Out of Place

Chapters

Out of Options Part 3
Out of Time Part 1
Out of Time Part 2
Out of Time Part 3
Out of Context Part 1
Out of Context Part 2
Out of Context Part 3
Out of Context Part 4
Out of Sight Part 1
Out of Sight Part 2 and Epilogue
Out of Options Part 1
Out of Options Part 2

Out of Options Part 3

Out of Place - Out of Options Part 3

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.
America: Man's Road - written by Jimmy Webb, 1982
Found on The Last Unicorn Soundtrack

Moon rising, disguising lonely streets in gay displays
The stars fade, the night shade falls and makes the world afraid
It waits in silence for the sky to explode
Here I am on Man's road, walking Man's road, walking Man's road
Walking Man's road, walking Man's road, walking Man's road

"What's going on, Applejack?" Twilight asked as the pair trailed the rest of the group. Spike, riding on Twilight's back just shook his head.

Ahead of them, Rainbow and Fluttershy were trying to calm down Pinkie Pie. They might have had better luck with an active volcano. Pinkie's head was down and she walked quickly, forcing the others to occasionally canter to keep up. Rarity trotted along, seemingly at peace with what was happening.

"What?" Applejack replied.

"I'm almost sure you're plotting something," Twilight said.

"Twilight, this is Applejack we're talking about," Spike interjected.

"I'd never let somethin' hurt mah friends," Applejack said, "If'n ya'all need ta talk ta th'man, we talk."

Twilight stared at Applejack, who was actively fighting a smile, and wouldn't meet her gaze. "Applejack, what did he do to you?"

"Nothin'!" Applejack said so sharply even Pinkie Pie stopped to look. "We talked, 'bout phil - philoso-." The others resumed walking.

"Philosophy," Twilight said.

"No, study a words." Applejack started walking after their friends.

"Philology?" Twilight asked in confusion.

"That's the critter. Just pointed out that mah Element is 'Honesty', not truthfulness. That ya'all can be truthful, and lie through yer teeth, and ya kin be honest, without sayin' the truth."

"That's just manners," Rarity said.

"Not 'xactly," Applejack said, "Manners sometimes involves lyin', I want no parta that. But sayin' nothin', or answerin' the question they didn't ask, but shoulda, isn't lyin', may be more polite, and is still honest. So, the honest answer Twilight, is I'd never be parta somethin' that would hurt mah friends." She smiled. "The other honest answer is, I don't mind somepony prankin' the pranksters."

The shriek made Rarity's and Twilight's hackles rise.

"That's Applebloom!" Twilight shouted.

"Rein in," Applejack said, "That's also a happy noise." Then her eyes went wide. "Woah Nellie!"

The 'Diane' popped up over the apple trees. Big Macintosh pumping the pedals and steering. Granny Smith beside him, holding Applebloom as the Diane raced over their heads faster than most ponies could run.

"Cutie Mark Crusaders Diane-pilots!" Applebloom shrieked.

"Nope!" Big Macintosh said as they disappeared among the trees of the orchard.

Twilight and the others picked themselves off the ground. Twilight noted that Pinkie's expression had softened, as she stared at someone else thoroughly enjoying not a party she'd created, but a machine she'd created. She shook herself and resumed her angry expression and posture, but her heart wasn't in it anymore.

"But I wanted to stay angry," Pinkie grumped as they walked along. Fluttershy and Rainbow shared a chuckle.

"I hadn't realized how useful that thing was," Twilight commented on the departed 'Diane'.

"Or how fast," Rainbow enthused, her eyes shining with delight.

"You have wings, Rainbow," Rarity pointed out.

"Yeah? But a machine, that flies! On just pony power! That is so cool!" Rainbow enthused.

"HEY!" Pinkie shouted, "I wanted to stay angry."

"Too late," Applejack commented, "We're here."

Seated before the restored barn were Barnum and Sergeant Mile Stone. They were having tea, and sharing a plate of cupcakes.

"What, you didn't come to my party, so you could have one of your own?" Pinkie shouted at them.

Twilight noted that Applejack had settled in to watch the show. Rarity was heading toward the barn doors.

"We didn't know if it was correct to invite you," the sergeant said solemnly, "Most improper to invite you to a celebration you couldn't participate in."

"What kind of celebration?" Pinkie demanded.

"Why, an unbirthday party of course," Barnum explained, "Statistics prove, prove that you've one birthday."

"One birthday every year," the sergeant clarified.

Barnum explained, "But there are three hundred and sixty-four unbirthdays."

"Precisely why we're gathered here to cheer." The sergeant raised his teacup, toasting Barnum.

"A very merry unbirthday to you," Barnum sang as he toasted back.

"To me?"

"To you."

"A very merry unbirthday to you," the sergeant sang.

"To me?"

"To you."

"It's great to drink to someone, and I guess that you will do," they sang together, "A very merry unbirthday to you."

Pinkie's mouth hung open, but the corners were slowly drawing up.

"A very merry unbirthday to us, to us, a very merry unbirthday to us," the pair sang, "If there are no objections let it be unanimous. A very merry unbirthday to us!"

"Ahem, gentlemen. I do believe it's Pinkie's Unbirthday as well," Rarity said as she grasped the handle to the barn.

"Oh dear," the sergeant said and turned to Barnum, "You must have miscalculated."

"That's a good reason not to count mares, you often miss calculate," Barnum said as he grasped the other handle to the barn doors. The two threw them open, revealing the 'Happy Unbirthday Pinkie Pie' banner, and the rebuild Pinkie copter, complete with decorations.

"A very merry unbirthday to she," the sergeant sang.

"To who?" Rarity asked.

"A very merry unbirthday to me," Pinkie sang.

"To you!" Barnum sang, "Let's all congratulate her with a present I agree." He handed Pinkie a stuffed toy version of her copter.

The two stallions sang, "A very merry unbirthday to she."

"Ya'all, it's Twilight's Unbirthday too." Applejack smiled at Twilight's near horrified expression.

"It's a regular epiclectic," the sergeant said.

"No runs, no drips, no errors?" Barnum asked.

"I'll let you explain that to the kids,"

"A very merry unbirthday to you," Barnum sang to Twilight, "To me?"

"To you," the sergeant answered, "A very merry unbirthday to you."

"To she?" Rarity asked.

"To you," Barnum told Twilight.

"Let's all congratulate her with a present I agree," Applejack sang.

The entire group sang, "A very merry unbirthday to she."

"Oh, a little yellow pad," Twilight said of the gift she'd been handed, "I can always use more paper."

"Another Pinkamena Diane Pie special invention besting the sorceries of even the Great and Powerful Trixie!" Barnum removed the top sheet, and carefully stuck it to Twilight's horn. She tried to shake it off, but it stuck there. He removed it, and stuck it back to the pad. Twilight shook the pad, but the odd paper remained. She began to grin. Barnum removed it and stuck it to her horn again. Spike looked over Twilight's shoulder at the pad, and the paper stuck to her horn. Twilight's manic grin worried him a little.

"Sticky notes?" Spike asked, "Put them in books -"

"On walls on doors on books on chalkboards on windows on -" Twilight exclaimed.

"Wait," Pinkie asked, slightly frightened by Twilight's expression, "Those things are actually useful?"

Barnum stood on his hind legs, on Pinkie's head. "In another world, in a far away land beyond all dreams and nightmares, an invention just like this languished in obscurity for 30 years." He shouted, "Such a crime against sentient creation must not be repeated in Equestria!" He jumped down.

"That's a load off my mind," Pinkie said.

"A very merry unbirthday to all, to all," the sergeant sang, the others joined in, "A very merry unbirthday to all, to all."

"Let's have a celebration, hire a band and rent a hall," Barnum sang.

"A very merry unbirthday, a very merry unbirthday," the others sang, "A very merry unbirthday to all."

Miss Twilight approached the sergeant. "Excuse me, but the word you wanted, was epidemic."

"I thought that was a random set of tastes," Barnum said.

"That's, eclectic," Twilight said.

"Isn't that something powered by a generator?" Barnum said.

"No, that's electric."

"Isn't that a bunch of people who vote?"

"That's an electorate."

Mile Stone began nudging Pinkamena away from the pair as they played.

"They're missing the party games," Pinkie protested.

"That's a diuretic," Twilight said.

"No, the other one."

"An emetic?"

"Exactly, and why does it take two to help a doctor or nurse?" Barnum asked.

"They're playing one of their own," he explained.

"They're having fun?" Pinkie could hardly believe it.

"So if it's a pair of scissors, what's the singular?" Twilight asked.

"A knife," Barnum replied.

"Yes, ma'am, a great deal of fun."

"I'll take your word for it," Pinkie admitted, then watched as Fluttershy settled near the pair and just listened.

"Of course it does, for very large values of two, and very small values of five," Twilight said.

"Would that be considered putting Decarte before the horse?" Barnum asked.

"She's a wild one," Applejack said.

The sergeant half-trudges along, his face nearly brushing the dirt, as I walk spry and happy. I'd resigned my commission, and am looking forward to the upcoming tasks.

"How did you manage it?" he asks, "I feel like that mare sucked every detail of my life from me."

"I used a series of tactics: nonsequitors, bursting into songs that had absolutely nothing to do with the question. But asking counter-questions was most effective. One extremely simple tactic was more effective than all the others."

"What tactic was that?" the sergeant asks as he raises his head.

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to know if we meet her again."

"Why?"

"I'd like to think I - " He stops and stares at me. "What is the atomic weight of asphalt?"

"Why?"

"To prevent spontaneous combustion of albino penguins."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't think to use a trick any five-year-old has outgrown."

"Why?" I ask and smile.

He begins walking again. "Because I underestimated her, but I shan't again."

"Why?"

"Ecks."

"Why?"

"Zee."

"Why?"

"Because."

"He's center field."

The sergeant gets in front and stares at me. "Lad, do all of Equestria a favor, and do not marry that mare. The planet couldn't survive your offspring," he says, and covers my mouth with his hoof.

Rarity looked nervously at the flying disk of dough that Sweetie Belle and Pinkie Pie were tossing into the air. Elsewhere, the Cakes and Applejack were supervising putting more ingredients on a completed disk. "Is this safe?" she asked and stifled the urge to use her magic to capture the disks and return them safely to the ground.

"Of course not," Barnum told her, "This is deepest magic that even the gods tremble before. For when my people first stole fire, we created such a charm that even the gods forebears the Titans were laid low."

Rarity glared at him. "I think I'd like you to write my ad copy," Rarity said sourly, "Except you'd tell people my clothing would give them superpowers."

"Um," Fluttershy said, "I think this one is ready." She pointed to the oven specially constructed for this new baking.

"Got it," Twilight said as she wielded the baker's peel to lift the heavy iron pan from the oven. "This is the most unpastry-like pastry I've ever heard of."

"It smells great!" Rainbow Dash hovered over the pan as Twilight looked at the combination of tomatoes, onion, garlic, cheeses, mushrooms, herbs and spices all in a flaky crust.

Applejack and the Cakes loaded another into the oven and closed the door. Fluttershy dutifully watched that one too.

"What is it called again, lad?" Mile Stone asked.

"Pizza."

"Lad, are you sure this is safe?" the sergeant looks at the new, two-pony 'Diane' I've built with Pinkie's help.

"Of course not. But as opposed to walking back to Canterlot, it's relatively safe," I reply. I'd completed my checkout over an hour ago, and stowed the gear before that. "Besides, I can carry you. It's you who'll have to figure out a way to keep me from going splat."

He checks all his 'cold-weather' head gear, and steps onto the frame over the pedals. "As long as I don't have to steer," he says, "It looks bloody complicated."

"It is. It would be worse, and a lot more maneuverable, if we didn't have to use all our limbs to power it. I've already talked with the lady about a newer version that would let us get the maneuverability back, and still keep a simple control layout."

"What do you mean 'us'? As soon as 'us' get back to Canterlot, I'm never setting hoof on one of these again," the sergeant tells me.

Taking off into the dusk is a bit dangerous, but there's to be a full moon tonight and running into the Wonderbolts or an aerial patrol would not be good. I'd be too tempted to try and run circles around them, and I'm not a good enough pilot to pull that off safely.

The flight goes smoothly, the glow of Canterlot provides us a beacon to home in on during the entire flight. And an encouragement to continue.

Our reception committee is somewhat more disturbing than expected. "SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY!"

"Of course, your Nightjesty," the sergeant remarks to a figure I can't even see, "Should we follow you in to land? Or just hover here."

The Diane shudders slightly, and comes to a complete halt: forward movement and the rotors. "WE CONTROL THE VERTICAL, WE CONTROL THE HORIZONTAL." A moment later, we appear back in 'my' workshop. And I can see who I strongly suspected had arrested us.

"A little demonstration of who is really in charge around here," I mention to the sergeant.

"I hardly needed one, lad," the sergeant whispers back, "Nor should you."

"WHAT IS THIS?" her Nightjesty walks in front of us and demands. Both of us bow, the sergeant's far lower than mine.

"It's a heavier-than-air flying machine," I tell her, "Pony-powered, and able to reach from here to Ponyville in a simple hop."

"Speak for yourself, lad," the sergeant says.

"WHY WOULDST SUCH A DEVICE BE NECESSARY?" her Highness winces slightly as the echo of her own voice comes back at her. She stares at us, since we weren't getting it as bad as she was. "PLEASE, remove your earmuffs."

"They aren't exactly earmuffs," I say as I pull mine off, "They are a headphone and throat mike combination. Lets you hear, and keep your ears warm at the same time."

"Your Highness, we brought you and her Majesty a present," the sergeant says, "If I may?"

Luna nods. The sergeant retrieves the small toys from the cargo pod on his side.

"Are those the new uniforms?" she asks.

"Yes, Nightjesty," the sergeant says, and produces the two stuffed toys. They are a pair of 'dazzle-painted', stuffed alicorns. Both the same size, although with slightly different patterns. "Miss Rarity did enjoy the challenge, and thought you'd both appreciate an unbirthday present."

"Un-birthday?" her Nightjesty asks.

"Lad, don't sing," the sergeant warns as he removes the uniforms from the cargo pod, "A bit of a prank we pulled on their resident party-thrower. Celebrating a day, because it is not your birthday."

Her Highness looks away from the sergeant and stares at me for several moments. "We understand."

"It goes away with a bit of rest," the sergeant confides, "Your Highness."

"The device is based on a one-pony, general use prototype. This one is a two-seater, and a strong enough mare or stallion could carry another person, or the equivalent weight. I should be able to build one that two strong ponies could carry a large weight, or move for an extended time, or some combination."

"Why shouldst thou desire such a thing? Are not pegasi chariots, balloons, and one's own wings sufficient?" her Highness asks, "And most unicorns could lift a weight themselves."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Thy weird is ever thus," her Nightjesty remarks sourly. Instead she looks at the uniforms that Mile Stone was laying out on one of the bed frames. "They are, supposed to be menacing?"

"A certain intimidation factor was requested, Nightjesty," the sergeant says, "They are far less intimidating to children, your Highness. Miss Rarity truly is a miracle worker."

Princess Luna looks over at me.

"Your Highness, I would guess that children are all right with something slightly scary, but that is still familiar. These are similar enough to the Day Guards' uniforms that they still carry the connotation of 'the Princess' soldiers'," I explain, "I admit, I'm guessing. They scare me plenty."

"We will consider them," her Nightjesty said, "Sergeant, please return to your family. We grant you two days' rest, for your exemplary service in Ponyville."

"Most gracious," the sergeant says.

She looks over her shouder at me. "We would grant you surcease as well, but our sister has plans for you. We advise you to avoid the 'Sunny Days' column for the next two days." She vanishes.

"You never did tell me who that ruffian with an inkwell is," the sergeant says.

I tell him.

"Please tell me you're joking, lad," he says.

"I can, but I'll be lying. I'm afraid it's an idea her Majesty got from reading my mind," I say, "And it has proven effective in spreading absolute drivel as 'information'. That's called disinformation."

"Lad, I am going to take the next days off. And forget I know that people I admire, can even think that way," he says as he leaves, taking the new uniforms with him.

Neanderpony is on guard outside.

Evidently, someone knew we were coming, I think as I head to one of the two made up beds, I need some sleep as well. Then I look at the machine, and the door. There's no way to get it out of here! I realize, Okay, funny joke Luna. Ha, ha, it is to laugh. I settle in and am soon asleep.

The next days' 'Sunny Days' column speculates on my time in Ponyville as an odd attempt at youthful rebellion, and an effort to give a poor suffering Earth Pony inventor a powerful patron (both a unicorn and someone in the capital). At least it paints the Mane Six in a positive light. Although I need to remind her Highness that she needs to be flat-out wrong occasionally, or her alter-ego will actually undermine her position.

The walk to the library is a weird one. There are still the undercurrents of jealousy of 'Celestia's toy', but there's also a slight undercurrent of pity for me as well. 'Poor kid doesn't understand they know everything' cut through to the heart of it. For once, I detour into the civil service wing. The guard doesn't try to stop me, which I should have raised suspicions.

The stallions before me are older. They look like they are the age I was back on Earth, I think, Hmm, I didn't think 'back home'.

"Gentlecolts, I thank you for your time, and I'd like to know about the process and procedures necessary to bring manufacturing here. If somepony developed a new device, what governmental hurdles would they have to face in getting it out to the public?"

The pair are beyond perplexed by the question. "There would be a survey of location to verify that the device isn't inherently dangerous," Sir Peaceful Warrior explains, "As part of the patent process. They might ask for and accept a government grant or low-interest loan, but really, as long as there are no complaints against the manufacturer, there are no hurdles to overcome."

"Not at the Canterlot level. They would have additional restrictions at the local level," Minister Chair Maker adds, "I am curious, what is the genesis of these questions?"

"You shouldn't read too much into that ridiculous 'Sunny Days', even when it points to you," Peaceful Warrior adds a touch fatherly, a touch patronizingly.

"There were some scurrilous accusations several weeks ago about favoritism in rain distribution. This office showed the figures, and the reasons for the uneven distributions. Why couldn't even farmers remember that certain crops require more rain at different times and we try to accommodate those needs?" he sounds angry at his and his office's profesionalism being questioned, "If any of the complainers needed more rain, they could have contacted the local mayor and he or she would have told us. It's not like we hoard the stuff."

"There are people who look at any hero or authority figure, and immediately see the enemy. I've even met people who rail against not having rules. I guess because without rules, they can't complain someone is limiting their freedom."

"If you can find a way to deal with that, we'd be most appreciative," Chair Maker says, then glances nervously at Peaceful Warrior, "If you wouldn't mind, we have -"

Peaceful Warrior closes the door to the office.

"A delicate problem."

"That perhaps you can be of assistance, vis-a-vis your current project perhaps being, inadequately or insufficiently staffed in the expert classes. The not inconsiderable gratitude of certain high government officials could be expected for allowing us to redirect your staffing problems to personnel. Although we could not provide direct assistance in any official capacity. And while the official to most greatly benefit would be unable to acknowledge your most welcome assistance, for fear of undoing the raison d'etre of the entire plan. I can say, with some confidence, that even in retirement, a wise voice and guiding hand would become available, and would be extremely fortuitous to a young pony whose start at court has been, shall we say, less than completely stellar, and would in fact change your complexion from the courtesan to the cosmopolitan. Any additional laurals from the success of your project or projects would be entirely your own and your staff's as you would care to disseminate those successes."

Chair Maker stares at Peaceful Warrior. "Do even you have any idea what you just said?"

"He said for possible future advice and counseling, I need to undertake a mission: hiring an assistant, that has you two absolutely petrified," I reply.

"Did he really?" Chair Maker asks.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call our understandable trepidation petrification more a . . . " Peaceful Warrior says, searching for the right world.

"Pissing ourselves, rolling on the floor, and screaming would do it," Chair Maker says flatly.

"Pardon me for asking, especially asking bluntly, but who is this assistant and why is it so dangerous?" I ask.

They tell me.

"Gentlecolts, I'll get back to you." I dash from the room. Brushcut hard on my heels. I manage to get to a bathroom before I start laughing so hard I nearly make myself sick.

"Are you all right, sir?" Brushcut asks as I hang onto a counter and try to start breathing again.

"I'll be fine," I tell him, "Please go tell the elegant gentlecolts I said 'yes'. I'll be waiting here, trying to breathe."

"It might not be a laughing matter, sir," Brushcut says.

"It is, Sergeant, but not for the reasons you think," I gasp. He leaves and returns a few moments later.

The trip to the library is as usual. Although more ponies simply get out of my way, rather than expect me to dodge them. This leads to one where we mutually dodge into each others path.

"I'd offer to dance but they'd never let the music in," I tell the bewildered filly, "So I'll stand still."

"Thank you," she scampers off, as if afraid.

"Does Ponyville really have that bad a reputation?" I ask, "Or is it just me?"

"There were reports you'd openly defied her Highness, and went to Ponyville on your own. Everyone expects you to be sent to the moon any moment," Brushcut offers, "I don't know where they hear these things. But that's the rumor, and rumors fly fierce around here."

"So either I'm the next moonshot, or I have something over on her Highness," I sigh, "Why can't people - ponies understand that sending her sister to the moon was an act of desperation? She didn't want to kill her, and she lacked the power to heal her, so she had to wait."

"Most ponies don't see it that way," he replies.

"Just out of curiosity, of the five of you on regular rotation, three joined the Night Guards," I say as I collect books for the morning's reading, "Do you mind telling me why?"

For the first time, the gruff soldier looks nervous. "A lot of reasons, I guess the biggest one for me, is that Princess Luna seemed to need me more. I love both Princesses, but serving Princess Celestia, she needed police and a few bodyguards. Serving Princess Luna, and I can deal with threats that are real, and out there. I never realized the things happening under the cover of night."

"Weren't there always night patrols?" I ask.

"There were," he explains, "But her Highness Celestia's power is the Sun, and daylight. While her Nightjesty's is darkness, and the moon. We can see things, do things at night we could never do as Day Guards. A cockatrice in Everfree, we'd have to wait until the sun came up, and deal with it. Her Majesty sees everything under the sun, her Nightjesty sees everything under the moon, we aren't guessing and hoping so much at night anymore."

I nod, and continue studying Equestrian patent law, and learn it's very different.

Lunch comes early, with a runner from the Princess. The green coat and yellow mane don't give me a clue to which Princess. Lunch with Celestia, or a 'midnight-snack' with Luna? I wonder as we hurry behind the excited colt-page.

Oh crap, both! I realize as I enter. There's a buffet, and a place set for me at the table with their Highnesses, and about twenty other ponies. Stallions and mares, all older, all chatting amiably. I don't recognize any of them, and Brushcut departs with all the swiftness decorum allows.

I take my place, halfway down the table, between two elderly mares, who look at me as if I smelt bad. "So, you were in Ponyville, during that terrible infestation," one drones, "However did you deal with them?"

"A local expert lured them back into the Everfree forest," I reply politely. No one has food on their plates, and there are no servers to be seen. Their Highnesses are chatting, and if they aren't moving, evidently no one else can either.

"Do go on," Celestia says to the entire group, then returns to her conversation with Luna.

Okay, another Princess 'Trollestia' trick, teaching everyone to not be so hidebound, I think, and shock several of the guests by getting up. I offer my arm to both of the old mares, who seem stunned I would take the Princess at her word.

I use my horn to serve up a few items, and hear a few chairs moving as everypony starts realizing that I'm not going to the moon. Time to really mess with their heads, I think as I take the two plates I'd filled, to the head of the table. More gasps as I serve their Highnesses.

"Why, thank you," Celestia says.

"WOULDST THOU PROCURE THE SALT?" Luna adds.

I bow, and move the salt cellar to their end of the table, before returning to the highly depleted buffet. For old timers, they sure can tie on the feedbag, I think as I collect a plate for myself and return to my place.

My two table mates are staring at me as if I'll become a cockatrice any second. The grizzled old stallion on the opposite side of the table nods pleasantly, then returns to his conversation about gardening. Sounds like they're rehashing an old argument, I think, And I don't think a 'young colt' suggesting a scientific experiment would be welcome.

The dinner continues, and continues, and continues. I haven't felt this alone, in a long time, I think as the plates are cleared by the servers who place the desert before us. A sherbert creation that is more sculpture than food. Again there is the paralysis that no one moves unless a princess does, and both are still talking about current events, and past events, and planning for future events. All the while, the sherbert sculpture slowly becomes modern art.

The instant Luna takes a taste, it becomes open season on half-melted sherbert. The sounds of spoons on glass becomes the predominant noise. It's good, but not that good, I think as I see the hurried, almost frantic effort to down the whole thing as quickly as manners and decorum allow. I guess when the princesses are finished, so is everyone. I feel vaguely disappointed, but understand the lesson being taught. Too many are too tied to tradition, and outward shows of respect, they can't be themselves. Even with their Highnesses permission.

"P.T. McHorsefly," Celestia says, and the entire room goes silent. I stand at attention at my place.

"Present, your Majesty," I answer and bow.

"You went to Ponyville, despite what we had discussed. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" her voice is inquisitive, rather than stern.

"With respect your Majesty, your Highness did not forbid me. And I believe the benefits greatly outweighed the risks," I reply, "The mission succeeded, although it could have gone better. I will not repeat those mistakes."

"Very well," Celestia says, then glances at Luna, who nods. "You may go."

Dismissed. I bow, and head for the exit. The conversations behind me rise, but I can't pick out any thread from the hubbub.

I hope they learned something, I think as I close the door behind me, Because I could have spent the time doing something more fruitful. I sigh. Her job is to watch over all of them. One pony's discomfort against breaking a centuries-old paradigm that stands in all their way. She's only got one answer.

I'm amazed there isn't a guard waiting for me. I could run to the city gates, out into the wilderness, and they'd never find me, I briefly consider, And they'd hunt me down in about two days. Unless I hid myself in the Diamond Dogs' caverns. But I have no desire to be a miner the rest of my life.

Out in front of my room, there is a guard, different livery than the Day or Night Guards, and while it's hard to tell, this one appears to be a mare. She comes to attention as soon as it's clear the door to the room is my target. Neanderpony comes trotting in.

"It's okay, Claire, he does belong here," he says to the guard.

She stares at me fiercely. "I dunno Fluffy, he doesn't - "

There some sudden eyeball dancing as Claire realizes what she called him in public. Neanderpony/Fluffy realizing I heard it. And both of them trying to make as threatening a front against me as they can. I sit back and study them for a bit.

"Now, perhaps to purge my mind of what I obviously couldn't have heard," I say, "What is going on, especially, what am I getting myself into?"

Neanderpony sighs. "For you, probably nothing."

I consider the possibility, then go for broke. I walk through the door. The room had not substantially changed since this morning. Then a fireball flares from my bunk, and is gone.

Neither Claire or Fluffy is willing to advance past the doorframe.

Terrific, I think as I'm left with the question of advance or retreat. I advance, and playing goldilocks, is the unicorn filly from the dragon day incident. Except her tail bag and muffler are missing. Her mane looks like someone caught fire in an instant and painted it on her, and her tail is similarly colored, but is twitching. The alarming part is not I recognize her, and she's my 'assistant', but she's curled up the bedding like a bolster, and she's got her nose buried in it.

Great, horses may not have the sense of smell of dogs, but it's better than humans. So what dreams is she having? I think as I consider awakening her, Naw, at least not like that. So this is the challenge, 'Fluffy' is right, not a challenge. Glory Bell, the niece of the current head of the civil service. I can see where 'so beautiful it's a curse' could get a young teenager into trouble, both from unwanted attention, and from being able to get whatever you want from manipulation. But for me, the solution is simple.

I head over to where we moved the Diane on Princess Luna landing us in here. The power-train still either needed parts beyond even my ability to build them, or the machine would lack the full abilities of a modern helicopter.

"Wha!" came from the bed, and the girl nearly fell out of it she got out so quickly. "I wasn't doing anything!" she explains immediately.

"Other than sleeping," I reply, not lifting my head from the tables of calculations, and pages of diagrams. "Sorry about the delay, I had to be reprimanded in front of the court, it took a little time."

She makes sure her shorts are in position before she walks over. The two guards are watching as though observing a live rattlesnake, from inside its coils. She walks over, and stands in my line of sight.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asks, a teenager's challenge to another.

"Your mane and tail are very beautiful," I tell her, and ignore her jaw drop as I try to force the diagrams and my memories to yield up a better control system. "With magic this would be easy, but I want to stay away from that. Too easy to neutralize." I put the paper aside, and start sketching the system for a four-rotor helicopter that could depend on differences in thrust to maneuver as needed.

I'm halfway through, when she speaks up again, "You're serious, that's it?"

I look up at her. "Well, I do find the alicorn physiognomy more pleasing than the standard pony type, but that's like saying a sunrise over a mountain is prettier then either the sunrise or the mountain itself," I tell her, "Do you know anything about multi-input transmissions?"

"You are joking," she comments.

"I was told you had an interest in machinery, and this item in particular. You want to help, fine you're hired, welcome to the team. Now we get to work. The problem I have, is it can't perform at top efficiency because the limbs needed to provide control inputs are the same limbs needed to provide motive power. And using a limb to do both, or worse, splitting the control actions between two pilots, would make it too tiring to fly practically."

"You are serious," she says.

"Of course." I sit back. "How much do you know about me?"

"Just rumors," she says, then blushes, "And what I've read in the papers."

"There's no stallion alive that could do the things that Sunny Days has alluded to in her column. I have an interest in machinery, and her Highness has graciously decided to see how much of what I know can be made practical and helpful to her subjects."

"But you didn't invent this," she protests. In the background, the two guards are unwinding from preparing to dash over and separate a war. "An Earth Pony in Ponyville did."

"Pinkamena Diane Pie, yes, hence the name 'Diane'. But she only built one, and a single seater, and only suitable for short hops with minimal cargo. I want to develop that idea into something that is a tool, not a toy."

She stares at me in confusion. "I was there at your speech on 'dragon day', but you really are serious. Make this, thing, into a practical machine? For what?"

"Flying crane, air ambulance, scouting, cargo vehicle, even equip it with a gas bag and increase the maneuverability and long-range lift capacity of existing airships," I said, "If you want to move 1000 tons somewhere, you have to use the railroad or a ship. What if you need it where there are no railroads, and the roads are donkey tracks?"

She seems to consider, but still stares with trepidation.

"Look, the first thing I need another pair of hand for, is taking this apart. While I appreciate Princess Luna wanted to keep my arrival with this machine private, it's too big to fit out the doors, and I think asking one of the Princesses to teleport it elsewhere would be problematic."

"Plus, you need a place to put it," she says, "And I know a place." She grins. "I know exactly the place."

"Where's Nightmare Moon when you really need her?" I ask.

She laughs, and dashes off.

"STOP!" I shout.

She freezes, and turns to look at me.

"You forgot the rest of your clothes," I note the tail bag and muffler.

"I'll be back for them," she says, and runs out the door, with her guard in pursuit.

"How did you do that?" Neanderpony asks, "Even with my wife standing there . . . she's quite attractive."

"I think your wife is also smitten with her, so are a lot of people - " I shake my head. "Ponies! Sheesh. Old habits die hard. But like I told her, ponies aren't attractive that way. And I still haven't really figured out what beyond clean limbs and symmetry is a pony standard of beauty. Some of the Ponyvillians and a lot of the ones around here vary from blobs to creepy, and they are supposed to be attractive."

"Maybe I should introduce you to Hurdy Gurty," he says, "A musician, she's also my sister. But not pretty enough to be one of the Royal Players."

"I probably couldn't tell her from Twilight Sparkle except by coloring," I admit.

"If you needed help dismantling this thing, why didn't you ask?" he asks.

"I have no idea what extent I have authority over you or any of the others. Some barely speak to me, others are friends. I didn't want to intrude on your duties."

He nods. "Frankly, you scare the road-apples out of all of us. Half of us are betting you could fly to the moon and back."

"Maybe I should make a spacesuit and tell 'Sunny Days' my secret plan to get to the moon, explore it, and return."

"I'd like to get Sunny Days alone in a room, with a beam with plenty of spikes driven through it."

"I think you'd lose, if my suspicions are correct."

"You know who she is?"

"I know Sunny Days is not a unicorn, pegasus or earth pony mare," I tell him, "So look somewhere else for answers. And it isn't me either."

"Hey, Fleetfoot! Is Spitfire around?" Glory Bell asked as she walked through the Wonderbolts' practice area.

"She's with Soarin' and Surprise," the Wonderbolt told her, "In the head shed."

She nodded and trooped to the building where the 'bosses' hung out.

"Hey GB," Soarin' said and grinned, until Spitfire stepped on his hoof.

"Hey GB, what brings you out here?"

"I'm in," she told the Wonderbolts, "I got my uncle to convince his lackeys to get him primed, then he swallowed the bait, hook, line and sinker. Poor guy thinks he's getting outside build space."

"You know," Spitfire offered, "He might actually be a nice guy."

"Nice or not, he's still bought and paid for by my family's money. Even Celestia's chosen has a price, and a cheap one at that," Glory Bell answered.

"Hey guys, take five, okay," Spitfire said. The other two Wonderbolts left to discuss the plan. "Look, we aren't the plaster alicorns you want us to be. We can be bought too," Spitfire said, "We do our job, but we're still performers."

"But you're trying to be the best. And you are the best!" Glory Bell countered, "All the high and mighty are too busy trying to climb the greasy pole to just spread their wing and soar."

"Not everypony wants to soar. Some might want to be very good on the ground," Spitfire said, "Fine, he took you in as a favor, or as a payment. Don't make the assumption he's like - too many of the Princes around here."

"You've been to those parties too. You haven't been just a trinket dangling in front of them," Glory Bell replied, "And you haven't been just a message scroll to someone else in your family."

"No, I'm a trained pup expected to smile and listen as they describe tricks that will never work, or keep silent in the face of claims that anypony can do what we do, without a legion of behind the scenes experts and the dawn to dusk training regimen. I also never had the opportunities you do: your education, your family's contacts, and your good looks. Drive is great, but knowing which fork is which, and being born into that society is still a big advantage."

"Yeah, but it also means that's all people see," she replied, "I want to make a difference without all that!"

"Don't ignore your advantages, if you really want to win. Even we 'artists' think that winning is important enough to hold nothing back. Natural talent won't make you the best, but with a bit of practice and hard work, it'll take you a lot farther than just hard work."

"Okay, I promise. But I think you'll see I'm right about this." Glory Bell turned and left.

Soarin' and Surprise entered, followed by Fleetfoot.

"I don't understand that girl," Soarin' admitted.

"She's been given everything. Except her looks, and that's all most ponies see," Spitfire said and glared at Soarin', "She wants to earn something," Spitfire continued, "Something that can't be counted off as something 'daddy' bought for her."

"No hard work, future guaranteed, what's she got to worry about that's got her so agitated?" Soarin' continued.

"Trying to matter, to rise above," Fleetfoot said, "Are you telling me that if you were as rich as her, you wouldn't still be flying? You wouldn't still be a Wonderbolt?"

"Are you nuts? Of course I'd still be flying!" Soarin' exclaimed.

"Let her play," Fleetfoot said, "You didn't get direct orders from her Nightjesty to let them pass, like Surprise and I did. I think GB is playing with a fire she doesn't understand. I doubt she'll get burned too badly, but she is up for a few shocks."

Spitfire frowned at that. "I don't want that filly burned at all."

She watched the odd unicorn, Celestia's latest favorite, carrying the disassembled device out of the castle proper. Glory waved to him, and fought off a smirk as he waved back. That's it, come to mama, she thought, This is almost too easy.

She was soon trotting alongside him, with their keepers trotting alongside each other. "Thanks for the help, I was hoping to have someplace other than just off the main corridor to do some work. Also it bothers me that the door only locks from the outside. Makes any kind of security problematic."

"Are you afraid of someone stealing your secrets?" she asked.

"Good Lord no," he replied, which shocked her, "More like them stealing a half-finished idea and hurting themselves. From what I can tell about patent law here, it's practically nonexistent. Anything you design, goes almost immediately into the public domain. That almost ensures only hobbyists and people with sponsors invent anything. Couple that with a small manufacturing base, and almost nobody has the incentive, or resources, to be a full time inventor."

"You think that's some kind of plot?" she asked.

Please, don't make him one of those 'Lunar Republic' nuts, she thought, I won't be able to keep a straight face long enough.

"No, it's more a case of personality. You've got a huge number of basically layabouts here, and they are more interested in diversions that inventions. There's no desire to create something the entire population can use, because there's almost no way to make enough of them."

"You still make it sound like a conspiracy," she replied.

"Oh yes," he said sarcastically, "The evil plan to provide everyone enough food and shelter, so anyone willing to put out the minimal effort won't starve or die of exposure. For a people who are more group oriented, it's a natural paradigm. For people who are more individualistic, it presents problems."

She glanced at him, then her brow furrowed. "So, it's not Celestia's fault, it's - whose fault?"

"It's not anyone's fault. It's a natural consequence of pony psychology and physiology. If yours was an aggressively expansive people, you'd see things differently. But you people control your environment and have access to many skilled artisans and reliable magic. The need for mass production isn't as great. Ponies don't need clothing, except in the harshest weather or as decorations, so there's no need to produce ten thousand identical shirts. Shoes are more simply made, and more durable than cloth and wood, so again, no need for new shoes for everyone every three to four years. There are no major external threats, so weapons and armor don't have to be ginned out in the thousands. You simply don't need ten thousand electric potato peelers, so the need to make them is less."

She tried to think of something, anything to say, and failed miserably. He's either insane, or operates on a completely different level.

"Say, isn't that the Wonderbolts' training area?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes," she replied, "I've got a little pull with them." She hid her smile expertly.

"At least you won't lack for test pilots," Fluffy said.

"Test pilots?" she blurted out, then turned to Barnum, "Why would you ask them to be test pilots. Aren't you competing?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" he asked, "These Dianes may fly, but as fast or as maneuverably as pegasi? Only in my wildest dreams. These will serve a completely different purpose."

"I'd love to hear what that is," Fleetfoot said as she stepped out from between two buildings.

"Easy, it's a cargo carrier," he replied readily, "It's not meant to be as fast, as high-flying, or as maneuverable as a well-trained pegasus. But it can be nearly a match for one, carrying a hundred or two hundred extra pounds. If some foal slips off a mountain trail and breaks all four legs, it won't be the Wonderbolts they call in to carry a doc out to the kid. It'll be a Diane team. It won't be the local 'Best Young Flier', who carries the foal back to the hospital. It'll be that same Diane. Do you and your team really want to carry the express mail from here to Fillydelphia? Or if you want to carry a mess of gear to some performance you're giving, you won't strap it to your backs. You'll put it in an underslung cargo pod, and fly it there aboard one of these, or have a crew do it."

"So this isn't some plot to 'equalize' things for the poor downtrodden Earth Ponies?" Fleetfoot asked.

Bell felt her skin burning to a hidden blush.

"No, I've got that gizmo in the tools. Of course, it will work as well for any type of pony, so it just equalizes everything," he replied happily.

Her head swimming, Bell followed Fleetfoot and Barnum. But, no it's a trick. He can't really mean that.

"What's that crack supposed to mean!?" Fleetfoot said.

Knew it!

"I mean, I've never seen any flyer do that maneuver. I didn't say it can't be done, I just haven't seen it."

"Well big mouth, I want to see you pull it off," Fleetfoot said.

"Fine, I just need a second seater, a rope and a bucket of rocks." Barnum grinned at Fleetfoot. "And I know where to get the first."

I knew it! Bell thought and trotted happily after them.

The reassembly goes faster than the others expect. I wonder if Pinkie even knew why she put the break down points where she did, I ponder, Probably, but I doubt anyone would believe they were anything but happenstance.

"Will this do?" Spitfire asks as she approaches with the rope. Soarin' is carrying the bucket of rocks.

"That'll do fine," I tell them.

The stallion sets down the heavy bucket. "That is one weird lookin' gizmo," Soarin' says.

"Wait until it takes to the air," I tell them as I go over the connections. Then I put the rock bucket in a centerline position. "Fleetfoot you sort of lie on the frame, now please move the controls as I instruct, I want to make sure the links are solid."

She does as I request, also learning the names and how the controls affect the flight surfaces. After ten minutes of assembly, and fifteen minutes of checks, we're ready to fly.

"Just run the pedals?" she asks incredulously, "It can't be that simple."

"It isn't," I reply, "Until we've checked you out, you're just an engine. Once you have some experience, I'll let you actually fly the thing."

We start pedaling, with the transmission in the 'starter' gear. The rotors spin, and the air flows down over us. A gear change and the blades really start to bite the air. The lift off is smooth, except the gasp of surprise from my copilot. The other Wonderbolts jump back in surprise. I take it ahead slowly, letting Fleetfoot get used to the feeling of the machine and the rhythm of the pedaling. We head out onto the test field where the Wonderbolts practice. We're moving as fast as a pony can run. We run the slalom. Nothing to write home about in terms of speed, but the Diane is much bigger than a pony, and the control response is crisp and precise. Fleetfoot is watching our progress in amazement.

Now we head out to the speed track. Soarin' and Surprise are way ahead of us, but Spitfire is pacing us, a short distance away. We haven't lifted more than ten feet off the ground, in case we have to bail out. Soarin' races over the speed course, and makes a tight circle around us, as if in challenge.

But I have something else in mind, I think as I set the controls, and we begin accelerating backwards.

"Cheater!" Fleetfoot shouts, and grins.

Soarin' tries to fly backwards as fast as we are, but can't quite manage. Spitfire keeps pace, but isn't as steady. She's grinning at the challenge. Again we can't match the speed of the experts, but that isn't the point.

"Okay, take it forward, and we'll get you some experience flying this," I shout over the wind and rotor noise.

Fleetfoot isn't as sure on the controls, and I have to make a few adjustments, but after the third time around the track she's feeling confident enough to try and catch Soarin' as he practices flying backwards. The pegasus is too deft, but he has to work at it.

"Okay, let's do that maneuver," I tell her, she looks over and reluctantly lets me retake the controls.

The 'secret maneuver' is a basic pylon turn. A helicopter doesn't need to make such a maneuver to do what I have in mind, but a pegasus would. Once we're in the tightly banked turn, I let Fleetfoot hold the controls as I lower the bucket of rocks.

I note Fleetfoot's surprise, and see a bit on Spitfire's expression as well. Forgot you were beating us with a big container of rocks as ballast didn't you, I think as the bucket lowers relatively straight down. Spitfire is opposite us in our circling, studying the maneuver and figuring out how to duplicate it.

With the bucket touching down, I begin hauling it back up. Fleetfoot handles the controls expertly. With the bucket stowed, I signal for her to land the Diane.

The Unbirthday Song
From Walt Disney's "Alice In Wonderland"
Written by Mack David, Al Hoffman and Jerry Livingston

Out of Time Part 1

Out of Place - Out of Time Part 1

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Burning Bridges (Kelly's Heroes)
Mike Curb Congregation
Songwriter: Paul Scott

Friends all tried to warn me, but I held my head up high.
All the time to warn me, but I only passed them by.
They all tried to tell me, but I guess I didn't care.
I turned my back and left them standing there.
All the burning bridges that are falling after me.
All the lonely feelings and the burning memories.
Everyone I left behind each time I closed the door.
Burning bridges lost forevermore.

Glory Bell watched in stunned amazement. That thing actually works, and a pegasus can fly it too, not just an Earth Pony. She shook her head. Okay, he's not quite the idiot I thought. But . . .

Then she saw him surrender control to Fleetfoot, and the Wonderbolt soon was confident at the controls. The maneuver Fleetfoot took them through was deceptively simple. I've never seen anypony do that. You wouldn't have to land to pick up and lift something. And all you'd need to do is toss a rope to the flyer, and no jerk as they are carried aloft.

Fleetfoot brought the device in for a landing worthy of a Wonderbolt. Dramatic, and controlled. The stallion adjusted the controls and let the rotors spin down as they slowed their pedaling, cooling themselves down from the effort.

She headed over as Spitfire and Surprise landed near the machine and began chattering at the pilot and Fleetfoot. Soarin' was still practicing flying backwards around the test track. Glory cantered over.

"How soon can you teach us?" Spitfire asked eagerly.

"When I'm not so tired," he said, raised his head and grinned, "So, I guess I have some test pilots for the future models?" he asked.

Spitfire, Fleetfoot and Surprise all eagerly agreed. Glory just shook her head and joined the crowd.

"So what do you have in mind?" she asked.

Besides collecting a herd of mares, she thought darkly.

"With this model," he said, and pointed back to the small tail rotor, "I need to develop a cyclic, if you can vary the speed of that rotor, you can make the entire Diane rotate around it's own axis."

"Why don't you build it?" Fleetfoot asked as she climbed off the frame.

"With which hoof would you control it?" he asked in return.

The Wonderbolts were left dumbfounded. Fleetfoot looked at the pedals, and then her own hooves.

He turned to Glory. "That's why I was eager for your help," he said, "I haven't been able to figure out either. And that bugs me."

"So you didn't take her as an assistant for her family's connections?" Spitfire asked.

Glory stared at her friends, as she nearly died inside.

"A few people I trust said she was a nerd, that's all I needed to hear," he replied.

"What's a nerd?" Glory asked.

"Somebody who uses their brain for something other than keeping their hair off the top of their mouth. It is more specific than an intellectual, because it assumes technical competence. You got your Princess-ship for a rather superb piece of engineering when you were in grade school, and you've kept up your rather eclectic studies."

"He wants you for your brain," Fleetfoot said, finally getting through to him.

"I - " He stopped, and noted he was surrounded by Wonderbolt mares, friends of Glory's, he was the outsider, and none of the stallions were around. He earned good marks from the others by carefully phrasing the next, "I was eager to have you as an assistant. Who you date, and why, is entirely your business. And I would be remarkably bad company in that regard."

"Why?" Spitfire asked.

"While I can remember which utensil goes with which dish, and I know not to drink out of the hoof-rinse bowl, I'd never fit into high society. I'd much rather be at the machine shop or the drawing board," he said.

"Then how are you Celestia's new play toy?" Soarin' asked as he landed.

The three Wonderbolt mares groaned.

"I am a sounding board, not what most people think of when they hear 'play-toy'. Twilight was a student, because her magical power exceeded any non-alicorn since Star Swirl the Bearded. The Princess, Princesses, need someone not them to deal with problems. Twilight leads her knights. I do stuff like this." He gestured at the Diane. "Her Majesty wants her people to advance, and I come up with ideas others haven't."

They nodded and accepted that.

So what did they buy him with? Me as an extra horn? Glory wondered as she helped them carry the Diane to a large shed. Large enough that they didn't have to disassemble it to get it through the doors.

"So, when can you teach us to fly that?" Spitfire asked pointedly.

"Probably tomorrow. I have to get some machine tools ordered and start thinking about making replacement parts." He looked at Glory. "And yes, I took a loan from your uncle's coterie, against 10 percent of our profits on the Dianes, or one in ten of the production units. Until the loan is paid."

Glory felt he'd stabbed her in the heart.

Then he confused her growing sense of betrayal. "You were neither collateral, nor payment, your help was as a favor to both of us. Gives me a clever helper, and gives you an excuse to stay away from all the people who've been giving you trouble. After all, keeping an eye on Celestia's newest crazy for your uncle is good cover, and no one will argue."

"I am not spying for my uncle!" Glory exploded at him.

"Whether you intended to or not, you should be," he replied calmly, "After all, his job is keeping things on an even keel. If these shake things up too much, he's honor and duty-bound to stop me. I'd rather a polite word from a friend comes round to concentrate on the industrial sector or the military sector, rather than the full force of the local bureaucracy come crashing down on me. I intend to shake things up. I'd rather do so in a way that doesn't cause a panic in the halls of power."

As Glory stared at him, Fleetfoot reached over and closed her mouth. "Flies don't taste as good as you think."

Spitfire approaches me after Glory Bell had left.

"I sent a couple of the trainers to see her safely home, and prevent Claire from turning back and 'talking' to the crazy colt," Spitfire tells me, "So, how'd you see through her?"

"I got called into the offices of her uncle's most trusted subordinates for a little talk about getting some help, read: keep her out of trouble. And lo and behold, she's not only in my apartment, but asleep in my bed."

Spitfire gasps, but shakes her head ruefully.

"Yeah, a bit of a coincidence. You've probably run into admirers who were a little too, admiring," I say, "There's no way I warrant one of those. I may not be the most in-tune pony, but that smelled like fraud, even to me. Her uncle is smart enough to realize she's at the dangerous juncture of 'cute filly' and 'beautiful mare', and is not sailing the turbulence with particular skill or cunning."

The Wonderbolts' captain nods. "We keep a few of the trainers and mechanics close by for our younger members, and some of our fan appearances. You know, the kind of nice stallions and mares who could snap anyone short of the Princess' guards in half."

"She's got Claire, who looks like she regularly places in the annual, All-Equestria, Live-Bear eating contest."

"She's really a sweetie," Spitfire says.

"I have a group on rotation. Protecting who from whom probably changes on a moment by moment basis. I wouldn't want to face any in a fight, unless I got the first shot, and had an artillery brigade as that shot," I say, "So she getting a little too pretty, has always been inquisitive, and is getting a little too clever at ditching her guards for her uncle's comfort."

"Frankly, she's gorgeous," Spitfire says, then stares at me, "Or aren't you interested in mares?"

"I've already been married, and am a widower," I tell her, "Not even the Princesses come up to my wife's standard. Although most of you would think she was funny-looking, fact remains so am I, and I still love her."

"Sorry. Did you know her long?"

"Most of my life, and loved her most of that time. So the pretty filly is more interesting as a workmate than a love-mate."

She reaches out, then thinks better of it and pulls back. "Sorry about prying, but she is a friend. And you are right, there've been a few stallions, and the occasional mare, who've gotten far closer than they should have, and been warned off, by Claire, or one of us. And she's been taking chances an older and wiser mare wouldn't. There's some bad ponies out there, and she thinks she can charm or clever her way out of any situation. While some were after the pretty, most so far were after her uncle, for his money or his position. I guess I'm safe because she came to us. I'm just suspicious for our biggest fan."

"It's a fair question. Yes, she's very pretty, but she's a lot further down the 'not my wife' list. There are a lot of other issues I have to work out before I get tangled with another person that way. Mainly, I want to get through the next year. There are worse things than not noticing a pretty face."

"Yeah. There's the Grand Galloping Gala." Spitfire snorts. "This year, Soarin', Surprise and I lost the pool. I'd give anything to have somepony do something at that yawn-fest."

"I understand Celestia's knights are going to attend," I reply.

"The Element Bearers?" Spitfire asks and her face screws up in confusion, "Is her Highness forcing them? If she is, I'd almost believe she's the monster some of the papers say she is."

"Let's just say that it is something that has to be experienced at least once, and doing it with a circle of friends is probably the best way."

"Yeah, if I didn't have my wingmates, they couldn't drag me to that." She looks at me. "So are you going?"

"I haven't been asked," I reply, "And I'll probably be working."

"Coward."

"If I really wanted to stir things up, I'd invite Princess Luna. So while her Majesty is stuck greeting an endless line of well-wishers, I'd be on her Nightjesty's arm."

"You want to look around the moon that badly?" Spitfire asks.

"I've got a suit that would help," I reply.

Celestia noted the cupcake sitting on a table in her quarters. She scanned it for traces of dark magic or poisons. The scent of spice cake, her favorite, and dark, rather than milk chocolate icing tantalized her. She sniffed it, then fought back the impulse to gobble it down in one bite. It smelled ten times more delicious than she'd imagined.

She checked with the guard outside. "Who besides me has been in here?" she asked.

"Only her Nightjesty, Sir Eagle Bell, and young Barnum, Majesty," the guard answered from an at attention posture.

Celestial considered. "Thank you." Her wards were still in place, other than being mouth-wateringly delicious, the cupcake was utterly mundane. She carefully took a tiny taste, and forcibly stifled the urge to gobble the rest down in one bite. It tasted even better than it smelled. In moving the cupcake she realized the paper it was on had writing on it. Again she checked for spells and toxins, but it was ordinary paper and pencil.

'Feeling blue? Barnum'

"How sweet," she said and carefully carried the cupcake over to her desk, and nibbled at it as she went over the huge volume of paperwork that running a kingdom required. All too soon, it was gone.

I always feel like I should be going around to the servants' entrance, Spitfire thought as she rang the bell, she made a quick check that her civilian clothing was clean and in place. I probably should have worn a dress instead, but I'm not dressing up that much for anypony, she thought as the hoofman opened the door and recognized her.

"Ah, Miss Spitfire, she's upstairs in her room," he said the next as if confiding a dreadful secret, "Crying. It seems her plan did not go well. Whatever that plan was."

"I think it went better than she could hope for, but I'll tell her that," the mare said as the stallion let her past and she headed up the staircase. She was aware of the many eyes upon her, and fought back stage fright she never felt when performing as a Wonderbolt.

