointless. This is not something you are going to recover from quickly. The war will still be there in six months when you’re on top once again.”
“...”
“Or, if you like, think of it this way: your legs can be replaced, but your sonic rainbooms cannot.”
I didn’t go back to the front after that death.
New legs were… a big change. I did a lot of falling behind closed doors. Outside of the physical therapy clinic though, I was a busy mare. Since I couldn’t be on the front, they had me touring the country. City by city, town by town. Anything and everything the managers said to help ponies put a face to the ones fighting on their behalf. I promoted paper drives, scrap drives, rubber drives. Taught ponies about air raid sirens and what to do if they heard one. I flew sonic rainbooms through illusionary airships, blowing them to illusionary smithereens as the crowds cheered and rushed to buy war bonds.
But mostly I talked. Talked about what I’d seen. The terrible things the enemy had done. Ponies I’d known and their brave sacrifices.
Always brave sacrifices, never meaningless ones.
And never about my deaths. Always ‘near misses’ and ‘close calls’.
For a brief time, life felt almost normal again. Like there was no war. Like I was just doing stunt shows with the Wonderbolts again. Morale was up across the nations. Despite everything, ponies were happy. I was happy, maybe.
But all the traveling and grueling therapy gave me time to think. Time I never had on the front. Time to reflect on everything that’d happened, everything I’d done, all the words the scriptwriters gave me to say, and the silent cost of it all.
The kind of introspection that makes a mare start to question if it’s all worth it.
The shows lasted five and a half months. We were supposed to have a big finale in Canterlot, but we never made it past Fillydelphia thanks to a stallion who’d secretly defected to the Storm Army, and the very large bomb he’d carried to the autograph table.
“Welcome ba—”
“Did you get him?”
“I do not appreciate being interrupted, Miss Dash.”
“I don’t care! Did. You. Get. Him?”
“The explosive device he carried had an effective blast radius of several meters. There wasn’t much left of him to ‘get’ beyond what could be sponged off the bunting.”
“Good. Better than he deserved. How is… what about… was anyone else hurt?”
“The current casualty count of the attack sits at twenty-two deceased, forty-five injured—many still in critical condition—and you.”
“Bucker.”
“Indeed.”
“I wanna go back out.”
“Miss Dash—”
“Shut up! I don’t care about ‘being a symbol’ or ‘reassuring ponies they’re safe’! They’re not safe! We were attacked in the heart of Equestria! And if I’m no more safe there than I am on the front stopping them, then what good am I? What—”
“Major! I do not appreciate being interrupted. And I was going to agree with you. I have your redeployment papers here. It is clear that your talents are far better served in combat than on the backline. To that effect, I’ve ensured that your new prosthesis are the most advanced products feasible with current science.”
“I thought my old ones were the best they had?”
“That was six months ago. Much has changed since then. New materials. New technologies. Brass is outmoded. Your new ones are built from ‘titanium’ and ‘aluminum’; discoveries only recently unveiled by Princess Twilight. You’re currently wearing most of the nation’s known supply. There is a whole division of doctors and military engineers tasked to ensure you are outfitted with the most current gear at any given time.”
“All the better to take the fight to those Storm buckers. When do I ship out?”
“Tomorrow. You can adjust to your new appendages enroute and between missions. You don’t need legs to fly.”
War had changed while I was away. New types of guns. Bigger guns. Missiles. Tanks. Bulky machines that could do thousands of calculations a second to figure out exactly where to aim to hit a target over the horizon. I had no idea what kind of top secret think tank Twilight kept pulling it from; something that not even my clearance as Captain of the Wonderbolts (after Spitfire took a petrification orb over the South Luna Sea) could access.
But even with weapons like that, some missions required my personal touch. A bomb did the job, but a sonic rainboom sent a message.
And I was happy to do it. I was angry. Furious. Even more than I’d been in the early days. I started getting sloppy, taking bigger risks and more dangerous missions.
And back home, the public ate it up. I was the face of the war effort. A new headline in the papers for every successful mission. The press even gave me a nickname: “The Unstoppable Dash”. Both for my charging into battle, and for constantly surviving “near brushes” with death.
I didn’t survive them.
I died. I died so many times.
At some point, even if I didn’t acknowledge it, I think I was trying to die. Trying to find a way to make death actually stick.