I wonder how scandalized they'd be if I flew in here? She looked at the huge open spaces the building enclosed, and considered the maneuvers she could perform inside. The room she entered was larger than most of the sheds they stored their performance gear in, but much more thoroughly cleaned and much better organized. She found Glory Bell where she'd expected, all tangled up in the covers of what had been a four-poster canopied bed, until G.B. had learned about saws. She was glad the girl was mostly cried out. She smirked at the cutie mark of a red heart trimmed with white lace. Looks like a decoration from some of the sappier, romance greeting cards. No wonder she hides it all the time.

"Hey, I need to know if you're going to be on the rotation to learn how to fly that thing, or if you'll wait and let one of us teach you." She looked around at the stuffed animals, one on nearly every shelf, and some shelves that was all they contained. All looking down on the interloper, like cute, furry gargoyles, waiting to pounce to defend a mistress who was outgrowing them. Adorning the walls between the shelves were a few signed posters of the Wonderbolts. One for each time the team had changed. Spitfire looked at one where she'd been the newest recruit. The captain was a gray-maned stallion who knew more about flying that the entire rest of the team put together. He still gave the current captain some sage advice from time to time.

Caught between the little girl with her toys, and the grown up world of real things, she thought, then caught what she still mistook for a mobile, The 'flying truss', that honestly might be another big part of it. Spitfire looked at the 'class project' that had won the filly such early acclaim. While a tornado would pick up a huge amount of weight, it had to be in small pieces. For large objects they had to use pegasi teams, or magic, or both. And the pegasi lost some of their lift capacity compensating for the tendency of the weight to drag them together.

But not with that thing, Spitfire still admired the light yet comparatively rigid structure, Takes less lift to keep it in the air, than the side force the pegasi have to exert without it. I bet that is it. That machine Barnum is working on, will make this obsolete. And right after he solved the big problem of how to lift a large, delicate object, instead of having to fly by and snag the load, or have magic lift it into the air. How do you survive going from a princess to a has-been before you're out of puberty? Spitfire nearly chuckled. You replace your old work, with your new work.

Since she hadn't heard an answer, she grabbed the girl out of the tangled bed clothes and swung her out onto the floor.

"Hey!" G.B. exclaimed at being 'handled' especially by a bite to the scruff of her neck, "Have you gone nuts?" She scrambled to a sitting position to face Spitfire.

"Nope," Spitfire said and sat down on her haunches to face G.B., "Just thinking you had your cry, and now it's time to get back to work. If you can't get back up after you fall down, you're only a disappointment." Spitfire raised her voice to override G.B.'s protest, "I've got Soarin' and a couple others trying that 'pylon turn' with your flying truss. And I've got Fleetfoot out getting some real data on our new crazy. If you thought the papers were giving you good info, you've got something new to learn. Now, I am giving you the assignment to go talk to your uncle about him. Tell him you see through the first layer of his plan, but you want to know what he really needs from you. Then you get one of the four-armed versions of that." She pointed a hoof at the mobile hung from the ceiling. "Because if he's half the engineer he claims, he'll see it's the way to build his new 'quadra-Diane'. You're going to help him perfect this thing. Because the Wonderbolts are Equestria's premier fliers. Than means, if it flies, we're the best with it."

"Okay," G.B. said softly, her eyes wide with shock at the ungentle handling and tone.

"Good. Like I said, you're entitled to a cry. But we need someone inside, and he needs us. That means we both need you. If you're up to it," Spitfire said as she stood up.

"Have I ever disappointed you?" G.B. said, looking up at her idol.

She thought carefully. "There was that rocket chair," Spitfire said.

"The rail broke!" G.B. protested.

"Okay. Make sure this one doesn't come off the rails."

G.B. let out a breath and stood up. "Thanks. I needed that," she sounded like the full-grown mare she was becoming, then a bit of the scared kid poked out, "What would you have done if I didn't agree?"

"I would have walked out," Spitfire told her, "I don't coddle second-raters. Not if they want to be part of my team."

G.B. nodded. "What'll you do if I'm better with it than you or the others?" G.B. asked with a little of her normal fire.

"I'll finally be able to give you a uniform. You should have been a pegasus." Spitfire exited the room. As she walked down the stairs, she noted that the staff were looking at her with expectation.

I always wondered where her parents were. It's like her uncle and the staff raised her. Did a good job, but some things a girl needs her mother for, and I'm not that much older than her.

"She'll be fine, but she'll be running around like a bee-stung bronco collecting all kinds of things. Sorry to put you through another of her 'projects.'"

"We prefer her projects, to some of the gentlemen callers of late," the butler admitted.

"Then you might want to discreetly check out the man she'll be working with. He's one of Celestia's, but I think there are ponies you can talk to that wouldn't talk to me," Spitfire said.

"I have several cousins at the palace," the cook offered, "Perhaps a luncheon with your team?"

"As long as it's simple, some of us aren't the most elegant either," Spitfire warned.

"Sandwiches are always an equalizer," the butler suggested.

"Hawser, where's the ink for the drawing board?" came the call from the upstairs.

"Time to go to work," Spitfire said.

"Thank you, ma'am," the butler said as the servants were already bustling to get their mistress' needs seen to.

Celestia grimaced at the blue water that she'd just added to the sewer. Feeling blue, she considered, and remembered her shock and terror at the neon-blue urine, Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. She considered the best way to repay her clever friend.

"Perfect," she said quietly and composed herself before stepping out into the palace hubbub.

Fleetfoot was having a devil of a time finding one Night Guard among all the palace populace. "I should have taken the flight job," she lamented as the crowd of functionaries, tourists and hangers-on closed around her. The halls of the palace would have been open and airy, save for them being packed with ponies.

She glanced above her, Even the air is crowded in here, she thought, But if he's anywhere, here's the best chance to spot him. She was jostled, and apologized to, for the hundredth time. I also should have stayed in uniform, she thought as she had to dive and dodge through the crowd, Good practice for later flying. Then again, if I was in uniform, they wouldn't be ignoring me.

She didn't see her target, but she spotted the next best thing. "Bran Scone!" she called to the older mare who also seemed to be searching. She ignored the reproachful looks of the others for having broken the hall's hallowed hush, and headed towards her target.

The mare turned to see who'd called out to her in the middle of the palace, and took a moment to recognize the mare. "Fleetfoot," she whispered as the mare drew close, then spoke conversationally, "I'm ashamed to say, I didn't recognize you. Is there some reason you're out of uniform?"

"Didn't want to have to sign autographs," she admitted as she glanced around. The crowd seemed not to have heard a Wonderbolt was in their midst. Or they didn't care. "Also, I need to talk to your husband, and it's as if he's been dodging me."

"He seems to enjoy his new ability to be unseen," the graying mare confided, "And you haven't had time for your old friend, now that you're a big star?"

"It isn't that!" Fleetfoot said defensively, "It's just that - I've been busy." She bowed her head. "And now I'm using that friendship to do a job, rather than just spending time with my friends."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Mile Stone asked as he appeared out the crowd, causing both mares to jump.

"I should report you to the Night Guards for scaring poor mares like that!" Scone complained, then nuzzled her husband, "Do you know who's in charge of the Night Guard?"

"I think I can find out," he replied.

"Say, I've got to quiz you for information, but there's no reason why I can't take you out for dinner while doing it." She grinned. "Or do you have other plans?"

"No, we had a nice dinner in mind," Scone said, "And he's off-duty tonight, so we can take care of what you're doing, and find out about what else you've been doing."

"All right," the mare said, and trotted after the married couple.

Celestia entered her private bathroom, thankful for her sister's return, and the chance to sleep an entire night undisturbed or bathe for an hour without interruption. She felt a brief tremor of concern as the lights didn't come on as they usually did. A touch of magic to ignite her emergency candles found they had been removed. She looked around at the shadows in the room carefully, enhancing her senses, and listening. The thunder made her wince.

"SUNNY DAYS! THOU HAST MALICIOUSLY AND SLANDEROUSLY ATTACKED THE BELOVED SOVEREIGN OF EQUESTRIA! THOU HAST SOUGHT TO PROVOKE CONTENTION BETWEEN THE ALICORN SISTERS WHERE ONLY UNITY HAS BEEN!"

Okay, Luna, I get the joke, Celestia thought and grinned at her sister's 'defense' of her partner.

"SINCE CELESTIA SOLAR EVER-MERCIFUL STAYS HER HAND, IN THE NAME OF THE MOON, I SHALL PUNISH THEE!"

The pie hit Celestia in the neck right above her shoulder.

Celestia smelled the meringue on her and beside her, and growled, "I'll have at thee!" Her coat flared with brilliant light revealing the stock of ammunition beside the bathtub, and she bracketed her dazzled sister, and her sister's 'advisor', with several pies of her own. But they were prepared for it and fired back.

"I shall flush you out," she exclaimed, and lifted water from the tub and hurled it at them.

Those sisters play rough, I think of the two giggling alicorns I just left, At least I managed to leave before they noticed the limp, I think as I try to put as little weight on the right foreleg as I can. Any weight and I don't have to leave my path through the great hall to see stars.

"Are you all right lad?" comes a familiar voice.

"Oh, nothing a night's sleep won't cure, Sergeant Mile Stone. I thought you were off-duty tonight," I tell him, although I'm glad it's him and not someone more inquisitive. Then Captain Armor charges up.

"What do you know about Sunny Days slipping into Celestia's private apartments?" Armor demands. The old chestnut of fury boiling off someone is not hyperbole in the captain's case.

I sigh. "And it was supposed to be such a quiet, little assassination," I say, "His, not hers."

"The lad already knows who Sunny Days is, Captain," Mile Stone explains as he salutes, "And what the miscreant looks like."

"What does she look like?" Armor asks, only the presence of Mile Stone prevents him from shaking me to speed my answer.

"Black and blue with pools of red all around, when I got my first good look today. We, Princess Luna and I, attacked from the darkness. Oh, if either Princess tells you to stop beating someone's head against the floor. Listen to them."

"That's where you got this," Mile Stone comments.

"I got it from her Highness. Next time I'm ordered to stop, I'll do so with greater alacrity," I tell both soldiers.

Armor lets out the breath he was holding. "I suspect that the Princesses are, discussing things?"

"You could say that, without breaking the word. Although, there was a lot of giggling going on. Talk of water, and soap, and a few things I won't mention on a kids' show," I say.

It gets an amused snort from Mile Stone and an exasperated eye-roll from the Day Guard captain.

"At least you gave him something to think about," Armor finally says.

"Eleven unanswered shots, I'd be prouder of that if Princess Luna wasn't there keeping the focus on her."

"No offence, lad, but if I was fighting you and an alicorn, you'd be the least of my worries."

"And I'd use that to my advantage."

"Okay," Armor says, "Get some rest. I doubt their Highnesses will want to talk about it, and have they forbidden you to talk about it?"

"I wasn't exactly sworn to secrecy, but it was strongly implied," I reply.

He frowns, but I can't help that.

Once he's out of earshot, Mile Stone speaks up, "Eleven, I can't imagine."

"Luna was drawing fire, but I was using cover and fire-and-move."

"I bet you were," the sergeant says proudly, "Let's get you in one piece, so their Highnesses don't feel guilty over breaking you."

"If I say 'I'll be fine', you'll poke me in the side until I scream or pass out, won't you?"

"One good prod should do it," he says dismissively.

I fall in behind.

The nightmare isn't too different from others I've had since coming here. I am a fully-grown stallion, and there's a mare in season. Instincts come to the fore, and I chase. The mare plays with me, teases, and runs away, but never enough that I give up. A couple times it was Celestia, once or twice it was Luna. They are better at it than Glory Bell is. And this time I know it's a dream. And it always ends the same: I catch and mount the mare, and then catch sight of my wife, my brother, or sister, and they're always disappointed, horrified or some such.

This time, I run right past the mare and into the darkness surrounding the scene. Blackness closes in around me on all sides. Cold knifes into my flanks as I run. No sound, no smells, but darkness all around. I glance back, and the clearing with the waiting mare is receding into the distance. I turn back ahead and keep a steady pace. There's nothing back there I really want, I tell my horse instincts, my human doubts have to add, Is there anything ahead worth anything? I consider, Yes, the unknown.

I keep running for quite a while. The spot of light behind me has receded to a dot, and nothing appears in front. Somehow, I know I'll be running like this forever, I tell myself, No, not forever. That day will come, Der Tag, and everything between now, and then, will be different. That's what you're doing here. That's why you're playing at the edges, that's why you played games with the Element Bearers instead of coming out and telling them what's going to happen, and that's why Celestia hasn't told them either. You're a wild card, but one who has already seen the game played. Played, played out, and won. As long as you don't disturb the table, then all is well. The victory you know will work, will still work.

It's like a weight is lifted from me. I accelerate and run out of the darkness into a meadow of tall grass. I'm the only horse there, among all the grazing, playing ponies. I run past them and onto the horizon.

"I never thought it would happen. My friends . . . have turned into complete JERKS!" Twilight announced, then began putting the Elements of Harmony on their less than enthused bearers, "Necklace! Necklace! Necklace! Necklace! And big crown thingy! Come on everypony, let's go!"

"But Twilight, aren't you missing somepony?" Spike asked as he trotted beside his friend.

"Nope. We've got the liar, the grump, the hoarder and the brute," Twilight said disparagingly of her friends, "That just about covers it."

"But what about Rainbow Dash?" the little dragon persisted.

Twilight slowly realized she had at least one friend, one person really trying to help her still. She looked at the other Bearers and considered briefly.

"Right," she said pulling the necklace off Applejack, replacing it with Fluttershy's. Fluttershy got Pinkie Pie's, while Pinkie Pie received Applejack's.

"I hate the Element of Honesty!" Pinkie observed.

"Ha!" Fluttershy replied.

"Yeah, this might work," Twilight said, as Spike received Rarity's Element of Generosity, and Rarity received the Element of Loyalty in return. "Now let's go defeat Discord, so we don't ever have to talk to each other again!"

The element bearers cheered as they ran after Twilight.

At this point Luna twisted the dream so the bearers' battle against Discord ended in victory, and they were restored. They then returned the elements to their proper bearers.

"So that's the nightmare that's been riding you," Luna commented to her now-peacefully sleeping sister, "And if it is prophesy, what are we to do about it?"

The morning brings being shaken awake by a very worried-looking Hardwood. "How much trouble are you in?"

The interrogator/intelligence officer looks sour, but only sets a series of newspapers on the bed in front of me.

"You know, acting like I'm an omniscient, wishing lamp is going to run thin pretty quickly," I tell him and look at the various headlines and columns, "Okay, I'm lost, I don't see anything." I get out of bed and head for the bathroom to wake up more, by both buying a little time and splashing some cold water on my face.

"Sunny Days' column isn't there, and there's no explanation," Hardwood says as he follows me into the bathroom, "It's no secret you caught him in the princess' private rooms, and beat him to a bloody pulp."

"And it's also no secret that her Majesty was there, and I left before I could shuffle Sunny Days off this mortal coil. Any damage I did could easily be removed by Princess Celestia, or Princess Luna, who was also there."

"You don't understand. If Sunny Days took the day off, it implies that she took it off because of the fight with you," Hardwood said, "Reporters are generally not assaulted by ponies close to royalty or the aristocracy."

"Is that why they can get away with printing such scandalous stuff?" I ask as I leave the bathroom, with Hardwood on my tail, literally.

"That isn't the point. The courts are the place to settle such a dispute."

"What are the laws about breaking and entering?" I ask, "Lying in wait, ambushing someone in the privacy of their own home? Back home, I had a 12-gauge shotgun that I'd use on anyone who'd burst into my home without permission or warning. If all that hack got was a beating, he should consider himself lucky."

"You just can't go around beating up reporters!"

"But I can say whatever vile crap I can dig up and misinterpret on them?" I angrily shoot back, "As long as it has some modicum of truth? Well, thank you Doctor, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go invent photoshop so I can doctor some pictures. Then to dig up the reporters' tax records."

"That isn't what I meant!"

I stop and stare at the agitated stallion. "Then what is, Doctor? That I have to avoid any appearance of impropriety, because I'm her Majesty's 'kept boy'? That because I'm 'bigger' than some pipsqueak reporter that I have to take whatever they hand out?" I ask coldly, "That's crap handed out by vicious weaklings who never want to be called to account for what they do. I always preferred the Marine way, where you take the biggest screw-up and make an example of them. It's a heck of a lot more effective in the real world than your theories."

I leave the sputtering Major and head out to the Wonderbolts' practice field, it is too early for the libraries. The guard who dashes after me is a new one, a filly who looks younger than I look, and despite the highly polished armor, seems decidedly unmilitary. I nod to her and give her no more mind than I would my own shadow. Most of the guards were nervous about talking with me any way, I think as we enter the area where the shed is.

The nervousness of the mechanics is my first clue. I ostensibly ignore it. The empty shed is the second, and gives me two possibilities. Surprise races out to greet me, then I realize it's not her. The nervous mare in the Wonderbolts uniform slows her approach. Movement from behind, and I realize my guard is ready to tackle me, just in case.

"She isn't that cute," I tell the guard, embarrassing her.

"Uh, hi! I'm Blaze!" She obviously expects the usual fawning over a Wonderbolt, and seems frightened when it doesn't happen. "I bet you're wondering about your machine."

"You're a flier. So you know about the first pony ever to build a heavier-than-air, fixed-wing, flying machine? Doctor Samule Langley?"

The nervous Wonderbolt shakes her head.

"The reason you've never heard of him, yet Pinkamena Diane Pie will go down in history with the first, practical, rotary-winged, heavier-than-air, flying machine, is she invented something more important than just the machine. Do you know what that was?" I ask in a lecturing tone.

The terrified mare glances at the nonplused guard filly, then merely shakes her head.

"Flying lessons, where's the wreckage," I ask in a completely neutral tone, "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, sir," Blaze says as she leads me to the Diane wrapped around a tree, eight mechanics and the rest of the Wonderbolts trying to untangle one from the other. It's pretty clear it backed into the tree, at a decent rate of speed.

Fleetfoot races over, sparing Blaze a glare that wilts the other mare, she composes herself. "Hi Barnum, little accident. Don't worry, no one got hurt," she says, grinning happily. I let her block my way, and grin back at her. And grin, and grin, and grin, and grin. Fleetfoot shudders. "You aren't buying it, are you?" she says.

"I'm glad no one was hurt, other than my feelings," I say coldly, "It does explain why her Nightjesty was asking about actually forming the Shadowbolts, a night-action team."

Fleetfoot and Blaze freeze at that. I take the opportunity to walk past them. As I pass the mechanics' tool chests, I pick up a large spanner and an engineer's wrench of equal size. Soarin' backs up immediately.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just took it for a little joyride. I didn't expect this would happen!" he says, backing away as I advance. He braces as the two tools fly up, over his head, and loosen a bolt, the first of four bolts that holds the main shaft to the rest of the frame. Three bolts later, the rest of the team are able to separate the modern art from the remains of the tree.

"I thought you'd be mad," Soarin' says as he approaches carefully, his head down.

I glance at him, and exude all the tranquility of a snow-covered, dormant volcano. "Whatever possessed you to think I'm not?" I ask calmly, "It's all I can do not to run off to find a basket of oranges, and three mice."

"What are you going to do with them?" he asks nervously. I grin at him, showing all of my teeth. He leaves, quickly.

"What are you going to do to him?" Spitfire asks sharply as she lands with several other Wonderbolts and a team of pegasi mechanics.

I wave her off to the side, my new guard and a very large mechanic follow. "I'm going to let him worry about it for a day or two," I say quietly so the others can't hear, "And since Glory isn't here, I'm going to have her give him a basket of oranges, somewhere all of you can see his reaction."

Spitfire breaks off laughing. The guard and mechanic relax.

"I had a feeling something like this would happen. I am disappointed that you didn't let me teach you how to safely fly it, before curiosity overcame horse-sense. I'm just glad I didn't have the rocket boosters installed."

"Like fireworks?" the mechanic asks.

"Yes, but mounted to the frame, and no fancy sparks loaded. Just the thrust," I explain. He nods.

"Now, what happened?" I ask.

Spitfire explains that Soarin' tried the 'fly backwards' trick in the Diane. Then couldn't figure out how to stop.

"Get close to the ground and quit pedaling would be a favorite," I say.

"No, he couldn't figure out how to slow down, and stop," Spitfire tells me.

"Probably broke something before the crash," I comment as the ruined remains are taken back to the hanger.

"Glory probably won't be in for a while. Once she gets her teeth in a project, she tends to be a little, obsessive."

"I know how that is." I consider. "Just out of curiosity, why is she so embarrassed about her cutie mark, or lack there of? I don't want to know what it is, or if she's a 'blank flank', but she's always wearing shorts, or something to cover it."

"It's 'embarrassing'," she explains as we enter the hanger.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the entire vehicle is a total write-off. "I'm glad no one was hurt," I say, "I just don't see how anyone survived that crash."

"He wasn't aboard when it hit," one of the mechanics says.

Makes sense, I think as I consider getting all the pieces to build a new two-seater main and tail rotor vehicle, or concentrate on the four-rotor version.

Waking up under the bed doesn't fill me with joy. I look across the floor at the buckets of parts and the bedframes set up as easels to display the work in process. Several things bother me, but my mind is slow to answer the questions. Then I focus on the metal webbing surrounding the bed, the stonework looks more like the ceiling than the floor, and the fact the mattress I'm lying on is on the underside of the bed.

I look through the webbing, and down at the floor far below.

"What are you doing up there, lad?" Mile Stone asks as he and Hardwood stare up at me.

"Oh well, the light's better up here," I tell them, "Please get a ladder."

Of course you know, this means war, I think as I lie in the cage her Majesty carefully crafted for me.

There was a scream of absolute and abject terror, followed closely by a fleeing Wonderbolt who seemed destined to be the first stallion to create a sonic rainboom.

Glory looked at the rest of the crew laughing so hard they'd fallen out of their chairs or off their hooves. She glanced down at the basket of yummy oranges Spitfire had asked her to give to Soarin'. "What is going on?" she demanded as she set the basket down, and headed towards Fleetfoot who was on her back, legs waving in the air. Seeing that no one was likely to be able to answer her question, she took an orange from the basket and ate it as she walked through the compound.

The hanger was where she remembered it. The absolute wreckage of the Diane was new.

"Please tell me Soarin' didn't take it out for a practice run," she lamented, and now understood the set up she'd been part of.

"I could, but I'd be lying," Barnum said as he examined the wreckage. The pile of supplies in the hanger suggested he'd either given up repairing it and would replace it, or he was on to the quadra-Diane design. "I looked at your flying truss design. I think we can adapt it to the four-rotor version. That still doesn't eliminate the problems with the cyclic. I wish I'd studied copters more closely when I had a chance."

" 'Copters'?" Glory asked as she saw the blueprints of a flying truss, with a lot of amendments, including rotors at the end of each arm.

"Nickname for Dianes," Barnum said, "Different place."

She hadn't wanted to broach the important topic. "I know about your memories," she said, "I talked to my uncle." She smiled, trying to soften the blow. "I guess that's why you don't notice me."

He turned to face her. "I apologize, I didn't mean to offend you. Everyone says you're quite lovely . . . "

"But you don't see it, at all. I might as well be a statue, or a picture," she said.

He frowned. "You're a person, and a clever one, and due all the respect that goes with that. But beyond an active intellect, and personhood, there's not much else. We can be friends. I'd like that."

She sighed, and noted he hadn't looked at her the way most colts his age did when she sighed. "Okay, I can live with that. The next question is: what are you going to do next?" she asked.

"Go with the two-seater quadra-Diane, the other one is a write-off," he said, "At least it showed me what broke."

"I'd give the wreck to the mechanics and fliers here, let them understand the principles," she said, "So, what do you need?"

"Machine tools: a lathe, a mill, and a pile of hand tools and measuring tools. I can set up the machine shop in my apartments. It's sound shielded, so we could work anytime we feel like it. The other thing we'll need is paper and pen. We'll need to generate plans from the parts. If we want to be able to mass-produce these."

"Mass produce? Something this complicated?" she asked.

"Yep. If we can make 30 of them, and interchangeable parts, it will reduce the price in the long-run."

"Who'd want to do that?" she asked.

Lieutenant Peaceful Solitude finally admitted she has been assigned to me, as the commander of my guard. At least the sergeants didn't need me to be a babysitter, doing what a good sergeant is supposed to do, turn a mush-brained intellectual into a decent officer, I think ruefully, Now is it my job to do the same, or theirs? I wonder as I glance at the filly who seems less at home in her bright uniform and polished armor, than I am in my ponydom. I wonder if they still think I'm a spy, just a crazy person, or if they are trying to get some work out of me? I wonder as the two of us collect some of the metal-working gear I need. Despite the impressive load, the cart I'm hauling is quiet, but only the four wheels keep it from tipping up and holding me in the air.

"I think the visit to the Royal Metalsmiths was very informative," Peaceful Solitude says, every inch the nervous filly out in the big city for the first time, her voice even cracked as she spoke, "Some of them may even adopt your ideas."

"I'm glad you think so. I was too worried about them getting ready to throw anvils at me," I reply, "I think people aren't quite ready for the idea of mass production. Or interchangeable parts."

"They didn't grow up with the idea, sir," she replies loyally.

I stop and look at her. She flinches, as if I'm going to hit her. "Lieutenant. I'm a civilian, and a commoner. I don't warrant the 'sir'. Call me Barnum, P.T., or if you must, Mister McHorsefly."

"But you're with her Highness, and served with the Element Bearers," she says in a frightened tone.

"I assisted Miss Pie with the Parasprites, and I talk with her Majesty, nothing more. Don't assume all the rumors you hear are correct," I tell her, trying not to scold her, "What I am is both more boring and more unusual than the newspapers and the rumor-mill make me out to be."

"So you aren't a . . . transformed simian," she whispers nervously.

"You think my memories are real?" I ask, "And that I'm not making it all up?"

Her blush makes her go from Celestia's ugly-duckling, little sister, to Cadence's. "Whether they are real or not, you know things no one else does, and are smart enough to know not to advertise," she says, and looks guiltily at the heavy cart I'm hauling.

Her body language clearly says she should be pulling it, but she's in a uniform, and I'm in street clothes. The last thing I want is her to get dirty. And the locals seem to like a uniformed officer, even a baby lieutenant, better than an unfamiliar yokel, I think. Then the flyer hits me in the face.

"Sometimes I think the world is out to get me," I say of the paper spindled on my horn, and out of range of my teeth. Paper is nearly immune to my 'horn magic', if I want to leave it in one piece. Then I focus on the words. " 'Lunar Republic?' Lieutenant, is this some kind of joke?"

Her expression is closed up. Her face and posture frozen. She's practically standing at attention before a board of generals. "I wouldn't know, sir."

I lower my horn, and get a hoof on the paper. The stylized picture of Princess Luna, the phrase 'let the tyrant hear us' and the quality of the paper get my attention. I remember seeing some old KorCom propaganda. You use the best you've got to show off, and while the art was absolutely splendid, Mad Magazine used better paper for their printing, I think as I stare at it, This is expensive stuff, and the printing method isn't cheap. Lately I'd gotten very familiar with the local, industrial infrastructure: Unicorn Magic could produce a couple of nearly anything, but if you needed a thousand in a hurry, you were out of luck. And everything was a custom job, even if it was the hundredth one built. Printing presses could churn out newsprint cheaply, but not glossy, full-color fliers.

"How long has this been going on?" I ask.

"I wouldn't know, sir."

Now I glare at her. "Lieutenant, I work for a living, same as a sergeant or corporal, or at least I will shortly. I've seen her Nightjesty, she's a terrified little girl who's nearly afraid of her own shadow. A lot like a newly-graduated lieutenant. If someone is doing this, then they may be preparing to use her as a scapegoat, or a figurehead, for something she'd rather not be part of. She loves her big sister dearly, and I seriously doubt she'd want that."

"Agreed, si - ah, stamp it all, agreed, sir," she manages. Then glares at me to forestall any arguments. "Are you just a trifle sensitive, considering the 'Molestia' gossip?"

Sometimes this place makes me want to scream, I remember, 'I guess Twilight got too old, now she's got a new colt.'

"I think introducing a new martial art to the world did come in handy," I reply, as my anger and embarrassment fade.

"It was a revelation. And you are extremely cute, sir," the Lieutenant says with a completely straight face.

I don't growl, much. "I'm old enough to be your father's father, Lieutenant."

"You know that, but it isn't apparent to others," she replies.

I fold the flier and stuff it in the parcels in the cart. I suspect she's going to sneak it out and destroy it, but I saw it, I think as we head to the next shop. The cart getting heavier, and my sack of bits getting lighter.

Out of Time Part 2

Out of Place - Out of Time Part 2

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Burning Bridges (Kelly's Heroes)
Mike Curb Congregation
Songwriter: Paul Scott

Joey tried to help me find a job a while ago.
When I finally got it I didn't want to go.
The party Mary gave for me when I just walked away.
Now there's nothing left for me to say.
All the burning bridges that are falling after me.
All the lonely feelings and the burning memories.
Everyone I left behind each time I closed the door.
Burning bridges lost forevermore.

Celestia looked over her lunch, then to her two dining companions. "So, Eagle," she asked, "How is the operation to allow freer access to Royal information going?"

"Your Highness, you know I can't talk about that with your Majesty or her Nightjesty," Sir Eagle Bell replied deadpan. The two princesses and the head of the civil service laughed at the little joke.

"I'd heard there was trouble, and I thought I could be of service, unofficially of course," Celestia said. Luna nodded, but munched her midnight snack happily.

"The problem is, it is reaching the point of needing an actual leader. Her Nightjesty remains the spiritual head, but for it to work, a less spectacular, but none-the-less dynamic individual needs to be the one ponies turn to."

"Or point their fingers at," Luna added.

Celestia looked disappointed. "And you are having trouble finding candidates?"

Bell smiled. "Quite the contrary your Highness, we've found two, simply brimming with energy, talent, charm, political acumen, and most importantly, new ideas. The problem is, there are two of them, and their ideas are completely incompatible. And they despise each other, cordially of course."

"What are their major differences?" Celestia asked.

"Well, one desires to abolish all government and establish a free association of self-governing "producers": farmers, workers, artisans. These associations would be in touch with other groups through the local labor exchange, which would function as a combination of employment and economic planning agency," Bell said, "Frankly all three of us would be out of a job, at least theoretically. His plan calls for economic strikes as a means of forcing change."

"How would that actually work? The ponies in power now would by and large wind up in power again," Luna asked, "I could see that from the Moon. It would be the tyranny of the majority."

"True, there is the underlying assumption that as all are equal, talents, breed and cutie marks notwithstanding, that leadership would rotate through the entire populace of the group, whether the individual members wanted a chance to lead or not. As you well know, individuals with a talent for leadership would be the de facto leaders, even when it wasn't 'their turn'," Bell said, "Hence the opposition, which is equally disturbing. A minimal government to protect individuals, especially minorities, from any violation of their rights, to prosecute those who initiate force or fraud against others, and, here's the sticky bit, to encourage full utilization of ones' talents for the good of all, presumably through education and experience."

"The 'Cutie Mark Crusaders' of Ponyville writ large," Celestia suggested, earning a chuckle from her dining companions.

"True, your Majesty. Otherwise, everypony else would be free to do as they wished, as long as they didn't use force, fraud or violate anypony's rights," Eagle concluded.

"How would necessary but unpopular policies get enacted under either theory?" Celestia asked.

"They couldn't," Bell admitted, "The security actions by the bearers of the Elements, who owe you their personal loyalty, would likewise be impossible. Moreover, the leaders are so polarized, and so are their factions, that the accession of either would fragment the entire movement in weeks to months. And we do not want that."

Celestia nodded. "I can see the problems," Celestia said, "And the trouble with those views. Besides divesting myself and Luna of any authority or ability to intervene on our ponies' behalf."

"Yes. The solution, of course, is we need a compromise. A leader who is also full of big ideas, yet is reasonable and malleable. Acceptable to both sides," Eagle said.

"Somepony who can be guided to not overly shock the body politic, yet still push the needed reforms with vigor," Celestia agreed.

"Somepony not already associated with either side of the debate," Luna added, "And is open-minded enough to take the bits from each side, and make them a workable, and palatable whole." She looked at the pair. "We are not taking your route of the masquerade, dear sister. We would dearly love to smash in the face of 'Sunny Days', for what she has said about our sister."

A guard approached and bowed.

"Yes Captain?" Celestia said.

"Young Barnum is out there, he seems extremely agitated about something. It might be good to see him," the guard suggested.

Celestia nodded. The guard nodded to the door. Celestia felt Eagle's eyes on her, staring intently. While Barnum was ushered in, she looked at her head of the civil service. She saw the wheels turning, and realized her mind was turning in the same direction. As the agitated colt rushed in with his new guard commander in tow, Luna let out a guffaw, then apologetically covered her face with a napkin. Celestia turned to see the old bureaucrat quietly laughing so hard he had tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh dear," she said, trying not to laugh herself.

"You shouldn't do that to poor, old stallions," Bell said as he got control of himself, "Your Highness."

"I apologize," she said, accepting his assumption that happenstance was directed action, "I agree, it would be impossible."

"Why?" Bell asked, "Your Highnesses' government would welcome a less, intentionally shocking individual."

"Your Majesty, your Nightjesty, Sir Bell," Barnum said, bowing to each, and looking totally bewildered, "I can come back later."

"Oh, no," Celestia said, "We want to talk to you, but first, what brings you here. I thought you were out purchasing machine tools."

"This." He put the handbill on the table in front of Celestia and stepped away as if it were a poisonous snake. He glanced around with nervous little jerks. More agitated than Celestia remembered seeing him. The handbill itself was a stylized picture of Luna, and the phrase 'New Lunar Republic' across the bottom. "Your Highnesses, Sir Bell, that isn't something churned out by a couple of kids with a borrowed printing press. That's a sophisticated piece of work, that means good organization, and a good deal of money behind it." He looked over at Luna. "Forgive me your Nightjesty, but if they are using you as a pawn, or a scapegoat, it would be . . ., have I said something funny?" He looked around in bewilderment at the group.

"No," Celestia said quietly, "You have been both diligent and loyal. Bringing your concerns to us, and reflexively assuming that Luna would not be so disloyal to Equestria, as to be behind the planned overthrow of the government." She paused and smiled.

She was overjoyed when he got it. "You are behind this, this, this -?" He waved a hoof at the handbill.

"Palace revolution?" Bell said quietly, "Of course we are. One cannot have a healthy government without the occasional revolution. Even if it is quietly handled and civilized."

"Please don't tell me that came from me," Barnum pleaded.

"But it was such a good idea." Celestia nodded to Bell.

The old stallion explained, "Our real problem was that to too many ponies, any dissatisfaction with the political process, or the basic social structure, is too easily misconstrued as disloyalty to her Highness. That impression could be used as a club to beat down opposition, no matter how loyal, and nearly any reform, no matter how badly needed. The civil service, as you have pointed out to my niece, is most interested in the continuity of government. Ponies feel so much more secure when they know the rules ten years from now are essentially the rules of today. We attempt to ensure that feeling of security."

"And reform coming directly from the crown, would be perceived as unwarranted intervention, even interference, by the very ponies I would mean to help," Celestia explained, "Odd that my powers, personally, are greater than any other force on Equestria, and my control of the government is near absolute, yet I am hemmed in by that very power. I can only influence, not directly intervene."

"Or you'd be plucking cats out of trees for peo - ponies." Barnum nodded. "But then what is that?"

"With our return, one could be loyal to a princess, opposed to Celestia, and still loyal to Equestria," Luna explained. She drew herself up. "WE INTEND TO LOOSE THE SHACKLES OF ALL PONIES," she trumpeted in the Royal Canterlot voice. Barnum blanched, while his guard commander tried to pull down and crawl inside her helmet. "Including our sister." Luna bowed to Celestia.

The confusion wreathing Barnum bordered on misery. "I'm still missing a big piece of the puzzle," he said.

"Barnum," Celestia said gently, trying to use just her voice to soothe him, "All ponies are herd creatures, it is essential they have others around them. Twilight had Spike, because she needed a companion, or the aloneness of her predicament and place would have overwhelmed her. Likewise, even if a pony doesn't like me, they are still likely to bend to my will, or what they perceive is my will, and fall silent in my presence. Any lone complainant would become merely the grousing of a single, disgruntled pony. A group would be branded treasonous by their neighbors, long before it ever gained a chance to offer reforms, or become a threat. That leaves the lone madpony, which further erodes the comfort of those who openly dissent."

"However, with another princess available," Luna continued, "It becomes possible for a dissenter to still worship the ground a princess walks on and thus Equestria itself, and oppose the apparent wishes of the other."

"We've had a good deal more worry about the 'Solar Kingdom' groups, who have sprung up at the hint of the New Lunar Republic," Bell added, "Who think they are, in fact, defending her Majesty's honor, policies and reputation from the NuLunies."

"Hence your adoption of the Sunny Days face," Barnum realized, "If they have a real and hurtful target to focus on, then they leave your reformers alone."

Celestia nodded. "And once the initial reforms of the New Lunar Republic go through, the Solarians also will feel it appropriate to speak up on their desired reforms and issues."

"While you two are in complete accord and are in fact orchestrating the genesis of this pseudo-rebel group," Barnum said. He looked around confusedly. "Then why was my entry such a source of mirth?"

"Your Nightjesty, have you seen the Intelligence files on our two possible candidates?" Bell asked.

Luna shook her head.

"Sister, you should always ask for the intelligence files on the leaders of any groups you support. Especially if you want a good laugh." Celestia turned to Bell. "If Barnum is to help us, he should see them."

"Help you what? I came here to warn you about a potential insurrection, and you tell me that you're actually running it. With respect, your Highnesses, Sir Bell, I don't see I'm the right person to help you at all."

"Nonsense my dear boy," Bell said cheerfully, "You can be of service to the crowns merely by being at the right place, at the right time."

"We want you to join," Luna added hastily.

"What would be the point?" Barnum asked helplessly, "You already have it well in hand. Her Nightjesty has implied that she's actually met with, or continues to meet with them, as 'Celestia's favorite' I'd be considered a spy, at best."

Celestia grinned and turned to her sister. "That would be an even better idea, you can be a spy," she said happily, "Luna's."

Barnum's rear legs collapsed as he looked from one government mandarin to the next. His expression of hopeless despair tore at her heart. "Why would Princess Luna need a spy amongst her own loyalists? And would I be a double-, triple-, quadruple- or other agent, working for Luna in her agency, while secretly working for Celestia, but really working for . . . whom?"

"Equestria, as we all are," Celestia said confidently.

"Being the confidant of both Princesses, would make you ideally suited to . . . " Luna frowned at the lost thought.

"Persuade myself to the rightness of the NLR's demands," Celestia took up the thread, "And you would be equally placed to moderate the demands to those most acceptable to her Nightjesty, and myself."

"There is also the fact that as Princess Luna's loyalists, they would be unable to bring concerns about her actions directly to her. The same disadvantage that Princess Celestia must operate under: even welcome questions unfortunately imply disloyalty. But a spy is safe to report 'rumblings and concerns' to," Bell said, "After all, you are personally employed by her Nightjesty to sniff out such things, it is only loyal and proper to ensure that your ears hear and your eyes see. They will have done their duty, proven their loyalty, and gotten the information to someone ideally suited to convey it to the Princess. Their Princess' mercy to such grumblers would not be in doubt, it is the other Princess they would have concerns about."

Barnum had seemingly given up trying to understand the situation, and was just trying to absorb the information presented. He looked at whomever spoke with a stare like a pony trying to see a thousand yards away. He nodded as the point registered, but made no reply.

"Perhaps the crux of the dilemma would be of more use," Bell said and produced several files. "I cannot, alas, give you the meat of the files, but enough of a taste to explain the foundation of our perplexity."

He handed over a sheet of paper headed by the seal of the Intelligence service. "A number of mares of both high-birth and easy virtue." Another paper. "Interviews with his charioteer." Another paper with the royal seal. "And a private reprimand from her Highness herself about, embarrassing behaviors at a party. With three women not his wife. There are also numerous instances of experimentation with the wives and daughters of diplomats. Many not of shall we say, typical pony physiognomy."

"Good grief," Barnum said as he looked over the papers, "And he's still a government minister?"

"All participants are willing, and able to give informed consent. His predilections do not impinge directly on his skills. In addition, his wife is equally 'open-minded', and there are some implications that the various shady ladies are a smokescreen," Bell said with obvious distaste.

"Do I even want to know his - their, true appetites?" Barnum asked.

"No, but what is there is enough to raise the flag of 'mad pony' should it come out," Bell said, "His opponent is more mundane, but. Well, there's one from the Fraud Squad. Imperial Revenue. The Bank of Equestria. And the Manehatten Farmers' Bank and Trust, real estate."

"This all is/was legal?" Barnum asked.

"Yes, just very convenient for him, not so much for those who invested alongside him," Bell said, "The media too often confuses coincidence with conspiracy, and he apparently did fail to inform any of his partners of whatever warned him off."

"So the two potential, civilian leaders of the New Lunar Republic can be written off as a pervert and a swindler?" Barnum asked as he handed the papers back.

"Not legally, no," Bell explained as he carefully returned the papers to their correct places in the file folders, "But what must be presented to be proven in a court of law, and what can be tried and convicted in the court of public opinion, are two very different matters," Bell said gravely.

"Hence your inclusion," Celestia said, "They are both deeply flawed individuals. Both have unshakable loyalty to Equestria, but they would be too easy to discredit, should this come out. And that is the last thing we need."

"Your Highnesses, I'm not even part of the movement, but you seem to be implying I can simply step in and take over."

Luna laughed at that. "Sorry, we are not suggesting you as super-eme commander. Brown Chief and Moon City will retain control of their factions, and thus the bulk of the movement. Your only function will be to appear with us on the steering committee. The only group we are an active participant of. You will have a friendly word with each of them, and let them leave the 'top job' open to interpretation."

"You will continue to be a sounding board and baffle, they don't much like each other, and will cooperate with someone who keeps the other out of the top spot," Bell said, "Both desperately want the movement to succeed. Both equally desperately want a great deal of credit, and know the other absolutely will not share. Therefore, both want the other not to be seen as the supreme leader. If it works, there will be credit and vindication enough for both. As long as that central job remains merely a warm spot on the throne, as it were, neither will campaign too aggressively."

"There is also the unfortunate tendency to equate proximity to real power. If you have access to Luna, and to me," Celestia explained, "You are perceived as having much greater power and influence that you possess."

Barnum nodded numbly. "I think I understand. I think I do."

"Excellent," Bell said, "You'll do splendidly, as long as you remember one thing."

Barnum looked at him with hope, after a bewildering few minutes.

"At the moment, all we are trying to get them to force us to do is, give the power of law, to customs which have had the force of law for several hundred years. Remain on that path, and all things will go smoothly. The civil service will hardly notice the change and neither will the populace. That should, as it were, open a few gates."

"As long as they aren't the floodgates. Customs to law," Barnum mumbled, "Got it."

"Good, lad," Bell said cheerfully.

"Your Highnesses, Sir Bell," he said and bowed slightly to each, "I beg your leave to retire."

"You have it," Celestia said, "And thank you."

The colt backed towards the doors, until he bumped into them. The guard opened one and the colt slipped through, his guard commander practically trampled him to get out the door. The clattering of hooves at a full gallop sounded, before the door closed again.

"A good lad. Didn't succumb to panic until the job was done," Bell said, "If I may say your Highness, an inspired choice. Truly inspired."

"Thank you," Celestia said, "What part most impressed you?"

"Well," Bell considered, "He seems an earnest compromiser, and so much less a threat to either candidate. So when Chief and City are at loggerheads, he will sit them down and hammer out a compromise that they can at least tolerate."

"Yes," Celestia agreed and nodded.

"And if he can't. He reaches into that bag of tricks of his, and pulls a counterproposal so horrifyingly bizarre, that Chief and City will have to combine forces to argue him out of it. Or, set them both off in another direction."

"Yes," Celestia said and smiled. While she wondered why she hadn't thought of that possibility months earlier.

"Oh! Hi, Doc!" he said, with a forced cheerfulness you normally associated with ponies who are too close to great heights or deep bodies of water.

Considering my patient is sitting in the middle of the rooms ceded to him, Hardwood thought, It is a bad, though not life-threatening sign.

"When you left your purchases outside the conference room, and your new guard commander locked herself in her quarters and drank herself insensate, I thought you might want to talk about something."

"Me?" he said.

The wide-eyed, rictus-grin expression gave the doctor chills despite years of training and practice. I've seen it often enough in rescue workers. Some would continue, and slowly be affected. Others would keep going like clockwork, seemingly immune, then suddenly go off. Then there were others who'd somehow betrayed their cutie-marks, this room was a place they were kept when they descended into a similar insanity.

"Not sure if I'm even allowed," he said happily, "You know, Doc. I think I figured it out. I'm as nuts as you all think I am. There's a set of rules for this world that I thought I had a pretty good lock on. Then I find out I've been lying to myself all this time. There are rules, but I never really learned them. The rules are more like the rules I learned at home, but more polite and less predicable."

Culture shock, Doctor Hardwood thought as he sat down opposite the distraught colt, This I've got some experience in.

"All cultures have rules," he said, "Sometimes they're confusing, but they do make sense in context."

The colt stared at him. "So, if her Majesty Princesses Celestia, the Sun Goddess, the most powerful force on the planet, was doing something abysmally stupid, what are the correct rules for telling her? Or would you just automatically assume that you must not completely understand the situation, and keep silent?"

Hardwood considered the question. I would consider that she was either teasing to provoke a reaction/learning experience, or that I didn't understand the situation fully.

"So are the differences between herd creatures such as ponies, and social animals such as humans, so fundamental that a true understanding of the other's psychology is nearly impossible? Or is emulation achievable, even if understanding cannot be? Can I find ways to put myself in the mind of a pony, while not understanding the true thought processes, long enough and well enough to correctly estimate their feelings and thoughts, or am I eternally outside the 'herd' since I think independently, without the automatics which are part of your life. And if I do decide to assimilate, however well, will my progeny be fully ponies, fully and eternally outsiders, or partial outsiders, with successive generations being more pony than human in outlook?" He smiled again, but the despair was equally visible. "You've seen the mare, Glory Bell, who I've been working with. She's very clever, and I'm told quite lovely. And several of the mares in the Wonderbolts. They have guards to chase away stallions getting too close, but they don't chase me away. I may not be able to understand attractiveness standards, but I know what being interested looks like. But is there any point? Do you throw kids into a mess you've been stuck in, or just go through life like a clockwork and get close to not seem strange, but not intimate?"

There's a reason I hate crazy people who read too much philosophy, Hardwood thought, Is this culture shock or existential dread?

Barnum let out a breath and shook himself. "Well, enough woolgathering," he said, seemingly back to normal, "I have work to do, and people depending on me. I would appreciate you looking in on Peaceful Solitude. I think she's a new officer, a new city dweller, and has had a lot of rather bad shocks in quick succession." He headed into the bathroom with a toiletries kit. Hardwood followed. In the bathroom he combed out his hair and got ready to brush his teeth. "Doctor, I just let myself get caught up in my worries. It'll all work out, that's one of the fundamental rules here. Your friends get you out of anything," he said as he began brushing his teeth.

Okay, I don't believe in sudden epiphanies bringing healing. A sudden shock might snap a pony out of it, but the problem is still there. But is he more pony than human, and am I superimposing my own 'automatics' on him? Great, now he's got me doing it, Hardwood thought, and left the colt to his ablutions. There was a guard inside, keeping a close eye on the colt. Outside, Captain Hansom and Sergeant Mile Stone waited.

"Doctor?" the sergeant asked.

"Do they teach you some special trick to put all those questions into one word? If so, I have to go to sergeant school," Hardwood answered, "He can go back to work. Outwardly, he seems normal, but I just watched him go from near-catatonia possibly suicidal, to 'normal' in the blink of an eye. That usually means they've made a decision, and the decision is usually to end their life."

"He's going to be working around some rather powerful tools, doctor," Mile Stone pointed out.

"Like I said, keep an eye on him. I'll come back for the usual after-lunch session, and I should be able to pry into what that decision actually is then."

"What about the lieutenant?" the captain asked.

"She's a good deal more religious. I had a different kind of counselor helping her deal with whatever happened yesterday," Hardwood said, "I have an inquiry into Sir Eagle Bell, who was present when the two started their reaction. His initial response was he rather expected they've have to have a good lie down and a few drinks before they went on. He recommended a three-day bender for both of them, medically supervised of course."

"What in Celestia's name did they talk about in there?" Hansom asked worriedly.

"I doubt either will talk about it," Hardwood lamented.

"What about Miss Pie?" Mile Stone suggested, "That might provide the change both need."

"I've heard about the party master of Ponyville. I think that might be something for later."

The office was pretty much as Hardwood remembered it. Dark wood paneling, a few paintings of colored clouds, the couch and the flowers, in window boxes, in vases and on the ceiling. Like random jewels in a dark, precisely orchestrated forest, Hardwood thought, Anyone who laughs at her name has never been in here. The gray-haired mare behind the desk was as much a fixture of the office as the furnishings.

"Hardwood, I had been expecting you much earlier," Dr. Mud Treasure greeted him.

"Earlier?" Hardwood asked his old mentor, "I just came from one of my patients. How did you know -?" He spotted the files on the desk. Both Lieutenant Solitude's and McHorsefly's, from the intelligence branch.

"Her Highness's personal guard dropped these off. I knew you wouldn't be far behind. And I'm rather hurt you hadn't come to see me about these two before."

"I hadn't realized the extent that they would need help, or I would have," he admitted as he pulled a chair over to sit in front of the desk. There were the little, hand draw/painted pictures adorning the wall behind her, like somepony might put on a cabinet. Many were of flowers, donated by younger patients.

She smiled indulgently. "I was actually expecting someone under this kind of stress to have already had a full psychotic breakdown. Maybe intelligence is right, and he is an alien, rather than just believing he is one."

"You don't think he's crazy for believing he is one?"

"Or certifiable, but he doesn't make a point of insisting on it, and he recognizes it is impossible, so even he treats it as unlikely. It's insane to have those kinds of 'memories' but he'd only be a threat to himself and others if he insisted others acknowledge it." She looked over the desk at him. "You're worried that it might be healthier for him if he would do a little insisting, instead of simply acquiescing."

"Until this morning I did," he said, and looked around the room, at some of the many things he tried to emulate, and so many things he'd rebelled against. "I think he was playacting, and the act suddenly wore thin. Not 'who am I', he seems to have that well in hand. More of 'what will happen to my kids, should I even have kids?' I have to keep reminding myself he's a full-grown stallion inside the colt's body."

"It isn't easy, and there are other things operating against you. But lets start on the filly, since she doesn't have the complications."

"She and Barnum evidently had a meeting with Princesses Celestia and Luna, and the head of the civil service, and that was the source of her break. Somepony there said that ponies couldn't think of Celestia as bad, or speak out against her when they were in her presence, but she kept thinking Celestia was awful pushing a colt as hard as she was pushing Barnum," Hardwood said.

"Ah, CIPD Syndrome, except she was transferring her own symptoms to Barnum," Mud Treasure said, "Celestia Interaction Perfection Dissociative Syndrome. The tendency of anyone in her presence to work harder than they ever thought possible, in order to either gain her favor, or to ease her burden. It also is the tendency to put her instantly on a pedestal, marked either villain or goddess. Cynical, old glueballs like me, and Sir Eagle Bell, have a clearer view of what a pony can and cannot do, so we are only really affected when she specifically asks us to do something."

"Is that why she sent Miss Sparkle away?" Hardwood asked.

"Of course, the poor dear was burning both ends of the candle, and the middle, studying to please her wonderful, deserving of all and everything mentor, Princess Celestia." She sighed. "Ponies who fixate on the Princess tend to become rather, warped."

"Like 'Sunny Days', I don't know what that - pony, has against the Princess."

"Well obviously since no one could be as beautiful, as wonderful, as caring, and the list goes on endlessly, as Princess Celestia, she must have a huge, deep, dark side, and equally huge, deep, dark secrets."

"You means besides the impish sense of humor, a desperate yearning to be 'just like other ponies', an absolutely crushing sense of responsibility for the success and happiness of everypony, and the terrible case of survivors' guilt over banishing her own sister?" Hardwood asked, "So even those who hate her are affected."

"Yes. Your young lieutenant is a more typical case, young filly straight off the farm and into training. And because she is clever and level-headed, she gets Canterlot."

"And straight into what should be a simple position 'guarding' a basically harmless looney, with five senior sergeants to assist. It was more training for her, than a real position of authority," Hardwood added, "And then something that neither of them will talk about, but clearly related to their Highnesses."

"Enough to make you scream yet?" Mud Treasure asked, she smiled. "It's sad, really, her Highness is as vivacious and playful as a mare half your age, but so much responsibility and formality surround her at every step. She collects interesting youngsters, but they burn themselves out so quickly. They get here all full of playful, childlike behaviors and enthusiasm, but before you know it, it's all 'work, work, work, Celestia might see we're slacking off.' No one around her wants to just play. It's no wonder she's happy Luna is back. That pie fight between the two of them the other night was a gift beyond measure."