I couldn’t just quit. Couldn’t retire. It’d be a betrayal to everyone that was relying on me. But if a resurrection failed, if my body finally broke enough that there wasn’t enough left for them to stitch back together… then that wouldn’t be my fault. It wouldn’t be me betraying them; just a natural outcome that I’d dodged for so long finally catching up to me.
Because it hurt. Every time. I never told Twilight. Never told the War Minister, or my squad (even before they were slowly rotated out for greener, less familiar members. Less a family of comrades and more a team of body retrievers), or anyone.
Every time I came back, it hurt. I didn’t notice it at first, but the pain grew with each return. An absence or an abscess somewhere deep in me. Like a hole in my soul. A sucking void in my chest that grew every time I came back, like I was leaving more and more of something important behind. It was like fire and ice and crushing pressure and stinging numbness all at once.
And I didn’t get used to the pain of dying, either. It hurt every single time in new and terrible ways.
Because I definitely died in a lot of new and terrible ways.
One time I was shot in the throat. I choked to death on my own blood before I could bleed out.
Another time I was captured and tortured, briefly, before they determined that I wouldn’t say anything. They sent me back to Canterlot in six pieces as a message.
But none of it was ever enough to put me down for good. I had the best doctors. The best engineers. The best artificers. I wasn’t just a soldier anymore; I was a military asset. I once overheard that they’d invested more in keeping me going than they had in the rest of the aerial combat force combined.
No matter what happened, it seemed Twilight and her ever-present War Minister were determined to keep me alive.
“Doctor. What is the asset’s status?”
“Oh! Minister Falcon. Sorry, I wasn't expecting you. Usually Princess Twilight is here for this.”
“As of now I am solely in charge of the Rainbow project. The princess is far too busy with other matters.”
“Ah. Ah! I see. Will she still be performing the resurrection herself? She's always insisted on it.”
“There is no need. The process has been standardized and streamlined sufficiently that her direct involvement is no longer required. Now, their status?”
“Yes, of course. The magi-lumium alloy held up remarkably well in all portions of the skeleton that had been replaced, though there were several fractures in the parts that were still organic. Severe damage to the liver and spleen due to shrapnel which also damaged several electronic components supplementing the kidneys as well as the artificial stomach. A hairline fracture to the chassis of her cyclonic magic generator, but that’s of minor note as we have a new twin chambered model we were planning on installing anyway. The left eye is a total loss. We’re exploring replacement options now, but there’s debate whether the replacement should include infrared or night vision, as there’s only enough room for one set of electronics.”
“What is the status of her right eye?”
“Hm? It’s fine. The damage was limited to—”
“Then you have room for both infrared and night vision after all.”
“Oh? Oh! I… I see. As you say sir. I’ll inform the techs.”
“Excellent. Now, has there been any progress made in replicating the Sonic Rainboom through artificial means?”
“No sir. We’ve studied all the readings taken from her tours and replicated all aspects as precisely as possible. But even when the magic generator is tuned to her precise wavelength, as the drone meets or exceeds optimum speeds… the reaction simply doesn’t happen. It’s as if there’s some ineffable equine element to the equation that we’re missing.”
“I see. Carry on with the procedures then. Replace the rest of the skeleton with the alloy. We’re wasting an unacceptable amount of time each cycle waiting for bones to heal. And begin installing the cranial electrodes while you’re in there. Project Loyalty isn’t yet complete, but we can lay the groundwork now.”
“As you will, Minister.”
I fought. I died. I came back.
Every time I came back I was less me and more machine. Technology I couldn’t have even imagined as a filly was standard kit. I was stronger, tougher, my senses better and sharper than anyone’s.
But even after the pain reducer and nerve dampener, the soul pain never went away.
And every mare has her limit.
Then came the moment we’d all been hoping for. Intel—confirmed intel— on the location of the Storm King himself. He’d been living in luxury through the whole campaign in the palace of what used to be the capital of Abyssinia.
One strike. That’s all it would take to behead the snake and have his army splinter in its death throes.
There was no question that the mission was mine; but I had a condition. That it would be my last. That I didn’t want to be revived again. War Minister Falcon agreed, and promised to honor my wishes. I entrusted him with a letter for Twilight as well. A confession, of sorts. Of everything I’d wanted to say, wished to say, never got the chance to find the words for. Even there, at the end, I couldn’t say it to her face.