"I thought they caught Sunny Days in her private apartments?" Hardwood said.

"Have you forgotten about Celestia's impish sense of humor?" Mud Treasure asked and smiled.

Hardwood nearly fell out of his chair. "Her Highness is Sunny Days!" he hissed as if the very thought were treasonous.

"Of course. What better way to show she's not some plaster perfection atop a wedding cake, and it also lets her deal with rumor-mongering to an extent, by blowing those rumors so out of proportion, that no one can take them seriously, except those who wouldn't believe she's good, if she personally saved their life."

"I think I'm coming down with a touch of it now," Hardwood commented, "But shouldn't Barnum be immune, if what's in his files is accurate?"

"A human suffering survivor's guilt of his own, in an alien land, in an alien body, completely dependant on the goodwill of Celestia for the roof over his head, the food on his table and the clothes on his back? Add that she is an overwhelmingly warm, kind and understanding female, who desires his happiness as well. Why would he feel dependance on her? And why would he feel the need to keep her pleased with his actions and performance?"

"Hearing it put that way, it does explain his near obsession with that flying machine. Now, I can only guess he's got a mission, directly from their Highnesses, and he's just going to soldier on. But the cracks have appeared."

"Celestia understands that the wounds that have scarred over need to be broken open and exposed to the light. She also knows a good deal more than she's letting on about Barnum the man," Mud Treasure said.

"I sometimes wish he'd let me in," Hardwood admitted, "There are pieces of his psychology that are textbook. Others are so alien, I don't think I could understand them after years of study."

"Hence the culture shock. There's also the deep secret he and Celestia share, the files hint that it exists, but not what it is."

"He mentioned something, but I would think that would have affected him before now. But it might be adding to his troubles. Another thing I wish he would, could, talk about."

"Security, you've worked with the guard long enough to know that," she said.

"Yes, but I could usually be cleared for whatever was going on," he said, "There seems to be only two people who know, and they aren't talking."

"What about you?" Dr. Treasure asked, "Aren't you trying to solve this so hard because of Celestia. You might want to take a step back and let things play out, rather than try to 'fix' them. What you categorize as a psychotic break might just be a momentary loss of composure. The filly just needs to go home, or be with her own kind for a bit: youngsters, or people from her hometown, or better yet, both. Barnum might need a mechanic, or another engineer, more than a psychiatrist. You do all those remodeling jobs at your own house, why not talk to him as a carpenter, rather than a therapist."

"I haven't done one of those in months," he admitted.

"Because Celestia, or one of her valuable servants might need you?" Mud Treasure accused, "She wants fully realized ponies, not automatons who only do what she wants. I think half the challenges she puts up are so somepony will actually defy her, without hating her." She sighed. "Let's go talk with the guards about the filly, and any 'colonies' of people from her hometown. Then let's see about what Barnum is doing, and I prescribe a weekend of remodeling or furniture building for you."

"I hear he's got a lathe, I always wanted to try one of those," Hardwood sheepishly admitted.

"There you go."

"I told you it would be easy," the mare told her once-protege.

"Always listen to your doctor," Hardwood said happily, as the guard opened the door, "Even a 'colt like me' - Celestia's eternal mercy," he gasped in dread.

"What is - oh," Mud Treasure asked and looked around at every flat surface, except the window panes and floor, was covered with drawings. The fact they were on paper, instead of the walls and ceiling themselves lessened the impact, but all of the bedframes had been stood up to provide additional gallery space. Sitting in the middle of the room, like the holy of holies in a shrine, untouched by paper, were two Dianes. One a single-seater, the other a familiar two-seat model. A quick look verified that the papers all had some drawing of a Diane, or part of it. Most had intricate calculations or notes on them.

Hardwood turned to his mentor. "It didn't look like this a few hours ago."

"It's better he did this in a few minutes?" Mud Treasure replied.

"SURPRISE!" a very pink pony leapt out from behind one of the bedframes and sang, "We know you're nose to grindstone, but your plans have fallen down!"

"Pinkie," a purple unicorn said to the singing earth pony.

"So the princess called upon us and we had to come to town!"

"Pinkie!"

"For Diane help we bring you, to chase those blues away!"

"PINKAMENA DIANE PIE!" the unicorn thundered.

"Were we supposed to do a chorus? Let's start again, and you come in a half-measure after me," the earth pony proclaimed, "On three, one!"

"Pinkie, that's not Barnum, or Mile Stone," the unicorn told her.

The earth pony looked at the unicorn. "How can you tell? He was always playing tricks on us in Ponyville. He might be in disguise," the pink one proclaimed.

"Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle, I presume," Mud Treasure said, and backed up as Pinkie Pie examined her closely.

"Presume makes a per out of you and me. Hey! That rhymes better than the original," Pinkie said as she bounced away.

Twilight facehooved and then smiled at the pair. "You wouldn't happen to know where Barnum is, do you?" she asked.

"He's coming down the hall," the guard reported.

"Ooo! Quick hide!" Pinkie said, and began shoving Hardwood and Mud Treasure behind the upturned bedframes. Then she dashed behind one herself. "Don't bother hiding, Twilight, he won't see you anyway."

She scrambled behind a frame.

"So the problem of lightening and stiffening the trusses," came Barnum's voice, then the door opened and silence.

"It didn't look like this a few hours ago," Barnum said as he looked around.

"How did two Dianes get in here?" Glory Bell asked as she and Claire approached them. The guard tried to look everywhere at once in the odd room.

"Are these all diagrams of the machine?" Spitfire asked nervously as she peered at the paper that adored the walls. The group moved through the maze of upturned bedframes. Claire suddenly darted forward and dragged Twilight out from behind one of the frames.

"Uh, surprise?" Twilight offered lamely as Hardwood and Mud Treasure stepped out of their hiding places.

"Doctor, Twilight, you can let her go Claire," Barnum said, "I know her. As long as you aren't Nightmare Moon or a dragon, you're safe." That got him stared at by Claire.

There was the sound of running water and Pinkie exited the bathroom. "Ooo! Barnum, were you surprised, were you surprised?"

"Very," he admitted.

"Twilight didn't yell 'surprise' did she?" Pinkie glared at the unicorn.

"Where were you?" Twilight complained.

Pinkie looked back at the door she'd just exited. "Are you feeling all right, Twilight?" Pinkie looked around. "Is there a doctor in the house?"

"She's a doctor," Hardwood said of Mud Treasure.

"What's up, doc?" Pinkie asked.

"Diane plans, apparently," Mud Treasure said and smiled.

"She's quicker than you, doc." Barnum took down one of the plans, and carefully stuck it back to the wall. "Used the sticky note glue I see."

"So you could rearrange them," Pinkie said happily, as she bounced over to Barnum. On the last bounce, her hair flattened out as she landed. "The princess was very concerned about your recent shocks, and thought a discussion among inventors would lighten your spirits," she said in a dull monotone, "As the inventor of the original design, I was the logical one to provide insights into the improved version. Have you considered using a dynamo and electric motors to power the machine? I know the weight, especially with batteries, would be higher, but it would eliminate the transmission and linkage problems. A simple rheostat would provide -"

"Pinkie?" Twilight asked in stunned amazement.

Pinkie's hair poofed out as she looked at Twilight and the others. "I want my friends to smile, and if that's the way," she said, and her hair flattened out, "That's the way. Now, I understand you've got some additional help."

"Yes, Princess Glory Bell, inventor of the flying truss," Barnum said as he led Pinkie over to the mare and her nervous guard.

Twilight stared at the group. Pinkie's hair poofed as she talked to Glory Bell, and went flat when addressing Barnum or Claire.

"I first thought the flying truss was for stallions with medical problems," Pinkie said to Glory, getting a faint grin from Claire.

"Uh, hi," Twilight said to the rest of the group. As the doctors, Spitfire and Soarin' approached her, forming a defensive huddle against the drawings everywhere.

"Doctor Hardwood," Hardwood introduced himself and his mentor, "Doctor Mud Treasure."

"Hello, I'm Twilight Sparkle, Celestia's student," she said, and kept glancing nervously at Pinkie Pie.

Unaffected, Soarin' asked, "If there's a party, is there cake?"

Pinkie was in front of him instantly. "Of course there's cake! What kind of party would there be without cake? What kind of party is this anyway?" Pinkie asked, then dashed over to a bedframe and pulled a cake on a wheeled table out from behind it. There were seven layers, each layer frosted in a different color, each layer of icing a mix of the colors above and below, and white icing in lines running vertically.

"I know." Pinkie's hair flattened. "We can't have frosting all over these drawing." Her hair poofed out. "So I made the icing out of . . . wood!" she announced happily.

"Wood?" Soarin' asked, as he stopped drooling at the sight of the cake, and became forlorn.

"Yep!" Pinkie said proudly, and tapped it with a hoof, "Solid wood." Then she began opening the compartments in the 'cake', the joints concealed behind the frosting lines. Opening in different directions, like interlaced fingers, revealing the six unfrosted cake layers on plates inside, and the plates for the partygoers. "Tadda!" she announced. Twilight and Spitfire helped pull the cake layers out of the cake-looking box and began putting slices on the plates.

"This is good," Soarin' said.

"The Cakes make the best cakes in Ponyville," Pinkie said proudly, "Ooo! I forgot about the gizmo!" She dashed over to Barnum and Glory, who were staring at a set of drawings.

Pinkie dashed back. "What does it mean you're all in the Twilight Zone?" Pinkie asked, "Just me and you being around Twilight?" Pinkie hugged the unicorn, then dashed away.

"Don't look at me," Twilight said a bit defensively, "I don't understand her half the time anyway."

"Good cakes," Soarin said.

"What has she got in her mouth?" Mud Treasure exclaimed and walked over to the group clustered around Pinkie Pie.

Glory Bell was holding a pencil with her magic, while two small grabbers that seem to have sprouted from the earth pony's mouth closed in on it. As she watched, one small gripper closed on the pencil, the other moved from the front to the side and grasped the pencil. Pinkie walked over to a sheet of paper struck to the wall and drew a smooth curve with the pencil.

"What is that?" Mud Treasure asked.

The happy gibberish from the pink earth pony didn't help clarify things too much.

"It was something I asked her to work on." Barnum supplied, "She had sketches, but she couldn't overcome the problem of one gripper/tool in the frame. I worked out the improved interface and the locking system for the various tools."

Pinkie demonstrated by walking over to a rack of small tools. She moved one gripper holding the pencil, and somehow unlatched the other, small gripper and attached a powerful pliers. She moved the pencil back in place, and the pliers easily bit right through the pencil. Pinkie giggled and cut the remains of the pencil into small slices with the pliers that seemed to have sprouted from her mouth.

"The control is precise," Glory said as she watched, "And the two grippers operate separately. But, why?"

"Extra hands," Barnum said, "Unicorn magic is fine for some things, but I can't pick up a piece of paper without shredding it, or setting it on fire. Pegasi and earth ponies might appreciate being able to pick something up without directly using their mouth. Like taking a hot pan out of the oven. With a little adaptation, you could do all your work a foreleg away from the actual material you were manipulating. It also lets you tailor the gripper to the job. A metal snip to a tweezers."

Pinkie demonstrated by changing out both tools by putting her head down over the rack, and seeming the take the tools on and off with no unicorn magic. As she held them up, one tool moved then the other, they opened and closed synchronized and separately. Glory and Mud Treasure stared at the sight. Pinkie giggled, but her explanation was garbled.

"The units are set up so each side of the mouth controls one. And they can be moved, or locked down with the tongue. The tongue control also locks the tool in place, or releases it. It also leaves the lips and front teeth free for other work, if you need them."

Pinkie unlocked the tools, and put them back in the holding cradle, then set the device in its place. It looked like a split mouth guard, with a pair of boxes mounted on the outside and inside.

"It's that simple?" Dr. Mud Treasure asked.

"Yep!" Pinkie said proudly, "Imagine changing a diaper, without having to touch it!"

Nearly everyone cringed at that thought.

"Or get a pie out of the oven," Barnum added, "Or handle a bottle of corrosive or poisonous material. Not quite as good as hands with opposing digits, but serviceable."

"YAY!" Pinkie proclaimed, "I got all of them to smile! Even if it is a boring party!"

"The joy of discovery -"

Pinkie put her hoof over Barnum's mouth. "Don't need to hear it."

"This is incredible," Twilight commented on the device, "You built it?"

"Duh!" Pinkie and Barnum said in unison, then laughed.

Twilight took the hint.

"How's the party cannon working?" Barnum asked.

"How do you think I got all these blueprints up so quickly, silly?" Pinkie replied.

"Remind me never to talk about cluster munitions around you," Barnum said.

The flight back to Ponyville was a trifle melancholy for Pinkie. She looked over the side of the air chariot, at the forests and rivers and plains below. She thought about the afternoon, and evening, and what had happened I showed people I'm not just a party-pony, she thought, And getting my friends to smile is more important than how I get them to smile. I just wish I could have it all. Parties, and people who like my toys. She glanced over at Twilight, who was studying, by the faint glow of her horn, some of the plans for the grabber that Barnum had drawn up when he was in Ponyville. My Pinkie sense, all over again, Pinkie thought, If she can't get it out of a book, she can't grasp it. She giggled at that, then looked at the two 'Dianes' flying in formation. Being flown by the Wonderbolts themselves.

Too bad Dashie was busy, or she could have come with, Pinkie thought, then grinned at the great practical joke she'd play on Dashie, 'Where'd you get a limited edition poster, signed by all the Wonderbolts!' 'When I went up to Canterlot with Twilight and showed off my flying machines, and gave them some lessons on flying them.' Flying them safely. I can't believe they crashed poor Barnum's. She chuckled at the reaction she'd get from Dashie, on learning she'd been 'too busy' to hang out with the Wonderbolts.

That still doesn't come close to the joke Princess Celestia and Princess Luna playing on all those ponies who don't like her. Get all of them organized, and demanding the things Celestia hasn't had 'permission' to give them, Pinkie thought and glanced over at Twilight, Yeah, I can see how people can't simply accept, and have to get things the way they're used to getting them.

"I think you're sweet on Barnum," Pinkie told Twilight. And waited as the thought penetrated the mare's study-obsessed mind.

Twilight actually shuddered as the thought made it past the barriers, and struck home. "What?"

"Sure, he's the first stallion to give you a present you can't understand," Pinkie said happily, "I can see you deciding to study him, and then there's the wedding, and children, and after 20 or 30 years of married life, you'll finally get it. Twilight, you do plan ahead. I like that about you."

It was all Pinkie could do to keep from rolling around on the floor of the air chariot at Twilight's expression changing from confused to horrified and back. Never lingering with one emotion too long.

"You're crazy!" Twilight finally exclaimed.

Pinkie gave her best confused look. "You think it will take longer? Naw, I have faith in you Twilight. Thirty years, tops."

The mare stared at her open-mouthed.

Pinkie giggled and enjoyed watching Twilight try to work it out.

Brushcut, Neanderpony, Claire and a pegasus of Luna's Night Guard stood together, then sang as Octavia began her accompaniment on the cello.

"How can I just let you walk away - just let you leave without a trace?
When I stand here taking every breath with you, oooo
You're the only one who really knew me at all."

Celestia let out a slight sniffle as Luna nuzzled her older sister.

"How can you just walk away from me, when all I can do is watch you leave?
'cause we've shared the laughter and the pain, and even shared the tears
You're the only one who really knew me at all
So, take a look at me now - well, there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me - just the memory of your face
Take a look at me now, well, there's just an empty space
And you coming back to me is against the odds, and that's what I've got to face."

Celestia was openly nuzzling her sister, and both sisters were weeping.

"I wish I could just make you turn around - turn around and see me cry
There's so much I need to say to you - so many reasons why
You're the only one who really knew me at all."

The musicians glanced over at Barnum, who nodded for them to continue. Celestia smiled inwardly as the musicians continued, even as her tears flowed freely.

"So take a look at me now, well, there's just an empty space
And there's nothing left here to remind me - just the memory of your face
Now, take a look at me now 'cause there's just an empty space
But to wait for you is all I can do, and that's what I've got to face
Take a good look at me now 'cause I'll still be standing here
And you coming back to me is against all odds - it's the chance I've got to take
Take a look at me, now." They held the note, and let it fade off slowly.

The two sisters were hugging each other and weeping. The musicians stood stock still, but their eyes darted around, seeking Barnum's who smiled and nodded.

"Thank you," Celestia said, "It was very beautiful."

All right, point to you Mr. Clever, Celestia thought, But I think my reply will be more cunning, and more obvious. But thank you, none-the-less.

Barnum and the musicians bowed as they left the two sisters alone.

Outside, Octavia spoke up, "I'm not comfortable, making their Highnesses cry like that."

"Music touches a chord in the soul. And even the godlike rulers of Equestria need a good cry now and again," Barnum soothed, "Your performance just provided them the excuse to. Excellent job all of you, by the way. Besides, all you have to do is tell them it was my idea and you were simply eager to perform."

"Was that song really about their Highnesses, as, as Nightmare Moon manifested?" Neanderpony asked nervously.

"No, just a song about loss and hope," Barnum replied, "A song smith from my home, Phil Collins wrote and performed it. I always preferred his version which was more a 'I'm terribly hurt but I must go on', to most of the covers which sounded like a wounded animal mewling to be put down."

"Why do I think you just used us to prank their Highnesses?" Octavia accused.

Barnum looked around. "Weird, the moon looks just like Canterlot castle. I guess Luna was busy and homesick all those years."

Out of Time Part 3

Out of Place - Out of Time Part 3

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Burning Bridges (Kelly's Heroes)
Mike Curb Congregation
Songwriter: Paul Scott

Years have passed and I keep thinking, what a fool I've been.
I look back into the past and think of way back then.
I know that I lost everything I thought that I could win.
I guess I should have listened to my friends.
All the burning bridges that are falling after me.
All the lonely feelings and the burning memories.
Everyone I left behind each time I closed the door.
Burning bridges lost forevermore.

Burning bridges lost forevermore

The crowd is far larger than anything I expected. There can't be this many displeased with Celestia's rule, I think as I look at the faces, Of course this is more like a concert than a political rally. I just hope it doesn't turn into a Nuremberg rally.

Cries of 'Luna nobis providet' and 'Luna nos custodit' shake the air. (provides us the moon, the moon keeps us).

It's like a summoning spell, if they shout it loud enough, Luna will appear.

The crowd noise fades to nothing so suddenly the sound of the flags flapping in the breeze stands out like thunder. Luna stands on a small rise at the end of the field. She looks all the world like a Princess in control, rather than as nervous as she said she was.

I bet she uses the Royal Canterlot voice, when she could whisper and this crowd would hear it, I think as I note the rapt expressions, the worshipful looks, and the feeling of expectation from each and every person here.

"De pomis fructuum solis ac luna," she says in a normal tone of voice, yet it carries across the crowd, starting little murmurs among them.

And for the precious fruits brought forth by the sun, and for the precious things put forth by the moon, I think, Put the whole thing together, not a bad motto.

"Citizens," she thunders to the crowd, even a hundred yards away, the din is still unpleasant. "Beloved ponies of Equestria, we are glad you are here. We are overjoyed you seek to serve Equestria better, with your talents, with your love, and with your loyalty."

The cheers are as powerful as the silence had been profound. It is chaotic and raucous. Some shout her name, some stamp their hooves, and some shout slogans. Luna and I alone are silent.

"My dear sister has been wrong," Luna thunders, "We ask that, for us, you forgive her. Now, that we are back, we can change things that should have been corrected centuries ago. With your voices, with our understanding, we, all of us, can convince her that we are not all children to be coddled, that we all desire and deserve to be treated as adults. That though she deserves respect, and is a goddess. None of us are infallible. And the answer for one, is not the answer for all."

More thunderous hoof stamps, and shouts of 'freedom!' Someone takes up the chant of 'we will forgive!' and more and more voices join the chant as Luna smiles on them.

I can see how she might have formed a rebellion, and that she needs the adoration of the crowd, I think as I watch her bask in this outpouring of raw emotion. Some of the ponies are more controlled than others, but there isn't a single one that isn't a true believer.

I pick out the two leaders I'll need to speak with. They are about 50 yards apart, surrounded by shoals of their supporters. Each one glances at the other, but their followers are throwing a whole series of looks my way. Their leaders aren't sure, but they do know Luna herself brought me. So am I a convert, or am I undecided? They haven't really decided which.

Luna speaks on themes which appeal to ponies, except she throws in bits indicating that they shouldn't blame Celestia for their predicament. "You all know what it means to be alone. We went, a little mad. You will all be fortunate to never have to live for a moment under what was our lives as we grew up. Then our sister was alone, and she kept doing what was right at that time. To give her ponies stability. But those days are not even legends now, and some changes are in order. But we will make those changes, and make them orderly. She will hear our voices, she will see our resolve, and she will not be alone, and she will see we are ready for change. But the changes we desire!"

The crowd takes up the chant of 'our changes!', washing the area with noise as Luna smiles and nods.

All sugar and sizzle, I guess the steak comes in individual meetings, I think.

"You, our brave ponies, stand here facing a thousand years of 'it isn't broken don't fix it.' But it is worn out, it is time to change. If the only reason is 'we've always done it that way', then it is time to look and see if there is a better way, or understand there are deeper reasons. Some of you quietly spread the word. Some of you research why things are the way they are. Some of you quietly toil, knowing things are going to change." Now Luna speaks with real emotion, "We will not be shackled by any tyrant. We will not descend into madness of stultifying order, or madness of change for its own sake! We will lift up all ponies, not pick and choose. We will not cast them down on a whim."

My attention focuses as I realize, She's talking about Discord, but refuses to mention him. But I guess her memories are still somewhat fresh of that villain. She already said that few if any remember him. Did Celestia tell her he's coming? Did she warn Luna of that? And if so, how much? I want to ask, but keep watching the crowd, and their enthralled expressions.

"Together!" Luna thunders.

"Together!" the crowd bellows back and stamps their hooves, "Together! Together! Together!"

Luna steps down from the hillock, and another pony ascends. He talks about individual posters to be made, areas to blanket. All the nuts and bolts of a Velvet Revolution, run to 'win the hearts and minds' and more importantly, to sway Celestia, as much as show her their resolve.

"What do you think?" a massive stallion in royal white, sporting two black eyes, a ragged mane and tail of royal blue, and a patchwork of bruises. The bruises were fading to yellow in splotches.

I don't want to think about what he got into a fight with, I think, and notice the entourage following the stallion. They know who I am, and they are not happy about it.

The stallion tosses his head in an emphatic nod. "Sneaking into the Princess' private quarters was pretty stupid," the stallion says, "And I certainly got what I deserved. And got off a lot more gently that I expected."

"You were guilty, Sunny Days, of doing exactly what many of these ponies accuse Princess Celestia of."

The stallion shies at that, and my cold tone. Murmurs from the others are undecided.

"How did it feel to be the tyrant, and have the revolt be less than peaceful?" I ask.

"How was I the tyrant?" Sunny Days asks, "I'm just a unicorn."

"No place you can be yourself. Fearful that people are watching at all times. Forcing someone to be their public self at all times." I turn to the crowd. "All of you have secrets you wouldn't want everyone in town or at work talking about. That you're an accountant who paints on the weekend, and are terrible but getting better. That you're a gray hair who still frolics with your spouse. That you are a banker, who loves making fancy cupcakes. Little spaces, little dreams, but yours' and no one elses'." I turn back to Sunny Days. "And you insist on knowing about and ridiculing everything her Highness does. She likes cakes. She likes teasing. She indulges her pet when it teases people. Blemishes to a porcelain character, but touches everypony shares. Places we do not want everypony to know about and comment on. But you, tyrant, denied her even that. That wasn't a secret meeting of government officials." I pointedly look around the group. "But a mare simply wanting a few minutes, or hours of privacy with her own thoughts. And if you claim her intentions are the same as the results of her actions, then you'd better take a sword to most of the ponies around you, because I would bet they each have had bad intentions they'd never act on."

Sunny Days bowS his head. "I can see why her Solarity keeps you around. Are you always so straightforward with her?"

"She doesn't usually require pounding her head on a marble floor to see she's been in the wrong. I won't go into details, but remember what her Nightjesty alluded to, that she and her sister grew up in a world that makes this one look like a golden-age of undreamt of prosperity, stability and safety. You and others have desired stability and it's attendant safety, that tomorrow be much like today, which was much like yesterday. Your movement is as much to give her Majesty permission to change, as it is giving it a direction to change."

"Well said, lad," Brown Chief says as he and a few of his coterie approach. In the distance, Princess Luna is speaking with Moon City. "Her Nightjesty said you had something to tell me. Having Celestia's latest," the earth pony pauses as I glare at him. "Protege, so eager to speak with me, and her Nightjesty bringing you here to say. I don't know if I should be honored or worried."

"I just needed to have a little chat with you," I tell him, "In private."

He looks around. "We're all friends here."

"You remember I was lecturing Sunny Days about leaving a few shadows for ponies to be ponies in. I think this is one of those things that would take a good deal more explaining than a few column inches in the paper would give."

He became suspicious. "Over there." He looks at Sunny Days. "Anything I should be worried about."

"Don't make him angry," the huge stallion warns, "And he's very sensitive about Celestia being accused of 'colt-cuddling' when she was spending time helping Luna through her recovery."

The stallion gulped and nodded, then we walk to a small building. Inside, he instantly drops all pretense of politeness. "I don't like games."

"Then you should know you have someone rooting for you to take over the mission. Imperial Intelligence," I tell him, "The Fraud Squad, the Bank of Equestria, and others will provide them with more than enough. Need I go on?"

"It was all legal, and all looked into, by those. A pony can get out of investments any time he likes."

"It's the fact you didn't warn any of your partners, that is the most damning," I tell him, "Leading the herd from a sudden grass fire is one thing, leaving them to burn is something else."

He starts to pace, for all the confines of the small building allow. "I did warn them," he says in a small voice. Then stops to confront me. "How the hay was I supposed to explain that we should get out because of some sense even I don't understand. I'm not a unicorn to have magic. But it's steered me in and out of the rapids, let me build up a very substantial portfolio, and warned me when to run from that grass fire," he says angrily, "Like it's warning me to run right now. So Intel thinks I'm a good candidate, cause they can cast me and the whole movement down with a sneeze? Well I'm not supporting Moon City." He turns sideways. "I haven't got a bit mark on my flank, just two bricks and a bit of mortar. I'm good at what I do, and whatever I do. Cutie-mark, breed not withstanding," he says, sounding defeated.

"Let's just say that I'm here to talk to Moon City about hard to explain shadows as well."

"I'm not supporting you either."

"No one need know there isn't a 'top spot'. No one in your faction would go to Moon City before seeing you anyway. Besides, I'm a Federalist at heart. Let each community choose how they are going to run themselves. Ponies have hooves, if they don't like a place, they can vote with them and walk away."

"Thanks," he says gruffly as he leaves.

One down, one to go, I think.

Moon City could barely restrain himself from stamping his hooves in frustration. Of all the insufferable things! Celestia's Intelligence deciding I'm 'harmless', I never thought that would be a damning phrase.

"How did you get this?" he asked the colt who seemed to be able to stand his ground despite the stallion's angry posture.

"The one who provided me this information very much wants to see your movement succeed. But is aware how easily it can be discredited," he said calmly.

"My wife would laugh at this 'scandal', and our neighbors' reactions," he assured the colt.

No need to tell him why, if Luna is correct, Celestia is after his energy and drive, same as Twilight. No colt-cuddling involved, he thought.

"And about the movement you're part of?" the colt asked.

"Damn you and your questions," he said without heat, "Yes, they would have a field day with that." He turned to the colt. "How did you find out? I just want to know, so when Brown Chief is stampeding us over a cliff, I know who warned I was to be the Judas goat."

"You think Brown Chief is going to get the leadership?" the colt asked a little too innocently, "I thought her Highness held that position."

"You know very well what I mean, but what do you mean? You had the same conversation with Brown?" he asked.

"Shadows, remember."

"That uptight, stick-in-the-mud, oughta-be blank-flank?!" he exclaimed in shock.

"You might be stone bruised in your forehoof, he might have a pebble caught in a rear shoe, but you both limp just the same," the colt said calmly, as if from years and hard-won wisdom belying his youth. He also ignored the 'blank-flank' comment. "Leave the 'leadership' open. Let people think her Highness has the reins, as it were. Having crazy subordinates is very 'in' this year. Celestia's knights are all a bit 'off', but they take on Nightmare Moon and dragons, by themselves. Having two, diligent but flawed supporters raises her image: that despite your flaws, Luna loves and trusts you."

"I think you might be good at the job."

The colt shook his head. "I have absolutely no ambitions in that direction. But if my colleagues found me to be the best pony for the job, they could prevail upon me to serve Equestria to the best of my abilities."

"Drop the 'might'," Moon City said and grinned, "Someday I want to find out who wanted me warned."

"After the Magna Carta and the Bill of Rights have Celestia and Luna's hoof-prints on them, I'll tell you and Brown Chief. I can guarantee, you won't believe it."

"You make it sound like Celestia herself is looking out for us."

He laughed at that bizarre thought.

"Trouble lies heavy upon thy brow," her Nightjesty says.

Again the guards are back, and I'm walking between their Highnesses. "I was never a very political animal, but they just folded far too easily," I tell the pair.

"You don't understand ponies," Celestia says, and nuzzles me.

I admit that feels good, I think and compare it to human activity.

"I don't get how they can walk away from the position of power, and let the scandals break."

"You haven't seen the teasing that a blank-flank gets. The 'jack-of-all-trades' your kind admires, is an object of uncertainty and some dread, if they aren't pitied. You have your position attracting comments, and your accomplishments deflecting them, so the complaints about you aren't centered on your cutie-mark."

"I heard the teasing, and understand the implications," I tell them, "I just don't get into the mindset of the herd. I was too independent, as a human as well."

"Then we are fortunate to have you," Luna admits.

I just don't want to think about the nightmares I'm going to have tonight about this, I consider, I guess my dreams are beyond Luna's reach.

I jump out of the bed into darkness. The moonlight illuminates the far walls of the courtyard, but little is reflected back in through the windows. I stand and listen, hearing only the clink of cooling stone, the occasional footsteps of Night Court functionaries passing through the hall outside, and, and, and silence. No entity bursts out of the now vacant bed. The shadows don't detach and come to smother me. The sun doesn't pop over the horizon and burn me to ashes as I claw at the door to escape. None of the bad things that I woke from, only to find myself in another dream happen. I stand for several minutes, looking, listening, scenting and waiting for some clue that this isn't another dream.

As the sheer normality of the surroundings drives home the point, I go to the bathroom. For an instant, I'm frightened to open the door. I'm frightened of what might be in there, I'm frightened of what might have replaced the door, and I'm frightened that there won't be anything on the other side.

I managed to get the door open, and get inside without slamming it behind me. The brighter light and the odd coloring actually soothe me. The nightmares never came in here, I remember, Of course I never made it this far, I always ran for the other door.

With the knowledge that the toilet might jump up and bite me someplace tender, I relieve myself, then wash up. The mirror shows a pony who had seen better days. "At least I should have been drunk three days to look like that," I say to my reflection, who does not jump out of the mirror with a knife, which is good, or a hairbrush, manicure set, and curry comb, which while weird, would have been welcome.

I guess that's my trouble with Discord. All catastrophe, but no eucatastrophe. Nothing good and wonderful, nothing joyous and inexplicable. If he'd stopped with the chocolate milk rain for a few days, he would have had something. Nope, straight to ponies thinking they're dogs forever, delusions and lies that hurt ponies. Has to be a horrorfest, I think as I wipe off my face.

The room has been cleared of all the papers. They are neatly stacked in a cabinet. The lathe and mill are there, along with an anvil and a small brazier. All powered by magical sources, and all solid, steady and real. None were present in the dreams. The little grabber is in its rack, and ready to show to investors. Now that I know Brown Chief's 'hidden talent' I should talk to him about it, I think, and look out the window, Yeah, fly out there in a Diane, and ask him about how 'crazy' this gizmo is to invest in.

I lie down on the floor, enjoying the cool, hard stone under my belly. When is the Gala? That's the first sign. That's when I really start living on borrowed time, I wonder, And what's after? I don't remember much after that episode, and Twilight going crazy in the aftermath. So what do I do? I lie there and think for a while. Lots of ideas and improvements for the inventions form in my head, but no new ideas for living.

Soarin' looks at me, in positive terror. "I kinda broke it," he admits, "Please no oranges!" he pleads from his knees.

"You really need to just learn to ask. That, and take more lessons from Ms. Pie," I say as gently as I can, "Take me to it." Several of the other Wonderbolts look positively sheepish as we walk to the hanger where the recently completed 'quadra-Diane' is/was housed.

It's good they're on edge today. Princess Luna has a 'surprise' for us, and considering she's Celestia's sister, I can bet how that surprise is going to go down.

The group waiting for us at the hanger is a surprise for everyone.

"Amethyst Crown?" Fleetfoot asks the charcoal-gray, sunglasses-wearing pegasus stallion who looks like he'd just stepped out of a recruiting poster.

"It's Tuxedo Stallion now, since I joined her Nightjesty's service," the dark pegasus says, although enough white peeps out of the uniform you could imagine he was wearing a tuxedo.

"You've met Topaz Breeze, Storm Diamond, and Jubilee Rider," the pegasus introduces three mares, all with the same darkened coloration, and sunglasses.

"Let me guess," I say, "The Shadowbolts."

Tuxedo stares at me in confusion. "Good guess, and accurate," he says, then looks over at a salt-and-pepper maned, iridescent-gray pegasus stallion who regards all of the group with sternness.

"S - S - Shadow Pearl!" Soarin' exclaims, "H- h - how are you doing?" Soarin remembers himself, he straightens up and salutes, "Sir!"

"I'm here to see to it that you all start workin' together. The Princesses, please note the plural, are concerned that the Wonderbolts might have a problem with the Shadowbolts, until their roles are properly spelled out," the stallion says in a vaguely bored tone, as if he expects childlike behavior from the ponies before him, and will have to make an example of one.

"Sir, should I leave?" I ask politely, "I have some equipment to check on, and I am not aware of being part of either team."

"Your equipment is the reason we're all here Mr. McHorsefly, and is of glowing interest to me, and the Shadowbolts. I can think of no better place to discuss the situation, than in that hanger, where the rest of the Wonderbolts have already been assembled."

Having received all but an order to lead the way, I do so. I ignore Soarin's worried muttering about having 'broke it'. The rest of the Wonderbolts, Glory Bell and all of my guard are there, and waiting.

"Fans won't turn," Glory says without preamble, and glares at Soarin'.

Spitfire is the only member of the entire group who looks pleased. "Captain, for a stallion who said he was through with flying, you're a welcome sight."

" 'Through with flyin' for fun' was the exact quote," Shadow Pearl says and salutes Spitfire, who returns one of equal perfection, "Raisin' a pack of colts, didn't have time to raise you colts too."

Then the two hug like the old friends they are. "I'm glad we're the same rank, I always wanted to do that."

"Technically we aren't in the same chain of command anymore," Shadow Pearl says and breaks off the hug, "And what's this about the centerpiece being broken?"

"Not broken, sabotaged," I say, "By me." I flip open the cover to the transmission, spin one of the gears, and slip a pin the size of a human pinkie back into place. Once that's locked, I put a hoof on the pedal and the small movement takes all the slop out of the drive train until the four large fan blades move ever so slightly.

"But, why?" Soarin' asks, "Don't you trust us?"

"He trusted you to do exactly what you did," Shadow Pearl says, "You always were too interested in toys."

Soarin' takes the ribbing from the others in stride.

"Forgive me for jumping ahead," I say, "But all of you have a history, even Glory seems to know who you all are, but I haven't the foggiest."

"Barnum," Glory says, "Shadow Pearl was the captain of the Wonderbolts."

"Still is," Spitfire says.

"He developed a lot of their more complex maneuvers, and handled the training regimen. They wouldn't be half the team they are today, if not for his innovations."

So not a stick up the back martinet, I realize, An innovator, just a by-the-book one.

"The rest of us," Tuxedo Stallion says, "Either washed out, or turned down a chance to fly for the crowds."

"I didn't 'wash out'," says Jubilee Rider, a mare who looked like a charcoal bodied Rainbow Dash, although her mane was the three secondary colors only.

"You wanted to be the soloist on a team," Shadow Pearl says, "Now you have that chance."

"I can't imagine that night-flying would be a popular spectator event," I say.

Chuckles from the Shadowbolts, especially Tuxedo Stallion. "I didn't want to fly, because I wanted to do something with my flying."

"The Wonderbolts do, do something. We inspire thousands every year." Spitfire says heatedly, her ears flat against her skull. Tuxedo responds with a knowing sneer.

"The Shadowbolts' primary mission, will be search and rescue," Shadow Pearl injects, before the argument can come to blows, "Our primary problem has always been heavy lift. A pegasus might carry a child, but not a full-grown adult. A flying truss can make a team carry the weight, but it's difficult to maneuver in broken terrain, and again: what do you carry? We could recruit every pegasus doctor, but that still means supplies are limited to what one pegasus can carry."

"But with a team of Dianes, you can let them carry the supplies, while the Wonderbolts, and Jubilee scout," I say, "Then the Shadowbolts carry out the close-in work."

Shadow Pearl smiles. "Pretty close. We'll work out who does what, but you're right that the Wonderbolts will be better at what they're best at: fancy flying, and the new Shadowbolts will do the workpony-like job of controlled flying. The flying truss, plus that pylon turn open up new possibilities. Possibilities the Princesses strongly urge us to look into."

The group nods. There's still tension between Spitfire and Tuxie, but Shadow Pearl glances at both and they simmer down.

"Good. Now, I want a check flight on that thing and to learn to control it," Shadow Pearl says.

"As long as the check flight doesn't exceed about a hoof-width off the ground. This is all new, no one has ever flown one of these before," I admit.

"Then we'll be the first to find out," Shadow Pearl says.

I point at Glory, who immediately snaps back her planned protest. "She's your pilot, you're the copilot. I'm just the flight engineer."

"Three?" Shadow Pearl asks.

"Fully loaded, this quadra-Diane should be able to pick up two full-grown ponies above and beyond the flight crew of three," I reply, "For short hops of a few miles. If they have to travel say here to Ponyville without stopping, it's less."

"Good enough."

Why don't you just pat me on the head? I think of Shadow Pearl's tone.

"The first flight isn't a complete disaster," I say from where I'd dropped a moment earlier. A quick survey shows that ponies are more durable then their Earthly counterparts. I.e., none of the three of us is plastered all over the landscape.

"I'd like your definition of a failure," Shadow Pearl asks as he sits up from where he was thrown.

"Any landing you can walk away from is a good one," I tell the former Wonderbolt as I walk over to where the quadra-Diane sits, and Glory hangs onto the controls with an iron grip, "Having the bird in one piece, is a special bonus."

"I think the pilot's seat needs replacement," Glory says as she slowly releases her grip on the control stick, " 'Cause I'm not sitting on it until it is."

"How soon can we be up and ready for another go?" Shadow Pearl asks as the rest of the team rushes over to where the bird sits, the rotors spinning down.

"Replacing the seat will take about 20 minutes, but I want to do a full structural and control damage check. It'll also let our pilot get a bath, and hose off the frame."

Spitfire and Claire are guiding a still-shaken Glory away from the others.

"Can you teach us that maneuver?" one of the younger Wonderbolts asks, "It looked really cool, until you let go."

"If I could decide which of the three of you said that - " Pearl growls.

"Hit the one in the middle," Fleetfoot suggests, "And you are getting a lie down as well. Your brain will work fine while the doc checks out that your structure and control system are all working, both of you."

"If it gets me out of carrying this to the shop, or the tool boxes out here, I'm all for it," I suggest and let Fleetfoot and Soarin' guide me towards a very worried-looking, medical pony. Blaze and Tuxie are doing the same for Shadow Pearl.

I see the smiles between those two, I think, proving I'm not too far gone, I think somebody followed somebody else to the Wonderbolts, then couldn't hack it.

"There it is." Barnum held the small piece of metal up for Pearl to see. "The shear pin didn't exactly shear completely, but it jammed the drive train to one of the rotors. That's why we went into a flat spin."

"Is there a way we can start up testing today?" Pearl asked.

"I can replace this pin, but the gears that chewed on it, that's a few hours work to replace them. If I had replacements. I'd also like to understand why it sheared at such low speeds. It's meant to keep someone from getting the rotors going so fast that they break."

"Don't fly without shear pins," Peal said, "Wouldn't a governor be better?"

"What soldier ever let a governor live, when there was speed to be had?" Barnum asked.

Pearl nodded. Really smart kid, the old flier thought.

"So are we clear for ground tests, pull the other pins and let the drive shafts rotate. At least we can see how the controls operate. And let Glory get a bit more settled as the pilot."

"We can try that, but all it will do is let you see what the controls do to tilt the rotors, not how they'll affect it in flight."

"For some of us, that will be a start," Pearl said, thinking of at least three of the current Wonderbolts, and two of the Shadowbolts. "What is that?" Pearl asked of a small box with a painted orb inside attached to the control panel. He hadn't been able to ask before the incident.

"An artificial horizon," Barnum said, "It indicates your actual attitude, rather than what your senses tell you. With that, a gyrocompass, and good charts, you could fly across the open sea in a pitch black night."

Pearl stared at Barnum as if he'd turned into Nightmare Moon. Barnum smiled at the stunned, old pegasus.

"Now do you understand? With good instruments, a map and a stop watch, a pilot could fly Ghastly Gorge in a flier with no windows."

"I think I'm going to go outside and be terrified," Pearl said.

"Welcome to aircraft design," Barnum said.

Pearl walked out of the hanger. Lieutenant Solitude and Sergeant Mile Stone just happened to be between Topaz Breeze and Fleetfoot. Spitfire and Tuxedo Stallion were at least being civil to one another, although Claire and Soarin's close proximity may have had something to do with it.

"He should have it useable in a few minutes," Pearl told them, "Not for flying, but for ground testing. Spitfire, Blaze, Tuxedo Stallion, Storm Diamond, Glory Bell, and Lieutenant Solitude, you'll be cycling through training with the machine. It won't be flight capable, so don't worry."

The Lieutenant looked worried. "Sir, I wasn't briefed on getting, flight training."

"How are you going to guard him, if you stay on the ground?"

"I'm afraid of heights, sir," the Lieutenant answered.

"It can't fly, and if something goes wrong in the air, you have to know what to do," Pearl replied. The mare's fear did not subside.

"That's it," I say as I horn the sheer pin to Glory. I look at the tools scattered on the desk in my room and consider what I'll need to finish the gears.

"That's nice," she says, "What am I looking at?"

"The fruits of a too-hasty design, and a few assumptions that proved untrue. There's enough slop in the shaft that the sheer pin was acting as a universal joint, so the load exceeded what the pin was designed for, and it did more than it was supposed to do. It's supposed to fix it so only part of the force goes to the rotor, not bring the assembly to a sudden stop," I tell her, "If it had happened in the air, or with a less steady pony at the controls, it might have gotten very interesting."

"Define 'interesting'."

"Sir Bell, I'm deeply sorry, here's a coffee cup full of all the bits we could find," I reply.

"You are not making me happier about our second flight," she responds, "So do we go with solid shafts, install a universal joint there, and a sheer pin near the fan assembly, or go without the pins entirely?" she asks as she walks away from the table and among the bedsteads with the designs pasted up on them.

"Don't know," I tell her, then glance out the window, "I think that's a question for tomorrow. With the sun down, it's time for some of us to get some sleep."

She walks up behind me. "Aren't you slighting Princess Luna, not walking out under her night sky?"

"To tell the truth, the sun doesn't hold any real fascination for me either. But I can understand why Luna feels the way she does. Most ponies are not nocturnal, and too many predators are. With time comes astronomy, and night clubs, but I'm an early riser. I look at her night as it ends, not from beginning to middle."

"Poetic way to put it." She glances over at Claire, asleep on another of the beds. Brushcut standing guard inside the room. "I think she has the right idea," Glory says as she floats another bed over, so Claire is between where she'll sleep and where I will. "Keeps the gossip down," she tells me, but gives me a peck on the cheek anyway.

I ignore Brushcut's raised eyebrows and settle myself into my own bunk.

The morning has us out on the Wonderbolts' practice field, the new gears going into the transmission. Many of the mechanics who set up the practice fields are watching the change out. Pinkie's gizmo is making the need for four hands to do some jobs irrelevant. Glory installs a double-cardan type universal joints to each drive shaft. It's midafternoon when the vehicle is ready for another attempt. The mechanics have tethered the machine to the ground.

"I am not lifting more than against the tethers," Glory says, "But I will run the controls."

Spitfire is with her, and Jubilee as 'flight engineer'. The rest of us watch, and those of us with horns get ready to restrain the quadra-Diane should it get loose.

Several fancily-dressed civilians have wandered past the barriers and are approaching the flight line. I move off to intercept them. Mile Stone, Tuxedo and Soarin' move up to support me. "Excuse me, I'm afraid that I must insist that you take your place behind the barriers. They were set up for your safety."

Several of the people nod and turn back, but there's always one. "Do you know who I am?" the unicorn in the polo shirt and tied sweater asks.

If he isn't a preppy stereotype, I think vaguely.

"No, sir, and if you stay here, you'd better tell me. Because if that machine breaks loose and crashes over here, we'll need a medium to discover who you were. Dental records only help so much."

"Dental records?" the preppy whines.

"Yes sir," I say enthusiastically, "Big, fast-whirling blades, restaurants use the same principle to fast chop their garnishes. Once a pony is reduced to cubes less than a bit width, it becomes very difficult to get any identifying factors, and if you're mixed in with your lovely, minced companion, we won't be able to tell who is whom."

"Perhaps behind the barrier is safer?" the mare with him asks, "Are any of the barriers more . . . solid than those ropes?"

"Ma'am, a hoof-width of concrete might not stop it. It travels in a fairly straight line, just run at right-angles and you should be fine."

The mare drags her brain-fried stallion away behind the barriers. Brown Chief and Moon City have also arrived to watch the test. They automatically stay behind the barriers. On a balcony at the castle I can see the flash of white that can only be Celestia.

"Not nice," Mile Stone says approvingly, "But very effective."

Glory and Spitfire are concentrating on their jobs. Jubilee is looking rather uncertain. Then they begin pedaling. The quadra-Diane raises about a foot into the air. The tethers strain but remain solidly in the ground. Glory moves through the various controls, making the machine dip and twist as the four rotors change their rotational speeds or directions. The crowd 'oo's and 'ah's a bit, but the test is not that momentous. Spitfire occasionally takes the controls and duplicates Glory's maneuvers. After several minutes, they land it back safely, and Jubilee takes Spitfire's position, while Spitfire moves to the back. Jubilee is clearly not the natural flier Spitfire is, or as skilled a pilot. But with Glory backing her moves, nothing untoward happens.

The quadra-Diane settles back down, and the two mares climb off. Blaze and Storm take their places, and the quadra-Diane goes back up, to complete the exact same test maneuvers. The learners are switched out and the new copilot goes through the entire set of maneuvers.

I don't know if the crowd was expecting blood, I think as I notice the diminished collection of gawkers, At least Celestia, Moon City and Brown Chief are still watching. I just wonder who that fancy pants unicorn and mare are.

Tuxie and Lieutenant Solitude are the last of the group. The lieutenant is the most nervous of any of the copilots, but the proximity to the ground gives her enough confidence to perform the maneuvers. Tuxie visibly rails against the restriction, but Glory is firm.

Good girl, I think, then spot Spitfire and Shadow Pearl nodding, I think some - pony is going to get an attitude adjustment.

When the machine sets down for the last time, Glory wilts over the bench. The lieutenant very carefully steps off, then collapses onto the ground. Tuxie sees Shadow Pearl headed over and looks more frightened that the lieutenant was. I head over to the barrier and pull them aside to let the few lookie-lous see the team.

"What exactly is the, well, purpose of this machine?" the unicorn stallion I couldn't place asks.

"P.T. Barnum McHorsefly, Fancypants," Moon City introduces us.

"What does the P.T. stand for?" Fancypants asks while the alicorn-like unicorn mare heads over to talk to Glory. Claire lets her, so I concentrate on the groups near me.

"Whatever is of use at the moment. The machine is to allow a wider access and utility to flight. A pegasus could easily outrun or outmaneuver one, but not out-carry. Enhanced carrying capacity and the inclusion of electrically or magically powered engines would make them even more powerful, but a pony-powered unit will let us train pilots and is does give adequate performance."

"Rescuing foals off cliffs, placing weathervanes on barns and the like all seem like something a pegasus/unicorn team could easily achieve. Is this some way of equalizing things for earth ponies?" Fancypants asks.

"No sir, anyone can fly one, and anyone can have the advantages of one. In a less efficient version than this, Sergeant Mile Stone and I flew from Ponyville to here, in one night. Carrying a fair weight in cargo. Most of the ponies being trained are pegasi and unicorns. Part of the reason you build devices like this, is to see what others will do with them. One other obvious use is as a firefighting machine. A large, refillable water bag, or a unicorn passenger picks up a large amount of water at a lake or stream, and moves it where they need it to fight a forest or house fire. Or even a fire aboard a ship. I'm sure if I left you three gentlemen in a room with one of these, you could develop hundreds of uses, from joyriding, to more businesslike functions. My job is to work the bugs out so other ponies can make use of them."

Fancypants nods. "I think you are correct. Too bad you can't do the same with these New Lunar Republic ponies. Can't they leave her Highness, their Highnesses alone? Do we have to hear the same squabbles about cutie-marks define us, or they restrict us? That the monarchy is inherently unfair/uncaring, and why doesn't her Highness do more for individuals and everypony?"

"If the rumors I've heard are true," I say, as both Moon City and Brown Chief are sweating bullets, "Is that her Highness Luna has them well in hand and is softening up her Highness Celestia to accept some of their more reasonable demands." I look around carefully. "I've even heard that there are elements of the government which approve of these changes. Giving the power of law, to customs which have had the force of law for several hundred years. It doesn't really change anything, but it allows other groups to voice their desire for change. They aren't going to get it right the first time, but it isn't intended to make Equestria a perfect paradise. Who could agree what is paradise in any case?"

"True," Fancypants said, "Are these for sale, or will they be, once you've ironed the bugs out?"

"Yet they will be," I reply.

"I think a sky yacht would be well served in having one or two, rather than go through the dangerous proposition of landing for each and every little thing."

"I'll make sure you are informed when we begin manufacture. If you're interested in a smaller model, you might want to contact Pinkamena Diane Pie in Ponyville. She has built several small, single-seat models."

"I think we would prefer a two-seater," Fancypant said, "And later, a cargo carrier."

"I understand, sir."

We move towards the machine. The two NLR-types hold back, leaving Fancypants free to look. I note that while he looks very carefully, he doesn't touch anything without first asking permission, usually of Glory. The inspection he gives is thorough, and Moon City and Brown Chief seem to be willing to await his pleasure. So does everyone else, including Glory. So I wait.

"Would you and your lady like to go for a short ride?" I offer, and ignore the warning looks from everyone else in the area.

"It wouldn't be too much trouble?" the stallion asks eagerly.

"No, I need a little time at the controls myself," I admit, "The tethers will hold it down, so we can't really go cartwheeling all over the horizon."

"Then what was the fence for?" the unicorn mare asks.

"If pieces came flying off, they might fly quite a distance. But I doubted that would have dissuaded them," I explain.

Fancypants accepts the nod from the mare, and they climb into the pilot and copilot seats. The Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts around the test site snicker, but I ignore them. With the two of them pedaling enough to get the rotors turning, I explain the instruments and the controls.

"You'll have to pedal much faster to get airborne." They do, and we lift, jerk against the tethers, and gently bump down again.

"I'm afraid that's all the courage I have at the moment," Fancypants admits, and his lady agrees.

"You can come back when you can just be an observer," I tell them as they shakily climb out and stagger away to sit down on the grass.

"Well, played," Glory whispers, "Discounting their Highnesses, he's one of the biggest wheels in Canterlot. And where did you meet Moon City and Brown Chief? Add my uncle and you've got the top tenth of 'who's who' in Canterlot."

"Carrying messages," I reply, "Don't ask unless you want to hear about what I did to Sunny Days."

"How did you beat up that monster of a stallion?" Glory asks.

"Pure ferocity, and no sense of morals or fairness. If just Luna or Celestia had been there, it might have had a very different ending."

"Even you aren't a match for both Alicorn sisters," Glory says as she frowns.

"That's what I said. But if there'd been only one . . . You can ask them if you don't believe me."

"It'll take at least two hours to fix," I tell Shadow Pearl as I examine the twisted drive shaft.

"I expect it in half-an-hour," he says and walks away.

"You won't get it," I tell him.

"I gave you an order."