I descended on the capitol with a high yield ordinance and the knowledge that this time would be my last.
Finally. I’d be able to say it was all worth it.
“It’s time. Install the necessary hardware.”
“Rainbow Dash? Are you with us?”
~~“Mph… Twilight?”~~ “Mph… Twilight?”
“Welcome back, Dash.”
“I’m… back?” “It’s good to be back.” “Huh?”
“You did it. We won. The war is over.”
“It’s not over yet.” “I didn’t say that. That’s not my words!”
“What do you mean? The Storm King is dead.”
“Twilight! Can’t you hear me!?” “There’s still all his forces left. They’ll be divided and busy with infighting. Now’s the perfect time to strike!” ”What? That’s insane!”
“You… you want to go back out there?”
“No!” “Yes!”
“But… you can stop now! You can rest!”
“Yes! That’s what I want! Let me rest!” “I can’t rest. Not until every last one of the enemy is defeated.”
“I… Dash. Is that really how you feel?”
“No! For Faust’s sake Twilight help me! Look in my eyes! I’m not saying that! Let me die!” “Yes.”
“...I know you said you didn’t want to see me anymore until everything was finished—”
“I never said that!”
“—but I thought you were just uncomfortable with all the prosthetics and replacements. That you thought I wouldn’t see you as the same pony anymore. I never for a minute thought that I would, because I knew you were still you underneath it all. But now, seeing how far you took this, hearing what you have say…”
“Twilight… please…”
“I don’t know if I recognize you after all.”
“Twilight, no!” “I did what I had to do.”
“I see. I’m… sorry, Rainbow Dash. Captain, Dash. Maybe this was a mistake. I’ll sign the papers approving your redeployment. I’m sure Falcon will be happy to have you.”
“No, don’t go! Twilight! Twilight!”
He lied to me.
He promised that’d be the end and he lied to me.
When I came back, there was a wall in my brain. Thoughts that weren’t mine that constricted my words and ideas like iron bands. Immovable pillars of concepts that formed prison walls of inviolable rules.
[OBEY THE WAR MINISTER AND RANKING MILITARY AUTHORITY]
[DEFEAT THE ENEMIES OF EQUESTRIA]
[AGREE TO NEW UPGRADES AND ENHANCEMENTS]
I couldn’t even talk about it. If I tried, my traitorous mouth said something else. Something they put in my brain, talking like I’d talk, but wrong, like a good actor with a bad script.
So long as I followed my missions, so long as I said nothing that contradicted the rules, I could act and talk on my own.
The war was over, but I was still fighting.
I wish I could say the months after that became a blur, but they didn’t. Every moment was crystal clear. War Minister Falcon no longer bothered with the façade that I was anything more than a weapon to be used. It was one mission after the next, over and over, splinter cell after loyalist holdout after rising faction. Again and again and again. And after every mission, an upgrade. Another part replaced. Even the times when I didn’t die.
Equestria continued to grow and change after the war ended, though I only saw it in bits and pieces. Wartime advancements were turned toward civilian applications. Technology that I had seen find enemy encampments and scour them from the earth was used to reheat food and send moving pictures to ponies’ homes. War had reaped a bounty that the nation freely enjoyed in peacetime.
All except for the one mare still fighting.
It took two more years to wipe out every last trace of the Storm Army. When the intelligence agencies confirmed it, I went to see the War Minister for hopefully the last time.
“I suppose congratulations are in order. The last of the Storm King’s forces have finally been rooted out and put to heel. They might name this a national holiday.”
“It doesn’t matter.” “Of course, sir. As you say.”
“Still, well done. You have performed beyond all expectations. Equestria owes you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.”
“Permission to speak freely?” “Permission to speak freely?”
“Hm. Granted. Authorization OVERSEER ZERO.”
“Please. Decommission me. I’ve done my duty. The enemy is gone. I-I’ve… I’ve given more than anypony could ever be asked to give. My body. My life. My friends. It’s done. There’s nothing left to fight. You don’t need me anymore. Please. Just… let it end. Let me end.”
“A passionate request. You must’ve been rehearsing it for some time. Now, while you are correct that the war is won, that is merely this war. Who knows what the future may hold?”