"The order's not possible. I don't pad my estimates. You asked how long, I told you. You want to fly with three rotors, that's fine too," I tell him, "You want four, it's going to take two hours."

He glares at me, but I return my attention to the job and don't even look at him. Despite the heat of his stare, I keep working.

After a bit, Spitfire walks over. "He's going to expect that job done in half-an-hour."

"It's always good to want things. But like I told him. This job typically takes the time it takes and I'm not going to cut corners, and safety, just because he's in a hurry. We aren't being shot at, no lives are in the balance, and so there's no excuse to do something that'll endanger you and the others because he wants to prove who's boss."

She shakes her head as she walks away. The drive shaft comes out easily, eight minutes, but the holes in the mating pieces for the pins that held the drive shaft are enlarged. That means weld and temper, which means at least an hour. He walks over as I'm setting up the temper.

"This should be ready," he tells me.

"If you want a vibration from the shaft rattle tearing something loose, it's ready now. Then it's grounded until I can figure out what damage was done. Unless the connectors do open the holes more and the whole assembly slips out Then I'll be further delayed by helping with the funeral of whoever was flying it."

"What would you do if we were under fire?" he asks.

"I probably would wedge something in there and weld up the whole thing, and hang all but the briefest temper," I reply.

"Why not here?"

"Because then we'd have to replace the entire line from the rotor to the transmission, or spend hours breaking the welds and fixing things. There aren't any other shops making these, just me. If you want interchangeable parts, I have to make them, or I have to recruit others to make them to exacting specifications. That takes time that the level and speed of repairs you require don't allow for."

"So it's my fault."

"If you want 100% up time on a machine that is essentially a work-in-progress prototype, talk to your own mechanics about building a second, or even a third one. I have the blueprints of how the machine is as it currently stands. It's not a question of 'fault', it's a question of resource allocation," I tell him as I finish the tempering and begin reassembling the piece with the pins and the new drive shaft. I can feel him staring at me.

"If you quit wasting time locked up with the Princesses, you'd have more time to work," he says.

"They outrank you, sir, and that is the work. This, is the time off," I tell him flatly.

Luna looked around the small conference room accessible only through the two sisters' quarters, at the diligent ponies working with her and her sister, and felt ashamed asking these bone-weary ponies, "Why do we specifically need to prohibit our subjects from being able to sue our Highnesses?" She ignored the polite but faintly pained expressions, as they struggled to hammer out, yet another bump in the 'Magna Carta'.

Barnum looked up from his notes and noticeably stifled a sigh. "Because if you are encouraging your subjects to freely seek redress of grievances, there will be a portion who will demand redress of frivolous grievances, as well as people who will seek to use the pretense of a grievance to waste your Highnesses' time, resources, or to simply enrich themselves at the government's expense by lawsuit. There are always those willing to 'use a shield as a sword'," Barnum explained.

"Very good, young sir," Sir Eagle said, as exhausted and as polite as the colt, "We'll make a proper civil servant of you yet. It is a good point, and we are talking about enshrining items in law that have always been the accepted custom."

"If Brown Chief and Moon City knew who was really 'redrafting' their documents, they'd have a conniption fit," Barnum said.

"Oh dear, and I was so hoping for a complete coronary," Sir Eagle said and sadly shook his head, "Give them a heroes' funeral with all the trimmings. State Funerals are such a nice and honorable way to close the book on a useful tool."

Luna coughed up her tea as Celestia chuckled. "Their deaths should not be celebrated!" Luna insisted.

"Oh no, your Highness," Barnum corrected, "Their deaths shouldn't be arranged. But their deaths should be celebrated, all of Equestria honors their bravery and dedication."

"Tragic loss, cut down after such a momentous accomplishment, what other wonders could they have achieved?" Eagle Bell asked rhetorically.

Luna was staring at them with utter horror. Celestia's suppressed laughter didn't help.

"Your Highness," Barnum said, "It also prevents people from thinking the movement was tainted by these people who didn't just have hooves of clay, but were clay up to their necks."

"Tips of their upraised ears, I should think," Eagle Bell corrected, "Discovering such things after someone has died just elevates the stature of their accomplishments."

"I'm rather glad you two are on our side," Luna said, then considered, "You are on our side?"

"We are happy and eager to serve, your Nightjesty," Eagle Bell said as he and Barnum bowed slightly.

Out of Context Part 1

Out of Place - Out of Context Part 1

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Billy Joel - Piano Man

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sitting next to me
Makin' love to his tonic and gin

He says, "Son, can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes."

Being shaken awake is getting to be an old habit I want broken. "You know, I'm thinking of battlements in front of that door: land mines, barbed wire, and a machine gun bunker." I focus on Glory, and then on the small cloud of agitated to terrified ponies behind her. Moon City, Brown Chief, Benevolent Warrior, Furniture Maker, even Captain Shining Armor.

"Have you seen this?" Warrior asks as he drops the paper on the bed.

"You woke me out of a sound sleep," I tell him, "I'll let you parse that for answers." I study the paper. "That banner should have the NLR dancing in the streets," I say of the 'NLR reforms accepted by the Princesses' headline that takes up the top half of the paper.

"Read on," Moon City says.

The rest of the article details the draft of the agreement. Somepony leaked it, and I know three possibles, I think, At least they leaked a complete copy of the final draft.

"What, you think they'll still go to war over the Princesses' additions? Luna agreed to them, the NLR are supposed to be her people."

"You knew about this?" Brown Chief asks angrily.

"That's not something I'm going to discuss," I tell him, and make everyone instantly suspicious.

"That isn't the worst part." The guard captain flips the page and highlights the passage.

"Okay, she's challenging Luna and the NLR leadership to a charity game," I say after reading it, "Makes sense, gets them in front of the populace, Stalliongrad had a hard winter and the money will go to replenishing the food banks, and the competition lets ordinary Equestrians scream and holler their brains out for their side in a friendly match."

"I thought Sunny Days said she hated Hoofball," Moon City says.

I give him my best Death Glare, and explain, as if to a rather stupid child, "If that stallion wrote 'rain was wet', the wise should immediately go look it up to see what that moron left out, added, or flat out got wrong. Even then, the quote from that idiot was 'The Princess finds watching Hoofball boring.' She said nothing what-so-ever about playing the game herself."

Properly chagrined, Moon City moves back into the crowd.

"I take it," I ask, "Captain, that you aren't exactly dancing in the streets about this, and that you've already contacted the umpires and officials you know to arrange for them to officiate?"

"I was hoping you'd help me convince her Highness to drop this," the guard captain explains, in a tone similar to the one I used on Moon City, "Not to facilitate it. Letting her, their, Highnesses run around, possibly be injured. You can see the dangers in this?"

"Oh," I say sheepishly. I shake my head. "No chance. Celestia is going to mop the floor with Luna, and them, and then sign the treaty. 'Congratulations, I could have beaten you all single-hornedly in a war, but I agree with your proposals, so you get them, and I get to run around like a filly for the honor of Equestria.' If you think I'm going to stand in the way of any of that, you're out of your little pony minds."

Furniture lets out a yelp of laughter, then looks embarrassed. Glory is grinning. The rest look like Nightmare Moon and Discord have joined forces and invited them all to a barbeque.

"But, you can't!" Shining Armor exclaims, with both Moon City and Brown Chief nodding enthusiastically.

The door slams behind them, the orange glow of the door matching the glow of my horn. "Let me give you all a little education. Her Majesty Princess Celestia controls the sun. A ball of matter with a surface temperature over 50,000 degrees. No matter that exists can stay solid in close proximity to that. She could manipulate it into close orbit and burn any army, fortress or tank to ashes and slag, with no strain on her part. She could manipulate it to let out a gamma burst that would burn away the planet's atmosphere, and incinerate any organic material on or under the planet, and if she let off a powerful enough one, it would do the same to every living thing on every nearby star system. Or she might make it lase those gamma rays into a tight beam that would easily bore a hole in this planet and anything else that was in the way. Or not merely melt anything opposing her, but make it incandesce, that is, vaporize it and the vapors burst into flame. That's what an object she can manipulate can do. Think of what her personal power can do. No, if the contributors of such vile names like Molestia, Trollestia and those other stupid monikers that the NLR has been pasting her with are only going to get themselves trounced in a Hoofball game to earn money to help people who desperately need it, they ought to get down on their knees and kiss her hooves that she hasn't simply burned them and the morons who follow them to ashes in response to poisoning the populace's minds that she doesn't care. The only reason that debating society got anywhere is because Luna herself intervened and focused their efforts." I turned on Shining Armor. "And if you think your authority, position or magical powers, of you or your sister, matter a hill of beans next to what Celestia and Luna have already accomplished in their lives, you are afflicted with hubris worthy of a god. The only reason anything that angers or threatens Celestia or Luna lives, is because they have made the conscious choice to let it, and deal with it diplomatically. Celestia didn't vaporize Nightmare Moon, she imprisoned her until Luna could be properly healed of the taint that was Nightmare Moon."

I lower my voice, "If any of you aren't afraid of her, you should be. If any of you are only afraid of her, then take heart that her boundless love of 'her little ponies' stays her hand from lashing out against the thousand idiots, parasites, and snipers that any being with less love and tolerance in their heart would have burnt to ashes decades ago. The only reason she doesn't unleash her full power against her enemies is that it would sunder this planet if she did. Think about the rituals you perform. Raising and lowering the sun and the moon, arranging the weather, forcing the change of seasons. These are rituals now, but they were a vital part of merely surviving once, long ago. There are places in this world the weather now simply happens, the season change of their own accord. Think of a force who could so damage the world that ponies would have to take those natural processes in hand and perform them themselves. Imagine what it would take to vanquish such a force. Then realize, that force is no longer around, but Celestia and Luna are. That, is who you are dealing with."

I look at the horrified ponies and grin at them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to request an invitation to the party that's going to celebrate the declaration, and tell her Majesty that I sold a map to the Royal Wheelbarrow to Sunny Days."

"Royal Wheelbarrow?" Glory asks.

"Yes, there was a century, after things were running well, and Luna's banishment was getting to her, that her Majesty's love of cake, rather got the better of her."

"You'd share that with Sunny Days?" Benevolent Warrior says, working up to a full-grown tirade.

"How else am I going to lure that fool into the caverns beneath Canterlot? It used to be a gem mine and leads deep into the mountain. If that smarmy, narcissistic hack gets lost or breaks his neck, not my fault." I shrug.

"I can't allow that," Shining Armor says firmly.

"What? It's not as if I'll actually murder him with my own hooves. Her Highness would never stand for that."

"That isn't it," Armor says, "I can't let you embarrass her Highness that way."

I laugh. "Do you actually think such a thing still exists?" I ask, and wait for the captain to grow uneasy, "You're probably wearing the lions-share of what's left of it."

"Then you're luring that reporter to her, his death?" Brown Chief asks.

"No, I'm just going to mention to her Highness that is what I'm going to do."

"After that big speech about how mighty she is, and you're going to twit her like that?" Moon City asks. His confusion plain to see.

"Oh course. Princess Celestia loves her dutiful, diligent ponies, but there's something in her that loves the ones that challenge her more. She probably loves those NLR-types more than any others, as long as they were conducting a Velvet Revolution with no one hurt and only ideas exchanged. So, of course I'm having a prank war with her. How do you think I wound up with an entire machine shop bolted to the ceiling? I'm not that crazy, or that powerful."

Brown Chief and Moon City take that opportunity to faint. Benevolent Warrior looks one step behind them, and the good Captain is on the verge himself. Glory looks more confused than frightened, and Furniture Maker simply looks thoughtful.

"So, it's the intellectual challenge she wants. The intricate tricks and labyrinthine puzzles for her to work out," Furniture Maker says, as if ironing it out for himself.

"Pretty much." I watch him as the pieces come together.

"That finally explains the civil service," he proclaims, and walks out.

Benevolent Warrior rolls his eyes and follows.

"So all of Twilie's nervousness, and panics at disappointing the Princess . . . " the captain helplessly trails off.

"All in her head, I'm afraid," I tell him, "The Princess isn't going to react badly to someone who tried beyond their grasp and failed, as much as someone who always succeeds because they never stretch themselves. Even that person won't be sent to the moon for their laziness."

Captain Shining Armor nods and wanders vaguely towards the door. I look at Glory, the last one left standing. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Can you put me back in the world I came from?" She looks around. "It was right here a second ago."

I'm going to label this 'Grand Central Station', I think as I enter my quarters carrying the rather sad remains of a 'post-Soarin" transmission.

"Can I help you ladies?" I ask of the aquamarine unicorn with an intense expression and mint-green mane and tail, the very nervous beige earth pony with a blue and pink mane and tail, and the last, standing aside looking at the machine tools is a gray and dark gray earth pony with a treble clef cutie-mark.

"It's said you remember humans," the unicorn says, sounding like Pinkie Pie at her Pinkiest.

"Yes, I don't really know if they are false or true memories," I tell her, "But they are very detailed."

"Manhattan, Los Angeles, Luciano Pavarotti, the Gettysburg Address, who's buried in Grant's Tomb, the Channel Tunnel, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Great Wall of China, the terracota army, Hollywood, Beethoven," she says in a mad rush, then holds up a hoof. "HANDS!"

Her companion gets more mortified with each phrase, and now looks like she wants to crawl under one of the machine tools.

"I remember all of those things," I tell her as I set the transmission down on a work table. "What about them?"

"They exist!"

"I remember them, that's not quite the same," I tell her.

"But, it's all consistent, and all those things fit in!" she asks intently, then whispers, "Especially the hands?"

"Yes, ma'am. They are tool users, and hands can fairly well replace unicorn magic to hold and move things."

"Oh wow! Oh wow! Oh wow!" she exclaims, bouncing up and down like Pinkie Pie.

"Just remember, someone might have just stuck those memories in my head. They might be consistence with your memories, because they borrowed them from you, and put them in my head. With a few suitable alterations," I say.

She slows her bouncing and looks thoughtful.

"And in all your memories, was there any real magic capable of moving a person from one reality to another?"

"Well, no."

"So if I was a human, how did I get here?" I ask.

She seems to calm down considerably. Her companion looks up with some real hope.

"But the dreams, they are so real!?" the unicorn complains in confusion.

"Then take your dreams and use them to make this world a better place." I pick up Pinkie's 'grabber'. "You know Pinkie Pie, her thoughts came up with this, and the flying machines. There's got to be dozens to hundreds of good ideas in your dreams that could help everypony. Use them."

"I, I guess you're right," she says.

Her companion closes in. "See?"

"I see," the unicorn says fiercely, "I haven't been using humans to help ponies enough. From now on, I shall! Laura Faust deserves no less!" says the true-believer as she walks out. Her companion looks ready to put one or both of their heads through a wall, as she turns to follow.

The last of my three guests approaches. She's a bit wild-eyed after my conversation. "Do you get that often?"

"No, Miss Octavia," I tell her as I begin disassembling the transmission.

She's pleased I recognize her. Then she's crestfallen. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to delve into your memories of being human."

I glance around. "What am I, the chief crazy person in residence today?"

"I apologize," she says, "But I'm performing at the Grand Galloping Gala, and . . . I would frankly like some music that isn't as boring to the musicians as it is to the audience."

"But you don't want the audience to know they are being heckled?" I ask, and when she nods I add, "That lets off PDB Bach, although that might be appropriate for the Magna Carta party tonight. I think I have just the thing, although a rendition of 'Pinkie's Brew' and 'Gypsy Bard' by Sherclopones will have to be transcribed and made to match a string quartet."

"I don't understand," she admits.

"Let me sing them, then you'll understand. And understand why I don't have a music cutie-mark."

"Pony Season!" Discord shouts as he pulls the handbill reading 'Discord Season' off the tree, revealing the one reading 'Pony Season'. The large gray sphere pivots so its impact crater/satellite dish feature points at me.

"Discord Season!" I pull off the hand bill, the one beneath showing Discord, and the sphere pivots back.

"Pony Season!"

"Discord Season!"

"Pony Season!"

"Discord Season!"

"Pony Season!"

"Discord Season!"

"Pony Season!"

"Discord Season!"

"Pony Season!"

"Discord Season!"

"Pony -! Oh dear." Discord looks at the handbill saying 'Celestia Season'. The picture is Celestia smiling, very horrifyingly smiling.

I'm distracted by the blast of hot breath on the back of my neck. When I focus back, the little Death Star has jumped to hyperspace, and Discord is doing his level best to duplicate the effect while running away. Another somehow more insistent blast of hot breath makes me wonder if I could do the same. Unfortunately, I'm more curious, or stupid. So, I turn around.

There are some frightening things in Equestria. They're all pikers compared with Celestia, wings at maximum extension at her sides, a determined grin that would give the Joker pause, a costume more appropriate to Morrigan Aensland, and thigh-high, lace-up, high-heel, dominatrix boots on all four legs. The blast of hot breath from her nose, and her smile actually widening convinces me to take a step back.

Celestia takes a step forward.

I take several steps back in rapid succession. She takes a step forward, her wing brushing the tree, revealing a 'Luna Season' handbill next in the stack Discord and I had been discarding. This time, my step back causes me to bump into something both soft and solid.

"Dah-ling," whispers in my ear.

I turn and see Luna. Wearing a tiger-striped bikini bottom, with a matching strip of cloth around her barrel below her shoulders, and sporting a second horn.

I back up, and then remember what I'm backing up to.

"You're scaring him, dear sister," Celestia says.

I look at her, she's now in a white bodysuit with black highlights and a '00' at the throat.

"I am?" Luna answers sharply, and a red-covered foreleg wraps around my neck and drags me back.

"No unauthorized touching," Celestia replies and touches her horn to Luna's wrist. Instantly, Luna's costume is a red balloon, with black highlights and a '02' on the throat.

Luna grumbles, but turns her head to let her horn burst the suit like a balloon. Beneath she's wearing a red cape and a white body suit that covers all but her legs, and a prominent hole below her neck. "You're awful," Luna complains.

"I'm not bad," Celestia says, I turn back to Celestia who is wearing a sparkly red dress and her mane covers one side of her face.

"I think both of you are missing a rather important feature of those characters," I explain.

A riding crop catches me under the chin and turns me back to Luna. The pickelhaube, monocle, military blouse, and Iron Cross I can understand. The walrus moustache went beyond eccentric. "I haf been a bad pony. You vill punish me," comes the stern command.

There's a tubercular cough, and a gray limb wraps around my foreleg, dragging me away. I look down. Celestia, all in battleship gray, wearing a two-gun turret as a hat, one more on each shoulder, and a fourth on her rump.

She gives another cough. "Just one moment of happiness, and then . . . "

"Okay, if she's Bismarck, then you must be HMS Hood," I realize, "You do know that Hood's magazine exploded." I realize my mistake just a few seconds too late.

It is odd that a molded sheet of corrugated, galvanized steel would be so welcome. But in the form of a bucket . . .

"That's it lad, get it all out," comes a familiar voice, but I'm concentrating on something else right now.

I manage to raise my head out of the bucket and look around. My apartment/workshop has been converted back into a sickroom. Numerous others are also worshiping their own buckets.

"Too much exotic cheese at the celebration?" I ask.

"Too much cheese," Mile Stone tells me. "At least you didn't have the nightmares that others have had."

The urge to use the bucket ruins the scathing retort I had planned.

"Other than the aftermath," Mile Stone asks, "Was it a good party?"

The mechanics are standing around as I walk through the Wonderbolts' practice field. My recent bout of 'too much delicious but unusual food' still had me queasy and a little ethereal. Like I wasn't really there. They look more nervous than I remember seeing them, I think as I walk towards the hanger, Even Shadow Pearl looks nervous. I maintain my oblivious act as I walk further. More and more of the mechanics and support personnel, but none of the Wonderbolts or Shadowbolts are in evidence. This is one of those times you aren't sure if you want to be in on the joke, I think as I keep walking. I am almost expecting a dozen guards and a butterfly net as I round the last corner to the hanger. What I encounter is more shocking.

There sits the quadra-Diane, with two exact duplicates, right down to the paint scheme. There is a lot of nervous foot-shifting and nudges. Time to make them really nervous, I think as I nonchalantly walk over to the tool box and select the wrenches to remove one of the drive shafts that turn the rotors. Suddenly the joke isn't funny anymore, and a couple of the mechanics have to be restrained or muzzled as the rest watch, and wonder.

Changing out a drive shaft is a quick enough job. I pull one from the machine on the right, one from the left, and use them to replace two on the center machine. None of the audience has said a word, as they skittishly watch. Even Shadow Pearl is sweating bullets by the time I'm done. But the shafts are the right length, and they are drilled and shaped well enough that there's no need to rework them. Although I can tell, the quadra-Diane on the left is the original.

"Okay, you've got your test unit," I say in a detached tone, pointing at the original, "And a couple of very good copies." I note the center and the right one.

"How'd you tell?" Shadow Pearl exclaims as he mops his brow.

"That's my little secret," I reply. They accept this and take the machine out to field. I catch Shadow Pearl before he leaves. "There were flaws in those two shafts I removed. And another in one of the others, but none on my machine. So take it a little easy with the production copy. I'll fix these and you should have two machines up to my usual standards."

"Meaning three hours of aerobatics, or ten minutes with Soarin' flying it?" Shadow Pearl asks.

"As long as he can still land it, he's showing up weaknesses I'd never think to check," I admit.

The old Wonderbolt captain nods.

Glory arrives a moment later. "Three? How'd you build three?" she stammers.

"The mechanics built two, I finished the third last night." I look around, not recognizing the burly stallion accompanying Glory. "Where's Claire?"

"On a 'secret mission'," Glory says disgustedly, "I swear, you've corrupted her."

"Learn from the best," I tell her, "Let's go watch them try and break the thing."

"You have a very sick sense of humor," Glory says as she trots after me.

Captain Armor collapsed to the throne room floor, panting heavily. Claire walked up to him. "That's why we call your team 'feathersouls'," she said triumphantly.

"Mustn't taunt the captain, ma'am," Mile Stone said as he led her back to her Highness, "These younger people aren't taught properly anymore." They passed at least a dozen other, much younger guards, all as flat-out exhausted as their captain.

The pair bowed. "Your Highness, that is how a proper game is played," Mile Stone said, "Although, young Barnum has sufficient faith in your abilities, that he suggested a more 'theatrical' approach. More flash than just good play. I believe that you will not play as, aggressively, as is typical."

"Wouldn't ponies consider that cheating?" her Majesty asked innocently.

"No ma'am," Claire said quickly, "Considering that Luna's team is getting helped by some star players."

"Who are they!?" Captain Armor demanded from his heap on the floor.

"Note, your Majesty, 'players', not coaches. I think that they will learn good skills, but not be a good team," Mile Stone said.

"So you'll be facing them one at a time, rather than a coordinated team," Claire concluded.

"Very interesting intelligence," Celestia said, "Isn't it a trifle unfair to know their strategy?"

"No, ma'am," Mile Stone said quickly as he noted Claire wilting slightly under the hint of royal disapproval, "The point, as I understand it, is to present such an overwhelming show of force, or in this case skill, that the other side, and the audience, are aware that they are merely existing at your mercy."

Celestia bowed her head. "Remind them that I am a goddess of vast and ruinous powers."

"Who loves her ponies and wants what is best for them," Mile Stone added quickly, exactly as he'd rehearsed, noting he'd felt the pressure as well, "This is a game, your Highness, and the audience is paying good bits to see something spectacular. If that is her Highness, playing at the top of her game, and still giving those who dared challenge her nearly everything they've asked for and then some, then that is what it should be. 'No better friend, no worse enemy.'"

"I was right to assign you to Barnum," Celestia said, "You've done each other a world of good." Her Majesty cheered up visibly. "What deep, dark plan have the two of you cooked up?"

"With respect your Highness, the 'two of you' in this case, is my wife and I," Mile Stone said, and considered, "I never knew that mare was such a royalist, nor had such a mean streak."

"It's gotta be perfect," the lieutenant stammers as we watch the demonstration, "If she doesn't like it, if we displease her -"

"If you say one word about the moon, I'll send you there personally, in small pieces, followed by every member of your family I can find! In much smaller pieces! You won't know whether to reassemble them for company or eat them to stave off starvation!" I thunder at the filly.

She looks like a puppy that's been undeservedly kicked, but I don't relent. "She gets enough of that 'send them to the moon' stuff from her enemies. I will not tolerate any of it coming from this command, is that perfectly clear?"

She manages a nod.

"Now," I continue in a calmer tone, having frightened not only the lieutenant, but every mechanic, guard, Wonderbolt and Shadowbolt within a hundred and fifty yards. "She sent Nightmare Moon in the moon, not to the moon. She banished her corrupted sister to the place in the system where she was the strongest, so Luna could hold off Nightmare Moon until Celestia could find the means to cure her. Celestia's knights found and used those means to banish Nightmare Moon and save her sister, is that clear?"

She nods again.

"Good, now stand up. If you're going to go down, go down with your head held high. Their Highnesses see all and know more, if we do our best, they will forgive us. And our best is not worrying about our performance, until it diminishes our performance, correct?"

"Yes, sir," she replies.

I don't correct her, it never works. "Now, are there specific corrections to be made, other than it isn't 'perfect'?"

"Not showy enough," she says sheepishly, "Mile Stone is going to her Majesty and advising a more theatrical complexion. We might want to ramp up the tension somewhat as well."

"That might put the team in danger," I reply.

"Not necessarily, sir," she says, "My expertise is in gauging time and effort for a task. There might be a way to ramp up the tension, without endangering anyone, as long as we don't exactly relate the rules to the audience beforehand."

I nod. "Let's go talk to Shadow Pearl about it. Just remember, we have to give their Highnesses a bit of time for a shower, rubdown and then the pristine and glowing alicorns sign the paper."

"I think I have an idea for that too, sir."

"See, panicking gets you no where. Solutions to problems, that's the way to go," I tell her.

"Yes, sir," she says happily.

Glory Belle looked over the preparations for the 'festival' as Barnum kept insisting on calling it. Arranged around the work room were diagrams, prospective fliers, and the text of the 'rules' of the challenge between the Dianes and the Wonderbolts themselves. The last, Barnum was working on. "This is rather ambitious," she admitted her deepest unease about the planned festivities.

I can hardly believe her Highness actually challenged the NLR to a Hoofball game, she thought.

The sudden teleport appearance of her sovereign in Barnum's quarters/workshop did nothing to settle her mind. That Celestia's head and neck seemed to be wrapped in colorful, barbed wire didn't help, nor did the plunger stuck to her butt flying the small flag reading 'cake thief!'

"CAKE THIEF!" Celestia thundered in the Royal Canterlot voice, as she leapt on Barnum, "I'll 'cake thief' you! You little miscreant!"

Glory Belle retreated to the far end of the room as her gentle, compassionate goddess went mad and was physically attacking one of her ponies, and worse, Barnum was actually striking back. She felt tears form and she chewed her hoof as her horror grew. The pair rolled over and over, moving into the clear area of the room, away from the work area. Both screamed bloodcurdling threats and emitted cries of surprise and shock.

Barnum's bed daintily flew far over her head, removing the last hindrance in the area the battle was taking place in, and neither had broken the clinch they held the other in. They occasionally rolled over, but only when one forced the issue. The noises they made as they struggled clotted the well-bred unicorn's soul.

The absence of guards didn't help. They'd just stand and watch, she realized as she just stood there and watched, I've got to do something. She considered who to hit, and how, to break up the fight. She felt ashamed at her earlier indecision, and at her current resolve, as she selected a large hammer and considered how hard to hit Barnum when she got the chance. She gingerly stepped over the plunger and the attached little flag reading 'cake thief' that had fallen off. She blinked away her tears, closed in, hammer at the ready and looked at her Highness. That's not barbed wire, she thought, They're ribbons. Brightly-colored ribbons. And lots of 'cake thief' tags. Her confusion grew.

Celestia had a bitten down on Barnum's horn and seemed to have the upper wing, as her pinions flashed in to strike the smaller, struggling unicorn. But Barnum grimly struck back, nipping along the alicorn's throat, and aiming hooves at the base of her wings. Both emitted stifled growls, and the eyes were madly changing between surprise, shock and grim determination. Celestia lost her footing and Barnum knocked her over and pushed her onto her back. Her sovereign's wings fluttered like a baby birds and her princess shed tears as she struggled. The smaller unicorn had her pinned.

Glory Belle, child of dutiful and loyal Equestrians for generations, raised the hammer to deliver a killing blow to the invader who'd dare attack her princess. Celestia released Barnum's horn, and began laughing.

"No mercy, eh?" Barnum asked the giggling, squirming goddess of Equestria, "Then no quarter."

"No, no! Not the tail! Not the tail!" Celestia squealed between laughs. Her hooves slashing at the air. A faint orange glow surrounded Barnum's horn and the base of Celestia's tail, and she thrashed it against a target she couldn't dislodge.

Glory nearly dropped the hammer on Barnum out of pure shock. She suddenly recognized the behavior, and it wouldn't have been the least out of place in a slumber party. But because it was her Solar Highness Princess Celestia, it never entered my mind, she thought as watched Barnum carefully avoiding the slashing hooves, the thrashing wings and tail, to continue sending her Highness into hysterics.

"Help your sovereign!" Celestia shouted among her gales of laughter, penetrating Glory's mental fog.

I think I know who's helping her, Glory thought as she considered the two targets, No it's too easy. She jumped over a thrashing wing, knelt down, rolled over and cradled her sovereign's head on her stomach.

"What are you doing?" Celestia asked with a bit of alarm.

Glory noted that Barnum had momentarily ceased his operations. "What my old nurse used to do to me," Glory said, "I peed myself once or twice as I remember." She began nibbling at the base of her sovereign's horn.

"NO! No! No!" Celestia shouted as the two youngsters coordinated their efforts.

Celestia held her beloved ponies tight to her as she knelt on the floor. She smiled at the childish fun she'd had. Barnum was still gasping like an old man who'd run a double marathon. Glory was more settled, but in some ways more exhausted. She laid hands on her goddess, after preparing to kill to defend her. She'll recover, but I think she'll need time and reassurance for that.

Celestia looked up and grinned as the door to the chamber briefly went from red, to yellow, to white, and then sagged to the floor in a sizzling, smoldering heap. Celestia gathered the two tightly against her with her wings and waited.

Luna charged in, shouldering the half-molten door aside. Clad in her full battle armor, her Nightjesty would have given Nightmare Moon pause. Nearly two dozen troopers charged in at her heels and took up textbook defensive positions. Two of the pegasi were airborne the instant they were through the door, and the unicorns had spells and magic ready to defend or attack. Some were the white Day Guard. Some the charcoal Night Guards. Celestia recognized Claire, Glory's mare. There were even some of the former soldiers among the civil service who'd taken up arms and armor again.

Celestia merely smiled. "How long?" she asked her mystified sister, then smiled warmly, "Sergeant, how long between the call, and coming through that door?"

Mile Stone, no stranger to false alarms that were training exercises, checked his watch. "Two minutes and thirty, your Majesty."

"Problems?" Celestia asked, her curiosity manifest.

"Not with a scratch force like this one. But you are correct. We'll need a dedicated force ready to deal more swiftly with problems," Mile Stone said and bowed.

"I'm sure you and the other officers can work out the details," she said encouragingly, "Thank you, thank you all for being willing to help. I apologize for the subterfuge, but we needed to know how it would really work."

Mile Stone nodded. Then his own curiosity got him. "Are they hostages, or kidnappers?" Mile Stone asked.

"Oh, vile kidnappers, degrading my dignity and forcing the deepest secrets of Equestria from me. Until my loyal sister bravely led our guards to the rescue."

"Of course," Luna said flatly. She turned to the guard force. "Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you it was a drill, but my sister gets some, interesting ideas now and then."

The guards and armed civilians moved off, leaving the two sisters alone with the two young unicorns.

"Still think they don't love and trust you?" Celestia asked, "I would have bet good bits that Elastic Parrot wouldn't climb out of his counting house for the end of the world."

Luna frowned. "I heard, sister. Nothing that happens under the moon escapes my eye."

Celestia hugged her two charges with her wings. "Then you are lacking in the ways of teenagers, and others who have not lost sight of simple fun."

"You were on your back, screaming, and unable to escape."

"Unwilling."

"Unable, you couldn't have lit your horn if Discord himself had appeared."

Celestia frowned at that. "If an attacker had appeared, he, she or it would have faced all three of us, until you arrived. A moment's joy, that's all it was." Celestia couldn't help herself. "Jealous?"

Luna frowned and raised a hoof. "Next time it'll be three-on-one."

"Oh good, I remember all the places you are ticklish."

Luna frowned, and turned to leave. She paused and looked at her sister wistfully gazing at the two charges under her wings. "I'm not the only one who's loved."

"But it's so much better when you aren't feared as well," Celestia replied with a trace of melancholy.

Glory walked to her uncle's office, nearly lost in a fog. She and Barnum had slept beneath Celestia's own wings until midmorning. She was conflicted about both the 'battle', her reaction to it, and her sovereign's reaction to it.

"Uncle?" she asked of the extremely busy bureaucrat, who for some reason hadn't sent her away so he could better deal with the affairs of state. He nodded to several of the ministers and senior civil servants, who instantly departed, without rancor. The door closed behind them.

"What can I do for my niece? The projects are advancing swimmingly. Young Barnum rocks the boat, but does not endanger swamping it. I'd say everything is looking quite favorable."

"Uncle, how long have you known her Highness?" Glory asked.

"I was introduced when I joined the civil service," he said smoothly, "I began seeing her regularly at meetings when I became head of my, then, department some four years later. I've had dealing with her off and on since then."

"How well do you know her?" Glory asked despondently, studying the elaborate patterns in the rugs, and trying to force those patterns onto her chaotic thoughts.

"I suspect that even Celestia doesn't know all of Celestia," Eagle said, "I know her better than most. I know she's very concerned that you might take your little exercise in close combat to heart the wrong way."

"Wha?" Glory looked up and stammered.

Her uncle smiled. "Celestia is young, for her lifespan, effectively not much older than you are now. While at the same time, she's more ancient than any of us. She likes to play with we innocent youngsters, like a mother playing with her children. You didn't 'forcibly lay hands on the princess'," he said theatrically. "You were ordered to participate, and you did. A moment's lark in the privacy of another's room, little more than a sleep-over game, as it were."

"She told you this?" Glory asked fearfully.

"She told me you three played, and you seemed a bit at a loss for it. She also admitted that she and Barnum have been exchanging pranks for some time, and you might not have understood the context of her 'attack' on your friend."

"I didn't. But my part . . . "

"Nonsense," Eagle told her, "If you'd hurt her, she could have stopped you. If she was offended, she likewise could have stopped you. She ordered you to participate, and she regrets that, but not that you chose Barnum's side and not hers. She was amused that you were ready to brain Barnum, then eagerly joined in yourself." His expression softened. "She isn't a china doll who has to be protected. She's a wily and well-studied combatant. A pair of foals like you two wouldn't last a trice, if she wanted the game over. She enjoyed it, and cuddling you two under her wings afterward."

"It's not what I expected," Glory admitted.

"Niece," Eagle said softly, "You aren't betraying your mother by enjoying the feeling of being cuddled by her Highness. A touch, a nuzzle has that effect on most ponies. And that you were willing to play with her, you certainly earned it."

"How did you know?" Glory asked sheepishly as she raised her head to look at her uncle.

"There are a good deal of things I've done, that I won't easily talk about," Eagle Bell said, "Having a near total breakdown in her Highness' presence is one of them."

Glory stared at him in shock.

"I wasn't born this age and this cynical you know. I was once more callow and idealistic than you are now. And I failed, rather spectacularly, a personal request from her Highness. They took me to the very place your battle took place. Her Highness stayed with me and comforted me. I was back to normal in an hour or so, all thanks to her Highness' attention," Eagle said, "So I know how it feels to be under Celestia's wing, figuratively."

Glory nodded shyly. "So much has happened, so fast," she said, "I don't know what to expect any more."

"Then simply do your best and enjoy the ride," Eagle said and nuzzled her, "You have to let other people be themselves too. You've always been the strongest will, so you could get others to do as you wanted. You're facing people with wills vastly stronger than yours. You are going to have to accept that they'll do as they wish, they'll be who they are, whatever you do or say. Most of them think very highly of you, so they will do what they think is best or what you want. That's sometimes worse than enmity or indifference."

"That's putting it mildly. It's certainly less comfortable," Glory said, "Thank you uncle. I think we both better get back to work." She trotted out feeling better about the world, and the ponies in it.

The group of us walked along, in another of my dear sister's 'interesting' ideas. Disguised as an ordinary pony, and my guard force disguising our foray as just a group of friends out on the town. But I was enjoying that ponies no longer feared my night as they once did, even celebrated in it. The fireworks display caught my attention. The group with us seemed content to meander, I had no desire to lead, so we meandered in that direction.

The unicorn on the stage was boasting of some great battles that I had neither heard of, nor read about in the intelligence briefings.

"An Ursa Major?" Barnum exclaimed, "Only the alicorn sisters would have a chance against one of those. Celestia's own knight, Twilight Sparkle was hard pressed to deal with an Ursa Minor."

"Neigh-sayer are you? And what weave of magic do you have, that could match the Great and Powerful Trixie?" The fireworks exploded again.

I shook my head. Whatever crazy plan Barnum had, that arrogant mage had walked right into it.

"I can gift my friend here with the powers of an alicorn, i.e., wings and horn magic," Barnum said, indicating me, "Observe." The disguise he'd wound around me earlier dissolved, and I stood revealed to the crowd. Predictably, they gasped. Some even genuflected, before being hauled to their feet by others whispering 'it's not really her Nightjesty/Luna'. "Considering the night time, I thought Luna would be the more appropriate alicorn," Barnum said, and received some polite hoofstamps of applause.

The mare on the stage stamped a hoof in frustration. I levitated a young boy among the audience, as I took to the air, flying a tight circle, before landing and returning the colt to embrace of his mother.

"Okay, you did your trick, now change me back before somepony gets the wrong idea," I told Barnum, and I was immediately returned to the disguised form of an earth pony.

The unicorn mare waited for the details of the challenge. Barnum didn't give details. He merely smiled at the mare.

"Disguise a mare as Princess Luna, and you say that compares with the Great and Powerful Trixie?" The explosion of fireworks was well-timed to orchestrate her pronouncement.

Neither I, nor Barnum were discomfitted by that. We waited. Her horn glowed and she tried to superimpose her disguise spell over Barnum's. The spells interacted and vaguely interfered, but the Great and Powerful Trixie's spell ended up making me look patchwork.

"I'm not flying without two complete wings," I said as she struggled.

She finally gave up, as Barnum climbed up on the stage. "Let me show you the trick," Barnum said quietly, so quietly I doubt anyone besides me and Trixie caught it. "Take a bit, disguise it as a pen, then when you 'transform' the pen to a bit, no unicorn can detect the transformation, because you withdrew the spell."

"Fascinating," The Great and Powerful Trixie commented.

"You are not connecting the two points," Barnum said and grinned.

It was amusing, watching the idea germinate and sprout in the mind of the Great and Powerful Trixie. She looked at me in terror, and I nodded. She suddenly looked ready to run for it.

Barnum handed her a card. "You look like you could use a good meal. Show up there early, and I've got a job for you. I already know the breadth of your talents, which exceed mine. I have need of them, and I'm willing to pay good money for your time."

The Frightened and Uncertain Trixie nodded quietly, but managed to regain her apparent certainty and began her performance again, once Barnum had hopped down off the stage. She did continue to glance at our group as we moved away.

"You were somewhat cruel," I told Barnum. Surprisingly, he nodded.

"Yes, but you have to get her attention. She did try to make things right when she was in Ponyville. But you have to get past her arrogance to let her into the real world," he said, "I am aware that I walk in very August circles, thanks to Celestia's influence. That mare is nearly as widely skilled as Twilight Sparkle."

"Her?" Glory asked in disbelief.

"I said nothing about her power-level. She's a piker on that score, but there are a few things she might be able to help on things that have eluded us."

"Why do I think you want magical backup when their Highnesses go for a check ride tomorrow?" I asked.

"That's a fascinating theory, your Highness," he said as we walked. I didn't miss the knowing grin on Glory.

Out of Context Part 2

Out of Place - Out of Context Part 2

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Billy Joel - Piano Man

Sing us a song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us all feelin' all right

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine
He gets me my drinks for free
And he's quick with a joke and he'll light up your smoke
But there's some place that he'd rather be
He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me."
As his smile ran away from his face
"Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star
If I could get out of this place"

"The Great and Powerful Trixie, is going to need a great and powerful nap," the caped mare said as she trudged towards the entrance to the Wonderbolts' training grounds. The guard she encountered was charcoal gray, and had an attitude that none would cross the threshold without a pass. The Great and Powerful Trixie displayed her pass. A paper-thin sheet of metal, on which were scribed: Ponyville, major or minor. Then send her to breakfast, Barnum.

"Major or minor, ma'am," the guard said on looking at the pass.

"Minor, very minor," the Great and Powerful Trixie replied haughtily, implying the town itself, or her defeat there.

"Please follow the mare," the guard said, friendly now that the Great and Powerful Trixie was permitted entry.

"Thank you," she replied and accompanied the white, earth pony mare.

"I heard all about you from Twilight Sparkle," the empty-headed functionary gobbled, "But Barnum says we're wrong about you. That you are really a good wizard. I mean skilled wizard."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie is among the finest practitioners of magic in all of Equestria," the Great and Powerful Trixie told her, and yawned.

"Really?" the mare asked as they passed through some sheds. They seemed to be catching up to the odd mechanic or other drone as they headed towards our destination. "I heard you said you'd taken on an Ursa Major, but only the alicorn sisters have won against those. Then I heard you single-hoofedly captured the legendary Hoovy gang. I thought the Intelligence service caught them."

"Well, they had help they daren't acknowledge," the Great and Powerful Trixie explained.

"Oh, well, don't go lying to Barnum. Not only will he see through them, but he'll get really, really, really mad," the idiot got close and provided the Great and Powerful Trixie with the following intelligence, not that the mare could spare it, "They say he single-hoofedly beat up Sunny Days, he's a massive unicorn, big as a farm pony. And he might have really hurt him, if Celestia herself hadn't dislocated his legs to get him to stop. There's also the rumor that Barnum and Glory beat up Celestia herself, and they won! Can you believe it?" the mare gasped.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie puts little stock in rumors," the unicorn replied loftily.

"Okie Dokie Loki GeePeeTee," the mare said and grinned, "But, I think they may be more than rumors." She held the door to a barracks-style cafeteria open so The Great and Powerful Trixie could enter first.

"Thank you, and how would you know that, pray tell?" the unicorn answered.

The earth pony closed the door behind her, and Trixie froze as she stared at the revealed form Celestia herself. "Because I was there," the sovereign of Equestria said, "And you are right, they had help getting the gang. I think you'll like the pancakes. Barnum is a master of the griddle. And he has high hopes for you. Please don't disappoint him, GeePeeTee."

The Great and Powerful Trixie just got trolled by her Highness herself, the mage considered. She continued to the queue to get a stack of pancakes. With her breakfast in horn, The Great and Powerful Trixie took a place on the edges of the cafeteria, away from all the other ponies. Then a white unicorn mare she recognized as part of last night's group sat down across from her.

"So you're the mage who thinks she's hot stuff, and can do things the rest of us can't. I think you'd better consider that humiliating your opponent rather than answering their challenge won't work here," the mare said, all the while smiling, "This place spins on results, not the applause of the crowd."

"I would think showmareship would matter more here than in my little performances," The Great and Powerful Trixie replied calmly.

Who of yours did I humiliate?! she wondered of the smiling mare giving her visual daggers.

The retort was cut short by the arrival of a lummox of a mechanic, who sat down next to The Great and Powerful Trixie, and shoveled half the immense stack of pancakes he carried onto Trixie's plate. "Oh Great and Powerful Trixie, I must know, you have the trick of making the fireworks go in what seems like the sound of your voice. Oh, hello Glory Bell, pretty morning. So often, my rockets are off by the littlest bit. If perfection in synchronizing I could acquire, then perfection in the displays I would see. Understandable I am?"

"Yes, I understand you," Trixie replied disdainfully, and watched the lummox nod happily.

"Just watch yourself," the white mare warned as she stood away from the table.

"You gonna be too busy wit' you own watch, to fix other pony's," the lummox said, then looked around, "Ooo 'scues me, blockin' you's view." The lummox hooved his plate to the other side of Trixie, and then squeezed into the small space on the side with his plate, shoving Trixie down the bench. "She gonna get's what's coming to her. You see, is good you bet!" he said happily.

Trixie was about to dress down the moron, when she saw both alicorn sisters at the other end of the cafeteria. The Wonderbolts' leader, Spitfire tapped a cup on the table. The sound of eating and the conversations died away.

"As you well know. The flying machines, have been tested, broken, and repaired with amazing frequency. We have two ponies to thank for that."

"Soarin' for breaking them!" came the call from the kitchen. Everyone laughed, but Trixie tensed up.

"You wanted'em tested, I tested'em," the stallion in question shot back, "And quicker than you would have got otherwise." The crowd laughed at the riposte.

Okay, they trade barbs, but they are a group, and I'm on the outside, Trixie thought, And the 'them' includes both Princesses. She noted the two smiling mares standing with Spitfire.

"I was actually thinking of Barnum, and our own Glory Bell. I say our own because . . . " the Wonderbolts' leader turned to their Highnesses. From boxes in front of them, her Nightjesty pulled out a Shadowbolt's uniform, and her Majesty pulled out a Wonderbolt's uniform. The white unicorn mare gasped in astonishment. "You more than earned them," Spitfire told her.

"And about fricken time," Shadow Pearl threw in.

The mare stood stock still, staring at Spitfire. "I, I don't know what to say."

"Yes or no would be a good start," Trixie suggested, then grinned, "This place spins on results, not the applause of the crowd."

"Well said," Spitfire said, ignoring the mare's sour look at getting her comeuppance. "In case you're wondering, you're being invited to join both groups. So." Spitfire opened the box at her feet and pulled out a uniform that tiger-stripped the Shadowbolts' and Wonderbolts' colors. Glory was speechless as her friends stomped their hooves and whistled.

Trixie ate silently, feeling alone in a crowd. Enjoying the food. At least I don't have to 'perform' for my supper, Trixie thought, How long has it been since I could be alone in a crowd? When people weren't either screaming insults at me, or demanding stories or tricks? She looked around at the crowd of Wonderbolts and presumably Shadowbolts, who were congratulating Glory Bell.

Barnum, the stallion who'd humbled her the previous night sat down across the table from her. He horned over the syrup and poured it over the stack of pancakes he'd brought over with him. "When you're ready, we'll head out to the hanger. And I'll show you what I need your expertise for."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie works for more than a mere hand out," Trixie said.

"Okay, I'll give you a free piece of advice. Steer clear of Glory Bell. Be polite, but don't engage. You did your usual trick on one of her cousins. The 'only one with artistic pretensions who's worth a damn'. After you humiliated him, it took him six months to start producing art again. Much of that time was Glory urging him on. She deeply resents that, and before you say 'what could she do', the boy's father, Glory's uncle, is Sir Eagle Bell. While he isn't enthused about his son being a painter, he dotes on his niece and takes her word that the stallion's talent will reflect well on the family."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie knows not of this 'Sir Eagle Bell'," Trixie replied.

"The difference between Sir Eagle Bell and the full might and attention of the civil service of Equestria, is thin enough you could shave with it. As a strolling player, you probably have nothing to fear, but if you have higher aspiration, he would be well able to block them. At the moment, you are under my aegis. But that protection is neither infinite nor absolute. If you antagonize her, or me, I'll leave you to their tender mercies. As for your fee. I am prepared to pay 200 bits now, and an additional 300 if you can solve the problem."

Trixie had ignored the implied threat, she was powerful and very good at avoiding such things. Five HUNDRED!? she thought, glad he'd waited until she had nothing in her mouth to choke on, I was hoping to make that much in a month. If I can make it in a few days, and they'll be picking up the food bills. Trixie smiled.

"I'll be ready before you're done with your breakfast, then you can show me this problem," the Great, Powerful and soon-Rich Trixie told him.

"She's planning to rip you off," Mulberry Sun warned, his act as a moronic lummox dropped once he was away from his charge.

"I know that. But I hope to get the 500 bits worth. A few insights neither I nor Glory have latched onto will be more than worth it, even if we have to run down the details ourselves. Besides, 500 bits is pocket change. I can spend that much fixing one of Soarin's minor crashes. She's doing nickel and dime cons for the audience. The group you're with can raise a hundred kilobits for charity by selling their old uniforms. She's strictly small time, and I don't think that's going to change."

"Sad, she's seems a clever mare," the stallion lamented.

"There are people, ponies, who have to prove they are the smartest ones in the room, no matter who is, or what they could gain by patience and a little humility," Barnum said, "But, it's my habit to give people enough rope to hang themselves."

"I think she's going to do that," Mulberry said. They waited for several minutes for the mage to appear. Mulberry got back into character, talking about timing of fireworks. Barnum carefully removed the covers to the quadra-Diane's drive train.

The Shaken and Befuddled Trixie wandered in, looking like most ponies did after a 'chat' with their Highnesses.

"They are real ponies, and try to act the part," Barnum added, not helping.

One of these days, he's going to have to realize he's the only one immune to the Princesses' presence, Mulberry thought, Although, it may be better to give them someone to talk to and play with, who isn't completely intimidated.

The mare looked up at him as a rabbit might look at a passing train. "The Great and Powerful Trixie finds your sacrilege, unsettling."

"All right then. On a more secular note. These linkages lead from these pedals, all the way to these rotors. The rotors rotate, and lift and direct the machine. How would you go about enhancing the carrying capacity and maneuverability of the machine?"

Poor mare, now she's really confused, Mulberry thought as the unicorn looked at the complicated transmission and drive shafts. Then at Barnum, and then back.

"Doom has settled on us," Glory moaned as she trudged back to the workshop, "The demonstration is tomorrow. Oh, we could get GeePeeTee to help," she accused, "Oh wait, she ran off in the middle of the night after you paid her. Whatever was I thinking? We are never going to be ready."

"Sure, if we work all night," Barnum reassured her, as he wobbled drunkenly on his hooves, his own exhaustion rivaling hers, "If we can keep from falling asleep in the paint, we'll get the job done by morning." Only a quick bump from Sergeant Mile Stone kept him from walking into a pillar. "Thanks. As for the showmare, she did what we asked. We had no right to hold her, and no expectation she'd agree to another job. Although it might have helped if you'd offered to put her in the half-time show. And I did offer her another commission, and I offered to build her a new wagon. I think she ran off because we were accepting her, and she couldn't deal with that. Although maybe she knew a wake-up spell. Keep us alert for the flying, after the painting."

"I don't think you can do it," the Sergeant lamented, "Especially the last. Not and safely fly tomorrow."

"It will be a most honorable death," Glory intoned, and nearly collapsed on the floor. Claire caught her by the scruff of the neck and prevented that. "Thanks, what are we going to do?"

"You're asking me?" he asked incredulously, "I can't count past four without using some otherpony's hooves."

In the workshop, stood the two single-seat Dianes needing painting, and the most gorgeous, alluring mare Glory had ever seen, save the princesses. "Ah . . . " she managed.

Barnum looked up, squinted, trying to bring the apparition into focus. The mare looked like a zebra-unicorn, with the long legs and small body of an alicorn. Glory immediately felt inadequate and clumsy next to this vision of grace and beauty.

"Good evening," Barnum managed, the only one not struck dumb by the vision of loveliness.

"I was engaged for the evening," the mare said, even her voice was as smooth and warm as melted chocolate, and hinted at things Glory was not really supposed to know about. "I was told you know a mutual friend, Moon City?"

"Ah yes," Barnum said brightly, "I take it your, services, are widely varied."

"You take it correctly," she said and watched as the colt approached her, "Although, you are a little young. And you seem to have a lovely partner your own age."

Glory blushed right through her fur.

"The tribal markings and flame ornamentation, tattoos, or body paint, and your own work?" Barnum asked as he circled her.

Glory ashamedly refocused, trying to take the mare in as a whole, and realized she was a fanciful vision of a tribal war-dancer. More from popular literature, but fairly accurate none-the-less.

"Body paint," she said proudly, "My own work." The mare turned, letting both see her paint brush cutie-mark, disguised among a far more intricate design.

"Fan of the Wonderbolts I see," Barnum said as he crossed around in front of her.

"Young sir, you do know what I was hired for, don't you?" she asked nervously.

"Milady, you are quite attractive. Even I can see that, although I am seeing three of you. But if their Highnesses burst in at this moment, both in season, demanding I father their heirs, I would hope they brought a doctor along, because I would not be able to be an active participant. Now, I hate to sound like the punch line of a joke, but those two machines need painting, one in the Wonderbolts' colors, the other in the Shadowbolts. You have some skill with intricate details, and I think you'd be perfect for the job, and believe me, you're sent right from Celestia herself if you can do it."

The mare actually looked uncomfortable at that comment. "You're joking, right?"

Barnum walked over to a table and pulled a slip of paper off it, and handed it to Mile Stone. "Here's how much I'm joking. You've heard about the big Hoofball game tomorrow."

"Everyone in Equestria has. None of my, other friends have engaged me to escort them there."

"That's a pass to the Royal Box. You do a good job painting, it's yours," Barnum said.

Glory gasped.

Barnum faced her. "If you think I'm going to be anywhere other than checking out the equipment, especially the safety equipment, until the half-time show, you're out of your tree," he told her, "I don't know why you kept yours, you're going to be dancing on eggshells too."

Glory shrugged. "Sergeant, if you can get the lady through the security, you might as well get your wife through as well," Glory said as she horned over her pass to the sergeant.

Now the sergeant seemed thunderstruck.

"Well, I thank you and blessings be on whomever hired you," Barnum said, "I'm going to bed."

"I don't think that's a bad idea either," Glory added.

"Your own bed," Claire insisted.

"Allow me," the mare said as she horn lifted the frame and set it down, then pulled the blankets and sheets, arranging them carefully.

"Thanks," Glory managed, and collapsed onto the bed. She was vaguely aware of Claire covering her.

She heard the mare quietly ask, "What kind of nut house did I walk into?"

"The gentle kind," Mile Stone replied, "Do you need a smock, or just a wash after?" he asked, before Glory drifted beyond the walls of sleep.

"At least somepony had a sense of humor," I say as I look at the two, superbly painted Dianes.

"It's your fault," Glory says as she heads to the bathroom, "Everyone around you goes a little crazy." Claire giggles slightly as she walks past it.

"I think the lady more than earned her place," Merry Lifter comments.

The Dianes are marvelously painted. One is in Wonderbolts colors on the port side, and Shadowbolts on the starboard. The other is the opposite. On the main shaft fairing, the faces of each of the current Wonderbolts, and the current Shadowbolts on the appropriate side.

"It's a beautiful job, and it shows everyone." I turn to Merry Lifter. "You're right, the lady earned her place."

"Considering none of the ruling princesses are going to be in the box, while they're on the field, it's not going to cause too much of a scandal," Merry Lifter says.

"Where's Cadence going to be? I heard she was back in town," I say as I finish my inspection.

"She's going to be working with the umpires and officials. I suspect she's working with Captain Armor." The wiggling eyebrows tell me that he buys into the rumors about them getting closer.

"I'm just worried how their Highnesses are going to keep this from being a complete magic-fest, instead of a more usual contest," I say as I plot getting the Dianes out of the room, without damaging the paint job.

Glory exits the bathroom, and Claire darts in after. I'm going to wait a bit longer.

"So what do . . . oh, wow!" Glory says as she sees all the details. "How do we get to the . . . ?" She looks around Wonderbolts' practice field. "I think her Majesty wins this level of the 'prank war'."

"Yeah, and I'm going to have to explain to Claire where you suddenly went," I reply.

"Hoofball is very like football/soccer," Barnum said as he looked over the stands, the pageantry, and flags denoting team loyalties, "A huge amount of activity to little result. Boring."

It's all Captain Armor could do to keep himself from berating or assaulting the arrogant colt. "It's the most popular game in Equestria!" he managed.

"It's perfect for kids," Barnum responded, "Let's them burn off a huge amount of energy, and no score to result in hard feelings. Older kids and adults can then spend a couple hours over age-appropriate drinks going over what might have been."

"How can you even think that?" Armor stammered.

"I believe in accomplishment. If nothing is achieved, it serves no purpose," Barnum replied evenly, "Like I said, for a pick-up game it's good exercise. That's its accomplishment. But as a spectator sport, it's perfect for any crab-bucket culture. Might as well watch lice races."

Only Cadence's giggles prevented homicide. "You're so angry, we're nearly the same color," the princess laughed.

"Besides, Celestia is going to mop the floor with them," Barnum said, "So you might actually get an interesting game."

"Then why aren't you going to watch?" Cadence asked.

"I don't want bloodshed during the half-time. Excellence and innovation take constant care," Barnum said and walked back down the ramp to oversee preparations for the half-time Diane demonstration.

"Everyone is entitled to a few wrong opinions," Cadence offered.

"Yeah, okay," the captain admitted.

"Besides, considering what he did to Sunny Days, you might not come out as well as you think," Cadence teased, before moving out.

The captain sighed and walked after her. He glanced up at the other aberration Barnum had added. The soiled dove had arrived, with a ticket, properly signed pass, and Mile Stone and Bran Scone as escorts and chaperones. She'd painted one side of her face to match Luna's colors, and the other to match Celestia's. Then she'd somehow convinced a sensible mare like Bran Scone to go along with it and get the same. Now the soiled dove was applying similar make-up to many of the younger society 'ladies'.

"Are you going to stay partisan?" Cadence asked as they walked towards the officials.

"I'm Celestia's guard captain," he replied, "So yes, I'm staying a Celestia partisan."

This seemed to amuse her.

The teams headed out onto the field. Their Highnesses wore identical jerseys. Both a pleasant blue marked on both sides and front with an interlinked Sun and Rays and Crescent Moon symbols, like their cutie-marks. Some idiot reporter had actually asked if that would cause confusion. Her Majesty had answered, with a perfectly straight face, that they'd measured, and she was substantially taller than Princess Luna.

The official the teams were collecting around, was one of the most respected and fairest in the professional leagues. The rest of his staff were similar stallions and mares. They also knew this 'fun' match would be scrutinized more closely than the Equestria Cup.

The introductions began. Luna's team was a complete squad with a fair number of backups. Some were players from the farm teams. None of the pros had sided with the NLR, except to teach some of the more novice players the finer points of the game.

Celestia stood by herself.

"The statement is heartbreaking," Cadence whispered as the introductions went on, "Luna has her friends and supporters, but Celestia has to stand apart from all of us. Because if she fails, only she can shoulder that burden."

"So why aren't we out there?" Armor whispered back.

"Like I said, so if she loses, only she can be blamed," Cadence said.

The symbolism doesn't seem lost on the other players, or the crowd. Nor did it receive the same interpretation. Armor caught comments on 'arrogance' about her Highness. Luna put a stop to those among her team, but she seemed torn in two that she was opposing her sister, even in a 'friendly' game.

The first pitch moved Celestia out of the poor, lost lamb category. Poné, the most famous kicker in the history of Hoofball walked to the center of the play field with the ball, and kicked it straight up as high as she could. Even three years of retirement hadn't dulled her skills. The ball went literally straight up. Celestia and two pegasi strikers raced into the air to catch it.

The two mortals had no chance. Celestia instantly outpaced them, and headed the ball into higher and higher altitudes. They could barely keep up with her Highness, let alone prepare a plan to steal the ball.

Then, in a move that while totally legal, had every coach, striker and the Wonder and Shadowbolts studying it, Celestia turned on her back. She zigzagged across the sky, flying inverted, dodging any attempt by the pegasi to intercept, while dribbling the ball with her forelegs. Luna, in the goal, moved just as randomly, trying to prepare for the goal attempt she knew was coming.

Celestia dove, still zigzagging. Only when the sun was behind her did she hammer the ball so hard it was a miracle it stayed together. Luna tried to sight the ball, but only spotted it too late to prevent her sister's goal. Celestia pulled up and flew out of bounds, but it didn't matter, she'd already fired the ball, and the ball was what mattered.

As the crowd went absolutely insane, Celestia raced back to her goal. Luna placed the ball, and back kicked it on a shallow arc. The wind caught it, but Luna had already compensated for that.

"You can't do that," Armor whispered as he watched someone kick the ball across the entire field, and straight to the goal. Any other goalkeeper might have been overwhelmed, but Celestia kicked the ball back in a high arc. Luna watched and waited in her goal as the ball descended.

"Clear the field!" her Nightjesty shouted as she calculated the approach. As her team scrambled for the sidelines, Luna kicked the ball back down the field. It screamed past, knee high, and unstoppable. For anyone but Celestia. She kicked it back. It bounced a few times, but came straight at the goal.

Luna waited, and back hoofed it, sending it up over the heads of her team. For an instant it looked like it was way off course. Then it curved back towards the target.

"I've seen unicorns do that with baseballs," Cadence asked quietly, "How do you throw a slider with a Hoofball."

"I haven't figured out how they're kicking it the length of the field," Armor answered.

Celestia's answer was a bouncer that landed near some of Luna's teammates, but far enough away that they weren't the targets. Luna fired back a lightning bolt of a shot. Celestia intercepted it, and returned another slow bouncer that was child's play for Luna to fire back. This time a high arc.

"Is that ball ever going to come back?" Cadence asked as she shielded her eyes to stare into the sky.

"If it does, there's no guarantee it'll land in Canterlot, let alone in the stadium," Armor replied as he too watched the sky, "Twilie would probably say it would have to compensate for the rotation of the planet as well." The captain paused. "I don't want to think that her Nightjesty did those kinds of calculations in her head, and then kicked a ball that accurately."

Celestia walked over to a specific location in her goal, and stood ready. After what seemed like minutes, the ball came sailing down, and Celestia jumped up to head it back across the field. It bounced several times, and towards the end, moved slow enough any decent gradeschooler could have fielded it. Several of Luna's teammates, who had been basically sidelined during the goalie duel looked ready to lunge after the ball. They all let it pass, and Luna fired the ball back as a scorching streak. Celestia kicked it back as a gentle bouncer which Luna fired back.

After several repetitions of Luna firing high, low, curve, slider, and Celestia returning a gentle bouncer, Luna's team broke from position to charge the ball and got back into play. The ten of them mobbed the ball and charged down field with it, Celestia countercharged straight into them.

She intercepted the ball in a brilliant steal, and stripped of all defenders, charged the goal screaming a terrifying war cry. As she drew near, and Luna braced to defend, Celestia switched to a bloodcurdling shriek, like an owl's cry as an ululation, going up and down in pitch as well as in volume. Celestia suddenly flared her wings as the cry reached a crescendo.

Luna shied from the sight, missing that Celestia had kicked the ball in. She came to her senses too late and dove for the ball. She slowed it, but it still crossed the goal line. Two-nothing, Celestia's favor. The period ended and the crowd went absolutely wild.

"Even if she's overthrown, there's no team in the world that wouldn't snatch her up as a striker," Armor whispered in awe as her Highness cantered back to her goal, and Luna's coaching team called a time out and assembled the entire squad together for a brief consultation.

"Why don't they let Luna play?" Cadence asked.

"She's the goalie," Armor replied.

"What about 'the best defense is a good offense'?" Cadence asked pointedly, "They practically have no offence to speak of. Except Luna."

Armor considered. "I suppose that they wanted her to take a supporting role. Symbolism," he replied.

"It's symbolic that they get their heads beat in?" Cadence said, "That makes a lot of sense. I'm going to talk to some of the VIPs. Let's go."

Armor watched as Celestia knelt on the grass, seemingly meditating, while the coaches talked to Luna and the others.

The officials whistled for the time out's end, and Poné kicked the ball high in the air again. Celestia again stole the ball from the now five pegasus strikers, and dove for the deck, faster than they could dive. At seemingly the last moment, she pulled up and charged the goal at a full gallop. As the ground defenders massed to try to steal the ball, and the pegasi closed in from above, Celestia kicked the ball up, into the middle of the pegasi. As the bewildered air team tried to take advantage of Celestia's seeming mistake, Celestia herself leapt into the midst and seemed to be in control of the ball as she brought the 'air-game' close enough to ground defenders that they leapt and bounced to support their comrades, all the while the milling sphere drew closer to the goal. Luna danced side to side as she tried to be ready when the ball came sailing out of the sphere.

"She's trying to distract you!" Luna shouted, "Leave only one or two, and let the others -!" The ball shot out of the mass, but at such a bad angle Luna almost didn't chase it down. The ball hit the ground, bounced off one of the divots created during the mortar volleying, and bounced over Luna's rump and away from the goal. But Celestia headed it back in for the point as Luna had to reverse her charge.

Luna stamped her hooves in fury and frustration as Celestia raced back to her own goal. She called a time out on her own and called the coaches and players together for a conference. As they discussed, a second team appeared on the field. The cheers of the crowd thundered over anything previous. The teams were the heroes and legends of the game, some still active. Some recently retired. Enough for two full teams of eleven each. With each team was a ball. They formed up, the same formation: four in front, three in a second line, two groups of two on each wing. The last pony, simulating the goalie, patrolled the rear of the formation. In both cases, the last pony was a famous player turned famous coach. A bit slower on the hoof than the others, but faster upstairs.

"That formation's illegal," Armor gasped as he watched the two teams start at the midline and advance steadily.

"Yes," Cadence replied, "Let's forget there's two full teams on the field."

"No, that's the 'armored wedge'," he said as the second line's trios dribbled the ball among themselves, as the whole formation advanced steadily down the field. "There is no way to break that formation without injuring somepony. It's been banned from regulation and scholastic play for decades!"

"So two of them, staffed by the greatest, living players of the game, is unstoppable?" Cadence asked.

Armor nodded numbly.

"Then they understand," Cadence said with relief, as Celestia leapt into action, charging straight down the middle of the field between the two formations. The two center wings moved, not to engage her, but to protect the second line.

The crowd gasped as Celestia leapt over the defenders, and practically landed on the ball. Pausing only to kick it out of bounds, she jumped back into the air, performed a Wonderbolt-worthy Immelmann turn and again, nearly landed on the ball, kicking it away from the formation. She'd only kicked the second ball hard enough to get it into the clear, and she leapt after it as the entire formation tried to close in. She kicked the ball the length of the field, but didn't wait to see that effect. The other team had gotten the ball back and was preparing to kick it back in bounds, and the kicker was Poné herself.

Celestia landed in the goalie box as Poné prepared, her Highness lowered her horn, flared her wings, and her tail spread like a peacock's. The sheer unadulterated menace pouring off her serene majesty was palpable. Poné visibly shook herself. She braced again and pawed the ground in clear challenge, as it to tell the world, 'I am Poné, I care nothing for goalies, no matter who they are!' The crowd went absolutely nuts.

"She's going to kick a Thunderbolt," Armor said.

"What's that?" Cadence asked.

"A powerful kick, aimed straight at the opponent's head," Armor said, "More than one goalie has flinched at receiving one of those." He concentrated on raising a shield before her Majesty.

"Let her stop it," Cadence said sharply, "Those two understand."

"Understand what?" Armor demanded, his concentration momentarily broken.

Poné had kicked, and for an instant it looked like Celestia would catch the ball on her horn. But she reared at the last moment and caught the ball with her forehooves.

"She caught a Thunderbolt?!" Armor squeaked as her Highness reared up, and drop kicked the ball the length of the field. The ball sailed through the air with the sound of ripping canvas, tore through the net on the goal, and continued down the stadium tunnel behind it.

"Some kid is going to get a marvelous souvenir," Cadence suggested, as Celestia walked over to Poné, and hugged the mare like greeting an old friend. "That's what I meant by 'they understand'. This is a demonstration, and her Serene August Solar Majesty, gets to run around and show what she's really capable of."

"So the best players, formed two, illegally effective formations, and Celestia was able to break them without hurting them, and score two goals in response?" Armor said in confusion.

"Exactly. And no hard feelings or animosity from either side once it is over," Cadence clarified.

"Politics," he said disgustedly.

"Of course," Cadence teased, "For Equestria!"

The extended break was over, and this time, a lone pegasus was left as the goalie. Luna would lead from the front.

Poné again kicked the ball as high as she could, and only Luna and Celestia pursued this time. Fully two-thirds of the other players spread out to receive the ball when it landed, and the other third to defend the goal. The two alicorns headed, kicked, wing buffeted, and even tail struck the ball. Higher and higher, until both were lost from sight of all but those who'd brought powerful binoculars or telescopes.

One such were the referees, who blew a whistle and signaled a foul. No card was displayed, so it wasn't a serious foul. The unicorn official used a spell to amplify his voice. "Striking an opponent, Celestia will be awarded a direct kick. Also, in view of the safety of the spectators, all contests for the ball will remain below one mile above the field. No card for this instance. Any following infractions will yield a yellow card, the second by that player will result in a red card and expulsion."

"I bet they never had that problem before," Armor commented.

While the official was announcing, Luna and Celestia had landed and were conferring. The two princesses approached the officials. The small group consulted, there were nods from both princesses and finally from the officials. The unicorn stepped away, and reactivated his spell.

"At the request of both team captains, and with the understanding of the officials. The normal 'no magic' rule has been suspended for this kick. Princess Luna will replace the goalkeeper, and Princess Celestia will kick. All others will clear the field, and if the magic endangers any spectator, player or official, the kick will be ruled blocked, and that player will receive a yellow card."

"This is nuts," Armor said, "What are they going to do against each other?"

"That's part of what people deserve to see," Cadence said as the officials placed the ball at mid field, not at the usual range. Then ran for it, shepherding the other players off the field.

Luna stood in the goalie box, and pawed the ground. Celestia walked behind the ball, back and forth, back and forth. A pacing tiger would have wanted to look like Celestia.

Celestia's horn glowed, and with every step, another Celestia appeared, dozens circled behind the ball, ready to make the kick at any movement.

Luna knelt down in the box, another appeared beside her, then one atop the pair, more on each side, as a second, then a third rank appeared on top of them. Kneeling shoulder to shoulder, horns facing outward, they completely blocked any access to the goal.

The Celestias stopped pacing. The first rank lay down, the second rank knelt, the third rank crouched while the fourth rank stood tall. Twenty-wide and four-deep, the Celestias' horns began to glow. The dozens of Lunas' horns glowed as well. The ball trembled as a light gold aura surrounded it and it moved slowly towards the goal. A moment later, a cobalt-blue aura pushed the gold aura back to cover only half the ball. The ball came to a halt. Slowly the ball moved side-to-side, forward-and-back.

Small dust devils swirled near the ball as the horns blazed. Little arcs of lightning formed where the auras touched and earthed themselves in the field. The wall of Lunas became hard to look at, while the phalanx of Celestias had passed to point of being painful to look at. A Celestia disappeared, then another. A Luna vanished. And the ball oscillated more widely. Two Celestias vanished, then three more. A Luna on the bottom row vanished, and the two second row Lunas extended their legs to support the row above them. On the ball, the gold and blue flowed over each other, like oil and vinegar in a dressing, mixing, separating and swirling again. Celestias continued to vanish. Lunas' formation wobbled as they likewise disappeared.

The decision came. The ball exploded. The Lunas began tumbling and vanishing. The Celestias disappeared until only one weary alicorn remained. The uniformed officials swarmed out on the field.

"The kick is blocked. Each team will be charged with a time out, to gather themselves."

Medics raced out to check on the two grinning 'combatants'.

"Okay, who won that one?" Armor asked.

"I think they showed why they don't fight," Cadence said, "Especially each other. How much force does it take to crush one of those balls?"

"More than a skull," Armor admitted, "And were those real, or illusions."

"You're the soldier, what would you do?" Cadence asked.

"Real enough to hurt you is real," Armor replied.

The medics had both mares up and walking slowly around. Both of them grinning at the 'battle' they'd just fought.

Finally, Poné set the ball at the midfield, and ran away. Celestia kicked the ball over the heads of most of the team. Luna jumped up and kicked it back towards Celestia's goal. Celestia intercepted it, knocking it to the ground and chasing it down as Luna's players closed in. Celestia used the players as cover and concealment as she advanced the ball down the field.

The officials blew a whistle. The players dispersed, revealing a player wrapped around the ball.

"Ball handling, or tripping?" Armor asked, and awaited the call, "Both are direct kicks." He turned to Cadence. "Or was that political, getting her Highness to kick or step on one of the NLR players?"

"Possibly both." Cadence nodded towards Luna talking with the player, and directing her off the field. "Someone wants a clean game, even if she loses."

The goalie is sweating bullets as the officials set up a classic penalty kick. Celestia feints one way, kicks it in another. The goalie falls for the feint and can't get back to prevent the real short.

"Four-zip." Armor looked at the clock and realized no one was eager to kill themselves over the last 30 seconds. They let the clock run out. Luna hugged Celestia, who hugged her back. The two walk off to their dressing rooms. Luna was visibly trying to buck up her team members, but both she and Celestia seemed very weary.

"Are you going to get revenge on Barnum by not watching his demonstration?" Cadence asked.

"I am going to check on my sovereign, and talk to her trainers and doctors," Armor said as he headed after Celestia.

"Have you seen any of the game, Barnum?" Captain Armor exclaims, "Even if that was Union out there, she'd still be up two nothing!"

"You're surprised?" I ask as I escort the Dianes out onto the field. Nothing gets near the rotors as I watch and make corrections.

"Relax, dad," Soarin's says, "Nobody's gonna hurt your babies."

"If they were my daughters, you wouldn't be anywhere near them," I tell him, "Except as a gelding."

"Ooo!" Topaz says as she guides the non-flight quadra-Dianes to their display sites.

Other unicorns are assembling the piles of stone segments that the Shadowbolts and Wonderbolts are going to be carrying. A cart squeals under the load that Neanderpony and I will be carrying aloft. The segments weigh in around 50 lb./25 kilos. Ours weighs 10 times that. Glory is running the ground crew for us. Shadow Pearl will work for the pegasi. On the field, the normal ground crew are rushing to set up the tall flag poles that mark out the course. Once around the oval described by the seats of the stadium. Then through the slalom of the flag poles set up down the length of the field centerline. And a last time around the oval.

It's a run I know the Dianes will lose, even the little ones Storm and Soarin' will be flying, let alone the quadri-Diane I'll take through, I think.

"The real test is running the stone through the same course. The two 'winners' will be our opponents," I remind Neanderpony as we do the final checks on the quadra-Diane, an abbreviated version of the test we'd done. Unless the lieutenant's plan is needed, I think and note how excited the crowd seems.

"Ready," Neanderpony asks as he shakes himself out, stretching slightly to warm up.

"As anything."

"You want to run through the course backward?" he asks.

"No, let's run it straight. If we win the last part, when we drop the load, we should do that run as our 'victory lap'," I tell him.

The Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts are introduced, and the basic rules are explained. That they and the Dianes will race through the course. The finalists will compete against the fully-loaded Diane. The crowd reacts to the announcement that the bizarre-looking machine would carry such a weight into the air.

"I guess we don't warrant an introduction," Neanderpony complains.

"Do you really want everyone knowing your name?" I ask 'Fluffy'.

Neanderpony grimaces. Princess Cadence approaches. "Good luck, to you all," she says, "Uh, can you stretch things out?" she asks nervously, "I know it's a race, but I think their Highnesses need the time."

"There are plans in work. The lieutenant can brief you," I tell her.

She nods and heads to talk with the Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts.

"Nice mare," Neanderpony comments, and studies the rotor as I look at him.

"Some day, I'm going to get revenge by telling you what I really know," I tell him.

He stares at me as we mount up.

The rotors turn and we lift off the ground. An adjustment and we shift to faster flight mode. We reach the entry at roughly the same time as the others, but the pegasi, and the smaller Dianes quickly outrun us, and it gets worse. Spitfire is through the slalom, before we even enter.

"Don't worry, this is just the warm up for us," I remind Neanderpony.

He doesn't like getting beat any more than I do, I remind myself, But the speed test only decides who's going to lose against us in the real test. We're way behind by the time we finish the course, dead last.

Glory is waiting, and grinning suspiciously as we fly in and hover over the heavy stone. Claire standing off to the side has her hand up, warning us not to lift, until Glory has the strap locked in place. Claire signals Glory's done, and I catch her running away through the corner of my eye.

We take up the slack slowly. The two of us strain as we put more effort through our legs and into the rotors. The quadra-Diane lumbers into the air. The massive swaying load reduces our speed considerably. Both Neanderpony and I are straining to keep the speed up. But not as much as Spitfire, Fleetfoot and Jubilee are straining, while carrying their much smaller loads. I can't hear the crowd noise over the singing of blood in my ears, but I can count to three just fine.

Okay, the agreement was two, but if it gives a better show with three, then so be it, I think then glance at Neanderpony and nod, I see it too, but we'll still win.

Spitfire and Fleetfoot are putting down their first loads as we enter the slalom. The slung load forces us to compensate just like it had in practice, test as you fly, but we take it slow and steady. Not much faster than a trotting pace, but we're moving. Spitfire passes us with her second load as we exit the slalom. Once clear, we accelerate as quickly and as much as we can. Fleetfoot passes us soon after. Jubilee passes us as we pass the quarter-mark on our last circuit of the loop. The three mares are all straining as they pass.

My legs are warning me that I don't have too much more. Neanderpony has a determined stare as he is straining too.

I could use my magic, I remind myself of the tricks Trixie came up with, before she slipped away, But that's not the point.

We're on our last leg when the two smaller Dianes race off with a load slung underneath, and Tuxie leading the way. Neanderpony looks at me with worry as we maneuver to put the stone down inside the walls of the cart that brought it out. Prove the precision possible in the design, I think as we hold the quadra-Diane over the cart as Glory guides us to place the massive stone. Spitfire picks up the last of the ten pieces as we are sideslipping with the stone according to Glory's hoof signals. We get it down in perfect position before Spitfire makes it to the slalom. Claire unhooks us, and we back away.

Neanderpony grunts and nods at Lieutenant Solitude. She's giving us the signal to extend things a bit. Glory is leading Princess Cadence, Claire is giving us hand signals to prepare for a hook up. We wait and watch her signals. I'm too focused to look down at the pair beneath us. I register the sound of the load clip being engaged. Neanderpony and I take up the slack and gauge the load beneath us. We lift off and reverse through the course. We aren't racing, just proving we can do it. Below us, Glory and Cadence wave to the crowd as we perform our Kulwicki-style 'Polish Victory Lap', flying backward through the course.

I risk a glance down. Glory, in her mixed-bolt uniform is enjoying every moment of the performance. Cadence looks like she'd rather be facing an angry dragon, but waves gamely. The crowd loves it, although only a few seem to realize we're flying backwards.

As we settle back onto the ground after completing our circle, Glory and Cadence scramble out of the sling they'd been riding in. As we land, with a slight bump, Glory approaches and tells us, "The other Dianes took a medical emergency. We decided to let you finish rather than call it off."

Shadow Pearl approaches. "Some kid fell from bleachers. With a concussion, teleporting him wasn't a good idea," Shadow Pearl tells us, "Blaze and Surprise took the kid and a doc to the hospital with Tuxedo warning the hospital they were on their way."

"Not the way I'd want to prove the usefulness of the machine," I say and look over the crowd, "Do they know?"

"Only that someone was hurt. They don't think you were showboating. Cadence and Glory told the crowd that the two little ones were standing by in case of such an emergency."

"Give credit to the Princesses," Neanderpony says appreciatively.

"I think you also sold them on the idea of using it for other purposes," Shadow Pearl says, "I think I also understand why you're so persnickety about the equipment. Jubilee pulled some wing muscles carrying those loads."

I nod. "I think we'd better get our stuff off the field so her Highness can finish."

"Think Princess Celestia will still keep her lead in this?" Shadow Pearl asks.

"I don't know, because I'm going to go sleep through the next hour," I tell him.

"Let one of our trainers give you a rub down," he says, the tone makes it an order, but I wouldn't have argued. The teams carefully move the Dianes back to their temporary hangers. Claire is supporting Neanderpony. My legs feel like rubber, and I can't keep up with the slow moving Dianes. Two ponies move up and support me, I recognize Topaz and Fleetfoot.

"You're going straight to Specter Dancer," Fleetfoot informs me.

"As if you could run away from an angry turtle in your condition," Topaz adds.

The pony is either a stallion, or a burly mare, but the pony easily picks me off the ground and puts me on the table. I'm asleep while the trainer is still working out the kinks in my legs.

Out of Context Part 3

Out of Place - Out of Context Part 3

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Billy Joel - Piano Man

Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talkin' with Davy, who's still in the Navy
And probably will be for life

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessman slowly gets stoned
Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it's better than drinkin' alone

Glory Bell stood proud as she watched their Highnesses in their ambassadorial regalia approach the tables that have been set up. Several of the Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts stood alongside her. Part of a neutral 'honor' guard for Cadence, while their Highnesses had the Day and Night Guards.

"You certainly reearned your Princess-ship today," Spitfire told her.

Glory nodded, and made one last look at the Royal box. My uncle is there, but not my mom, or dad, she thought quietly, Is it because I'm here, or because it's 'political'. They cannot see their daughter's new triumph, because they have to not care about 'What those idiots in Canterlot are doing.' She looked fondly at her uniform, and considered the two sisters, and what their estrangement and reconciliation really meant.

"Relax," Shadow Pearl said quietly, "No one is paying much attention to us."

Glory nodded again. The two sisters approached Cadence, who stood behind a table that sported two ink stamp pads, and the all-important document.

"How did they change costumes so fast, and get made up?" Glory asked of the regal sisters who minutes before had been running around on the field with sweat and grass-strained jerseys.

They look positively illustrious, she thought as they approached the table. The trio of Princesses embraced as they stood before the document.

"I know it's all choreographed more than a ballet, but they make it look so natural," Glory whispered to Spitfire as Celestia stood tall to speak.

"Equestrians," she said formally, "My beloved little ponies," she added warmly. "Today, we have a great change. A charter between the government, and the people. It is the things we have all believed in our hearts. But my sister, and many others have asked it be put in terms so clear, they demand our assent. Some say this has been a long time coming, others say it is unnecessary. I believe it is the right thing, at the right time. Today we have seen several spectacles, that in some ways mirror what brought this document about. Strong wills, strong hearts, not agreeing perfectly, and testing the resolve and tolerance of all. But in the end, we all love Equestria, we all want what is best, and we can agree that is a good first step."

The crowd hoof-stamped their approval. Luna merely nodded, and Cadence took the covers off the ink pads. In synchronized movements, both sisters carefully ink their right hooves, then apply them to the paper. A bewigged scribe carefully removed the document and carried it with great ceremony to a case which would protect it, and let the ink dry undisturbed. Cadence closed the stamp pads and withdrew. Celestia nuzzled Luna and whispered something Glory couldn't hear. The two broke apart and headed back towards their dressing rooms, to once again be appointed for 'battle'.

"Short and sweet," Shadow Pearl said, "You have to love those girls."

Mile Stone watched the teams file back onto the field. He'd watched the game with some interest, but he'd been watching the people with greater interest. They seem to have taken the message of unity to heart, the trooper thought as another pony, this one an older mare, begged the soiled dove to give her the face paint she'd been doing during the entire game. Good thing I know a little about that stuff, he thought as a corporal of the Night Guard returned from her supply run. The near-filly looked tuckered out as she delivered the fresh load of face 'paint' to the soiled dove.

"Sir, we're going to need a Diane to get more, that's every store still open within ten minute's run of the stadium," the young corporal admitted.

"It will be enough, lass," he said, "Take a few moments up here to watch the game."

"Who's winning?" the eager fan asked.

"Equestria, as planned," Mile Stone said as he settled in.

There was an undercurrent of laughter as Celestia took her place. A dark hoofmark had been planted in the middle of her sun cutie-mark.

If I know her Highness, she did it herself to show that Luna's still game, Mile Stone thought as they all watched the same mare who'd kicked off the ball before, do the same straight up kick again. Celestia and Luna again jumped for it, but one tipped it off towards the sidelines, and Luna's team swarmed over the ball as Celestia dove for her own goal. The mortal ponies advanced the ball, as Luna stayed airborne and stayed back. One of the ponies kicked the ball towards the goal. Celestia stopped it with a hoof, and kicked it back to Luna's team. Another kick, and another block and return. And another. One with her tail. Again and again, over and over.

Realizing the futility, one of the smaller members carefully dribbled the ball right up to the goal box. The youngster bowed, and pointed at the goal. Celestia nuzzled the adolescent and stepped aside, to allow the ball to be kicked in for a goal.

Mile Stone roared with laughter like nearly the entire crowd. Although he caught sight of Captain Armor beating his head on the railing.

"Please oh Mighty Celestia," Bran Scone said, through her laughter, "Can I kick the ball in there?"

"Of course my child," the soiled dove responded, "You only had to ask." Both mares joined the others in laughter. But Mile Stone saw there was a method to Celestia's madness.

While even Luna was stunned at the audacity of her player, and that it had worked, Celestia retrieved the ball from the goal and fired it down field. Luna reacted too slowly to intercept the ball, and the goalie had the sight of his Princess charging frantically to distract him from the ball he could barely see.

Five-one Celestia's favor. Luna kicked the ball back into play, but Celestia was ready and returned it about three-quarters down the field. The team swarmed it and moved it steadily back down the field. Celestia waited. Luna raced ahead and took a position on the extreme flank, while the team came down towards the opposite corner. Celestia didn't fall for the feint. She stayed ready to defend from the mortal players, and practically ignored Luna's presence. She blocked the shot, and sent the ball most of the way down field. Again the team chased after it. Luna raced ahead to take her position, and the team advanced the ball. Again Celestia concentrated on the mortals, and returned the ball three-quarters of the way down the field.

When the group came back, Luna was leading the pack, but the ball was passing among them. Celestia didn't wait, but charged, keeping herself between the goal and the ball. There was a furious scrum at the point of collision.

"All they need is the dust cloud and the occasional leg, head or tail poking out of it," Mile Stone commented to Bran Scone as the two sisters seemed the focus of the battle.

An official blew a whistle and separated the players. Lying on the field was a sad, little, squashed Hoofball.

"Do they normally go through so many in a game?" his wife asked.

"I doubt they'd go through so many in a season," he admitted.

The kicker placed the ball among the waiting players, then ran for the sidelines. Celestia got the upper hand charging the ball and was halfway down the field before Luna could catch up. Luna's attempts at interception only slowed Celestia's advance to allow the others to catch up. This time, rather than close as a mass. They made diving attacks at the ball. Two of the players collided in these attempts and the officials once again separated the two teams, while medics from both sides saw to the dazed players.

"I think her Majesty is just running down the clock," Mile Stone said as the third period ended soon after play was resumed.

I'm beginning to agree with her Highness. The first half was exciting, this doesn't accomplish anything except 'what might have been's, Mile Stone thought as the action continued on the field, and the clock ran down. They should just let their Highnesses onto the field and let them play against each other.

Ending more with a whimper than a spectacle, Mile Stone still felt rung out.

"There's still the victory party," Bran Scone said, "And I intend to attend."

"Yes, dear," he said in his most put upon tone.

His wife laughed at his demeanor.

"Have I told you what happened to Barnum at the previous 'victory party?" Mile Stone asked innocently.

It is the first time since my arrival that I've dared walk through this place. The statuary gardens are peaceful, tranquil, filled with examples of the finest pony art. Or are they? I wonder. The guidebook doesn't have much to say on the twisted figure of the draconequus in front of me. It subtly implies this is based on an extinct species and is basically an ancient example of 'modern' art.

I don't linger any longer than I have at any of the other pieces. Just long enough to look at it, read the guidebook entry, check over any details that catch my interest, and make some notes to check up on when I get back to the castle. It takes most of the morning to go through the garden, and I'm left with the impression that while there are other statues that might be victims of the Elements, only Discord is a guaranteed candidate.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" I ask Captain Hansom. We're some distance from the Discord statue.

"Their Highnesses have someone keeping an eye on you at all times. When you make an effort to slip away from your guards, they get nervous," the stallion tells me.

"Just something I had to check on myself," I admit.

He looks around nervously. "I wish they'd bury that whole garden, and throw all those statues off the mountain. Those things give me the shivers," the captain admits.

"Guidebook says they're just statues, major points in pony history."

"Yeah, there's a museum in the castle that tells those stories just fine, and without all the creepy stuff." Hansom looks around. "Except for some stain glass windows. But those are special access only, so the 'tourists' can't just wander through. Hey, you were found here, weren't you?"

"Yep, not a few dozen yards from where you found me today," I tell him, "My mission is completed here, I was contacting my people for retrieval."

"You are a terrible ambassador, in that case," he tells me.

"Harvester. My people feed on ignorance and misconceptions, and we realized there was a bumper crop here. Our larders are full and we even had enough for after-festival sandwiches. On behalf of our people, we wish to thank you all."

"So, the Hoofball game was your idea?" the captain asks.

"Nope, all their Highnesses'. The idea that they aren't some horrible moon-banishing, night-forevering monsters, all their idea. The idea that they could kick the flank of any pony in town, also their idea."

"Yeah, the first time I saw a bunch of schoolcolts asking her Majesty about kicking a Hoofball, instead of her mane or what it's like to live in a palace."

"Let's everyone know she can be a bit of a tomboy too."

"Do you know the genesis of that word? Why not Colt-Filly, or something else, why tomboy?"

"It may be a loan word from human English, maybe I'm not the first human to land in Equestria."

"I think if there were any more like you, we'd know it," the captain says.

"I don't know, a lot of your implements and technology don't seem to be based on anything other than human norms." I stop myself. "Do you really want to get into a discussion of comparative evolution?"

"My education is in design," the captain admits, "And I've never understood why things aren't optimized for ponies, rather than for creatures with hands, like griffons and dragons. They aren't exactly big tool users."

"I have a really wild theory, if you want to hear it."

"Sure." He looks back over his shoulder. "As long as it's away from here."

"Barnum, you're crazy," Hansom says as we walk down the corridor, "We're just a children's television program? I'm not sure if I can even understand about the television part."

"I said it was a theory," I reply, and don't point out who is following and enjoying the friendly argument, "It's equally possible that it's all in my head. Because the world I remember had zero magic. So how did I get here? Easier to assume that something happened to me here, and I'm imagining the rest."

I realize with growing horror, after arguing for a couple enjoyable hours, that if Discord observed the Human Race, and forced the ponies to duplicate our culture and technology, he would have had to do so between the 15th and 19th Centuries. But that doesn't fit the 'banished for a thousand-year timeline', I consider, So what happened?

"I still say parallel development is possible," Hansom argues.

"Of things no pony would have real need for without the accompanying infrastructure?" I counter.

If he did force them to conform to human norms from that period, then time doesn't run here at the same rate. It also explains some of the paranoia about change. They didn't develop the tech, it was thrust upon them and they're trying to figure out the scientific basis, and adapting it to their needs, I think as we walk, And I may have to discuss this with our observer.

"Maybe we got them from people like you," Hansom says, "Who dropped in from other worlds."

"While your people are open and welcoming," I reply, and receive a grin, "The problem is that implies that someone on this world dragged them here. The home I remember had precisely zero magic. If magic brought and changed me, it came entirely from here."

"Or somewhere in between," Celestia says as she stands behind Hansom.

The poor stallion almost jumps. "Your Highness, I didn't see you." He gives a quick bow. "I hope we didn't disturb you."

"I was appreciating two of my ponies enjoying a spirited discussion. With such odd and even," she leaned close and whispered, "Heretical opinions, so fearlessly expressed."

Hansom looks alarmed by the implication, but Celestia continues, "And yet you remain good friends afterwards."

"Yes," Hansom says, obviously aware that he knows that I knew she was there, and there will be a reckoning.

"I'm afraid I must break in, but I need to talk with Barnum," Celestia says.

"Of course your Majesty," he says and bows again.

"You can pick him up again in the south garden," she offers as the captain leaves.

"With pleasure, your Majesty."

Something in his gleeful expression sets off every alarm I have. The nuzzle from Celestia breaks my concentration, probably her plan. "I think I know why you pushed this reform through so quickly."

"Yes," she says sadly, "Soon the banner of 'safety, safety, surety' will fly over all the homes in Equestria, and only this example will bring ponies around."

"I hope it won't take as long," I reply and we start walking.

"You've been rather depressed," she comments.

"The Grand Galloping Gala is in a few days, and the visit from Ponyville, how many days after that?"

"Nothing is scheduled, but the statue gardens are open for all, no special permissions or appointments are necessary."

"So the clock ticks, we know the hour, but not the minute."

"It was you we were talking about," Celestia reminds me.

"You were talking about me, I was talking about the future, and both of us were trying to cheer the other up. We'll get through this."

"And if this plan doesn't work?"

"I think I can get a Death Star cheap," I tell her, "Look they've been through it before, and they survived. As terrible as it was, they survived. They'll survive this."

"Not the gentle ones. Not the dreamers. At least not as dreamers."

"Don't be so sure. My homeland was founded by dreamers fleeing from places that make your nightmares look like a folk dance. They stood on free soil for the first time, and their dreams blossomed in the sun. They outstripped the people who had been living there and made the world a richer place for their dreams. That only stopped when we stopped striving to collect dreamers and started being 'fair'."

"You don't believe in things being fair?" she teases.

"No. Think how terrible the world would be, if it were fair," I reply, "If you only got what you deserved. There are too many things I've gotten away with, that my friends have let slide. I'd hate to have to pay the price for them. Especially all at once."

"You have a grim view of the world."

"I have a grim view of the universe. Even assuming there's no more to this universe than one planet and the two orbiting lights. The safely habitable portion of that universe is a third of the skin of an orange inside a hoofball-sized universe. That's pretty small, and most of it is comfortable. You can work to make an equitable division of rain and shine, have some control of the seasons. My people never had that. Our 'safe' place was the surface of a grain of sand in an entire Hoofball stadium. And we have evidence of at least four natural disasters that did their very best to exterminate all life on the planet," I tell her, "Once you realize that, it makes you a lot more cynical about 'fairness'. When random chance or external forces have already loaded the dice that heavily in your favor, you don't go complaining that your shoes aren't shiny enough."

She nuzzles me again and laughs. "Why does you being gloomy always brighten my mood?"

"Because you realize that a cynic is just a disappointed romantic, and it gives you a simpler goal." I glance around. "Where are we going anyway?"

"The south garden," she says.

"I don't remember ever going there." The reason I never went there refuses to present itself.

"Oh, it's lovely. Good light, shaded from breezes, and the acoustics are wonderful. Just go on in." She says as we stand before a wooden door. "I'll be back in a bit."

I wonder, if it's such a wonderful place, why no windows look out onto it. I go through the door, into a small, paneled antechamber, then through the next door. I've been had! I think as a sea of reporters immediately start throwing questions at me. Okay, point in the prank war to Celestia. I look at the various pony faces, all trying to get my attention, all with completely self-serving motives and vapid questions to go along with them. It's the porkpie hat and the sense that one curmudgeon faces another that make me pick him.

"Mr. Coltchak of the Chronicle, isn't it?" I ask as I step behind the podium.

The reporter in question seems as stunned to be called on specifically, as his colleagues are horrified. "Yes, that's right. What about these rumors that you and Celestia masterminded this entire plan to change the government, and this 'Magna Carta'?"

"Not true," I say, and enjoy his 'gotcha' smile, "Princess Luna, and the leadership of the New Lunar Republic also played a major part. I was mostly secretary and go between. It was part of her Majesty's long-term plans, but a loyal opposition wasn't really feasible until Princess Luna returned and gave them a center to focus on."

It's fun to watch him react to 'your conspiracy theory is wrong, it doesn't go far enough'. The rest think I'm trolling him. I think as I watch the others react.

"Both Princesses, and the leadership of the New Lunar Republic were part of this?" he exclaims, "Did they know?"

"Of course their Highnesses knew, they liked the idea of a crusade of ideas. Of gentle words not upraised hooves. They very much approved of some of what the New Lunar Republic was doing. So Princess Luna joined them and encouraged what she approved of, and discouraged what she didn't. Since the group was formed of dozens of her splinter personality cults, it's no wonder she had considerable influence."

The other reporters are realizing I am not giving a press conference, but having a conversation. The cacophony of shouted questions I ignore, and concentrate on Coltchak.

"I meant the leadership of the New Lunar Republic," he amends condescendingly.

"Of course I didn't tell them that. I did tell them a high government official was on their side, and desperately wanted their reforms to succeed. I just didn't give any names."

An NLR member, or trying to ferret out their secrets? I wonder, but brace for his next question, while every other reporter in the place vies for my attention.

"Then the entire ceremony, the Hoofball charity," he grimaces before continuing, "And the after game party."

"I spent too much time with my face in a bucket to want to remember the after game party, Mister Coltchak. The ceremony was for all to see and know it was done. The game was to raise money for charity, and to let her Highness dispel those rumors she doesn't like the game of Hoofball. She likes it just fine, when she's playing, or when kids are playing. As Poné said, 'I don't like watching either, I want to play'."

"Yes," he says, "But why didn't she do the things in the second half like she did in the first?"

"Probably because she wanted the others to participate alongside Luna, rather than depending on Luna to do everything," I reply.

"What about these rumors that there are more changes on the way?" Coltchak asks.

"With the right to redress grievances open, I would expect many changes," I reply, "As for what the government intends to change, that depends on the grievances brought." I realize that none of the reporters are eager to shout more questions. I look over my shoulder and see Sir Eagle Bell, staring at me. He doesn't look angry. He merely stares at me with intensity, a polite smile on his lips that never reaches his eyes.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlecolts, I think you shouldn't hold your editions to record my fate," I say and ignore the chuckles at the gallows humor.

Sir Bell puts a friendly hoof over my shoulders as he leads me away. Backhoofing the door closed as we go. Once we're back through the 'airlock' between the reporters and the palace, he relaxes.

"Well played. A bit of subterfuge, and an excellent bit yourself, picking Coltchak. Now the entire story is out, no one will really believe it, and they'll go digging. After all, you answered Coltchak, who normally dispenses stories about monsters living under our beds, and I was absolutely furious with something you'd divulged. They won't know which way to turn."

"I hope you have some entertaining bits for them to uncover," I say, making the old stallion chuckle.

"Yes, the plans, scuttled I'm afraid, of giving Moon City and Brown Chief matching medals for their service to Equestria. Ample fodder for endless speculations. Intelligence is going to leak they knew Brown Chief was the boss of all bosses all along. The Treasury agencies will say the same for Moon City. A certain reporter will reveal the absolute row you had with her Highness about going too far in the reforms, another about not going far enough, and that her Nightjesty had to assemble a guard force to separate you two. The senior-most civil servant will reply to all questions about the events, by highlighting the marvelous and most useful inventions displayed at the halftime show."

"After assuring everypony that their Highness' government will loyally and with resolve, bear up under the changes demanded by the ponies of Equestria and their Highness."

"Well done," he says cheerfully, "But I was steering to the question of ownership of blueprints and patents. May one enquire how one might obtain copies, and the license to manufacture them?"

"Well, there is a sizable debt I owe, and there is the question of a stipend to the original inventor."

"Of course," the stallion says, "I'm sure something equitable can be arranged."

"For the inventor, I'm going to have to insist on wise, rather than equitable. Not a good idea to poison the tree of knowledge with too much fertilizer at once, and then starve it in the future."

"An interesting theory. Personal experience?"

"Urban legend, with too much truth behind it," I tell him.

Glory walked into the workshop. Barnum was working on a set of frameworks too bulky for a Diane-frame. "You've been scarce around here," he greeted her, "Having fun being a WonderShadowBolt?"

"Yeah, the uniform fitting, and the photo shoot for the new posters, and . . . I came here to hide for a while."

"I saw the posters, got a couple all signed and sent them off to Pinkie so she can give them to Rainbow Dash as a present."

"That's nice," she walked over to the odd and extremely heavy constructions, "These look like they could hold up the castle's roof. What are you doing? Are these transportable by air?"

"I hadn't thought about that, more like the aftermath of the Grand Galloping Gala."

" 'Raise the roof' is not meant literally," she teased, and sat down next to him, "Something wrong?"

"One minor, one major," he said, "I've never seen your cutie-mark, or heard why you hide it, and . . . your mother and father live outside of Los Pegasus?"

"In the mountains. They turned their back on 'all of Canterlot's excesses' and live the simple life as our ancestors did. In one of the most pampered and plastic places in the world."

He paused, looked at her strangely. He looks almost wistful, she thought of his nearly hurt expression.

"I think, after the Gala, you and your uncle should visit them. Just family, not 'look what I've done', just family."

"What happened, what's going on, if it's something I can help with?" Glory felt the words tumbling out without stopping them.

"It's nothing either of you have the skills to face. It may be nothing, or only a premonition. But consider it, for me."

"Look, her Highness is reasonable, and even though her Nightjesty does hold a grudge." She leaned against him. "We can get through this."

"Glory. It isn't me, it's you. It's your uncle. The more details I give you, the more insane it will sound. But trust me, go visit your folks. If you don't, you may regret it the rest of your life."

"Something is going to happen to my parents?" Glory demanded, "And don't play vague word games."

"Something is going to happen to all of you, and it will be better for all of you to be together when you get through it. Wondering 'what could I have done had I been there?' is a knife constantly twisting in your guts. Believe me, I know, and I'd rather spare you and your uncle that pain."

"What about my parents?"

"I don't know about your parents," he admitted, "I can't know what they'd do or feel, but I know my own regrets."

"That's all I'm going to get, aren't I?" she accused.

"You'll understand it all when you get back," he told her, "If I explain it all, first you'll think I'm crazy, second, it'll have you trying to fit things that happen to my description. Let it just happen."

"I guess I'll try," Glory said, and snuggled up against him, "Is that what has you so worried?"

"No, that my plan won't work and that I'll leave others in a lurch instead of developing their own plans."

"Plans for what?" she asked.

"It'll be obvious once it's over. If it doesn't end, then it'll be obvious too," he told her.

"You're being awfully vague," she said.

"There's a term, catastrophe. There is also a term eucatastrophe, or a good catastrophe. Both refer to huge changes. The Magna Carta signed, sealed and in place will help take the lid off of a lot of things. Some of those things aren't going to be particularly pleasant."

"The NLR and the Solars seem to be getting along. The Princesses' example seems to have gotten them nervous about starting anything."

"Except inventing rugby."

"Except inventing rugby," Glory agreed. "I can't see anything that would be coming that would have you so nervous."

"Fishing will get you no where, kiddo," Barnum told her.

"I have to try," Glory responded, "You know how I hate not knowing."

"Believe me kid, if I could keep Equestria from not knowing," Barnum said sadly, "I would."

Luna considered Celestia's oh so clever special shampoo, which had sent three of the maids into panic when they saw what they thought they'd done to her Nightjesty's mane and tail. It had taken some intricate spell casting, and the royal hairdresser, to completely eliminate the effect. She had decided to carefully plot her revenge, and concentrate on the two ponies who infuriated her most, and infuriated each other.

Since I haven't been able to really view Barnum's nebulous and elusive dreams, linking his and Celestia's dreamscapes should prevent Celestia from simply powering out of it as she would with any other pony, Luna thought happily, And it seems to be working flawlessly.

The now-human Celestia was an interesting figure, her elaborate mane and tail wrapping around her in a silk garment. Barnum, in decidedly less imposing attire, and a less imposing person as a whole seemed stunned to see her there in his dreams, and in human form. Luna watched Barnum's reaction, and was pleased her 'translation' of her sister into human form had kept all the attendant grace, warmth and beauty her sister possessed in abundance. When she wasn't being an imp! Luna forcefully reminded herself.

Luna mentally withdrew, so she couldn't interfere, and thus be held accountable for what happened. And to watch the fireworks and enjoy how the pair's rather tense standoffishness stood, when Celestia was a human, and by Barnum's reaction, a very attractive one. She split her awareness so she could watch how her sister's sleeping equine form reacted as well.

"Uh, hi, Celestia?" Barnum stammered.

"Yes," Celestia replied, extending her new limbs, examining her new body, and clearly enjoying the change. "Would you like to tickle me now?" she teased as she rested against him in a way calculated to make him uneasy.

"I think I have something for that," Barnum replied as he stepped away.

Celestia looked at Barnum. Luna stared at what he was offering. She had the same reaction her sister did. "It's so small."

Barnum looked vaguely irritated. "Trust me, I think you'll find it more that sufficient. You're human now, or at least a good seeming," Barnum replied, "Things are different with humans. A lot different."

Celestia leaned in and took the briefest, most gentle nibble. She straightened up to stare at Barnum. She waited with rising expectation and excitement. He nodded, and she dove in.

Luna watched her plan spin out of control. In her mind's eye, her dear sister was practically insane, trying to get more and more of what she craved. While the sleeping form of Celestia rolled in her bed, her wings and legs thrashed as she moaned, 'More, more, yes, yes!'

Break the connection! Luna thought as the emotional and sensory feedback from her sister addled and confused her. No, Celestia's too strong, and I can't get a decent grip on Barnum's dreams! She abandoned subtlety and the dreamscapes, and dashed for Barnum's room.

Merry Lifter saw her coming at a dead gallop and opened the door without orders. In a trice, she was at the colt's bedside shaking him awake.

"Wha! Wha?" he exclaimed as consciousness returned.

"Do humans really taste that good! I mean does your - does cake really taste that way to humans?!" she demanded of the half-awake colt.

Nervously he nodded. "Most food around here is like lightly-flavored sawdust," he admitted.

Luna dropped him back on the bed. "Oh, Celly! Luna is so sorry!" she shouted in terror as she raced from the room.

Barnum looked at Merry Lifter, and tried to remember the dream he'd just been having, and why and how cake was involved. "Do you understand any of what just happened?" he asked the guard.