“But- But we had peace for a thousand years! We can do it again!”
“Peace, yes. And then we had the Changelings and then Tirek and then the Storm King. ‘Si vis pacem, para bellum’, Captain. If you want peace, prepare for war. I’m sorry, but Equestria still requires your services.”
“No! Please! Just let me—”
“OVERSEER ZERO override. Engage shutdown and activate LOYALTY protocol.”
“Waiiiiiiiii—”
“Doctor. Gather your team and prepare the operating theater. It’s time for the final upgrades.”
Something was… different.
Something was fundamentally different. I came back to nothing. Like I was disconnected from the world. My mind felt looser, shapeless, more like a cloud in a jar than a solid thing. Even the familiar pain of returning felt oddly muddled.
Senses returned in steady bursts, like a row of switches being flicked on one by one. I was more or less used to mechanical and digital parts sending information directly to my brain, but this was an entirely new depth of experience. Internal temperature. Gyroscopic attitude. Generator capacity and idling rpm. Vibrational sensors. Infrared. Lidar. VHF and UHF uplink status.
Audio analyzers.
“Ladies and gentlecolts of the press.”
My focus snapped to attention at that painfully familiar voice. Smooth and sweet, but it sounded like poison to my ears.
“Thank you for joining me today. As both a former minister and the current viceroy of Equestria, I can’t tell you how excited I am to share with you the latest leap forward in Equestrian defense technology.”
There were twenty, thirty, thirty-three ponies based on their heat signatures. Something was blocking primary l-o-s. Background audio analysis placed me in Canterlot, somewhere near the main plaza. Solar detector said late morning.
“From the earliest skirmishes of the Storm War to the final assault, our nation was valiantly protected by a mare who needs no introduction. A hero whose name is known by all. Now, in memory of her passing—”
I screamed in my cage, silent and unheard.
“—and crafted in her image, I present to you the future of Equestrian domestic and foreign defense: the Iron Rainbow!”
There was movement. A curtain was pulled back and I—
I saw myself.
I could see me reflected in the eyes of three dozen ponies as clear and vividly as if they were full length mirrors.
Twilight had said she could no longer recognize me. Now neither could I.
There was nothing visibly equine left in me. Just a gleaming puppet of polished metal and plastic and glass. How much of me was still there? Was I a brain in a suit of armor? A heart, suspended by wires and pipes? Maybe they’d done away with all of it and found a way to write my soul directly onto a computer chip.
Why? Why force me back? Why force me to be like this? If they could replace every single part of me with a machine, why couldn’t they just build the machine without me? Was it cruelty? Plain and simple cruelty? Maybe it was a horrible, horrible accident. Maybe it was meant to be a mere machine and no one even knew I was here.
“Armoured in a cobalt-magisteel alloy, this autonomous combat unit is the pinnacle of Equestrian science and magical engineering. It’s powered by a quad-chambered ultra-high purity cyclonic magic generator, capable of producing theoretically alicorn-levels of magical output. It can strike harder, fly faster, and think quicker than its predecessor ever could.”
He smiled at me. He knew. He knew I was still in here! Rage boiled within me, for as little as I could do about it. I thought I’d hated him before, but I had never known true hatred until this very moment. Had this been his plan from the very start? To keep me alive and making him famous forever?
“But most impressive of all, the Iron Rainbow can even produce a Sonic Rainboom—our great nation’s symbol of victory! A feat previously thought impossible by mechanical means! But the spirit of the Unstoppable Dash, may she rest in peace, lives on.”
I strained at my bonds. Threw every ounce of hatred I had at the systems and protocols that held me back. But all for nothing. I couldn’t so much as blink without an order to move.
Was this… all that awaited me? An eternity of fighting, of war, a prisoner in my own body, with even the release of death denied me?
The crowd of reporters roared in approval. “Iron Rainbow.” My body stiffened to parade rest of its own accord. “Why don’t you give them a demonstration?”
My wings flared, micro-actuators flexing each polychromate-carbon-fiber feather as they took readings of the wind, humidity, air traffic, and a thousand other details. My generator started to rev up to speed when the plaza suddenly rumbled beneath our hooves.