"I have decided not to understand what goes on between you and their Highnesses," Merry Lifter said stoically.

"Cowardly, extremely wise, but cowardly," Barnum commented. "Why do I have this overwhelming urge to warn the royal bakers?" Barnum asked before settling back down to sleep.

"How is it going my little ponies?" Celestia asked as she entered the workshop, taking in the slim but surprisingly strong trusses that reached from floor to the high, vaulted ceiling of Barnum's rooms. The sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating the ponies, and their problem.

"As far as it goes, your Highness, it goes well," Glory said eagerly.

"Then it teeters on the edge and falls off a cliff," Barnum added grimly. He ignored Glory's shushing sound and her offended glare.

"Glory Bell, I wish to congratulate you on your tenure as both a Shadowbolt and a Wonderbolt. You have been and are a credit to your family."

"Thank you, your Highness," Glory said, bobbing her head enthusiastically, "Barnum suggested I meet with my family after the Gala." She stared at Celestia.

"An excellent idea," Celestia said, and no more, much to Glory's disappointment. "What seems to be the problem?" Celestia walked over to the piece with the L-shaped cross section which Glory and Barnum seemed so perturbed about.

Again, Glory's warning not to waste the sovereign's time was ignored by Barnum as he hauled it up. Celestia was grateful it was. It's so seldom I get to do something like this, she thought happily.

"This truss is cut an inch and seven-eighth's too long. It won't match up with the others, and that means we have to get a whole new set to go with this one, or scrap it and get a new one," Barnum explained, Celestia nodded as she examined the pencil line for the correct length. "Also, it's already been magically tempered and toughened. Any magic strong enough to cut it, would also damage the spells used, and it would be easier to scrap it and start over."

"Why not sweep all the flaws into the area and break it off?" she asked as she nudged it over with her horn.

"Because the supplier, diligent and thoughtful ponies that they are, already did that. After I taught them the spells I use for the purpose. The whole thing is nearly perfect," Barnum grumped.

"Except for being too long," Celestia commented with a chuckle as she positioned it precisely.

He is adorable when he's frustrated like that, she admitted to herself.

"And it's too tough for cutting tools, and too large to put into the machines?" Celestia added and grinned, having maneuvered the piece exactly where she needed it to be, "I have been learning as you've discovered new things."

"Exactly," Glory said, finally loosening up a bit. "We could cut it with hand tools, but the job of getting the flatness and straightness of the cut just right, for the loads this is designed to carry. It's beyond us."

"Well, I can help. Hold still," she said happily. Before they could move, the pencil line evaporated, along with a tiny amount of the metal. The offending extra length slid off and clanged on the floor beside the tiny burn mark in the stone floor. Celestia glanced at the tiny hole in the window. Barnum can fix that easily, she thought and turned smiling back to the two stunned unicorns.

"Barnum, I must thank you for the idea of that gamma-ray laser. It was difficult, but worth the effort," she said happily. "I do hope the cut is as you want it."

"We'll check it later, your Majesty, thank you," Barnum said woodenly.

"Excellent," she said and smiled. "Oh, and Barnum, while Lulu would love to join our little games, playful as she is. I think it would be an excellent idea if you told her, before you included her. She has a few very sensitive spots, and she doesn't take surprises as well as I have."

Barnum looked at the 17-inch flange section, and the inch-and-a-half thick web section of the L, cut with a precision he'd struggle just to measure let alone match, and the lack of floor burn through, before answering. "Understood, clearly, your Majesty," he replied stiffly.

"I'm so glad I could help." She walked out of the workshop. Back within, she heard someone whistle.

"This is getting to be a cliche!" Barnum shouted at her as Glory shook him awake.

"There's a fire, at sea," Glory told him, "The Shadowbolts and Wonderbolts are going out on the rescue."

"I may be just waking up, but the seas are hours away in either direction."

"Mages from the academy will teleport us most of the way. We'll take off the wounded and land in Baltimare," Glory told him as he pulled on a harness of tools and assorted gear, then joined her as they raced for the Wonderbolts' training field. Claire, Merry Lifter, and Brushcut followed in their wake.

At the field, mechanics already had the various Dianes, all of them, out, checked over and blades turning. While the others were collecting supplies in the slings that would carry them, and the medics were being briefed. Many, even the pegasi, were looking distinctly nervous. Barnum checked his machine quickly, then ran for the team at a table planning the action.

Shadow Pearl was trying to look in charge, but even he kept glancing at things with trepidation. Then the light changed and she spotted why. The 'us' who were being teleported hadn't meant the Wonder and Shadowbolts, and their Dianes. It also meant Her Nightjesty, Princess Luna. Barnum, bless or curse him, walked right up to her Nightjesty. She actually seemed shocked to see him.

"Precision is the key to this. I've got a spell to pick up a large chuck of water. I can run the ship through it, and not flood it," he told her, "You should be able to pick it up once I've performed it once."

"Barnum, this ship is loaded with cider," Luna said.

For the first time, the normally unflappable stallion looked worried. "Then I'd better go along. The water will cool the barrels," he said and moved away.

"What's the problem with cider?" Glory asked as she followed him back to the quadra-Dianes.

"It burns, and it boils." Barnum checked the load his Diane would be carrying: two medics. "So if a barrel heats and bursts, it'll aerosolize the liquid. Like throwing a pinch of flour in a candle flame. Or with a small leak, it'll shoot off like a rocket."

Glory suddenly understood his worry completely.

The pegasi lifted off, and hovered in position. The Dianes soon joined them, the mechanics and prep crews releasing their charges to the Wonderbolt or Shadowbolt pilots. The entire formation centered on Her Nightjesty, while beneath them, dozens of mages from the academy, led by Her Majesty, waited. The spell cast, the entire formation found itself over the sea. The lights of Baltimare in the distance, the beacon of the burning ship before them.

Glory piloted one of the rescue quadra-Dianes, and carried no one besides herself and Claire. Glory used her horn to boost the power of their pedaling as the single-seaters and the pegasi maneuvered to rush in and begin the rescue and firefighting action. The fires aboard ship illuminated the griffins struggling in the water around the ship. For once Glory didn't envy creatures with wings. "Their wings are soaked through, they can't fly and the weight is dragging them down."

In answer, a barrel shot into the air, trailing a column of fire. Then another. One exploded on the deck itself. The light showed no one and nothing on deck.

"They must have been blown off the deck by the explosions," Claire told her.

"There goes another one," she whispered as a barrel launched itself into the air, trailing a streak of flame as the boiling liquid ignited. She watched the team hold position.

"Let's hope this goes better than the usual 'Wonderbolts to the rescue' goes," Claire said worriedly.

Glory nodded. They may be Equestria's best fliers, she thought worriedly, But they have a lousy track record for rescues and 'attacking' monsters. And after the 'Equestria's Best Young Fliers' I practically had to beg them to stay. One terrified mare took out the entire team.

She put on a brave face. "Shadow Pearl knows what he's doing," she called back.

"Does Barnum?" Claire gestured as his quadra-Diane pulled close to the water, Princess Luna in close formation. The pair watched in stunned amazement as Brushcut and Merry Lifter ran the pedals, with Barnum seated behind them. The orange glow of his horn was painful to look at in the darkness. The quadra-Diane lifted slowly, and a huge cube of orange-outlined sea water lifted with the vehicle. The nose dipped as the quadra-Diane moved forward, dragging the water with it. Behind them, Luna's horn glowed, and her wings beat as she matched the feat, dragging a second cube of water out of the ocean, and carrying it aloft.

"Unbelievable," Claire breathed as the two cubes approached the ship.

I feel like my horn is being dragged out of my head, I think as I strain to keep the cube fluid, yet force it to retain its shape. The two pilots have us on a straight course. Another barrel explodes, sending a comet's tail of flaming alcohol skyward.

"Hang on Barnum," Merry Lifter tells me, "Almost there."

If I nod, my head is going to fall off, I think as I concentrate. Making contact with the ship is almost a relief. The water covers the flames, cools the barrels as we pass slowly over the masts. Some of the griffins scrambling onto the decks to escape are drenched, but I'm able to hold the thing together well enough they aren't washed overboard or drowned. Then we're past.

"Drop it lad!" Merry Lifter orders, and I do so gratefully.

Luna has lowered her water slug into the hold, and draws it out, only to lower it in again, like a person dunking a doughnut in coffee.

"Swing us around, now's the time for the rescue teams," I shout over the rotor noise.

The Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts have moved in. One of the one-seaters has landed on the deck to deploy the triage gear and the slings for the wounded. Individual members are plucking the griffins out of the water using floating rings and the pylon turn, not risking going into the water and being drowned by the panicking griffins. A glow like St. Elmo's fire envelops some, and they are carried aloft to the quadra-Diane that Glory pilots.

"Doc, you ever jump out of a perfectly good flying-machine?" I ask the medics.

"Not without a healthy push," the younger stallion says and grins fearfully.

"Wish granted," I tell him as I pluck him and his silent colleague off and lower them to the deck. "Geronimo!" I shout as I leap from the Diane and land on the deck. In a moment, I'm through the door into the main cabin. It's clear the place was an inferno. The smell of wet, burnt feathers and cooked meat permeate the air. I sense no embers and begin searching for any survivors, or sources of ignition that would bring the fire back to life.

Claire brought the Diane in close, and Spitfire hooked the sling to the cargo pickup. She gave us the signal to pick up, and we carried three wounded griffins to the distant lights of Baltimare. Pegasi from the city's search and rescue teams were heading out, along with fast-moving ships. Even these veterans were amazed at the astonishing machine in Wonderbolts' colors racing over their heads.

"Makes all the work worth it?" Claire asked as Glory waved to the crew below.

"If we get our patients to the hospital," Glory said, "Then it will be worth it. But we still have to fly back and get more."

Claire nodded. The mares' pedaling, and Glory's magic made the trip faster than the ships could manage.

"Get the wounded aboard the ships!" the deep violet Earth pony shouted as the ship continued to make ominous noises, "This vessel is not long for this world."

She trotted over to the unicorn who'd been desperately trying to find and patch the leaks. "Barnum, unless you can breathe underwater, we have to be gone too."

"I am not deserting any of the crew," the unicorn said as he strained, his expression one of confined madness, "Once they're aboard, I'll leave." He grinned at her. "Besides, I have her Nightjesty to rescue me, after I rescue everyone else."

"Where were you when we faced Discord?" Luna asked as she checked her disguise.

"Funny you should mention that," Barnum said as he spotted and stopped another leak.

Luna rolled her eyes at the colt's mad sense of humor. The ship groaned again loudly as Luna raced up the stair and checked on the medics moving the last of the wounded aboard the rescue ships. The ship suddenly lurched sideways and took on a noticeable list.

She shouted down the hatchway. "Barnum! We are leaving!"

The colt was at a dead run, and nearly collided with her. "Sink the ship! Sink the ship! Sink the ship!" he shouted as he ran for one of the waiting quadra-Dianes, leaping off the deck and catching the cargo sling in his teeth. "LUNA! MOVE!" he shouted when he had a foreleg hooked through the cargo sling, then horn-yanked her off the deck when she paused. He maneuvered getting better grips and hung upside-down from the empty cargo sling of the Diane Glory and Claire piloted. The rest of the deck was empty. The pegasi and boats were all moving away.

Luna released a spell that shattered the hull, allowing the sea in through all the holes Barnum had been patching. She was under her own wing power as the ship dropped beneath the waves. Moments later a huge bubble burst the surface and the water roiled where the ship had been. "What was that?"

"Those idiots had dragon dung as part of the ballast, and coal. On a ship loaded with alcohol. No wonder that fire started. We're just lucky the whole ship didn't blow with us on board."

Luna shuddered, remembering some of the 'tricks' people had played with dried dragon dung. Tricks that often turned tragic. "Smugglers?" she asked as she lifted the colt from his amusing but precarious perch hanging onto the sling. She set him carefully in the 'flight-engineer' position. "I'll meet you back in Baltimare. I think this may be a subject for the Baltimare police." They nodded and Luna accelerated towards the distant lights of the coast.

Glory noted that the teams were not letting her or Barnum walk towards the local 'Royal Residence' that was being freshened up for the sudden arrival of her Nightjesty and her party.

"Hey, hero," Spitfire told her as she helped support the weary mare, "Our first real rescue, that worked."

"I can walk you know," Glory complained.

"You can also fall down and ruin the ambiance," Tuxie said from the opposite side. "This is what I meant about 'flying for real', Captain. Inspiring the crowds is fine, but saving their lives while doing it. That's what I wanted."

Spitfire snorted but kept supporting Glory.

"Where's Claire? Where's Barnum?" Glory asked as she glanced around.

"Considering you made three trips, and everyone else made one," Spitfire said, "I think she deserves a rest. As for Barnum, how many tranquilizer spells did they use on him?"

"I think her Nightjesty only needed one, and everypony within ten feet also passed out," Tuxie teased.

Glory snorted at that, but let the two effectively carry her into the residence.

Out of Context Part 4

Out of Place - Out of Context Part 4

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Billy Joel - Piano Man

It's a pretty good crowd for a Saturday
And the manager gives me a smile
'Cause he knows that it's me they've been comin' to see
To forget about their life for a while
And the piano, it sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say, "Man, what are you doin' here?"

"Next time, leave me on the boat," I whisper to Glory as I shake hooves with another dignitary in the endless line of well wishers.

Glory is fetching in her uniform, along with all the other Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts. Luna has her finery. I am dressed in a decent suit, and still have to be feted as a hero among heroes, I think morosely as I shake another hoof, With only one very short day to be prepared for all this idiocy. Meanwhile, the countdown to the Grand Galloping Gala, and what happens after, gets shorter, and shorter. My mood is not the best.

It's not fair, I think as I let another idiot try the crushing hand grip on me, and I can't retaliate, The medics don't have to stand here.

I catch Luna's eye, and realize I'm being 'honored' as repayment for some indignity I exposed her to. She grins at me to drive the point home, before returning to accept the adoration of a griffon diplomat in front of her.

My foreleg feels like a piece of raw meat when the greeting line is complete. Then comes the wonderful situation of a state banquet. Catered by the griffins. The hall in the residence is not as opulent as Canterlot. Mostly paneled walls, more paintings and fewer sculptures. Between lessons on etiquette, the majordomo gave us a quick tour and a brief history of the place. Apparently, it was the first time the place had been used by an actual princess for fifty years. The supercilious, but dutiful mare had made certain everything was perfect. One of her warnings rang in my ears. 'The griffins will want to test us,' she'd warned the entire crew, 'Because ponies are weak.'

Okay, the crushing hand grip I can understand, I think as I walk with the others into the banquet hall. To bolster security, 'my' entire guard force is there. All in their best uniforms. Manes spotless and brushed, buttons gleaming, and helmets mirror bright. I felt distinctly underdressed without uniform or a sash of medals. The seating and order of precedence had been drilled into all of us. The princess sat at the head of the table, and was permitted to sit through the entire enterprise. Likewise, Glory as a lesser princess, only had to stand if Luna spoke, or if Luna stood. As a civilian without portfolio of any kind, I'd stand through the speeches, and would be obliged to be seated last when the meal is served, after all the glittering jewels. Marvelous, I think as Luna stands to speak.

I brace myself for a short, but pompous speech. "We all know why we are here," Luna began.

So let's talk about it for the next ten minutes, I respond internally, to maintain the illusion of interest.

"There has always been a warm and sunny friendship between the nation of Equestria and the Griffin lands."

With occasions flurries of barbeque sauce.

"Today we celebrate a unique occurrence in our nations' histories, that I certainly hope will not remain unique," Luna says.

Because we're going to unique up on it with a spiked club, and . . .

"We are gathered here, in a way, to honor innovation in the service of all," Luna proclaims.

And that's all we're serving while it's hot, because the speechifying will go on until everything else has gone cold, except the ice cream, I reply in my head.

"And while he would insist on spreading the credit around."

For an hour and a half, with a really big shovel, I think.

"I think no one involved would deny his work in bringing this about," Luna said.

Okay, yeah, Shadow Pearl deserves his honors, I think as I stamp my hooves in accordance with the 'polite' applause of the others.

"Would you all welcome, please, Prince Barnum."

The table hits me in the chin to distract me from the floor jumping up and crashing into my side. On my way down, I note Luna's extremely pleased expression. Schadenfreude, thy name is alicorn, I think as several people help me up: ponies and griffins.

"As graceful at accepting honors as always," Luna comments.

"Undeserved honors, your Highness," I manage as I stand, "There are many others who made this happy event possible."

You are enjoying this far too much, your Nightjesty, I think as I walk up to the head of the table. I bow to Luna, and hope I remember all the rigamarole involved in this. In the background, the majordomo is having apoplexy, this being one subject not covered in the all too brief lessons.

"You, P.T. Barnum McHorsefly are henceforth invested with the titles and responsibilities of a prince of Equestria. For your exemplary service to the Diarchy, in innovation both in the technical and the ponitarian fields. Are you worthy of such a title?"

Okay, this part I don't remember, and the only one that seems to be breathing at this point is Luna, I think, as a stall, seeming to deeply consider what she has asked, while actually trying to wrack my brain for the formula answer. Heck with it, if I answer wrong, she can just take it away.

"No, your Nightjesty. I can only do my best," I reply. The sound of the majordomo fainting indicates the depths of my faux pas.

"An honest Prince, that should disqualify him immediately," the griffin ambassador comments. The laughter breaks the tension. One of the servants escorts me to my new seat, beside Glory, and closer to Luna.

"You're her first Prince, so technically, you outrank me," Glory whispers.

Terrific, I don't say aloud. I merely raise an eyebrow at Luna, who returns an imperious gaze, with a heaping helping of terrified filly behind it.

Okay, something is going on here. What the heck does me suddenly being a prince have to do with it? I want to ask, but this is not the time or the place.

An hour and forty-five minutes of incredibly boring speeches later, the initial 'festivities' are complete. Then I'm expected to add to the speeches. "Shadow Pearl and his teams, the real heroes of the hour." Which received polite applause. Followed by stunned silence as they realize that's all I'm going to say. The griffin ambassador gives that a standing ovation, joined by Luna.

Now the ambassador grins. "Bring it in. In order to cement our feeling of peace, understanding and compromise, we would like to present her, 'Nightjesty' was it, a gift as part of the feast."

"Most kind," Luna replies, and again the hidden terror.

Okay, this is the test. And it's Luna's, or is it? I think as the four griffins carry a massive, covered dish into the hall. Large enough for a large assassin or a team of small ones, the guards and soldiers tense. Luna looks at it with a waxen smile and dread in her eyes. She indicates with her horn that they should set it up behind Glory and me, it being far too large for the table. Legs are folded down and latched, then the cover is whisked away.

Luna looks green, and some of the matrons have fainted, yet all I smell is cheese, I think, then perhaps break protocol by turning around to look at it. There, exposed for all to see, is what looks like a sheep carcass, flat on its back, legs folded, covered in a crust of bread crumbs and cheese.

"Prince Barnum, if you would," Luna says, sounding not too steady, and decidedly queasy.

I bow. "As her Nightjesty commands," I say jauntily, "But I may sneak some before I serve you."

"You will be forgiven that indiscretion."

There is a complete carving set built into the serving tray. At least it's already cooked. This shouldn't be any more difficult than a Thanksgiving turkey, I consider, Not like the time dad bought a whole steer, then found out we'd have to butcher it. 'Let a pro do it' 'I've hunted, I know how to skin and gut a kill.' I don't know which was worse, standing in the cold covered in blood, or that the biting insects all seem to have woken up out of their winter torpor and were after us. I select a joint of the foreleg to the body. The silence is deafening, and the sense of expectation palpable. The looks of ill-concealed glee on the two griffin servers cements the impression. Sorry kids, I'm of sterner stuff than that.

The knife slices through the joint far more easily than it should. One mare or a countertenor stallion gasps in horror as the carcass begins to ooze. I look at the structure of the foreleg, and keep my expression carefully neutral. The servers catch on that I'm not going to faint, as I cut the leg into two roughly equal pieces and return to the table. "Your Nightjesty, your Excellency, your rarebit. How did you keep the layers of cheese from interpenetrating, a layer of bread crumbs would not seem to be enough?"

"Oh, you like our little dish?" the Ambassador exclaims happily, "But why 'rarebit' and not rabbit."

"A joke for the easily fooled. I've been subjected to it, but not on such a grand and impressive scale." I see that Luna is getting the fact that the whole thing is essentially a giant, baked cheese sandwich.

"Yes, we are so very proud of our cheeses," the griffin said, "Ponies have been quite uncertain about importing them, yet they don't make their own."

One of the griffin servers sets down a plate before me. On it are both 'ears' and the 'tail'. He and Mile Stone could have an 'I am totally innocent of whatever you are planning to accuse me of' contest. I only nod.

"We all have our cultural illusions we must play through," the ambassador says. He grins. "You seemed to be only one brave enough take the bull by the horns."

"I once shot a dragon in my pajamas," I tell him.

"Very commendable," he says with some shock, "And very brave."

"Not half as brave as whoever put it in my pajamas," I deadpan.

"It was supposed to be an alligator," Glory offers.

"An alligator instead of a dragon?" the ambassador asks like a man trying to swim to shore.

"No, your Excellency, an alligator put the dragon in his pajamas," Glory says as she looks at the piece of 'neck' she'd been served and the multitude of layers. "Your Highnesses, we must prevail on the ambassador to have his most expert chefs prepare another for the Grand Galloping Gala."

"Prince Barnum, your policy to have criminals shot, how did that work out?" Luna asks.

"Oh, excellently your Nightjesty, getting him into the cannon was difficult, but getting something into canon often takes special effort. He screamed very little until he saw the dragon, and the dragon choked to death on him. We pulled him out and he was very willing to foreswear crime forever. Even eight-swear crime twelve-ever."

At this point the ambassador deeply regrets his little joke, I think as I glance at the pallid-faced bureaucrat, Because we can and will keep this up all night.

"Speaking of these most excellent cheeses," I ask, "Your Nightjesty, what about the rumors that the moon is made of green cheese."

"Not green, the cold keeps it in excellent condition," Luna says between bites, "Moonsteur, gorgenluna, cheddar."

"Cheddar?" I ask, "What about the dark side?"

"Cheddar is the dark side," Luna says with menace, she adds wistfully, "It was the crackers I missed."

"Oh, that's why you made Barnum a prince," Glory says.

"Her aim is still lousy?" I ask.

The expression of terror on the ambassador's face, as he would face at least another hour of this, is hilarious.

Mile Stone stood at the doorway of the 'Bedlam House' and watched Barnum check over what looked like a disassembled bridge, as he stood in his fanciest dress uniform. "What is all that in aid of?" he finally asked.

"In case the roof falls in. Or we need to keep it from falling in. They have to be light enough to be transported by air, and strong enough to do the job."

"I shouldn't have asked," Mile Stone lamented, "Are you going? The party starts in an hour."

"I never got an invite," Barnum replied breezily.

"The royalty, which you are part of, never need 'an invite'. They just show up," Mile Stone said, "Your Highness." He enjoyed the hateful glare from Barnum at the relish with which he'd said the title.

"I, for one, am glad neither he nor his patron are going to be here." The supercilious voice, attached to the equally supercilious stallion wandered into Barnum's apartments.

"Besides, if that's a Prince, I'm overqualified," Barnum said.

"What's that supposed to mean," Prince Blueblood, the distant cousin of her Majesty asked.

"That's supposed to mean, that if one of Celestia's own knights were to make your acquaintance, you'd be too wrapped up in yourself to treat her decently," Barnum said harshly, "That my parents taught me that gentlecolt and gentlemare, are training and attitude, not bloodline. If someone tried to take a train to your ego, it would bounce off."

"Hmpf, I've never been so insulted." The stallion put his nose in the air.

"Considering you think your Princedom can be tarnished with blood and dirt, and I know mine can only be elevated by action," Barnum said darkly, "Why don't you go to your party, stay freshly polished, and leave me to my work."

"You are throwing me out of your sordid, little workshop?" Blueblood asked, aghast at the notion.

"No, I'm tricking you into staying so I can tell you what you really are," Barnum said, "A waste of flesh. Maybe if someone skinned you, they'd at least make a good coat out of you."

"You wouldn't dare!" the aristocrat gasped as he backed out of the room.

"We could render your fat head down to make wonderful candles!" Barnum shouted at the retreating stallion. He glanced at Mile Stone. "Now you know why my country killed all its nobles. Inbred streak of piss, the lot of them."

"And their Highnesses? And Glory?"

"They earned it, and keep earning it. That big baby thinks it's rightfully his, and devil take the hindmost." Barnum grinned. "Besides, technically I'm a First first citizen that puts me up in Cadence's latitude. Well below her, of course, but far above the next in line."

"And you intend to go on 'earning it'?" Mile Stone asked, "That's what these are for?"

"Her Majesty trusted me to invent. That was the implied contract between us. Her Nightjesty had her own reasons for what she did, even if it did make me 'Prince Cheese Slicer', but that doesn't repudiate the previous contract, any more than your transition from Day to Night Guard severs your loyalty to Equestria."

"I still think you should come, lad," Mile Stone pleaded, "Without someone to talk to, this is going to be deadly dull."

"I happen to know that Celestia's knights are going to be here. All of them in fancy gowns."

Mile Stone's heart dropped. "I'll alert the fire brigades and rescue squads," he said and turned to hurry away, then stopped, "Those really are to hold up the roof, aren't they?"

"Or to hold the city to the mountain," Barnum said.

"Your Nightjesty?" I exclaim of the tired figure who lands far enough outside the bright light and noise of the gala to avoid notice by those inside.

"Your Highness," she replies, with weary humor.

"Go on in, you'll make quite a splash," I tell her.

"No," she replies, "Why aren't you in there Barnum?" she asks me.

"Not my kind of party," I admit, "Too loud for a discussion group, and too quiet for a party." I consider. "Hang on, I can get you something to eat without going in."

"I'll be waiting in the garden," Luna tells me as I move off.

I find the despondent pony I was looking for. "Hey, Miss Applejack."

"Barnum? Wha'cha all you doin' way out here?"

"No invite," I tell her, "Ah, if you wanted to sell your food, why didn't you get on the caterers' list?" I ask, although I saw the episode.

"Caterers?" Applejack perks up, "Y'all mean they had food all bought and paid fer?"

"Yep," I reply, "But, if you're selling, I'll take a pie and two fritters. I've got a friend who needs some comfort food."

She smiles and food is exchanged for money. I head back to her Nightjesty, who has concealed herself near the gardens. From her expression, she's watching something of intense interest.

"Come out!" Fluttershy yells to the fleeing animals. Incidently spooking one of the most powerful beings in Equestria. We watched the yellow pegasus chase assorted animals from tree to tree and shadow to shadow.

Luna withdrew. "I have a bad feeling about this," she confides as we slip back into the palace through a side entrance.

"This should make you feel better," I tell her as I offer her the pie, "Apple Family, best in the business. I take it the investigation didn't go well."

"The griffins claim no knowledge of the ballast, or its dangerous qualities," Luna explained between bites, obviously enjoying it. I use a napkin to gently wipe her mouth. She looks at me a bit askance. "So the incident is officially a terrible accident. I am, displeased by that result." She looks over at my bed, then at me. "I am invoking royal privilege, there are other beds. I have no desire to deal with servile functionaries."

I move to change the sheets, and she shakes her head. "But you'll let me tuck you in?" I ask as I instead get a second pillow and a comforter.

"With you I know you do it just to make me think there's an ulterior motive, when none exists," Luna says tiredly, as she removes her adornments, placing them on a bedside table Hardwood made for me. She climbs in as I turn down the covers for her. "Thank you," she tells me as I tuck her in. She's asleep in moments.

I feel rather than hear the fall I know is pillar on pillar. A moment later Mile Stone is at the door.

"Lad."

"Please tell me you're joking, " I whisper back, making shushing noises.

The bedraggled sergeant shakes his head. I pick up the truss pieces and pass them to the unicorn and earth pony teams forming outside.

I spot Neanderpony, Claire and Glory in the crowd. "You two, on guard if you would." I let them see who's taking refuge in my room. "Nobody except, Glory, me or Celestia goes in."

"You do understand that when ponies say 'that stallion can get any mare in his bed', they are implying you were there too," Claire points out.

I glare at her, and she and her husband take up their positions.

"You're right, she's too cute to take advantage of," Glory says, not helping.

I roll my eyes. "How much of the palace was destroyed?"

"Not much," Glory admits, "Although ponies will be talking about this gala for years."

"Best gala ever," Mile Stone says happily.

"And you ponies think I have a weird idea of fun," I comment as we gallop towards the grand ball room.

Dozens of unicorns are staring at the fallen columns. Her Highness is looking around ruefully.

Probably because she wants out, and is trying to keep from laughing, I think.

"You Majesty, it isn't safe. With respect, I must insist that you leave, until repairs are complete," I tell her as politely as possible.

She looks at Glory, who reluctantly nods. "Very well. I doubt I could be more help." She gravely nods and withdraws.

"Don't let your 'princeship' go to your head," Glory warns.

"I've got to get to the moon somehow!" I whine back.

The others shake their heads at our antics.

"Okay, the brackets fit together, and the jack screws adjust the overall length. Get some heavy planking to protect the floor, and then we'll put these in place. In the meantime, Barnum, check those column sections for any flaws and certify them load-bearing or not," Glory orders, "Get moving, I want this back up and perfect before sunrise!"

"Yes, your Highness," I tell her.

I'd managed to get Glory to agree that the painting would be better done with the sun up. All but two of the columns were restored, sans paint. The remaining two had the stones of the columns too badly damaged to easily repair.

The artisans, masons and other workers had crashed out all over the ballroom. The beds of my apartment, and all the blankets and pillows the maid staff could find had been provided to the dozens of sleeping ponies.

Many of them would be shocked that her Majesty was in here covering them with blankets, I think as I move among them, as exhausted as they are, but too tired and keyed up to sleep. The Grand Galloping Gala: the next to last gateway. Only one more, and Discord lies beyond, I think as I walk, No use fighting it. It's going to happen. He spotted Fancypants, and threaded his way over to the aristocratic stallion.

"Fuddle!" the stallion whispers a curse, "I skip one of these dreadful parties, and it becomes the one ponies will talk about for the next half-century."

"What happened a half-century ago?" I ask as I lead him out into the hall.

"The dragon ambassador had magic enough to shrink down to interact with ponies eye-to-eye. The griffon ambassador had the audacity to goad the dragon into a fight. The exchange of pastries was quite a sight to see. I was a guard then, doing my service to the princess. I dare say, neither of them expected her 'pony highness' to be such a sniper with mint imperials. I dare say it was a tragic day for her Highness when he was recalled. He was one of the few creatures nearly as long-lived as she, and nearly as adventuresome."

I snickered at that. Then came to attention as their Highnesses looked in the door. Celestia gestures for us to be quiet. Luna looks at her big sister with incredulity, but the pair head off. In the distance some giggling can be heard.

"They trust you to be on the job. Prince Barnum, the Royal Corps of Engineers, all in one pony," Fancypants comments, and gestures for me to follow him outside into the garden, where we can look in at all the drowsing ponies. He smirks. "At least you have better luck that Prince Blueblood. Is it true that he was told off, rather pointedly, by one of Celestia's knights herself?"

"Yes," I reply, "Lady Rarity, element of generosity. She was willing to put up with quite a bit of his attitude. But she was in no mood to put up with it forever."

"I must remember to invite them to one of my garden parties."

"Something a little less formal, I hope. In fact, one of your 'regardening' parties might be better. Where you do the clean up of the Royal Gardens."

"That's such a lowbrow affair," he says, "And so boring."

"I think you'll find that some of them aren't so aghast at manual labor as the Canterlot nouveau riche. And some might like to learn about arranging a garden."

He looks at me askance, but accepts it. "Lost opportunities." Then looks over my shoulder. I glance over and Glory is approaching. She looks lost and forlorn.

"I guess this is goodbye for a while," she says, then glances over at the pillars. "You'll get those fixed?"

"I'll do my best to see everything is back to normal by the time you return," I tell her truthfully.

"I bet you will," she says, clearly wanting to get answers. Instead she gives me a passionate kiss, ignoring who might be watching. "Be well." Then gallops off before I can say anything.

I look back to Fancypants' very stoic expression. "Whatever made you send her away, has got to be serious."

"Everything will be fine. It'll just be a bit rocky for a few days."

"Care to share?" he asks.

"Other than to give you the same advice I gave her and Sir Eagle Bell, go visit Vanhoover or Las Pegasus for a few days? No."

He raises an eyebrow, but accepts. Then turns away to walk back the way Glory left.

I look at the sleeping ponies in the room. I wish I could come up with a convincing reason to evacuate the entire city. But then he'd go find where they are, rather than attacking them here, I consider, So I sacrifice how many of them, to save the rest of the planet. What kind of a person does that make me. I suddenly feel much less secure about my recent elevation to Prince. So, did Luna know and make it a reminder of me choosing life and death for so many, or is something else? I leave to arrange breakfast for the workers, and for new stones to replace the damaged ones.

Celestia sipped her tea and enjoyed the moments of quiet in the throne room between the councilors' arguments and the cases she was to judge. One of the servants approached with a wheeled trolley of tea and small cakes.

"Your Highness, if you'd told us, we would have made the time easier for you," the elderly mare said. Then she whispered, "We've been trying to guess the lucky stallion."

" 'Lucky stallion'?" Celestia asked curiously.

The mare pulled out a newspaper, and hooved it over to her liege. "You must be very proud of Princess Luna," the mare said and beamed at her sovereign, "Begging your pardon, your Majesty."

Celestia scanned the paper. She carefully set the tea down and swallowed, as she focused on the 'Sunny Days' column, and realized she hadn't submitted one to the paper recently.

"We had no idea you were in a family way," the older mare said, "And I guess now the secret's out, you don't have to pretend any more."

" 'Luna is actually Celestia's DAUGHTER who was born nearly full-grown, as are all alicorn foals, with the aid of Twilight Sparkle and her friends as magical midwives!'" Celestia thundered as she crushed the paper to a pinhead and burned it to ashes. "LUNA!" she shouted as she stood, then calmed down. "No," she whispered as she thought it through. "BARNUM!" Celestia dashed from the throne room, nearly trampling a few flustered, functionaries who didn't dive out of the way soon enough.

Moments later, the elderly maid, and the tea trolley returned to the forms of Luna and Barnum.

"When do we tell her these papers are all fakes?" Luna asked, as she pulled out her own that stated she spend 1000 years recovering from giving birth to Celestia.

"Let her be furious for a little while. It's always good to let that out for a bit," he told her Nightjesty. As he examined his, which stated he was Celestia's child. "Besides, I want that 'Sunny Days' gone as much as you do. It's a double-edged sword she really doesn't need any more. Besides, I also asked Coltchak about the rumors, and their truthfulness. That should get some very interesting balls rolling."

Luna nodded. "You fight dirty."

"Speaking of fighting dirty, did you contact Pinkie Pie and Rarity about your arrival on Nightmare Night?" Barnum asked.

"I don't see how playing a ridiculously extravagant villain will help my image," Luna admitted.

"Trust me, a ridiculous and ineffectual villain is always good for laughs. And a bit of a scare can be fun. Give the kids a safe scare, and let the adults in on the joke."

Luna shrugged. "I bow to your superior wisdom in this, your Highness."

"Good grief, not you too!"

Luna giggled.

Out of Sight Part 1

Out of Place - Out of Sight Part 1

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

"Sound the Bugle" - Bryan Adams

Sound the bugle now - play it just for me
As the seasons change - remember how I used to be
Now I can't go on - I can't even start
I've got nothing left - just an empty heart
I'm a soldier - wounded so I must give up the fight
There's nothing more for me - lead me away . . .
Or leave me lying here

"He's been feeling out of sorts since the Grand Galloping Gala," Mile Stone told Hardwood as they walked through the halls. "He sent Glory away, to be with her uncle for a little while, and strongly advised them both to be as far away from Canterlot and Ponyville as they could manage in a few days. That was the last time I saw him show any enthusiasm for anything."

"I thought you said he didn't attend the Gala," Hardwood tried to joke, "Sorry."

"Major, I've seen some fighting in my life. I've seen stallions work themselves up into a near lather to avoid facing something. I've also seen others just give up and quit living. I have never seen this quietness. It's as if he knows he's going to lose, and just wants to put the best face on it he can."

"Are there any competitions or races I don't know about? Has he or Glory come to some kind of decision about them being togther?"

"None that I know about. I even asked my wife, I know 'ouch'. She said they might have had a falling out. Young people say and do things that wiser heads know to avoid," the Sergeant said and shook his head, "But this doesn't feel that way."

"I can look into it, but I'm not sure if there's much I can do. If it is a lovers' spat, I can offer a shoulder to cry on, but wise advice would better come from a stallion married more years than he's been alive."

"He remembers being married. He has as much knowledge as I," Mile Stone said, "That's why I don't think it's that."

"I can talk to him," Hardwood said.

"Tia?" Luna asked as she approached her sister in her private chambers. "Are you all right? You were so happy after spending time with your student and her friends after the Gala. Even the signing of the new Magna Carta didn't seem to depress you. Now you seem to be moping. Did something happen, the ceremony was too formal and ostentatious? There is a new list of demands? Sunny Days published picture of how you eat cake in private?"

Celestia smiled at that. "Sunny Days has decided to retire to write a historical novel on the ancient history of Equestria." The grin became pained. "Perhaps then I can explain some of the decisions I have made."

"Tia, I was insane, and I wasn't really myself. You could have killed me, but you didn't," Luna said. She paused and looked deeper at the problem. "What is really bothering you?"

"The spells holding Discord are weakening. But the two of us no longer wield the Elements, and the current wielders, are not what we were."

"The Elements in their hands are remarkably potent," Luna said, and added sardonically, "I can attest to that."

"But they are not us. How do they survive the initial clash, before they can attack him with them?" she asked, "Do not fear, I have a plan, and it will work. It's just going to be harder on you and the Bearers than I'd like it to be."

"Can you share the plan, or do you think he's listening?" Luna asked.

Celestia stood up and sang,
"Within a world beset by chaos, a most beguiling man.
He had the look on Luna I would find." Celestia nuzzled her sister.
"The haunted hunting kind,
I asked him to say what would happen, how it all began
I asked again - he never said a word
As if he hadn't heard
And then the room was full of madness at full flood
All things became unstuck - sound, scent, and sight amok
And Luna then it struck
Then I saw all of our ponies crying for her fate
And then I heard them mentioning my name
And leaving me the blame."

"Oh 'Tia," Luna soothed her sister, nuzzling her gently.

I don't mind finding the two alicorn sisters in my room as I'm getting ready to turn in after a hard day. The fact they're both wearing what is presumably their sleep wear, and several of the mattresses are arranged on the floor to simulate the size of Celestia's bed is what draws questions. "Are you two okay?"

"I told Luna," Celestia says quietly.

Not 'I told Luna everything', I realize, But enough that the old feelings and fears have resurfaced. Can thousand-year-old god-queens still have PTSD after so long?

"Just sleeping," I tell them, "I'm guessing that's what you want anyway."

Both nod. There's none of the playfulness I've seen in Celestia before. She's a scared young woman, I think as I lead them over and settle in. I wind up not needing a blanket. Celestia gathers me up in her legs, Luna spoons up behind me and covers both of us with a wing, then Celestia covers Luna and me with her wing. The two alicorns touch noses over my head. As they drift off, I'm aware of little whimpering sounds from both of them.

What do they dream, I wonder, And what did Discord do to them, their families, even their whole race, before they defeated him? It's a question I haven't asked for fear of getting this exact reaction. Perhaps I should have, I think to myself as I drift off.

It's the picnic we had down at the river. Two years before the tragedy. For some reason, I'm not running around doing all the things I assume I would have done if I'd met my relatives again after their deaths. Instead, I'm doing what I did then, manning the grill and keeping an eye on the kids.

The arrival of Celestia and Luna forces a change of plans. Introductions all around, first and foremost, and amazement at not everyone freaking out about talking horses on the one hand, and the alicorn sisters not freaking out about all the humans on the other. I return to the grill. Luna wanders off with my brother and sister to watch the kids. What worries me a little is Celestia wandering off to sit on the grass and talk, very seriously, with my wife. My one glance in that direction gets an imperious finger point from her towards the grill. This talk is going to be private.

The two teenage boys aren't impressed with the 'talking pony'. Luna recognizes this as wannabe Alpha behavior, and realizes that human males have dominance games similar to pony mares. Insults and challenges are issued, and then the scuffle. It's hardly a fight, because even two on one, Luna outweighs the gangly humans, has more 'strikers' than the two combined, and has actual combat training and experience. Very shortly, she has both face down on the grass, and is perched atop them like a happy cat. And she'd done it without unsettling the parents. True to the somewhat stupid 'I haven't lost until I admit I've lost' attitude of seemingly every teenager in our extended family (including the adults when they were that age), the challenges continue.

After a deliberate interval, and a few calculated insults that Luna is just a walking, talking, girls' toy, the alicorn princess has had enough. With one boy on her back, and the other clutched in her legs, she takes to the air. After a series of aerobatics that would have given Chuck Yeager or Richthofen fits of envy, Luna hovers over the ground, shrugs one loudmouth off, and drops the other on top of him. She asks about what they think about 'girly toys' now?

For the first time in a long time, the two are utterly speechless.

Then Luna gets a shock of her own. My six-year-old niece approaches her with a box, and the serious attitude of a six-year-old drilled that certain jobs are her responsibility. In this case, it's taking care of horses. She has one she regularly rides, and after she rides it, she is to properly wipe it down, check it over, and curry it. The fact her idiot cousins rode this one, and it can talk, is secondary. Luna clearly has no experience dealing with determined six-year-olds, and gets absolutely no help from the girl's father. And the pleading look aimed at me gets no help. Walking away from the girl only get her to pick up the box and follow. The little girl knows horses, and stays out of range of a kick, but is dogged in her pursuit.

After several minutes of unsuccessfully walking away, teleporting, and hiding behind various human adults, Luna finally does what every other horse exposed to the girl does. She relents. She kneels down so the girl has an easier time, and braces herself for the clumsy ministrations of an amateur. In a few moments, she understands why none of the adults sided with her. The wipe down is thorough and thoroughly enjoyable. Checking her hooves for stones, bruising or any other problems elicits a smile. But the currying and grooming. Oh, does she love the currying and grooming. I make a mental note to warn the royal hairdressers that they had some severe competition. Luna practically falls asleep under the ministrations of the little human. Wiping off her eyes and cleaning out her nose is a new experience, but the 'dock area' gets her to stand up suddenly with a surprised whinny. And makes all the rest of us laugh at the expression as Luna tries to explain why that last part is unnecessary. The six-year-old has dealt with nervous horses before, and talking horse or not, is determined to finish the job. Talk that 'the nice pony doesn't need that done, thank you!' has`absolutely no effect. The girl listens, with an expression on her face that she's seen the truth, and knows she's being lied to. Luna's other problem is the little girl 'speaks horse' and despite Luna's superior size and power, the girl is clearly exhibiting that she's lead mare.

I take pity on her, sort of. "Luna," I call, and she gallops over. "Humans have a very different hunting style than other predators. A human will pick one animal out of the herd, and pursue it. The animal will gallops away, and the human will trot after it. And when the human gets close, the prey will gallop away, and the human will trot after it. After several hours, or even days of this, the prey will either give up and submit, or be so exhausted it can't move anymore." I nod to the little girl standing beside Luna with her kit. "Humans have learned to apply that technique to other pursuits."

"It tickles!" Luna insists, then whispers, "And it's intimate." Luna hangs her head. "You aren't going to help me, are you?"

"If she's that determined, then you really haven't been keeping yourself properly clean. Clean horse, that's all she cares about. There's a copse of trees over there. Talk to her about technique."

Luna looks at me incredulously, that a half-grown human would know more about pony hygiene than a thousand-year-old, god-princess pony. My expression, and the little girl's show that I'm siding with the girl, and she's not taking 'no' for an answer. The alicorn trudges along with her neck down below her shoulders. They step around the trees out of sight. It's several minute later when they walk out. My niece looking exultant, and Luna walking a peculiar, swivel-hipped gait.

"I am not pleased," Luna tells me. "But the little one is well-versed on many pony maladies. Too well versed."

"She rides horses regularly, and takes good care of them. I suspect she'll . . . she would have grown up to be a veterinarian."

She shies at that, despite my soft tone. "Barnum, I'm sorry," Luna said.

"It's all right. Reminding me what else I'm fighting for. If Discord wins in Equestria, he'll eventually tire of it, and might find his way to Earth. And we have no magic to fight back with."

Luna nods.

The burgers and hot dogs are ready, in numbers large enough to start feeding people. Celestia and my wife have been talking the whole time, while setting the table. The rest of the parents and kids head over.

"I'd like to try a hotdog," Celestia tells me as she stands on the opposite side of the grill.

"It's meat," I tell her, "I think you'd rather -"

Laughter interrupts as everyone looks at Luna, with her nose practically buried in my wife's potato salad. "We must have this recipe!" Luna announces as she comes up for air. More laughter follows.

"Here you go." I serve Celestia one of the more well-done ones.

"Barnum, may I have a different part of the dog?" she asks in a tone of such wronged innocence that I know she's been waiting all morning to say that.

"Actually that's all brain," my wife interjects.

"Brain?" Celestia asks.

"Don't most men do their thinking with that?" my loyal and lovely wife asks.

Celestia nods at her wisdom.

I keep silent at their chuckling, and decide to keep quiet about something else, that will assuredly happen later.

Saying grace before the meal is something that was traditional in our family, but a tradition I haven't openly followed in Equestria.

"Did you feel constrained against practicing your religion around us?" Celestia sees to the truth of things.

"Somewhat. More because your society seems not to have religion as much as tradition and rituals," I explain, "And also because a theological discussion would be beyond most ponies' ability to grasp."

" 'For God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son, so whoever believeth in Him shall have everlasting life'," my brother quotes.

"That seems a wonderful sentiment," Celestia said.

"There's the part about what we humans did to that son, which isn't lunchtime conversation, which also factors into it. Let's just say, you and Adonia might have in interesting conversation about restraint in the face of overwhelming provocation by your beloved children."

Celestia files this away for later, probably post-Discord, discussion. The culture and technology of the two different lands is discussed. To the embarrassment of we three 'ponies', both my wife and sister talk around their approval of an 'arrangement' among myself, Celestia, Luna and Glory. I didn't think anything could throw her Majesty off track that badly. The kids, of course, can't fathom what the heck the adults are talking about.

"Life goes on 'Barnum'," my wife scolds me, "And you are cute."

This disgusts the two teenage boys, who head off. Luna offers to play 'hoofball' with them. Our equestrienne demands to stay at the table.

"Don't you want to ride your pony?" Luna asks, and immediately has a loyal follower.

With the kids gone, my wife breaches the real subject of the event. "How are you going to defeat Discord?"

"The way it was done on the show," I explain, "Twilight received all the friendship reports she'd sent to Princess Celestia."

"Does anyone else have access to them and the transmission system?" my brother asks.

"Many in Canterlot have access to that spell, but I fear Discord will run riot over them," Celestia tells us.

"Let Luna in on the story," my sister says, "She seems levelheaded, for a girl barely out of her teens."

"How old do you think I am?" Celestia asks.

"A few years older than Luna, early twenties maybe."

"That's based on a human lifespan with the onset of puberty between 11 and 14, adulthood between 18 and 21, and average lifespan of 75 to 85 years."

"By that accounting, I'm not yet 12," Celestia admits.

"You seem very mature for your age," my sister says.

"She's over a thousand years old," I point out, "And some very hard years here and there."

"Still, tell Luna. She'll know what to do," my wife says.

"It the diversionary tactics you'll need," my brother-in-law suggests, "Something to put this guy off kilter. If he's that arrogant, play to it, and get him to quit expecting you to come in from that side."

For roughly the next hour, we discuss tactics, powers, and counter tactics. It raises Celestia's spirits, that none of the humans ever doubts that victory can be achieved. There's just some heat in advocating the best way to achieve it. While my wife and sister are off clearing the table, and Celestia is watching the 'kids' playing, my brother and brother-in-law take me aside. "Don't forget the doomsday option," my brother-in-law tells me. "Even if you can't really pull it off, let him know it's on the way."

"He likes touching people," I tell them, "If there's any way to make it look like I did it while I had him as a battery, I'll use it."

They leave me to my thoughts, and go help pack away the leftovers.

The game ends with the teenagers run ragged by Luna, and her 'rider'. Luna accepts a second treatment, completely hidden by the copse of trees. Then the six-year-old retrieves her curry kit and approaches Celestia. Luna is enjoying this almost too much, and I almost can't watch.

The implication that Celestia Solar, Princess of Equestria has not been properly groomed is an outrage. For support, Celestia turns to the adults, including her sister. "Say, do you think the rain will hurt the rhubarb?" my wife asks Luna, who deeply considers.

Celestia closes on me, and ignores her pursuer. "Barnum, please explain to this child, I am adequately groomed," Celestia tells me.

"She wants to be dirty," I tell my niece. Giggles from the other adults undermine Celestia's position. Having the girl pick up a front hoof and start working is a further offense against her royal mystique. She levitates the girl away and stares at me.

"That wasn't a very good or convincing explanation," she tells me.

"She's six, direct thinking is the best course of action. And she can see you need a decent grooming."

The look of wounded pathos should shatter my cold, stony heart. But my niece taking advantage of the target's distraction, picks up the other hoof and starts to work.

"What are you finding, kiddo?" I ask

"Stone bruise, bad shoeing."

"Bad shoes! These are some of the finest in Equestria."

"Cracked hooves," my niece says like a sentence of death while she works.

"Have you been chewing again sister?" Luna asks innocently. She's very lucky the local sun won't respond to Celestia's commands.

"You can always use the spell Luna used on me. With her whole family watching," I tell her. "Hey, this is just a dream, remember? Forget your royal dignity, what anyone will think of you, and let an expert go over you this once."

"It's wrong to just groom without asking," Celestia said.

"She isn't trying to curry favor."

"Ha," Celestia deadpans.

I continue, "She's a kid who's been well-trained. Horse, dirty, groom horse. It's as simple as that. There's no political intent, other than her showing you she's Alpha Mare, and you aren't."

Celestia glares at me, but the smirks from everyone else lessen the effect.

"I'd like to see how she reacts to getting her dock worked on." Luna spoils the surprise.

"Oh no! No! No! No!" Celestia is airborne in a moment and lands in a nearby tree. Her relative security is quickly broken by the sight of a small human, plastic bail of her carry-bucket between her teeth, climbing up the tree after her.

"I think she forgot humans are related to monkeys," my wife comments as the mighty Princess, Master of the Sun, shies nervously about the pursuing six-year-old. To Celestia's credit, part of her concern is the danger she's put the creature in by her actions. Most of 'her ponies' would have backed off by this point. I head over to break up the contest.

Celestia alights on a heavy branch near the trunk, and leans in to speak reasonably to the girl. My niece reaches out, and hooks a finger between the sets of molars in Celestia's mouth. The sovereign rears back, but the girl is hanging onto the tree, and the recalcitrant horse with equal tenacity, a contest between two stubborn 'Alpha Mares'. By staging the contest where she chose it, Celestia eliminated many advantages she'd normally have.

"Megan, let her go," I tell my niece.

I get a mulish look from her. Then I switch to parent voice, "Now."

She releases the alicorn, and glares at me. With her free hand, she takes the bucket out of her mouth. "She needs to be groomed. A horse can get sick like that," she informs both of us.

"Not up a tree. If she hid up a tree, you frightened her," I tell her, "Climb down."

With a grumbling about the stupidity of adults she follows me down to ground level. Celestia remains in the air, well out of the girl's reach.

"Megan?" Celestia asks nervously.

"Yes, named after a character in a TV show my sister used to watch all the time. You may have heard the name. That Megan was also a tomboy who got used to dealing with stubborn ponies."

Luna giggling doesn't help Celestia's downcast mood one little bit.

Appearing outside my room in the castle, back in pony form, face down on the marble floors, followed by Luna being dropped on me, tells me one thing. "I think your sister wasn't amused."

"You think?" Luna asks, "I just hope she didn't lock me out of my own bedroom." She walks a few steps then glances back. "What are you waiting for?"

"While I appreciate the offer, I think we've given Sunny Days quite enough to publish for a few columns." It's hard to walk away, when your feet aren't touching the ground, and a determined alicorn is walking towards her bedroom.

So Barnum, stay the course, or try something that might not work, I wonder as I reread the letter that Cheerilee will be bringing a group of school kids through the statuary garden tomorrow. I should feel something. Relief, terror, expectation. My mind races over alternatives, but there's no anxiety over not following those paths. Only the acknowledgment that other alternatives exist, I tell myself as I look at the paper. Instead, I feel nothing. I am as prepared as I can be, and I am prepared to pay the price. I guess this is what they mean by 'Death is as light as a feather and duty is heavier than a mountain.'

I wonder did/will their fight release Discord, or did/will Discord's imminent release ignite their fight. Which was the symptom and which was the cause? I consider, Celestia knows as well, and she knows the binding magic far better than I, so if she's stayed her hand . . . I have to be patient, and play this out. If there are other ways, others will have to investigate them.

"So it begins, so it ends," I comment. I turn at the sound of muffled hooves. The collection of nervous ponies seems out of place.

Then it becomes clear. Every revolution must have a 'white' phase, and a 'red' phase, I remember, We managed the white, without any red, now comes the inevitable red phase. The violence and passion will not be denied. Okay, I can deal with that. They want a passion play, they shall have one. I hope Andrew Lloyd Webber has a sense of humor.

"Ah, Merry Lifter, Hardwood, I was wondering who was on the inside. Care to introduce your friends? Not that it matters." When they glance at each other, 'social norming', I order, "Come, come, I'll make no trouble. And, Major? Tomorrow's the day. See you on the other side, maybe." I lowered my head in a gesture of equine submission, and don't resist as my guard and several other conspirators put a bag over my head.

They're more afraid of me than I thought, I consider as I am rather gently handled, With humans, that means unpredictability. But with ponies, audacity and insanity are an ironclad defense. I consider my exact insanity as I await our arrival at wherever we are going. Ironic that Discord may save me if they are unshakable. Should I mention it to him? No, don't throw other ponies under the bus.

We're still in the castle somewhere, when someone yanks the bag off my head. The crowd and room are quite large. There are several distinguished-looking ponies in judicial robes clustered together and earnestly whispering to each other. Another group surrounds Brown Chief, and a third around Moon City. All of them are trying to seem more certain than they obviously feel.

Go for broke, I think as I realize they are trying to at least simulate a fair trial. Then I note their uncertainty, anger and glances to each other. They're working up the nerve to do something they'll regret. So, I guess this is proof that the Crusaders' fight was as much caused by Discord as it had a hand in freeing him. I look around at the building tension. I'd better put a stop to this before they do act, because they won't be able to blame the insanity that follows on anything but themselves. If you're gonna scare people, going 'Pinkie Pie' a la Andrew Lloyd Webber is a good way.

I raise my head to maximum intent. There's a moon beam from the windows in the wall. Several of the others look uncertain as I move towards it. Others, especially the guards, look ready for a break out. I step into the impromptu spotlight, and perform.

"It is transparent now - too late, all too well, I can see, where we all, soon will be. If you strip away, the myth from the mare, you will see where we all soon will be."

The leaders motion, and the guards close in. I continue my song.

"LUNA! You've started to believe the things they say of you. You really do believe this Discord talk is true? Then all the good we've done, will soon get swept away. Safety soon will matter more than the right to say."

The ponies start looking at each other in confusion, as if they are merely the audience to a sung conversations they are hearing only my part of.

"Listen Luna I don't like what I see. All I ask is that you listen to me. And remember - I've been with you both all along."

I glance at the frightened crowd, and sing as if reporting what I'm seeing.

"You have set them all on fire. They think they've found their new Mare-siah, and they'll hurt you if they find they're wrong."

I smile as if remembering happier times, and sing.

"I remember when this took to the air. No Discord talk then - we called you our mare. And believe me - my admiration for you hasn't died. But every word we say today, will twist round some other way. And they'll hurt you if they think you've lied."

I make the next as a desperately sung plea to the moon.

"Listen Luna do you care for your race? Don't you see we must keep in our place? We are all threatened now - have you forgotten what he did to us? I am frightened for the crowd, for we are getting much too loud. And he'll crush us if we go too far, if we go too far."

None of them want to get within 10 feet of me now. Some are terrified, their thoughts of arrest or a trial discarded. Others are listening intently to my song, hoping to hear Luna's answer.

"Listen Luna to the warning I give. Please remember that I want us to live, but I only see our chances weakening with every hour."

I sing loudly at the assembled ponies, sending them scampering.

"All your followers are blind! Hate of 'Tia fills their minds. It was beautiful but now it's sour. Yes it's all gone sour. Listen Luna to the warning I give. Please remember that I want us to live."

Then I turn to the stunned assembly. They were ill-prepared for my outburst, its vehemence, or the effective admission that there is a danger out there that Luna has underestimated.

I take advantage of their momentary disorder and march up to Moon City and Brown Chief who are frantically coordinating. My sympathetic tone and song frightens them worse.

"Neither you Brown Chief, nor your loyal ponies, nor the Solars, nor the guards, nor Moon City, not Hardwood, nor the 'bolts, nor the knights, nor doomed Equestria itself, understand what power is, understand what horror is, understand at all . . . understand at all."

I sing my explanation to the crowd. Without clarifying things in the least.

"If you knew all that I knew, my poor Equestrians, you'd see the truth, but you close your eyes. But you close your eyes. While you live, your troubles are many, poor Equestrians."

I concentrate on the leaders, and sing.

"To save you all, one only has to die. One only has to die."

The performance has lasted to sunrise, and in my pacing as I sang, I found myself in a sunbeam. Everypony in the place was shying away from me already. If they weren't looking at all their neighbors for answers, they were looking to their leaders. No one had any answers, and the fear had become palpable.

I'm not in danger any longer, I think, But better to tell them it'll all work out. That we've got it all planned. I step into the sunbeam, and stand transfixed, staring into the sun. Then I bow my head and begin to sing.

"I only want to say, if there is a way, take this cup away from me. For I don't want to taste its poison. Feel it burn me. I have changed, I'm not as sure as when we started. Then, I was inspired. Now, I'm sad and tired."

I stand up, and defiantly sing.

"Listen! Surely I've exceeded expectations. Served both sisters, seemed like thirty."

I scan the crowd.

"Would you ask as much from any of your own? But, if I'm to die. Stare the monster down, and do the things you need of me. Let him hate me, hit me, hurt me, vent his wrath on me."

I pace nervously as I sing. They clear away from me.

"I'd wanna know I'd wanna know, my God. I'd wanna see I'd wanna see, my God."

I turn to confront the sunbeam. I walk around it as I sing.

"Why I should die. Would I be more noticed than I ever was before? Would the things I've said and done matter anymore?"

I resume pacing while I sing.

"I'd have to know, I'd have to know my Lord. I'd have to see, I'd have to see my Lord. If I die, what will be my reward? If I die, what will be my reward? I'd have to know, I'd have to know my Lord."

I stand in the sunbeam as if challenging Celestia directly.

"Why should I die? Oh why should I die? Can you show me now that I would not be killed in vain? Show me just a little of your omnipresent brain! Show me there's a reason for your asking me to die! You're far too keen on where and how, but not so hot on why!"

I nod.

"All right I'll die! Just watch me die! See how, see how I'll die! Oh just watch me die!"

Images of Discord, the mind rape of the Mane Six, the disruptions of Ponyville, and the mad ponies appeared around me, driving me back from the others. Some have a distinct silver tint, others are more golden, implying both sisters are sending them, answering my question. The biggest part of the illusion is to disguise my horn glow so none of them realize I'm casting the spell. Each time I turn, I face another image, and I back away, until I'm cornered by the images and still they come.

Backed into a corner, lying on the floor, my head covered with both hooves, I weather the storm. The last image fades, and for a few moments, I am unwilling to lift my head. I lie there, my forelegs trying to cover my head as if shutting out what I'd just seen. When I begin singing again, I'm quiet, but you could hear a pin drop in the room full of ponies.

"Then, I was inspired. Now, I'm sad and tired. After all, I've tried to serve well, seems a joke now. Why then am I scared to finish what I started?"

I look up at the NLR leadership and shake my head.

"What you started - I didn't start it."

I stand and step back into the sunbeam, a picture of submission. I sing obediently.

"So, your wills are hard, but you hold every card. I will drink your cup of poison. Throw me to your foe and break me."

I walk towards the NLR leaders, who retreat in fear.

"Bleed me! Beat me! Kill me!"

I stomp my hoof, and the group nearly climbs the walls to get away.

"Take me now - before I change my mind!"

The silence remains for a few moments. My mad expression sends the cluster into terrified paralysis. No one moves, no one speaks. They stare in horror at what they don't understand.

"Be quiet will you," a familiar voice cuts the tension, "That's a good gentlecolt, you're upsetting the lads." The various NLR leaders scramble away as Mile Stone nudges me away from them. He regards Merry Lifter with a vague disappointment, and leads me away from them. There are the sounds of blades out of scabbards.

"PUT AWAY YOUR SWORDS!" I thunder, "If you must die for the cause, you need only wait. Death and madness will soon be visiting all of us. Don't be in such a hurry to join him." I look at the guards, and the NLR militia. They eye me warily. Our withdraw goes unmolested. Several dozen more guards join our rearguard, and I am issued up to the vanguard as we walk back through the castle. Peaceful Solitude, Brushcut and Neanderpony all fall into formation as we walk in silence.

"What you said lad?" Mile Stone asks, "In there."

"Know that you were a good friend to a lost soul," I reply, "Better than he deserved."

Mile Stone nods, not explaining to anypony. But it's clear he understands enough.

Celestia is waiting beside my door. Her uncertainty is manifest.

"We'll stop him. I'll see to it," I tell her before I let my guards issue me into the room and for the first time in months, lock the door behind me. The day has dawned clear and beautiful, it seems unfair that this would be the day.

"Merry Lifter was the spy," Mile Stone explained to her Majesty, "He'll be dismissed, or worse. Doctor Hardwood was unexpected."

"I think you can leave that for tomorrow," her Majesty said quietly as they walked. She seemed fey, as if touching the world only lightly.

"He wasn't harmed. If anything, he terrified them," Mile Stone said, trying to raise her Majesty's spirits. "I think that colt could talk his way out of anything."

"Stallion," her Majesty said wistfully, "After all that's happened, he is a stallion."

"Yes, your Majesty," Mile Stone said, hiding his own confusion. "If I am intruding, but what happened?"

"You aren't intruding. It is good he's had such a loyal friend."

'Had'? 'Were'? What is happening? Mile Stone fought not to voice the question.

"There are trials we shall face. Some that no one in Equestria has faced in a thousand years. The Element Bearers will do their part. They will be victorious, I know that. But what price will the victory demand? I heard what he said. I heard every world. It was not to them, to his arrayed enemies, he made his final demand. It was to me, and I, might have to accept his offering." She suddenly galloped away.

Mile Stone felt adrift in an open sea. What could possibly be happening? he wanted to know.

I polish the floor to remove the stains of oil and the sweep up the chips from the last major machining project. The refurbishing of the pillar replacements is complete, and will be ready for the next use. It's mostly busywork, but it still needs to be done. I normally don't 'whistle while I work', but knowing I'll be facing Discord in the next few hours has me a bit giddy. So Tom Lehrer seems an appropriate artist.

"I got it from Agnes, she got it from Jim. We all agree it must have been Louise who gave it to him," I sing as I scrub.
"Now she got it from Harry, who got it from Marie, and ev'rybody knows that Marie got it from me."
"Giles got it from Daphne, she got it from Joan, who picked it up in County Cork a-kissin' the Blarney Stone."
"Pierre gave it to Sheila, who must have brought it there. He got it from Francois and Jacques. Aha, lucky Pierre!"
"Max got it from Edith, who gets it ev'ry spring. She got it from her Daddy, who just gives her ev'rything."
"She then gave it to Daniel, whose spaniel has it now. Our dentist even got it, and we're still wondering how."

"What's this 'it' y'all are singin' about?" comes a high-pitched voice. I turn to see Applebloom, and several more of her class standing in the room and staring at me, as well as Cheerilee and Applejack. Which are wider eyed, the kids or the adults, is a toss up.

The adult mares are pleading with their eyes to not explain what the innocent-sounding song refers to. I'm rather confused that they get it, I think, But Applebloom politely asked, and deserves an answer. Just not necessarily the right one.

"Have you ever had one of those fruitcakes that manages to be too sticky, and dry, both at the same time?" I ask. Cheerilee and Applejack are still wary, but have relaxed a little, "One of them that would probably be unmoldy but equally inedible the next holiday that rolls around?"

Sweetie Belle makes a disgusted sound. "Yeah, Rarity gets one every year. And she eats it too!" she squeals, "Yuck!"

Okay, so booze stronger than hard cider exists and is used, I think, remembering why fruitcake is shipped in a liquid-proof tin.

"Even the dog wouldn't eat it?" Applebloom asks, and falls over laughing, "Even the dog wouldn't eat it!"

"Well, we have the rest of our tour children," Cheerilee says, and to me mouths 'Thank you.' Applejack gives me a saucy wink as she rides herd on the rest of the kids.

I'd watched them carefully, until the small group of colts and fillies headed towards the statue gardens. Then I'd packed away the binoculars. And all I felt the whole time was numb. It is no longer days or weeks, I think silently, It is minutes, or at most hours. It is the end of all things. I am as ready as I can be. I rescued a faint handful of the ponies - not even all the people who mattered to me. The rest shall go through the grinder with me.

I have been shutting down and preserving all the machine tools here. Putting everything away so when Glory returns, she can pick it up and continue. It's just busy work, if Discord turns the room on its head, everything will be for naught.

Out of Sight Part 2 and Epilogue

Out of Place - Out of Sight Part 2

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

"Sound the Bugle" - Bryan Adams

Sound the bugle now - tell them I don't care
There's not a road I know - that leads to anywhere
Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark
Lay right down - decide not to go on

Then from on high - somewhere in the distance
There's a voice that calls, "Remember who you are"
If you lose yourself - your courage soon will follow
So be strong tonight - remember who you are
Yeah you're a soldier now - fighting in a battle
To be free once more - yeah, that's worth fighting for

The door frame opens upward, and an all too familiar face enters. "What have we here?" Discord asks as the rest of his body rejoins the face, "A crazy pony? Things are looking up."

I look at the ceiling. "Naw, just the usual tile. I tried painting eyes up there, but they whitewashed them."

His ears flatten as he glares. "Who's the comedian here?"

"You aren't, that leaves me," I tell him.

"Oh you're very clever," he deadpans, "Not."

"Hey, I'm insane, what's your excuse? Mother use you as a can opener once too often?"

His grim expression indicates I'm scoring, and he isn't used to it. "Do you know what I am?" he asks, as if I should.

"Sure, you're a hallucination. I'm crazy, not stupid. Although my hallucinations are usually more interesting. For example, if you're going for asymmetry, your eyes shouldn't be the same color. Most of my hallucinations don't make that kind of amateur mistake."

He growls as I walk away from him and look out the window.

"No, I'm not going to ask him that!" I insist, then wait a moment, "It's impolite." "I didn't say you were wrong, I said it was impolite." I throw up my hooves. "All right, I'll ask. But it'll just be a horse laugh." I turn and face the angry creature. "Excuse me, sir. Does your chewing gum lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight?"

"Enough of this," Discord barks, and he touches me.

The effect is electric, but the Equestrians don't have the rich tradition of the trickster archetype that humans do: Raven, Coyote, Loki, Bugs Bunny, even God Himself. The thread of power twists into me. Instead of trying to drive it out or evade it, I mystically grab hold, and pull. I drink deep of the possibilities and disorder, and the power to make them so. The thread becomes a torrent and the room around us twists and shivers. The horror on his face makes the revolting, writhing feeling coursing through me all worth it. I'm not getting more than a dust mote of his full power, but being parasitized is not something he's used to.

He yanks his hand back and makes the mistake of looking at it, rather than at me. A moment later, he's on his back, on a leather couch.

"Now, Herr Discord, ve vill tak on yourrr felinks uv inferrriority," I say, and adjust my pipe as I sit back in my overstuffed chair.

He's off the couch and behind it. "Oh no, I've made you a psychotherapist."

"Psychiatrrrist," I tell him, lifting a hypodermic that a battleship would have trouble firing, "Iz chust to make you feel all floaty, ja?"

"Let me fix you!" he touches me again, stripping me of much of the stolen power I still had, and 'realigning' me to how I had been, although he does a shoddy job of it. Then he's through the door and gone.

For several minutes, I stand there. The foulness of Discord's touch, power and thoughts sickens me. Bits of his power, and his attitude persist, like grout stuffed into the crack in my mind and soul. The side-effect has me disoriented. I am sure that the floor is writhing and shifting under my feet. Worse, the room shifts before my eyes, but not in harmony with what my legs are reporting. I stand there, shivering, nauseated and trying to control my racing heartbeat and breathing. Maybe a few minutes, maybe an hour, maybe a handful of seconds. I don't know.

I advance slowly. Keep going kid. You won round one on points, I tell myself, It isn't the real thing, not yet.

I manage to make it to my hidey-hole under the windows. I move in slow-motion. Taking extra care with everything when none of my senses report the same thing. The boards come away as easily as they always had. I look down, and smile. The universe settles and comes back into fine focus. The case is exactly as I envisioned it. Fine, polished and oiled wood, although the grain swirls seem to move when you aren't looking directly at them, and the symbol of a golden apple inscribed with 'For the Fairest', rather than the original Greek inscription.

Because fair has more meanings that beautiful, I think as I hold my breath, not due to my diminishing nausea, but in expectation. I press the apple to unlock it. Inside the case are the 'rings': open loops of thick wire that could be a tiara or a necklace, or bent to be a bracelet or an earring, each a different color: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white and black. "Two rings for the ponies who brave the sky, two for the ponies of earth and stones, two for ponies with their horns held high, two for the alicorns on their lonely thrones."

I note the craftsmanship of the creation of my mind, while I held the merest hint of his power. "I beat you, you bastard," I whisper, "I beat you." I set the Elements of Chance aside and look at the last. While not ruling the others, it is separate and nearly as powerful. I heat it slightly, causing the letters to flare. "Got to admire Sauron's penmanship," I joke as the filigree of fire reads: 'In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminders of ev'ry glove that laid him down or cut him till he cried out, in his anger and his shame, 'I am leaving, I am leaving'. But the fighter still remains.'

I return the Elements, and Glory's gift to the hidey-hole and walk somewhat unsteadily to the door. Outside, is as bad as the show displayed Ponyville. Architecture looks like Picasso's Guernica and Dali's The Persistence of Memory as mixed by M. C. Escher. Straight lines are gone, everything being a curve or a squiggle. The sense of perspective is off, windows seem to lean in, while the wall they were set in seems to lean out. The patterns on the floor move and shift, confusing the eye as to whether they are rising, falling or level. Since that has nothing to do with the actual state of the floor, I ignore it.

What has been done to the ponies, I cannot ignore. Two ponies who it was joked were inseparable, now truly are, two heads with their necks joined, sit in the middle of the corridor, rolling from side to side as if the corridor rocked. I have no idea how they remain alive. A whimper comes from a goldfish bowl half-full of jellybeans. I trot over, and on each bean are a pair of eyes and a little mouth.

"Please don't eat any more of me," the beans plead in the voice of the palace confectionaire, a rotund pony always complaining about her weight. If the bowl had started out full, she is down to skin and bones now. While holding the beans in place, I upend the bowl onto the table they are on, then fuse the bowl to the table and punch a few air holes in it.

"Thank you," the beans say.

I march along. I catch sight of Princess Cadence, as a eight-legged pony-spider, throwing lengths of sticky thread, to glue ponies together 'in the bonds of love'. The lack of spooky laughter makes it more frightening, not less. Benevolent Warrior and Furniture Maker have been caught, and race around in circles, oddly mirroring their usual life.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" thunders from in front of one of the broom closets. Mile Stone, resplendent in his uniform, bellows at any pony who gets too close.

I force down my anger, and consider. I race down the hall and look out the great picture window. The one overlooking a 150-foot drop. The window is gone, and the drop, if anything has been magnified. The trees below are burning spikes now.

No wonder they only showed what went on in Ponyville, I think and run back.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Mile Stone thunders at me as I approach.

"Yeah, yeah, got it," I say as I levitate the sergeant and place him in front of the missing window.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" He moves to block any access to the wide-open and possibly lethal drop.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he shouts almost directly in my face.

"Old friend, I pray God you remember nothing, but if you take anything from what happens, know this, even in the depths of madness, you served your uniform, and your princesses with resolution and valor."

For an instant, he's ready to shout, then a single tear runs down his cheek. "You shall not pass," he whispers.

"I can't promise that old friend, but on my life I promise, you will be free," I turn and gallop away.

I have murder on my mind when a half-dozen hooves drag me off the main hall. I'm suddenly facing a terrified Brushcut I am a second away from dispatching. Neanderpony and Claire quickly pull me away from him.

"Has he gone nuts?" a pegasus of Luna's Night Guard asks.

"You were their fourth for the barbershop quartet?" I ask as I try and get my bearings.

"He's no more nuts than usual," Claire says, while Neanderpony tries to buck up Brushcut after almost having his skull crushed.

"Look, Sylvian Springs, was it?" I ask, "What's going on, aside from Discord being loose and everything going back to a thousand years ago, is a lot of ponies need help."

"This is what you meant when you talked about what their Highnesses faced!" Brushcut said, "You knew about this?"

"Enough to know how to beat him. I've already got three plans in place, and two of them running. I just need to check the third."

"Horse-apples," the pegasus says, "Nothing can beat that thing."

"I'm not going to 'beat' it," I tell him, very close and very quiet, "I'm going to rip out his living guts, and use them to grease the gears of my fliers. I am going to hold on to him by the nose and kick him in the ass."

He wilts a bit, but rallies. "Big talk now, but you haven't faced him."

"He came into my room, zortched me like he has others, realized his mistake, unzortched me, and ran away," I told him, "On Celestia's name, I am telling you the whole truth."

The poor pegasus' eyes go wide, and he trembles.

Claire draws me away. "None of us have been touched, and we don't want to be," she says quietly, "But we have to get out there and do something to help."

"How many kids' songs do you remember?" I ask, "The really disgusting ones."

"A bunch," Neanderpony says, ignoring his wife's glare, "And there's a lot of marching cadences that are like that. Marching in mud, eating bugs, that kind of thing?"

"Exactly," I say, and grin. "Just walk out there and help. But sing those songs like a barbershop quartet."

"You're out of your mind," Brushcut says.

"I've never been more lucid," I tell him coldly.

"That in itself is frightening," Claire says, "What if he stops us, what if he confronts us?"

"Keep moving and keep singing," I tell them. "He isn't going to know every pony he's zapped, and he isn't going to care, as long as you're already crazy in an entertaining way. And singing disgusting, campfire songs ought to put you in that category."

"What if it doesn't work?" the pegasus asks as he looks around, "What if he catches us anyway?"

"He's going to catch you hiding, because that attracts his attention." I tell him, "If you want safety, the safest thing is look like you've already been victimized. He's not likely to zap you again. And if you're effectively invisible, that's the best kind of hiding."

"We'll do it," Brushcut says firmly, "What you said in, to the NLR, me and Neanderpony heard it. This is what you were talking about?"

I nod. Not minding the repetition. "Don't worry, it'll be over in - " The sunlight faded, and the moonlight came on. A few moments later the sun was back. "I was going to say two days, but that could be five minutes from now. Forty-eight hours, and this will be handled. Or we'll all be dead, including him. Celestia and Luna may have to wait a while, but they should be able to put all the pieces back together again."

"You're going to blow up the whole planet?" the pegasus asks.

"It's just a matter of tricking it into thinking it's a sun," I tell him, "It'll realize the mistake a second later, but it will take care of him."

"And us," Neanderpony exclaims.

"Do you want your kids growing up in this world, or the one without him that will come after?"

"Without," Claire says, "Thank you. Where are their Highnesses?"

"I haven't seen them," I admit, "Which has me rather worried."

"That has you worried?" the pegasus says from the edge of hysteria, "Fighting D - him, doesn't worry you. Blowing up the world doesn't worry you. But not finding their Highnesses does?"

"I need to apologize for blowing up the planet, and I'll be in no condition to after."

Claire snorts. Neanderpony smiles and shakes his head.

"I think I know why he 'unzortched' you," Brushcut says sourly, "He hates competition."

I nod vigorously, and head down the corridor, to the four-part harmony of the Equestrian version of 'Greasy, Grimy Gopher Guts', something about eating chocolate-covered, rabbit poop.

A few random dashes are getting me nowhere, I think, I have to be systematic. I watch a table with pony hooves race by, pursued by a flying watering can.

"To the extent it's possible," I say, then practice a couple of Pinkie-bounces. It's easier than I thought.

Time to test my own advice, I think and remember the song I'd taught Octavia. If I get back home, I'll have to remember to send the SherclopPones a thank you note. I start Pinkie-bouncing down the hallway.

"When you're rife with devastation, there's a simple explanation: You're a toymaker's creation trapped inside a crystal ball.
"And whichever way he tilts it, know that we must be resilient. We won't let them break our spirits as we sing this silly song."

Discord steps out of a cross corridor. Attracted by some pony happily singing. It's hilarious as his look of expectation slowly changes to realization as he focuses on the words of the song and their implications.

"When I was a little filly, a galloping blaze overtook my city.
"So they shipped me off to the orphanage. Said, 'ditch those roots if you wanna fit in'
"So I dug one thousand holes and cut a rug with orphan foals
"Memories are blurred, and their faces are obscured, but I still, know the words to this song."

He recognizes me, and now he's terribly confused. "I thought I fixed you," he says as I head around a corner and continue my search.

"When you've bungled all your bangles, and your loved ones have been mangled, listen to the jingle jangle of my gypsy tambourine."

I catch Discord's reflection and his mystified expression as I continue. He shakes his head and goes elsewhere. Somewhere inside me, I felt him. I grin as I realize, I can track him, with the remnants of the chaos he inflicted on me that still cling to me.

" 'Cause these chords are hypnotizing and the whole world's harmonizing, so please children stop your crying and just sing along with me."

I approach a grand piano with a cello standing against it.

The piano begins playing that song, soon joined by the cello as I stop to listen. For a few moments I stand there, singing along with their accompaniment.

"When I was a little filly, a galloping blaze overtook my city.
"So they shipped me off to the orphanage. Said, 'ditch those roots if you wanna fit in'
"So I dug one thousand holes and cut a rug with orphan foals
Memories are blurred, and their faces are obscured, but I still, know the words to this song."

It's a tiny moment of defiance, amid the sea of insanity. It's still insanity, but it's ours: a harmless silliness instead of the incoherent frenzy around us.

"When you've bungled all your bangles, and your loved ones have been mangled, listen to the jingle jangle of my gypsy tambourine."

I find myself crying, tears of relief. Celestia feared the loss of the dreamers. Here are two, who refuse to be Discord's puppets, despite his destroying them in nearly every possible way.

" 'Cause these chords are hypnotizing and the whole world's harmonizing, so please children stop your crying and just sing along with me."

"Thank you," I tell them, before racing off to continue my search.

I'm skating around the upper floors of the castle, using singing silly, off-kilter songs to blend into Discord's background. I've seen him twice and neither time has he paid me any mind. I've found out a few new and useful things.

"There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium,
And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium
And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium,
And iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium,
Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium
And lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium
And gold, protactinium and indium and gallium (inhale)
And iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium."

The windows are gimmicked, so if you jump out one, you wind up coming through the window opposite. Note to self, speaking of iodine, I need to find some for these cuts. Through the window means just that.

"There's yttrium, ytterbium, actinium, rubidium
And boron, gadolinium, niobium, iridium
And strontium and silicon and silver and samarium,
And bismuth, bromine, lithium, beryllium and barium."

I also spotted the quartet. He'd tied their tails together, but has otherwise left them alone to rescue other ponies. I have no idea what the outcome of Twilight and her corrupted friends has been. Nor have I been able to find Luna or Celestia. Nor can I find Celestia's quarters, to put the plan to return Twilight's friendship reports in action myself.

"There's holmium and helium and hafnium and erbium
And phosphorous and francium and fluorine and terbium
And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium,
Dysprosium and scandium and cerium and cesium
And lead, praseodymium, and platinum, plutonium,
Palladium, promethium, potassium, polonium, and
Tantalum, technetium, titanium, tellurium, (inhale)
And cadmium and calcium and chromium and curium."

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

I'm four floors above you. I'll pass if I want, I think and mentally stick out my tongue at the myrmidon far below.

"There's sulfur, californium and fermium, berkelium
And also mendelevium, einsteinium and nobelium
And argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium
And chlorine, carbon, cobalt, copper,
Tungsten, tin and sodium."

What was it Professor Lehrer said, 'Useful in a bizarre set of circumstances'? I think this very much qualifies.

"These are the only ones of which the news has come to Harvard,
And there may be many others but they haven't been discovered."

I hear a whimper and cut a turn to investigate. I am quickly reminded why I never enjoyed ice skating as I sprawl on the floor and slam into the wall. In a small, side corridor I see one of the people I've been searching for. I get up with as much dignity as I can, and walk over to where Luna is hiding.

"Barnum?" she asks worriedly. No longer the co-ruler of Equestria, but a very frightened filly.

"The same," I say seriously. "Camouflage," I explain.

She nods nervously. "I can't find 'Tia, and without the Elements, there's no chance."

"Can you find Celestia's quarters? Specifically Twilight's friendship reports?"

"The room's locked, and I can't break through. Every time I try . . . he shows up," she fearfully whispers the last.

"Pick a window opposite the window in the room and jump through it. You'll come through the window opposite."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw it, then tested it a few times on different floors," I tell her.

"I was wondering what happened to you," she comments on the myriad cuts and scratches I wear, a little bit of her old spark is back. "But what good would sending those reports back do? He broke Twilight, and she failed to rally the other element bearers. Even if they find the Elements, they won't be able to use them." She considers. "If they switch? Like that dream?"

I shake my head. "Get those reports dispatched," I tell her. It's like a bell tolled. I know. "He's coming. Leave him to me. Those reports are the only thing that matters!" I hiss. And run out into the corridor.

Luna steps out carefully, fearfully looking in all directions. It's all I can do not to scream at her to hurry. She freezes as Discord appears between us.

My grin is positively feral. Perfect!

"Well, well, I've dispatched the bearers, and poor Twilight is brokenhearted. All her friends turned against her," he says cheerfully, then more darkly, "And the Elements won't save you this time."

I'm at a gallop, moving faster than I ever have on the ground. All the ponies, all the people, all my friends he's hurt rise up before me. They push me past anger to a crystal-clear place where thought and action are one. Nothing distracts me, no emotion hinders me, not anger, not fear, not even concern for Luna and the plan. I open my jaw wide. Too long I've played at being a pony. Too long I've been a protected kid. I'm human, I'm an adult. I'm a man, and when I strike, even the gods are uneasy.

The leap carries me onto his back. I close my jaws on the wing root before all four hooves slam into him. I bite with all the force I can muster, and pull on the wing for all I'm worth.

"Yeoowich! Hey, I'm attached to that!" Discord exclaims as he turns to face his attacker. But I'm standing on him, so until he cranes his neck around and over, we spin.

I release my bite and hold onto his wing with both forehooves. "THIS IS MY ICE CREAM!" I scream at Luna, who stares at me in shock. "YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY!"

Discord brings his head back around close to look at me. I bite his little goatee and tug.

"It's even got sprinkles. Why does everypony always freeze ice-cream til it's hard as a brick? Drives me crazy," I tell her between clenched teeth. I release his goatee and glare at Luna. "HASN'T ANYBODY IN THIS NUSTO PLACE EVER HEARD OF SOFT-SERVE!?"

Discord checks his goatee and looks over at Luna in confusion.

"Look at the time, I have to give a dragon indigestion!" She effectively vanishes, leaving only dust and retreating speedlines.

Discord plucks me off his back, by getting his eagle hand too close. I change targets and begin gnawing his wrist.

"Heresy, 'but Celestia likes ice cream you can break rocks with'. Because she's never tried mine, mine I tell you, MINE!" I mumble as I gnaw, "If she hates it so much, why does she steal it all, why does she keep stealing my machines? Because she wants it, she needs it! And so I create only for her, bwahahaha!"

"I like crazy, but this guy's an overachiever," Discord says to someone.

"Luna! You can't fool me! This is my ice cream!" I shout between bites.

Discord tires of the game and materializes a bowl of ice cream, pulls me off his arm and practically drowns me in the bowl. He summons several more as I finish off the first. I'm glad of the cold. My teeth and jaws ache.

"Say," he says, then disguises his voice, sounding like Q doing a bad Picard impression. "What do you think of the Prince of Chaos, Discord?"

I look around worriedly. "Ice cream can't talk, ice cream can't talk, ice cream can't talk."

He slaps his face, then tries again. "This is your conscience speaking."

"The ice cream was mine! I paid for it!"

"Can we forget about ice cream for a moment?" he shouts in frustration.

"Of course, I ate it all." I start sniffing and drooling. "But," I say with frenzied tones, "I can smell more."

He retreats to the ceiling, and conjures a kitchen sink-sized bowl filled with an ice-cream sundae worthy of a royal wedding feast. He practically drops it on my head. "Now about Discord," he continues in his pseudo-Picard.

"What about Mr. Predictable?" I ask as I sample.

"Predic - " he squeals in his own voice, then back to disguised, "What do you mean predictable?"

"Okay. He lures the Element Bearers out to the hedge maze, and probably had the Elements somewhere else. Good plan, but plan is the operative word. Predictable."

"But you can't know the intricacies of the plan," he tells me. With smugness thick enough to stop a charging rhino.

"Oh, let's see. Applejack, probably tells her all about the dangers of always being truthful. How the truth sometimes hurts. Poor mare doesn't get the difference between honesty and truthfulness. So that's one."

"Rainbow Dash, another easy one, catch her between two loyalties. Say, her home and the world. Instant Traitor Dash, ready to serve five with a defeat."

Discord's jaw hits the ground and bounces several times, each with the sound of a car horn. "Lucky guess."

"Pinkie Pie, teach her how painful it is to be laughed at, rather than laughed with. Suddenly the party pony hates any laughter, because she realizes all her guests have been laughing at her all this time. Rarity. Hmm. I swear, that mare loves gems so much, if she found a big enough rock, she'd marry it."

Discord growls and rages incoherently for at least a quarter of the huge sundae. When he can speak with his disguised voice, "You're guessing. How do you know these things?"

"I'm insane, I'm not stupid," I reply between bites of ice cream.

"Ah ha! Fluttershy! I bet you can't figure out how I - he broke Fluttershy."

"Probably the stupidest thing he could think of. Release her pent-up anger at having to have people always underestimate her, think she's a pushover because she likes to be soft and small. That mare's really only afraid of one thing: losing control of her emotions. Her love, her anger, as long as they are balanced, she's okay. Tip the balances, and she might even try to take a bite out of Discord. I know, nobody would be crazy enough to try that, but she might."

"Twilight Sparkle," he says with irritation.

"Let her friends act like jerks, and worse not take her and the situation seriously. She'll go high-order then and there."

"AUGH!" he shouts and vanishes. But I still feel him somewhere in the castle.

Okay, now the era of buying Luna time to finish, and Twilight to recover her friends, I think.

"Be vewy, vewy quiet, I'm hunting Discords. Aha ha ha ha."

I find him in the main hall. Luna is there and in a fury. Discord holds a white dog that looks like a morbidly obese dachshund, or a toy poodle with the thickest coat in the world. The dog's feet have jewelry resembling the 'shoes' Celestia wears, and she wears a tiara like Celestia's.

"THAT'S MY ICE CREAM!" I scream as I charge.

"Not you again!" Discord says as he tosses the dog away. Luna leaps up and spreads her wings to catch it, then flies out of the room.

Discord fires several bolts, but I zigzag away from them. But as I close, I think, It's going to make his job -

-Easier. I, as a flock of sparrows, think. I hold enough awareness scattered through dozens of tiny bodies. I squawk a warcry and descend on him, soon dozens of beaks and claws attack from all directions. He swats futilely at me/us for a few moments, then manifests a net. With a few swipes, he collects all of us/me. But not before one of us craps in his eye.

He drops the net and swears as he tries to wipe the irritating bird crap off. He gets it off, and turns to smash what his net has caught, only to discover the net is empty. "Oh no." Half the flock lets fly, the other hand dives in to attack. He dances across the throne room floor, and manifests another net. He catches the entire flock in one swipe. "So what are you gonna do now?" he asks. Then sees the birds with the chainsaws.

He throws the net in the air and fires from the hip. Playing Western gunslinger, he thinks.

I feel the magic trying to twist me into something else. But I still have enough of his stolen power to tweak the change slightly. Instead of a trash can, I land as a pint-sized '52 Cadillac. Another blast, but instead of bees, I'm a drum of honey. Another, and instead of a goat, I'm an undersized elephant. Again, instead of an envelope, I'm Derpy Hooves.

I'm running out of power, I realize as the stolen reserves are depleting, and I can't absorb more than a trifle of what he's using. Then he summons a big one, no finger snapping, no one-hand waving. He's doing a full up, two-handed wind up and the pitch. There's more than I can hold, but I feel the intent, and twist it ever so slightly. The chaos, irrespective of what its master wants, eagerly drags me along with my plan, filling me with power so for a while, I can bedevil him. Heh, even his own power hates his guts, I realize, Who'da thunk it? The transformation completes.

"Ehh. What's up, Doc?" I ask, and munch my carrot nonchalantly, "Say Doc, you got any carrot cake to go with the ice cream?"

"NO!" he screams and runs in terror.

I jog after him, intent on giving him a smack-down worthy of the icon I wear. "Ain't I a stinker?" But remnants of a demolished grand piano and a cello stop me. Every string is broken, even the bow is snapped in two. I lean down and run my hand through the wreckage. I stand and set out again. "Of course you know, this means war."

I couldn't hold it, not forever, but 'Bugs' kept Discord on the run but interested for long enough. I hope.

I'm back as a pony when I hear, "It's done."

I glance back and look at Luna who asks, "Right after I left with 'Tia. Now, we buy time?"

I nod. By my estimates, we've bought Twilight and the others fifty-six minute. Kept him away from his 'capital of chaos' and left them room to find the Elements, recover the bearers, and mass for their counterattack. It might be enough, I think, Or they might need more. I decide to risk it.

"Are you ready? Once more into the breech?" I ask.

"If you think I'm getting into your pants, think again," Luna says, and give a wan smile.

"Let's get him," I growl and head off to the trace of him I can still just feel.

This is going to be pure manipulation, I realize, I don't have any chaos energy left. Ave Celestia. Morituri nos salutamus.

Discord reacts with disgust as he sees me again. "Go away! Here's your ice cream!"

Aut non, I think as a sea of steel bowls full of ice-cream appear between the two of us. Luna doesn't stop in time, and soon is clattering about with a bowl on every hoof.

Discord falls off his throne laughing. Only a glare from me reminds her we're buying time. Our lives, our dignity are secondary, time and as much as we can buy, that's what matters.

Begrudgingly, she clumsily clatters around with the bowls on her feet, slipping and sliding a bit as the steel gives no purchase on the marble floors.

Discord finally rights himself, and with tears flowing down his cheeks, exclaims, "Luna, why couldn't you be this funny before, think of the games we could have played."

Luna shakes off the bowls and stands to confront him. Her obdurate expression gives way to cunning. "Because Celestia was more fun than you, and a greater trickster than you."

"What?" he exclaims with amazement, "Miss Grim Sourpants, a greater trickster than moi?" He turns to face me. "What have you been feeling her?"

"Potato salad," Luna and I say together. Discord frowns at that.

"She is right you know. The chocolate rain, and the giant apples, a good start," I tell him, "But then the weird animals. The key to comedy is, timing."

"Timing," Luna adds.

I clear my throat. "You're predictable. Not in a micro-sense of what crazy thing are you going to do next, but a macro-sense of what is you going to do overall. The people of this castle are clear proof. A faction in this castle is plotting against the ruler. You'd turn half of them into ficuses, the other half into hungry goats and let nature take its course. Brutal, and honestly, only funny to you. Celestia tricked them into demanding things she'd wanted permission to give them all along. So you they'll run away from, her they're still wondering if they won or lost."

"You should have stopped at the chocolate rain," Luna adds, as if to a clueless but promising student. "What's the fun in hurting ponies? Isn't it more fun watching them adapt to what has happened? If a button turns the building upside down, isn't it more fun watching them get used to it, then shut it off and watch them rage that the building doesn't turn upside down any more? Isn't confusion and frustration, and discovery, more fun than agony and terror, and certainty?"

"Has he told you what he has stashed back in his little hidey-hole?" Discord asks. "That imp stole some of my limitless power, and crafted his own Elements of Chaos."

"Barnum?!" Luna exclaims as she stares at me.

"Elements of Chance, actually," I reply, "A bane of pigeonholing, not harmony. Eight items." I glare at Discord. "The damage he did to this world should have healed in a thousand years, but still the seasons must be changed manually, the weather managed, snowflakes hand-crafted, and I realized that it was due to a distinct lack of chaos."

"See! See! I am needed," Discord says, he materializes a 'Discrod for Chief Cook and Bottlewasher' banner with a fanfare of kazoos. He notices the spelling and snaps his fingers to correct it. "And you stole that amazingly boring couplet," Discord says, "You aren't the first to arrive here unannounced, and you won't be the last. But that's another universe, and not here."

"But the offered cure is worse than the disease," I tell Luna, "So I crafted an alternative. Chaos, but creative, playful, life-affirming. And only as destructive as the Element of Harmony. But with them, you can heal the damage and allow things to merely happen on their own. Harmony and Chance are not mutually exclusive. And there will be some apparent order in the chaos."

"Bah, what fun is that?" Discord says, he leans forward, almost touching me, then draws back. "Now, for such a good try, I could return you home, if you agree to serve me."

I don't hesitate. "Raw, stir-fried, boiled or baked?" I ask.

"Oh droll. I meant agree to work for me. And after a few jobs, and a few years, I can send you back where you came from," Discord drawls, "I like your Elements of Chaos idea. It's that kind of thinking that I savor."

"Barnum, please, no," Luna pleads.

"Can I have Luna and Celestia, restored and as my personal play things?" I ask. I don't look at Luna.

"Uggh, boring, other than the obvious, what would you want them for?" Discord asks.

"Isn't the obvious enough? After a hard day of putting up with a spoiled child, I'd want to talk to adults," I reply.

"I'm offering you the way home," Discord says dangerously, "A limited-time offer, and one I know Celestia didn't give you."

"Because, oh omniscience one, I never asked," I tell him, "You can't tempt me with something that holds no attraction. You forget, I want to manipulate this world too. But I can't use my omnipotent powers, I have to use my brains. And it's even more fun to get them to want the changes I offer. But you wouldn't know about that."

I realize my mistake the moment I said it. Discord wants an audience for his chaos, but he doesn't want the audience to participate, or god-forbid, the victims to improve it. They are only there to applaud.

"Begone!" he says and flicks his hand.

I'm soaring through the air. I slam into one of the columns of the Great Hall, which rings and lights up. My back and legs are on fire from the ricochet. The second lights up and rings, but now the leg pain is almost unnoticeable. Replaced with a pain in my head so bad I can barely think. Eight more columns I hit, each sounds like the bumper on a pinball game, and I end up heading straight for Mile Stone, the missing window, and the burning spikes beyond.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" Sends me soaring in another direction.

I swear he put extra oomph in that one, I think as I'm sent spinning through the air into the throne room. I crash into the edge of the stairs leading up to the throne proper, and splat on the audience floor beneath.

I lie there. I can't feel anything beyond my shoulders, which is probably good, because if the latrine odor I smell is any indication, I'm hurt very badly.

A ball rolls up to my nose. The next thing I perceive is a wet, doggy tongue slobbering on me. I focus on the white, very wide dog in front of me. "Puppy play with Celly?" the dog asks, practically Pinkie-bouncing in her excitement. "Or," she says sadly, peering at me, "Is Puppy all broken?"

"Puppy is just very, very tired," I reply, "But Puppy can play for a little while." I bat the ball away with my hoof, and she turns on the smooth, slippery floor and runs after it.

I glance up, and can't see my horn, which explains the blinding headache. I probably broke it off in the impacts, or the landing, I think as Celly charges back, ball in mouth. She drops it in front of me, and wags her tail so energetically, her whole body shakes. I feint one way, and bat it another. She tears off at the feint, then skitters around in a turn and charges after the ball. My vision is beginning to gray, and it's getting harder to keep my head up. So I put it down and bat the ball away with a forehoof. My peripheral vision narrows as well.

Celly is standing beside me, ball forgotten and growling. Amazing such a small and friendly dog could make such a threatening noise, I think, then I focus on Discord walking in, with his hands behind his back.

"Well, if it isn't the crazy pony," he says, "You certainly made a mess on the floor."

"Well, if it isn't Mister Predictable. If you surrender now, I'll see what I can do about getting Celestia and Luna to show you mercy."

"That's a stale, old joke," he replies.

"Dying is easy, comedy is hard," I tell him, "I guess that's why you never mastered it."

The angry glare is worth it.

"You know. If you'd done this to Celestia, and then let her play with her students and their pets for a few hours," I tell him, "She probably would have tolerated it. But you don't know when to stop. Like I said, predictable. Not fun, or even entertaining. Just go straight to pain and terror."

"If I'm so predictable, can you guess what I'm holding?" he asks.

"Her Nightjesty was alone with you when I left. It isn't Nightmare Moon walking in to taunt me, so, let's see. Luna, dark coloring, moon mark, snarky attitude: you turned her into a talking cat."

There's a bobcat yowl, and a purple-black housecat with a crescent moon on its forehead leaps out of Discord's grip, and walks towards us. Discord is desperately trying to figure out how I knew that one.

"Barnum!" Luna exclaims, and is interrupted by a soaking lick from Celly. The cat's expression at the slobbery welcome from the happily bouncing dog makes me laugh.

"Even as a dog, Celestia is funnier than you are," I tell Discord, then focus on Luna, "I don't need a cat-aloging. I'm aware of my condition."

Luna shakes herself, but remains squelchingly damp. She also keeps stepping around the ball Celly eagerly and repeatedly rolls into her path.

My vision has reduced to a tunnel, and like vision in darkness, it's almost pixilated. "Stars, most people don't really understand them."

"Some last bit of insanity bubbling up," Discord says, "Oh, and I've got popcorn, do go on."

"They are born, eat, create waste, and even die. Mostly from building up too much waste. They are constantly a balance between exploding and collapsing, held in stasis by how brightly they burn."

"Oh dear, your last words, and they're a treatise on science. Which one of us is more predictable."

"I guess I am. Because I rigged it. I don't like to lose, so I'll clear the board."

"What are you talking about?"

"I created those trinkets to distract you from what I was really doing, Cordy. Celestia might be able to fix it, but you'd never understand the process well enough."

"What process?"

"When stars exhaust their 'favorite' food, they start eating their waste. A little star like that one would probably eat a little, then stop and die. But bigger stars, they can handle more waste, and more. They get hotter and burn harder, burning up their waste to feed themselves. But somewhere along the periodic table, burning the waste doesn't release energy, it absorbs it. Suddenly they don't have the energy to burn. They collapse, until they burn no matter what, and the sudden outburst makes them explode. Nothing in the star system around them survives. And if you're clever. I mean, really sharp, you can adjust the explosion so it'll affect spirits too."

"Barnum?" Luna asks.

"Oh it may take you and Celly a while to let things cool down and reorganize. But you won't have to worry about him when you do." I chuckle, which becomes a cough. I can't see now, even dark and light. But I can smile, and I keep smiling.

"You couldn't have," Discord says, "You don't have that kind of power."

"But you do, and using you was easy. Like being plugged into a huge powerplant. All the power to do it I could ever need, and your self-destructive streak so eager to go along with it. I didn't beat you Cordy. I just saw to it you beat yourself. It was easy."

"You're lying," he says, the trademark arrogance cracking at the edges.

"You can't tell, or can you?" I ask, "Either way, I win. I'll get you no matter which way you turn."

"You wouldn't kill everypony, just to get me," he says with false surety.

"Yes I would," I say calmly. I raise my head to aim my sightless eyes where I think he is. "If I get you, then today is a fine day to die. Equestria will rise again. Celestia and Luna will remember it. And they'll remake it without you. Goodbye, Discard. I'll keep the seat nearest the fire for you. You can tell me what a supernova really looks like, up close and personal."

"Fix it."

"I'd need your power, and a lot of it. Don't tell me you trust me with that," I say and can't keep my head up anymore, but manage to put it down without looking like I dropped it. "Even you aren't that stupid."

"Celestia will fix it."

"No," Celly says in a growl, "Celly won't."

"I am content," Luna says, "To rebuild."

"Ha, it's a trick, you don't believe him any more than I do." He sighs. "I've been ignoring all the chaos in Ponyville to play with you three. Arrivederci."

What little of the chaos I still have stops resonating, telling me he's really gone. "Seventy-two minutes," I say, "Sorry Twilight, that was all I could manage. God let it have been enough. Let it have been enough."

Epilogue:

"Barnum!" the pink pony called as she looked around the room, at the machines covered with brown tarps. "Barnum!" she called, bounced in and began looking beneath the sheets. "Barnum!"

"Pinkie, ah don' think ya'all should be in heara." Applejack looked around nervously as she walked in. "Tain't respectful." She took off her hat as she walked around.

"Barnum!" Pinkie called as she bounced around the room, "You win! You're better at hide and seek than I am! Barnum!"

"Pinkie," Applejack said as she looked around nervously, "Ah don't think he's in heara."

"Where else would he be?" Pinkie asked pointedly. "They wouldn't tell me where he is. He must be playing hide and seek."

"Ah don' think so," Applejack said as she looked at the upturned bed frames and the many drawings carefully attached there. "Ah thought Discord gave us a bad tahme," she said of the images. Some crudely drawn by foals, of crying ponies and vague terrors. Some nearly photographs of more adult terrors.

"Barnum!"

"Pinkie!" Applejack snapped, "That's not doin' any good."

For once Pinkie seemed to get the hint. Her mane deflated and she took on a dignified air. "Mr. McHorsefly. I understand that parties are not generally to your liking, but I would very much appreciate your company at the awards ceremony." She grinned at Applejack.

"That's not what she meant," a pretty, white, unicorn mare said as she entered, she seemed to remember her manners and bowed slightly. "You must be Applejack, and Pinkie Pie."

"We don't have to be, but if we weren't, it might get confusing," Pinkie Pie said.

"I'm a Princess, I order you to be Pinkie Pie and Applejack," she said imperiously. She tried to grin, to let them know she was joking, but she closed her eyes and bowed her head. She looked around sadly. "He promised everything would be back the way it was. But he lied." The mare broke down and sobbed. Applejack glared at Pinkie as the two of them comforted the mare. Pinkie's mane straightened, as she just held the mare, quietly. Applejack stood beside her, and let her cry on a surprisingly quiescent Pinkie Pie.

"I finally realized what you both were trying to tell me," Pinkie said softly, "Taking my toys, and making them tools for everypony to use. Trying to tell me that I was more than just laughter and parties. Ponies smiled when they saw my tools, and lives were saved, so they could smile again tomorrow. Twilight found those memories, and all the others of my times with my friends. The quiet party we had, when you were all feeling down."

"Sorry. He didn't tell me," Glory said, "He just sent me away. To keep me safe."

"Or ta make sure ya weren't hurt," Applejack said, "It was quahte a fahght as I heard tell. Him tryin' ta eat Discord, twicet." Applejack smiled at that. "Take a mess a zap-apple jam ta make him go down smooth."
. Glory nodded, and walked over to the hidey-hole near the window. She opened it and removed the case. For a little while she just rubbed a hoof over it.

"Ooo! Ooo! A present! I love presents! I can just, sit down quietly." Pinkie froze at Glory's furious stare.

"If this is a present. It is for their Highnesses. They get to open it," Glory told the mare.

Pinkie Pie nodded.

"Y'all better Pinkie Promise ta leave that ta the Princesses," Applejack whispered in Pinkie's ear. Pinkie disappeared to peer over Glory's shoulder as the mare pulled out a curved piece of heavy gold wire.

"Umm, what's that?" Pinkie asked, "I've never seen one before."

Glory smirked. "It's whatever I want it to be," she said and expertly bent it into a pair of pince-nez glasses resting on her nose.

"Can I try, can I try?" Pinkie asked.

"No," Glory said, "I just got them, and I don't yet know what they'll do." Glory smiled. "Instead, maybe you'll get their Highnesses' little joke." She walked over to a cabinet and removed a set of binoculars. "Take a look at the statues," Glory said as she handed the binoculars to Applejack and pointed to a distant target.

"Say! That there looks lahk Barnum," Applejack said, and chuckled, "Looks lahk a colt chasin' butterflies."

"Now move left." Glory watched Pinkie eagerly bounce, unable to see what her friend was looking at.

"Discord," Applejack hissed.

"He's loose?" Pinkie squeaked.

"His statue," Glory told her as she reached up and widened the field of view slightly.

Applejack stared intently, her smile became grim, and she let out a chuckle. She took one more look, then hooved the glasses over to Pinkie while trying not to grin or burst out laughing.

The other earth pony mare looked intently at the distant scene. "It's that mean Discord," Pinkie said, "Still in stone." She moved slightly right. She let out a little laugh. "Yeah, that's Barnum," she said with a melancholy she rarely showed.