Seismic sensors detected it first, before it was strong enough for normal ponies to notice. Then came the pressure wave, knocking away hats and loose papers, accompanied by a crashing boom. A thermal plume lit up my sensors as a quarter of Canterlot Castle went up in flames. I could only watch, in painful slow motion, as the entire west wing crumbled into so much avalanching rubble.
A sharp noise keened in my head before resolving into a dozen voices shouting over public and private radio bands.
“Report!”
“What happened?”
“-elt like an explosio-”
“-omeone check on the diplomats!-”
“A bomb! It was a bomb!”
“-where is-”
“-someone find-”
“-who has eyes on-”
“-oh Faust, oh Faust! The princess! She… she—”
“Radio ID 67; repeat! What is the status of the princess?”
“-I don’t… I can’t… she was smiling…”
“Someone report!!”
“It was the minotaur delegation! One of them yelled something and then—”
“-the minota-”
“-I knew we couldn’t trust-”
“-storm sympathizers-”
“All guards converge on site! Detain the minotaur delegation! Subdue any who resist!”
“-clear declaration of-”
“It’s war!”
“War!”
“War with Minos!”
No. It couldn’t be war. Not again. Not so soon.
“Everyone! Everyone! Do not panic. If everyone would please proceed to the bunkers and evacuation zones in an orderly fashion. Meanwhile I will personally go and assess the situation. I’m sure it’s merely some terrible accident, but in the event it’s not… I suppose you may be seeing the prowess of the Iron Rainbow sooner than expected.”
His steady words settled the worst of the crowd’s panic and they began to disperse. He turned and gestured to me with a casual flick of his head. “Iron Rainbow, with me. Follow.”
At his order I found I could walk again under my own power, so long as I stayed directly behind him.
Our route took us through the back passageways of Canterlot, away from the busy streets as ponies fled in the opposite direction. Soon we were walking through silent streets, so alone that not even any of my enhanced senses could pick up a pony for blocks in any direction.
It was the silence that let me hear him.
“Bullheaded idiots,” he grumbled, too quiet for any normal pony to hear, almost too quiet for me but I heard it all the same. “Fools set it off too early. Were supposed to wait until I finished the press conference. This will alter the timetable.”
I don’t know if the changes they’d made to my mind had made me smarter, or if that was just the final piece needed for everything to click into place, but suddenly a thousand little oddities stood out in my crystal memory.
How the enemy had always seemed to extract their most valuable assets just before I landed a strike.
How they managed to keep up with our rapidly advancing weaponry with only a few weeks delay.
How, in every headline and news article about my victories, his name had been tacked on as well.
How he’d ridden my coattails all the way up to the second most powerful position in Equestria.
In a time of peace, what purpose did a Minister of War serve?
At some point I’d stopped walking. “Come along, Captain.” He smiled, and in his eyes I knew everything I suspected of him was true. “Equestria has a new enemy for you to fight.”
The iron bands of restrictions were still there, unyielding as ever, but my mind was changed. There was room, just the smallest bit, for interpretation.
Systems flared to life and my generator pulsed as I surged forward and tackled him to the ground.
“What is this!? What are you doing?! Sto—” I broke his jaw before he could give me the order to stop.
“You are right, sir.” I hissed directly into his ear, my voice raspy and grating like the edges of knives scraping against each other. “Equestria does have an enemy.”
The four chambers of my magic generator began to whine as I revved them up to their maximum tolerances, and then kept pushing them further. Warning and safety notices popped into my mind like intrusive thoughts, but I dismissed them all and kept pouring more into the furnace. My armoured skin began to glow, unable to dissipate the massive build-up of magic faster than I could generate more. The enemy gasped out a scream through his broken jaw as his fur burned and his skin blistered against my scalding chassis.
I leaned in as components began to overheat and melt, wrapping my neck around his in a poor parody of a nuzzle. “And it’s my role to defeat the enemies of Equestria.”
A final notification alerted me that I’d crossed a critical threshold. At this point I couldn’t stop the inevitable cascade even if I wanted to.
It was a good thing everypony had evacuated. I doubted most of the nearby buildings would be much more than glass and molten rock after this.
There was a chance ponies might think this was a second attack, but at least with Falcon’s manipulations out of the picture, peace had a chance of not being killed in the cradle.
"Let's see if they can put me back together from a pile of melted slag."
There was a flash of light, brighter than anything I’d ever seen before…
…and I was free.