"Now look at the two together," Glory suggested.

Pinkie frowned at the two smirking mares, then looked again at the paired statues.

"Her Majesty positioned them very carefully," Glory said.

Pinkie looked carefully. Discord was still cringing, as he had been when they had used the Elements on him. Then she looked at Barnum's enthusiastic, open-mouthed, one-foreleg-extended leaping. Then she looked at both. The implications hit her, and she laughed aloud.

"Mean ole' Discord gets to shy 'way from Barnum, who looks like he's a timberwolf jumpin' a bunny," Applejack said as she giggled.

"Taken separately, Discord is horrified. Barnum is just a happy colt playing. Taken together, and it looks like Barnum is ready to make a meal of Discord, who is frightened of his fate." Glory looked at the statues you could easily see from the apartment. "And there are rumors that Barnum is trapped in stone, awaiting Discord's release. He'll be the first thing Discord sees, and the first thing he faces," Glory said, "And their Highnesses made sure they told Discord that. Considering that he spent most of the time you walked from Canterlot to Ponyville trying to eat him, that can't sit well with Discord."

"Ah thought ole Barnum would tell bad food when he saw it," Applejack said.

Sound The Bugle - Bryan Adams
The Boxer - Simon and Garfunkel

Jesus Christ Superstar - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Heaven On Their Minds
Poor Jerusalem.
Gethsemane (I Only Want To Say)

I Got It from Agnes by Tom Lehrer
The Element Song by Tom Lehrer
Gypsy Bard by SherclopPones

Bugs Bunny - Trademark of Warner Bros.

Out of Options Part 1

Out of Place - Out of Options Part 1

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.
America: Man's Road - written by Jimmy Webb, 1982
Found on The Last Unicorn Soundtrack

The landing is a lot harder than I am ready for. Which means I spend some time merely trying to force air back in my lungs. This also has the effect of letting me smell the sweet grass I've landed on. As if my jaw would let me do anything with it, I think as the ache from every part of my lower body becomes real pain. The pang from each breath makes sparks in my vision, but in the darkness, those are all I can really see.

Lights in the distance and shouts of anger and alarm bring me back to the here and now. Running is out of the question, I realize, And what can they do to me when they find me? I nearly laugh at the irony. A light in my face nearly blinds me. My shying away increases the pain. Other lights play over my body. When am I going to learn to quit tempting fate?

"Corporal of the Guard, post number three! What are you doing here? Who are you?!"

While I'm still woozy from the landing, I can barely tell limbs coming out of my shoulders, which I can see, from limbs coming out of my hips which I can only feel. One, two, three, four, I think as I look at my four forelegs, I don't think this is getting any better any time soon.

Horizon rising up to meet the purple dawn
Dust demon screaming, bring an eagle to lead me on
For in my heart I carry such a heavy load
Here I am on Man's road, walking Man's road, walking Man's road

There are things you really do not want to go through in your life. Whether they are for good or ill, they are painful almost to the breaking point of the spirit. Losing my entire family in one fell swoop was that for me.

I'd been successful engineer, a wife, a good job that challenged me, house (with the accompanying mortgage), and three great kids whose main problems were grades, after-school activities, messy rooms, and not being the cool kids. Not exactly exciting problems. Not like the guy I share an office with, walking in two hours late because he had to go to the jail to bail out his pregnant, 15-year-old daughter's 19-year-old boyfriend (and father of the child), after that sterling gentleman got high and punched out a cop. Boring is good. I like boring. I wish I could go back to consoling my 12-year-old daughter that having the most popular girl in school invite all your friends to her party, and specifically exclude you, is just something that happens.

I could be doing that, except for the fire.

The security troops around me are white horses, white pegasi and white unicorns. I'd laugh at their spears and Romanesque armor, except for something I learned long ago: When the security troops are nervous, especially about you, do nothing to provoke them. A nervous mugger or gangbanger is to be expected. If you made the professionals with the machineguns and artillery backing them up nervous, you have walked into a whole new tier of bad news. It isn't cool, except in retrospect, and reaching a point where you can be retrospective about it should be your entire goal. Be polite, be assertive, but keep your clever quips to yourself until after they have assured themselves you are harmless or on their side. They might appreciate a laugh at that point.

"Should I remain here, officer, or should we move somewhere else?" I ask the nervous and very junior officer. I try not to look around too obviously, and the moon and star light don't show much more that the grass at my feet/hooves, and the dense shrubs in the distance.

The young stallion's head is moving jerkily, looking at me, looking at terrain features, and the statues in the area. His brilliant, white coat makes him seem to flash in the weak light like a strobe.

He's lost, I realize, And I suspect, waiting for higher authority.

"Be quiet will you," a cultured voice tells me, a white horse with a set of magnificent, brown, muttonchop sideburns is speaking to me, "That's a good gentlecolt, you're upsetting the lads." He doesn't look at me. In fact if I hadn't heard it, his expression would indicated he hadn't spoken at all.

I nod, and keep silent. The stallion goes to talk with the young officer. Nothing hurried or worried in the horse's demeanor, at least to my human way of thinking, Senior sergeant, I think, Some things are universal. The setting is trying to fall into place in my brain, but I don't have enough of the pieces yet. The ache every time I breathe, escalating to real misery when I so much as twitch doesn't help my clarity. Pain does focus your thoughts. They focus on that you are in pain.

The officer decides and makes a jerking motion of his head towards an open area a short distance from where I am. Two guards march over to stand on either side of me. They give no order, so I do nothing. Their horns glow slightly, and I am lifted into the air. I expect the movement to hurt like blazes. Fortunately, it doesn't aggravate my injuries. They move me through the moonlit gloom to a small alcove cut into the high hedges that surround my crash site. Settling down makes my head swim for a moment, as every injury and twinge reports at roll call. The sergeant is back, carrying a black ring in his mouth. I only watch him very closely, as he slips the ring over the horn growing out of my head. He carefully uses a hoof to tap it down firmly. That's enough to set me reeling, which really doesn't help feeling better or thinking straight.

"Your powers have been neutralized, and nearly any spell laid upon you will have been broken," he tells me, "Altern Canter has some questions." He steps aside and lets the nervous young officer approach. The guards tense, but I remain where I am.

My vision is still not what it should be, occasionally doubling, or tripling, and my other senses are still jumbled. I can feel another set of limbs, but I seem to possess only the standard four legs, I think as the officer musters his courage and brains to begin interrogations, These 'phantom limbs' seem to have fingers and toes, so they must be phantoms left over from my being human.

"Who are you?" the officer tries to sound forceful, but his voice cracks midway.

"I am called P.T. McHorsefly," I tell him, "Some call me Barnum. I haven't used my birth-name in years."

"What were you doing here?" he asks.

I feel the sergeant's eyes burning in. He knows I'm not being factual.

"Altern, if I told you what I actually remember, you'd think I'd gone mad. They're my memories, and I think they're mad," I tell him. Watching the white figures in gold armor go from two, to four, to six, and back, is making me seasick.

"Then I am very interested in them," comes a warm, although feminine voice. The Altern freezes, until the sergeant can push him down to his knees. The two guards prostrate themselves. This all reveals a white, winged unicorn approaching. The tiara and flowing multicolored mane finally lets all the pieces drop into place.

I'm in a kids' cartoon?! I think, I remember watching these shows with my children. That memory hurts worse than the landing did. I don't prostrate myself to the local goddess-queen as I am already on my knees, but I do bow. Keep on the good side of anyone who can make you a grease stain. And I think I'll wait until later to point out that their postures are the wrong ones to assume while guarding a dangerous prisoner. Her glances to the troopers indicate she and her periodic double and triple also thinks veneration gets in the way of efficiency.

"Very interested," she says, and something tugs the ring off my horn. Her personal guards come into view out of the darkness.

Okay, they aren't as foolish as I thought, I think as she lowers her head to touch her horn to mine. A faint glow holds my head in place.

'I regret to inform you that the dental records confirm -'

'I just can't keep the house, too many memories.'

'Sir, it's a family reunion, the project isn't due for two weeks.' 'I want your portion done today! Is that clear?'

Mercifully, darkness closes in around me at that point.

Sunlight through my eyelids, smells of antiseptic, unfamiliar sheets and bed under me. Hospital, morning, I reason, What a dream. Car crash? Suicide attempt? Random accident? Then I try to close my fingers on the bedding, and discover I don't have any. That brings me fully awake. I brace for the pain, but it doesn't come.

The white room is high-ceilinged, open and airy, although the high windows have metal mesh, like chain-link fencing, over them. There are fifteen beds, all white metal frames, light tan blankets with white sheets. All empty, save mine. Eight on my side, under the windows and seven on the other wall. A wide aisle between the two rows. Where the sixteenth bed would be, a guard stands. His gold armor and vivid green mane provide the only real color in the place. Maybe he scared away all the other bright colors in the room, I think, He looks like he wrestles bears for fun, and eats them when they lose.

The stolid looking guard carefully backhoofs the door, but doesn't take his eyes off me.

"Am I under arrest, or just in custody?" I ask.

Let's see if he's even allowed to talk, I think.

"Custody," he replies, and goes silent as we wait. He takes no action as I look around the room, but tenses when I seem to be trying to get out of bed.

I get the message, I think as slide back in. The room is mostly white, with a few small paintings or frescos every few bunks to break the total monotony, and despite the high ceilings, there are no columns, alcoves or overhead beams. Just flat, white walls rising out of a cream-colored floor to the flat white ceiling. So there are no hiding places, I think, Except the beds. The floor is not tile, but a single piece of polished stone. Fun to go sliding on, I consider, and smirk, I can almost imagine what sliding the length of the room with 'grim and stolid' watching would do. They'd probably have me in a straitjacket.

The light tan pegasus with the slightly unkempt, blue mane who flutters in past the guard reminds me of a cross of the animal-loving pegasus and the unicorn bookworm from the TV show. Young, almost delicate with an open, honest expression of someone who wants to learn everything about the world and the people in it. The simple peasant shirt and leather satchel screams 'bohemian' but there's nothing lackadaisical about the intellect behind the soft eyes.

I'm instantly suspicious. This is going to be a 'soft' interrogation, I think as he sits on the bed beside mine, Lots of hand-holding if necessary, lots of questions that really are related. But at least no truncheons, drugs or other methods.

He smiles before speaking, and goes all open and friendly. "My name is Hardwood. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions."

"Mister Hardwood, I'd like to ask just one of my own. What exactly did I do that has everyone so upset? I know I appeared in a garden area, I know that my appearance caused Princess Celestia to investigate, and if my memories were taken at face value, that I appear some kind of lunatic with severe delusions. All that aside. If I'd been found in the Everfree Forest, I doubt I would be getting this kind of attention."

He proves he is a professional interrogator, by not answering this seemingly reasonable question. "Where do you think you are?" he asks after a moment of consideration.

"Hospital wing."

His expression seems to draw out the next answer.

"In Canterlot . . . in the palace itself. This is a security, hospital wing of the palace."

He leans back smiling, indicating I have answered my own question. It's also supposed to distract me from the fact he didn't answer my question, I think.

"Please don't tell me I landed near the statue gardens," I say. His grin tells me all I need to know.

I don't want to broadcast that I know what they have stored there. Discord may be a one-of-a-kind, or one-of-a-whole-series, 'I don't turn ponies to stone', how many other maniacs are stored out there . . . right where I landed? Oh boy! I think as he pats my shoulder.

"You didn't break anything when you landed. The doctors confirmed that."

"To be honest, the last is the least of my worries. Breaking her Highness' art gallery is a greater worry. As well as sounding like a madman."

"Yes," he says, "Her Highness scanned your mind and . . . came up with some disturbing images."

"How do you think I feel? I must really have gotten someone powerful mad at me to get them to come up with something so bizarre and elaborate. I mean bipedal, hairless apes using technology instead of any magic to do all their work. A planet running itself, like the Everfree Forest? Somebody should be writing fiction. If I really believed any of that, I would be a candidate for a padded cell." I sigh. "The problem is, it all seems so real. It's all so intricate and internally consistent. I can tell you the favorite foods of people who never existed, and even describe the times I cooked it for them." I hold up my hooves. "With these two hands." I shake my head. "To be honest, I'd accept a different punishment for whatever I did. This is just disturbing."

"I don't think you know about any settling in adjustments," he says, "After only a few hours. But I will be here if you need to talk about things you feel or things you remember."

Or secrets of this other world you want to ferret out, I carefully don't say.

"Maybe I should go to a lab, maybe some of this stuff actually would work," I tell him and shrug, "You never know."

"Maybe," he says with a smile.

Okay, now you can say it was my idea, although that's how the conversation would have ended up going anyway, I think as he leaves, then I can't help myself.

"Hey, doc?" I ask.

"Yes?" he replies from his discussion with the guard at the door.

"What the heck do ponies eat? I don't think the diet I remember is either healthy, or advisable," I say in a genuine concerned tone, "Eating something that can talk to you seems a really bad idea, and eating grass seems like a good way to get very sick."

"I'm sure the hospital will look after your dietary needs," he says as he leaves.

"Great, I get to see if hospital food is awful in another world."

At least I get a flash of a smile from the great, stone face.

Sergeant-at-Arms Mile Stone sat in a chair set along the wall of the conference room, his coat brushed until it gleamed as brightly as his uniform's buttons, his expression serious but attentive, as he carefully listened to the twaddle the various officers were throwing out about the colt he and Altern Canter had captured. The experts sat around the table, while those who'd actually been there sat like ornaments against the walls. With the sovereign there, he felt he had the right to keep silent and let the officers speculate. When the time comes, he considered, We will tell them what we know.

The poor Altern was having to field questions from the various elite desk-hussars, feather-heads, and vacuous aristocrats, who were building their houses of cards based on complete guesses, and what they could trick the poor, young officer into agreeing with.

"Sergeant-at-Arms," her Highness asked, "Do you have anything to add to these, discussions?"

The old soldier came to attention. "Majesty, he knew immediately he was in the wrong, and carefully did nothing to exacerbate the situation," the sergeant reported, "Unexpected in a stallion of some years, almost unheard of in a colt his age." The feather-heads immediately debated how that affected their pet theories, or that it was irrelevant if it undermined them totally.

Mile Stone saw the recognition on her Highness' face. He is clever, and perceptive. Whether that makes the colt friend or foe is less important than he can be dangerous. And her Highness needs to be careful with him. Too many ponies wear their feelings like their cutie mark. One who doesn't, could be unpredictable. At her nod, he settled down to wait, along with the other noncoms and soldiers who'd been there that night.

Can't figure out if these are some local delicacy, or a clear violation of the Geneva Convention, I think as I pick at the 'food' provided on the wooden tray that has no sharp edges at all and is polished to prevent even a splinter. Hunger wars with every other sense about whether this stuff is food, or not. Maybe eating the tray is the real answer. I wonder if a peanut butter sandwich would be out of the question. Straight bread and water would be an improvement. I poke something on the plate that wobbles alarmingly. Do they know how gelatin is generally made? And eating without utensils is going to be a chore. I lower my head and take another bite of something that looks like a cross between grits and minced carrots, except it's red and blue, and tastes like salsa'ed gravel. Getting it down is difficult, keeping it down is worryingly easy. I guess ponies can't barf unless it's really bad. That could be bad.

The room hasn't changed, although the guard has. Another burly mesomorph, with a beetling brow that makes him look like a Neanderthal. The near buzzcut makes him the caricature of any US Marine ever. Except he watches everything, I remind myself, So the stupidity is an act, I'm still worthy of suspicion. That's okay.

Another urge hits me, one I decide is better to deal with than being hungry, vis-a-vis the food I've been given. "Excuse me, sergeant, I need to go to the facilities, and I don't know where they are."

Terrific, none of the shows ever displayed that biological necessity being addressed, I think, So what do they call it . . . and how the heck does it work?

"You need to 'visit the euphemism', as my granny used to say?" he asks. His voice is another incongruity. Despite looking the bruiser, he's got a nearly musical tenor voice.

"Yes, sergeant."

"Door at the end of the room. It looks like the wall, but it is a door."

"Thanks." I spot Mr. Friendly and Helpful Hardwood from earlier entering, as I get my feet under me, and begin tottering towards the section of wall. I ignore the gasp from him, and keep walking.

Maybe I've got a wound somewhere, or a stripe down my back, I think, Better give myself a once over when I'm in there.

The walls are a mustard-yellow. This is an improvement. Maybe I'll tell the sergeant I figured out where all the color went from the rest of the room. The pieces of extremely white porcelain draw my full attention. The facilities appear to be a western-style toilet, a Japanese-style urinal, and a pair of sinks, large and small. The small one has controls a distance from the sink itself. That's got to be a bidet, because there's no toilet paper, or rags, and the only other thing that could reach back there is their own tail. Which puts Rarity's tail sacrifice in the opening episodes in far too squicky a light to be the answer. Bidet it is . . . I hope.

A few moments of profound relief, a very girlish squeal of surprise (and laughter from behind the door), and I am heading back to the bed, and the rather unappetizing food.

"How are you doing that?" Mr. Hardwood asks cautiously.

"Doing what?" I ask in reply, rather stunned he's actually asking a question.

"Walking on just your hind legs?" the young interrogator stammers, "And doing well."

I look down and realize I was walking like a human, not on all fours, like a pony. "The memories, remember, I guess this really works. Besides, walking on two legs is easy, once you know the secret."

"What secret is that?" the guard asks, earning a glare from the professional, and ignoring it.

"You're always falling, the key is to get a foot in place to catch yourself." I demonstrate by leaning far forward and gripping one of the beds to support myself, then walking slowly. "Standing in place is harder, you have to change pressure on the front, rear and sides of your feet, rear hooves, to counter any shift. You're constantly adjusting, constantly falling and catching yourself." I stand in the middle of the room for a while. My instability more due to weakness than inability. Then I continue to the bed.

Now I'm ready to face this, ugh, food, and get a nap, I think as I manage to choke down some more of the nourishment. Then put the empty tray on the next bed. I look at the two conferring in the corner near the door, and decide now is the best time for a nap. The guard keeps watching me, despite the quiet, though heated conversation. Professionals, I lament, And I just gave away the store, terrific. At least they don't have capital punishment, and I think Celestia wouldn't do something too extreme to me. Not on a kids' show.

My dreams are filled with scenes from Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner cartoons, and the phrase 'you'd be surprised what you can live through.' It should be no surprise I woke several times in a cold sweat.

Luna stood on her hind legs, and occasionally moved a hoof as her balance changed. She watched her feet, and the ground. Then she extended her wings, held her feet steady, and moved just her wings to keep her balance.

She looked up to see that her sister was watching her, and had been for some time. "I think we might have a solution for Crimson," Luna said as she continued to practice the deceptively easy trick. Her wing motions slowed, and she found that altering her hoof pressure was all that was needed. "The latest reports are on the desk," she said and looked up at Celestia, simply staring at her.

"You are troubled, my sister?" Luna asked.

"No, just enjoying watching my sister appreciate a new thing," Celestia said as she approached, "It has been too long since you had such an intriguing puzzle."

Luna dropped down to all fours. "Is that what you and the Element-bearers' relationship is? We are immortal. They pass through so briefly. They scurry around after crumbs, when a banquet has been prepared."

"They take many years to know the victuals are there, and then, too often they have come to enjoy crumbs too much to risk the table," Celestia said sadly, "My own student, who I love as my own daughter, is afraid of me. The whispers of the others are half-jealousy, and half-fear. The boldest either think it is loyal to remain silent, or think themselves cunning and whisper in the shadows. Too many fear I will 'send them to the moon' for even the most trivial mistakes."

"I was insane. It was like the place you keep him," Luna said, "Safe from me, safe for me, until I could be myself again. Is that your plan? Bring all your fallen together? I love you Celestia. So does Twilight. And the other Element-bearers. Facing the touch of their power, let me know them in ways I doubt they know themselves. Although I do not recommend it to get to know them."

"Then perhaps they can help me, us, in ways we could never do. Eventually."

"Then what can we do?" Luna asked.

"A disturbing idea, from the other mad resident," Celestia said, and grinned, "News of your 'unjust imprisonment' has begun spreading in the whisper galleries. I think I have a plan to turn it to the advantage of everypony in Equestria."

"I think that madman's memories are tainting you, my sister. Nightmare Moon too thought she was too clever by half," Luna warned, "And she was both right and wrong."

Celestia drew near and nuzzled Luna. "Then it is good my sister and my brave students are there to look out for me."

"What is your plan?" Luna asked.

"How does that make you feel?" Hardwood asks, during our daily sessions.

It's too much. I get up from the bed I was sitting on, and begin pacing. I catch his faint start that I naturally walk on two legs. I drop down to four. "Look, doctor, I appreciate that as a psychiatrist, and as an interrogator, you cannot answer direct questions about my mental health," I say, my anger at feeling trapped and helpless has been eating at me in ways I hadn't expected, and couldn't deal with, "But all this Freudian asking questions with no end in sight is really starting to bug me. Is there any chance you can direct me to someone who can answer my questions?"

Hardwood considers for a moment. He turns to the guard. "Merry Lifter, why don't you get us all some tea, and lock the door behind you."

"Sir?"

"If you please, Mr. Merry Lifter," the seemingly soft pony's expression seems to convince the massive stallion. Once the door closes, Hardwood closes his notepad and carefully slips off his glasses, putting them in his pocket as he stands, on just his rear legs. "Answers. Your odd lapses are too consistent to be the work of a clever actor. The information her Highness read in your mind and that you've provided, are leaps and bounds beyond anything our most advanced mages and philosophers have even thought of, and yet an Earth Pony-like race managed to accomplish them. It is patently obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain that you are an alien masquerading as a pony, yet you cling to the ridiculous fiction that you are a brainwashed pony, to avoid being considered insane." He gestures around him. "You are in a mental ward! We think you are insane! Your devotion to this fiction denies you the right to put your intellect and ideas to the test, which everyone who has come in contract with you, including, no, especially her Highness, desperately want. If we are an episodic television series, you know about threats we'll have, and your steadfast unwillingness to share this information is both childish and selfish."

I'm stunned at the composed outrage that he's displaying. "If I divulge too much, I won't be in a position to use it when you and everyone here will really need me to use it," I reply.

"That's the truth, and that's what you need to tell me. I am not going to harm you and drag your secrets from you one by one. The lesson of the Goose that Laid the Golden Eggs is known on Equestria too. If you don't want to divulge how an H-Bomb works like a sun, just tell us you don't. It's a lot better than hiding it, as if we're all panicky and stupid. Frankly, opinions are split on whether you're a 'human' made into a pony, an alien concocting a story while scouting for invasion, or a piece of Discord himself, who escaped. Since you won't give a straight answer, we can't act. As your doctor, it impedes your recovery. As an interrogator, it means I can't decide how much freedom I can arrange to give you. As a fellow sentient being, it infuriates me that you think we are all so stupid we can't see through it. And as a loyal soldier of Equestria, the fact that you can prevent untold disasters, and steadfastly refuse to help, makes me want to use far harsher methods that I'm trained in."

I bow my head and consider for a few moments. "Thank you, I deserved that. There is something coming, something that makes the return of Nightmare Moon look like a cake-walk. Princess Celestia herself knows about it. I think she also knows how you - we, win. The more I divulge about trivial events, the more this timeline diverges from the timeline I remember, and the less likely the tactic will work. So if you don't mind, I'll keep my prognostication for that event."

"Okay, now that's a good reason," Hardwood says.

I sit back down. "I apologize, I've seen so many movies where the person tells the truth, and got locked up before they could do any good . . . but I'm already locked up. I guess that I didn't really mind getting locked up." I get up again, and stare out the windows. "There's a whole world out there, and if I go out and see it, and it's real, and the people/ponies in it are real, then . . . my family is gone, I'm on an alien world, and this isn't all some stress-induced nightmare." I turn back to face him. "If this is real, then it all happened, I'm on a planet where even my biology is different, and the only thing that's 'me' are the memories in my head. And those are just a source of confusion and pain."

He has his glasses back on, and his notebook open. "Do you think it's easier just to treat all of this, all of us, as a fever dream?" Hardwood asks as Merry Lifter returns with the tea, "Ah good, just in time." He smiles and turns back. "Well?"

"I'm not sure, what if you're right, and I am a piece."

"Would the source know about all the things you do? Such as X-ray metal crystallography, the word, let alone the process?"

"No, so I am who I think I am, I am where I'm, afraid I am. And the only way out that door is to accept that, or try my luck at tackling Merry Lifter, or one of the others. And while I suspect the memories will hurt more, that's going to give me a better chance of success."

Hardwood nods. "Mr. Merry Lifter, please bring the tea. I don't think he's going to throw it in your face and make a break for it."

The guard reluctantly sets the tray down near Hardwood. "With respect, I'll be taking my tea over here," the guard says, and moves himself and his cup of tea out of range.

"Now I deal with not only that I can't go home, but the culture shock of this place."

"Another new word, but I think I can parse it. You didn't think that we'd fail to notice about one in three of your sentences had some reference to a concept we didn't have a word for?" Hardwood asks, he's still smiling but I can see that his earlier offense wasn't made up.

"Like I said, I wanted to stay out of the nuthouse and straitjacket. Eventually. I think dropping the act after a few days might have been a far wiser course of action."

"And if you find yourself on another planet, do you think you'll repeat your mistake?" he asks sardonically.

"I'll have to figure out if I should be a mad thing who thinks he's a human, or a mad thing who thinks he's a pony. Not being able to decide would probably let me extend it."

"So what happens now?" Hardwood asks.

"I know a little about culture shock from the human perspective," I tell him, "I guess I need to discover if ponies suffer from it the same way. Although your customs seem more homogenous than humans: one language, one government, one history, and one religion. We have dozens of each."

"Sometime I'd like to hear about that."

"As a fairly weak, and omnivorous species, we have a long and remarkably bloody history. If you want nightmares, I'll tell you what I know."

Being allowed to roam the castle, even under guard, is a refreshing experience. If I had to teach one more dancer or ballerina how to 'toe walk' I think I was going to start beating my head against the wall, I think, then make sure I've got all four hooves on the ground, How did they find out, anyway? Did the guards talk? The guards in the halls are similar to the guards at Windsor Castle, indistinguishable from well-painted statuary, they apparently react to nothing. I wonder if these 'Horse Guards' are all elite soldiers too?

The more disturbing revelation is the development of my 'unicorn magic'. At least I haven't developed a cutie mark, I think, But what would be the cutie mark for NDT, Non-Destructive Testing?

The sudden development of the ability to look at a piece of material, and see the flaws throughout the structure had been fun initially, and the possibilities had been mind-boggling. Not being able to turn it off for a couple days had not been fun. Cliches about 'x-ray' vision notwithstanding. Seeing everypony as skeletons, or worse, skeletons riddled with structural flaws, had been an experience I'd rather not relive. At least I can turn it off now, I think as I look around the main hall we're walking through.

The architecture of the main halls could best be referred to as fairy gothic, high ceilings, big windows and skylights, great arches and columns rising upward to meet at the ceiling. Yet all of it in white with occasional slashes of bright colors. Without any intricate carvings that would require endless cleaning. Just lots of straight clean lines drawing eyes upward, to the sun and skies. Okay, now I get it, I think, Deal with the claustrophobia and a tendency to venerate whichever sky goddess is out and about.

Away from the great halls, the transition to more functional architecture is rather abrupt. Walk through a door, and suddenly you're facing 12- and not 40-foot ceilings, more earth tones, more wood, and lots more decorations. Busyness rather than glorious.

I am not too fond of knowing that my current quarters, while built in the 'grand hall' style, used to be a 'bedlam house'. A place for quietly keeping aristocrats who'd failed their cutie marks, or run into more mundane nervous breakdowns. It meant the door was easily locked from the outside, the control for the window shutters was in the room above, and a powerful spell on the room meant that even with the windows open, you could shoot howitzers inside, and no one outside would hear. I should set up a machine shop and forge in there, I think ruefully, trying and failing to shut out a lot of comments about me, my relationship with Princess Celestia, whom I haven't seen since my arrival, my displacement of Twilight Sparkle as the new favorite, and a lot of other asides from the myriad princes and princesses who roam the castle. I guess if I merely existed, I'd be nervous about the pecking order too, I think as I walk, Maybe Twilight's obliviousness wasn't such a bad thing after all. If half this stuff actually registered, she'd be crushed. I know it's all untrue, and it's starting to bug me. The guard, Mister Brushcut today, looks like he'd like to go back and 'explain' a few things to these nitwits. It does explain how Miss 'I don't have time for friends' always wanted a slumber party. If you can't figure out who is being your friend, versus who is using you to get close to the ruler, I'd quit trying to meet people too. The Princess probably hears these kinds of horse apples every day.

The library is a transition back to the 'grand hall'-style architecture, at least the one open to me is. Even within, there are only a few sections I can go, mostly with restricted, escorted access. History and psychology are the first stops. A few general texts. At least the language is readable, I think as I speed-read through several of the books in the stack that I had pulled off the shelves. Then back to the shelves and more books, and more and more. Lots to catch up on.

One officer stops and stares over the crenelations I've accidently created in my skimming/reading. His joyful expression is suddenly dashed as he sees me.

"I'm sorry, officer, did you need this space?" I ask the slightly embarrassed unicorn in the officer's armor.

"I'm sorry, there's only one pony I know, who would set up a 'book fort' like this and miss noticing everything else," he says.

I raise my head over the walls to look around, noting the guard has changed, and it's nightfall. My stomach wakes from its nap and gives a not so gentle reminder that I skipped both lunch and dinner. "I'm sorry Captain, I'm not Twilight Sparkle."

He shies. "How do you know my sister?" he asks, then grows suspicious.

These ponies need ear-acting lessons, I think, It gives them away every time.

"Princess Celestia's personal student, sent to Ponyville, and almost the next day Princess Luna returns, but not Twilight Sparkle? It's not too big a stretch. Besides, people have been comparing me to her, in some rather unpleasant ways, where I can hear, but not figure out who exactly said it. For a place built on love and tolerance, jealousy seems to run rather high," I say, ignoring the fact that steam is nearly blowing out the stallion's ears, "I suspect your sister worked very hard for her position, and is still working hard. I've heard some stories you might want to hear." That calms him down and changes his entire demeanor.

He glances at the guard. "I don't think anyone would be too worried about you attending the officer's mess, both of you," he tells me, "It'll also let the librarians close the place. They called me in about a half-hour before closing time. Like they did with Twilight, on numerous occasions." He gives a good-natured snort of frustration. "Until she finally asked for permission to have round-the-clock access."

Why do I think that Celestia is trying to teach her to be more assertive? Or at least communicate her needs more effectively? I think as we walk. Behind us, the doors close and lock. I think they're nailing them shut. Well, at least I'll get the reputation as an intellectual.

The mess looks like any cafeteria at any government-owned building from a grade-school, to a fort, to a NASA test center. The trays are metal, with inset, shaped areas for the various foods, rather than flat and the food coming on plates and in bowls. What is served is vaguely more appetizing-looking than the hospital food.

"You must be from another world," the officer says as he notices my reaction, "This is good stuff. Her Highness even eats here."

"I'll take your word for it. It isn't what I'm used to." Once we are headed towards a table, I add, "And I think you have the cart before the horse."

He considers the expression. "You think the food is good because her Highness might drop in at any time?" he teases, "You have a very suspicious mind."

"Good, I'm glad somebody suspects I have one."

I get a thorough download of Twilight's Canterlot years, and I relate some of what I know from the episodes I'd watched with my kids. I put the pain of that reminder away for later. Since Luna is back, and there's been no mention of Parasprites, I guess what I can safely reveal, and what I can't. No guesses that my mouth gets away from me.

"Some of that is very secret," he points out as we eat, "And how did you hear it about it?" he asks pointedly. His expression tells me he means to have an answer, as both a loyal officer, and a big brother.

"Like I said, there are plenty of others who like to make comparisons. It doesn't take a genius to put things together."

He relaxes slightly.

"You should send her a letter, now that she's settled." I lean close and whisper. "If the rumors of her facing Nightmare Moon are correct, she'd probably be pleased as punch that her 'Captain of the Royal Guard' brother knows the apple didn't fall too far from the tree."

His suspicions are back full force. "How do you hear things even I haven't?" he asks in a whisper. His glare speaking volumes.

"People aren't constantly searching for the most hurtful thing to say around you. You'd beat the crap out of some people if they said what I've heard them say, about her Highness, your sister, and me."

He glances at the guard, and settles back to finish cleaning his tray.

I'm glad Sergeant Mile Stone is escorting me back. At least he speaks his mind. Politely, and diplomatically. But if you have your head up and locked, at least he'll strongly allude to it, I think as we walk through the moonlit halls and corridors. The light is bright enough to read by, although the shadows are more numerous and more pronounced. I decide to get a little exercise and 'back hoof' walk.

"You don't approve of dragging Shining Armor into what is essentially my battle?" I ask the sergeant who, upon relieving a rather beleaguered trooper, also heard a bit too much about a captain's family and a ruler, both of whom he respects and genuinely approves of.

"Depends on how much of the heavy cavalry you wanted to bring to the fight," he replies, his expression stoic. The guards are equally unimpressed by the trick that supposedly is quite difficult to master.

"So you approve, if I know what I'm doing, and disapprove if I am just throwing fuel on the fire," I say once I've let him get into whispering range. The few functionaries of the 'Night Court' are out and about. Guards are fewer and farther between, but still present. Their brilliant, white coats, like the sergeant's, stand out worse in the moonlight than in daylight. "On a different subject, are they going to be transferred to her Nightjesty's service?"

"There have been rumors, sir," the sergeant says, "And some of the guards have been approached."

I drop down to four legs to walk beside him. "You'll do very well, although I'd hold out for Sergeant-Major of the Guard, or the Corps," I stop as I see the facade crack ever so slightly, "You'll do well in any position, but I think you'd do best instilling your level of professionalism to the new organization. Sometime esprit de corps is all a new organization has, until they develop a reputation."

He relaxes slightly, but still eyes me worriedly as we walk along. "You enjoy that a bit more than is thought wise."

Typical, I don't say aloud, A rebuke but never personal. And always 'you can do better', not 'you are wrong'.

"Would you rather have Prince Buttercup as their leader?" I ask, reminding him of one of the local bits of royal fluff that got a commission and avoided any real training or discipline, through a huge amount of patronage. Before someone finally wised up and discharged him, as the same low-ranked officer he'd gotten in as.

The stallion considers deeply, instead of simply throwing up on the floor. "You should join up. Plenty of room for advancement, and you seem nocturnal."

"Don't play kicks with a mule, Barnum you idiot," I say, and actually get a smile out of him.

I open the door onto the room, moonlit, and all the beds save one pushed up against the wall and stacked. "At least the cleaning crew left it the way I asked," I say, then feel my hooves slip on the freshly polished floor, "Who waxes a stone floor?"

We're both yanked inside, the shutters slam closed, the door shuts and locks behind us, and for a few instants, absolute darkness reigns. Then the powerful glow from a unicorn horn brilliantly illuminates the area.

On dramatic entrances, I give it a nine of ten, losing one point for the heartbroken filly at the center, I think as I decide against giving the tearful princess a hug.

"DESPICABLE WRETCH! DESPOILER OF MY REVERED SISTER'S GOOD NAME! WHAT SCURRILOUS FABRICATIONS HAST THOU BEEN BESMIRCHING HER GOOD HOUSE WITH NOW?!"

Sergeant Mile Stone had never considered himself a coward, but he had no intention, despite his orders to the contrary, of intervening in this confrontation. There's too great a difference between 'keep the lad out of trouble', and 'get killed facing Nightmare Moon reborn'. He bowed to her Highness, and considered any means to de-escalate. He spotted Major Hardwood curled up in a ball in the corner. He'll be of no help, the sergeant realized.

"I greet you, Princess Luna, her Nightjesty," the lad said and gave a bow like you might see on a stage, "And tell you what an honor it has been to serve as the, rubbish tip, for all the vile rumors circling her Highness Princess Celestia. It has been my pleasure to divert attention of the know-nothings from speculation about all the time her Highness has been spending with her beloved, and now-returned, sister."

That lad could talk the legs off a mule, and make him think it was his idea, he thought as the Princess reined herself in.

"WHAT DOST THOU SAY?"

"That while her Highness, whom I have seen only on the day of my arrest, is suspected of colt-cuddling with me, she has in truth, been spending the time with you," he replied, seemingly immune to the 'Royal Canterlot Voice' that set the sergeant's knees buckling.

Princess Luna looked around nervously. The colt walked uncertainly on the slippery floor, over to the pile of blankets the maids had stripped from the beds, and not picked up yet.

"WE, ARE CONFUSED."

"Oh, answers are extra cost," the colt replied, "You have to pay for them." He said and pulled two of the blankets off the stack, laying them out on the floor.

The Princess marched over, unaffected by the slick floor, and thundered at him, "INSIGNIFICANT PIPSQUEAK! THOU TREADS UPON ICE OF THE GRAVEST THINNESS! AND WE DO MEAN GRAVEST!"

He bowed again but remained standing, where Mile Stone was nearly ready to throw himself on the ground or hide. Barnum spoke coldly, not facing her Highness as he told her, "You cannot threaten a man who has already lost everything he cares for." He gentled his tone, and bowed his head, as if the memories themselves dragged him down, "You have your sister again, and are gaining the respect and love of those around you. I have lost my wife, my children, my siblings, and their families." Now he turned and stared at her, almost pityingly, "No pain you wield can match that. Any you inflicted would merely be a distraction. Even if you took my life, that would be a respite. Your Highness, you cannot hurt me worse than has already been done." He bowed again. "Yet, I have what you earnestly desire. Meet my terms, and you will have it all, and my goodwill."

Her Nightjesty was warming up to give him a blistering, when he knelt onto the blanket, pushed off with his back hoof and skidded the length of the room on the blanket. Trying and failing to stop, and running into the far wall, were clearly not his plans, but he seemed game to try again.

"WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?!"

"My price, there's another carpet. Although running into the wall is your choice. I don't recommend it." He mounted his blanket and slid across the room again. Stopping short of the wall this time. "Sorry, sergeant, you have to be the grown-up," Barnum told Mile Stone, then took off back across the room, setting himself spinning this time.

Her Nightjesty watched him, then glanced at the blanket, then back at the arrogant colt who'd throw her dire warning back in her face, and who seemed equally content with making a fool of himself in front of her. Barnum stumbled and fell over after he bumped into the wall this time. He climbed back on the blanket and slowly pushed himself across the wax-slickened floor with one rear hoof.

Her Nightjesty put her forehoof down on his blanket as Barnum slid to a stop. "AND WHAT IS THY GAIN IN THIS?"

"I get to be the first mortal in a thousand years to hear her Highness Princess Luna laugh," Barnum said in all seriousness.

Her Nightjesty shook her head, and stared. She was clearly not used to the corkscrew logic that governed Barnum's personal world. She stared at him in utter confusion for a time. "This is madness," she said finally.

"So?" Barnum asked, rolled over to look up at her, "You could crush me with a thought, Hardwood is practically comatose with terror, and Sergeant Mile Stone is the most discreet stallion in the entire kingdom. Who'll hold it against you?" He rolled back on his belly. "Fifty feet of dead smooth, polished stone with a fresh coat of wax, if I had socks I'd be sliding on it with those. I know it's your royal palace, but imagine the stunned horror of all those stuffy courtiers knowing you did this, even in secret."

She frowned, but put a hoof on his backside, and shoved him across the floor.

"Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Look ma, I'm a hoofball!"

Her horn glowed slightly as she slowed him, before he crashed into the far wall. "Sergeant?" she said and glanced over. She frowned and then moderated her expression and tone, "Thou mayst stand in our presence."

"Oops, shot blocked by the goalie!" Barnum said as Mile Stone arrested his decent to the floor.

Her Nightjesty walked over to confer. "Dost that one face anything with seriousness?" the Princess asked.

Mile Stone steeled himself. Her Highness asked a direct question.

"I believe he takes a great deal seriously, Highness. He just doesn't want anyone to know he takes it seriously," Mile Stone explained.

Her Nightjesty stared at Mile Stone a bit, then chuckled.

"Her Highness has paid, lad," Mile Stone called. Her Highness stared at him in shock, and Barnum skittered across the floor, sans blanket.

"And I didn't hear it?!" the colt exclaimed as he slid towards them, trying to remain upright, legs going in all directions and almost unable to stop.

"I remained on duty, you were playing," Mile Stone said and scowled at him as he caught the hobbling colt by the scruff of his neck.

Barnum stood up and growled at him. Then his feet seemed to lose purchase and staying upright took most of his attention. Through it all, the sergeant remained impassive. Her Nightjesty raised a hoof and laughed into it.

"You are the second, sir, I will attest to it," Mile Stone said, letting go and letting the colt skitter on the floor. The frown he received was half-hearted, both knew getting her Highness to laugh was the real goal.

"All right," he said as he returned to the blanket pile and pulled out another, "Your sister, her Majesty, found me a few days after your return. As I understand, I was found near the statue of Discord."

Her Nightjesty stopped laughing and stared at Barnum for that.

"She decided, I would be just interesting enough to divert all the gossips and nev'r-do-wells with royal pedigrees, while she got acquainted with her sister again. I don't think you did anything like what they are supposing her Majesty and I do, but to forestall even offhanded suspicions, she leaves me here, under guard, and does nothing to deny the unspoken allegations," he explained as he slid across the room.

Her Nightjesty looked at the carefully folded blanket, and knelt down on it. Her horn began to glow.

"With respect your Nightjesty, using your wings might be a superior experience," Mile Stone said, "A lack of perfect control is part of the affair."

"Thou mayst address thy Sovereign of the Night as Princess Luna, or Luna," her Nightjesty said quietly.

Mile Stone bowed, then stood at attention. "Most gracious and undeserved, your Royal Nightjesty." He raised an eyebrow.

Her Nightjesty raised her own, then smiled, understanding the joke. And accepting his usage of the most formal and respectful title, as a subtle act of deferential defiance. She spread her wings and let their beats push her forward.

The sergeant smiled at the two kids enjoying themselves. Her Nightjesty looked serene and haughty, as her wings let her circle the freely sliding Barnum. He was glad the lad took it in stride. The faint knock on the door took his attention away. He cracked the door open to see the face of Major Hansom (Cab). The young man was a 'mustang' an officer who'd started as a private soldier. As such, he had a better head on his shoulders than most officers.

"We've lost her Highness," the worried major related.

Barnum would likely berate him for losing something that big and important, Mile Stone thought briefly.

"Her Nightjesty is in conference, not to be disturbed unless it is an emergency." He moved slightly when the confused Major attempted to crane his neck to see around him. Mile Stone felt his heart freeze as her Majesty looked around the edge of the door, and into the room. He was nowhere near tall enough to block her view, and her Nightjesty took that opportunity to slide by on her blanket, haughty and arrogant, yet enjoying herself thoroughly. Then her Highness turned and raced out of sight with a stroke of her wings. He saw it all reflected in the golden tiara of his sovereign.

"More an educational colloquium," her Majesty observed.

"As her Majesty says," he replied as best he could.

"My sister has been located, she is safe, and I think doing important work," her Majesty said, "Thank you Major, Sergeant. I think a single escort for when the conference ends would be all that is required. Remain on guard until then, Sergeant."

"Oh course, Majesty," Hansom and Mile Stone said and dipped their heads.

The smirk on her Majesty's face told Mile Stone his life had just gotten very much more interesting.

"Oh, Major. A moment if you please, sir," Mile Stone said.

"I think I can spare a bit more than that," the Major replied.

Mile Stone closed, but didn't latch the door, then retrieved a still curled up Hardwood, and dragged him to the door. "On your feet lad, no more napping," he hissed, and placed the awakening intelligence officer outside with Hansom, "Someone needs some salted coffee, Major, and a good Major to Major talking to. I'll fill in the rest, later sir. I am on guard."

The Major nodded, a soldier on guard outranked even a general, until properly relieved. Hansom escorted the intelligence officer away. Mile Stone closed and latched the door. When he turned, he was facing both Barnum, and her Nightjesty. The colt could barely keep his footing, while her Nightjesty simply stood there.

"Was he harmed, by us?" she asked worriedly, "We were more forceful than we are being now."

"Nothing that a little rest can't cure," Mile Stone said, "He always was a little too sure he could control others." Mile Stone shot Barnum a look.

The boy nodded.

"You could try it yourself," her Nightjesty said, "With the door locked and guarded, no one would know."

"There are three of us who would," he replied, then allowed himself a slight smile, "And I rather enjoy you two skylarking."

Out of Options Part 2

Out of Place - Out of Options Part 2

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.
America: Man's Road - written by Jimmy Webb, 1982
Found on The Last Unicorn Soundtrack

I'm hungry, weary, but I cannot lay me down
The rain comes, dreary, but there's no shelter I have found
It will be a long time till I find my abode
Here I am on Man's road, walking Man's road

The list of metal- and wood-working tools grows with each trip to the library. How am I going to pay for any of this? I wonder as I glance around the room that has been effectively ceded to me, I need to do something to balance the scales. I have a roof over my head, some clothes, regular meals, and no means to pay for it. I pack the list away, and begin my daily trip to the library. The other reason for the trip is a break from the experiments: what began as being able to sense cracks and faults in a material, has grown to being able to move them in metal and glass. They have to be heated, which is also a growing ability. I guess my cutie mark is going to be an arc welder. Or a recrystallization rig, I think as I walk, Funny, I've got a power that would be an engineer's dream back home: find flaws in a material, and move them all to one part of the material. Cast something and then sweep all the flaws into the sprues, then break them off. Better parts every time. Except I'm making the guards nervous. I bet they're thinking I could burn my way out of any lock up.

The only reason I don't stay the entire day at the library is the after-lunch sessions with Hardwood. And I suspect those are merely to make sure I take a break and eat something, I think, If I'm hungry I eat, if I'm not I don't. Nothing shows you have to eat three meals a day. But I guess ponies are used to 'grazing' all day.

The guard today is the one who looks like a neanderthal pony right down to the beetling brow. He refuses to give his name, yet still has a deeply-ingrained intellectual streak. His mane and tail color is very different from 'Brushcut's', and he's got a basso profundo voice.

Maybe I should suggest a barbershop quartet, I think of the group who seem to be on 'crazy unicorn' rotation.

" 'By the brand on my withers, the finest of tunes
Is played by the Lancers, Hussars, and Dragoons,
And it's sweeter than "Stables" or "Water" to me,
The Cavalry Canter of "Bonnie Dundee!"

Then feed us and break us and handle and groom,
And give us good riders and plenty of room,
And launch us in column of squadron and see
The Way of the War-horse to "Bonnie Dundee!" Rudyard Kipling."

Neanderpony's expression is one of weighing confusion. He is deciding if he can show he likes it, or not, I think as he considers. We enter the library, and proceed to the stacks.

"Never heard of him, or her," he answers as I collect the books for the first part of the day's reeducation.

"One of my wild memories," I explain as I head back to a table I favor. Near the light, but out of the main paths of traffic. "A poet beloved by the army."

"I can see why," he replies.

Tough crowd, I think as I look at the people rushing towards the windows.

"Should we join the stampede?" I ask as I look.

Perambulate pursuit of the precipitate precipitation of panicked ponies peering at the panorama, I think, then close my eyes and shake my head.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

"Just thinking too alliteratively," I reply.

"There's a dragon out there!"

Pronounces a panicky prince prancing past, I think.

"I think I need to take you back to your quarters," my guard tells me.

"I was going to offer to go with you to the battlements, but if I keep alliterating, I think it's a bad idea."

He stares at me as we get up from the table and head back. Out in the halls, more ponies are running here and there. The military and some civil servants with a sense of urgency. The rest with panic and confusion.

"If I run, you have to chase me, right?" I ask.

"Until I tackle you, yes," he replies.

"Then save the tackle until you can lock me in, I'm headed towards my room. Big windows facing the prime direction," I tell him as I dash away. I arrive at my room, to discover someone has taken the door off the hinges. Inside is a command post: maps of the castle and surrounding grounds attached to the empty bedframes stood up as makeshift plotting boards. Several officers and troopers are setting more bedframes on end, and attaching maps. And framed perfectly by the windows, is a thick cloud of black smoke. My guard arrives, and seems as nonplused as I am. Fortunately, I spot Sergeant Mile Stone and Major Hansom. "Should I leave?" I ask.

"No, lad," Mile Stone says, "We'd be collecting you anyway."

Hansom glances at the sergeant, and lowers his voice, "Auxiliary damage control, and as one of the more heavily shielded rooms, we're assembling a lot of the too-young royalty and VIPs."

Get the useless kids all in one place, I translate, At least I'm not thinking alliteratively any longer.

"No sliding on the floor, lad," Mile Stone reminds me that I look like a midteen, despite what I think I am. My guard is collected by one of the other lieutenants, and tasked with some job.

VIPs is right, I think as the dignitaries arrive, There are several zebra, a griffin, a young buffalo, as well as dozens of ponies.

"So, you're the blank-flank who caught Celestia's eye," one white unicorn mare with a pack of sycophants sneers at me. Several of the others, and especially the diplomatic group, watch with interest.

Queen Bee going after the local, round one, I think, then smile.

"If that's what you choose to believe, I can't stop you," I reply, "I can chuckle, even laugh at you, but I can't stop you."

"I don't see a cutie mark, or do you call it a 'stud stamp'?" the bee's beta nudges me in the flanks as she laughs.

"You're too young to do that to a boy," I tell her in a stage whisper, "And this is the wrong place if you mean it." She's shocked enough to retreat. "All that means is I haven't discovered my talent, or that I have, and the mark is the same color as the rest of me."

"I think it means you'll never amount to anything," the Queen Bee says.

"Quite an insult to our diplomatic friends," I reply and nod to the others who lack markings, "I'll have to tell your mother to school you in manners."

You're out of your league kid, I don't tell her, You can sneer, but I know it's you, and your friends who don't break away, who will grow up to be nothing. I've already been through High School. The prom queen married the quarterback. He's a used car salesman, and she sells cleaning supplies. Most of their money goes to booze on the weekends. The nerds like me and second stringers are the engineers and entrepreneurs with the fancy cars and houses.

Queen Bee puts her nose in the air. "I don't know why I'm talking to you," she snorts and walks away. Like a shoal of minnows, her pack follows.

"You were bored?" I offer, and walk over to the legation kids, who all seem somewhat nervous. "Don't worry, Princess Celestia has her most trusted knights on the job. At this moment, I bet they're assembling to deal with the dragon," I tell them.

If I remember the episode correctly, I think.

" 'Knights?'" the buffalo asks, "Like, her?" She looks over at the Queen Bee and her pack, who are harassing Mile Stone about 'doing something'.

"Good Lord, no," I tell them, "Not royalty, or nobility. People who actually go out and do things."

"Like Daring Do?" the griffin asks excitedly.

"More like that, than the Queen of the May Not," I reply and nod over to Snooty the Great who is on the receiving end of Hardwood's most patronizing 'I'm here to help' speech. "Have any of you ever heard of a heavier than air flying machine?"

There's confusion among them. A few of the other royal/noble ponies drift over, deciding on safety in numbers, while the shark pack cruises for victims.

"There isn't one," the griffin says, "An artist came up with pictures of a machine that would fly like a bird, but nobody can build one."

"An ornithopter," I say, then realize what I've done. They are all staring at me in confusion. "A machine that flies like a bird. Ornitho - for bird. Sorry, ancient language. But nothing other than that?"

They look around, politely discussing and shaking their heads.

"Why would we need that?" the griffin asks, extending and preening one wing, then the other.

"Some people can't fly naturally," I reply.

"What about balloons and airships?" one unicorn filly asks. She's wearing a vest and shorts, but the muffler and tail 'bag' are the odd parts. She's more than slightly resembles the Princesses: tall, thin legs, smaller barrel, but the look in the eye is the clincher.

"They aren't the same. The gas bag gives you lift, but it also gives drag, so you're limited in speed by the very thing you need to fly. And the winds will drive you more than any motors would." I borrow a blank piece of paper, and draw out a diagram. "Lift, weight, drag and thrust, each pair in opposition. Pegasi, griffins, and other flying creature have less drag, but more weight, a balloon has more lift, but more drag. A flying machine would be more like a pegasus or griffin. Or maybe even a hummingbird."

They laugh, but it's different than the discordant sound from the shark pack.

"Hey loser, what's this?" the Queen Bee asks as she holds up a metal box that I had concealed beneath a loose board in the window sill.

"That contains the dye I use to hide the mark on my butt," I tell her, "I wouldn't shake it if I were you."

"Why's it labeled 'sch-muck bait'?" she asks as she shakes it next to her ear.

"Because 'Do Not Open' never seemed to keep people from doing just that," I reply, "I wouldn't, by the way."

The officers are overhearing, and putting things together. One or two have broken away from their discussions and are heading her way. Too late, she opens it. The dye covers her to her withers, three of her posse get a face full. The dye is the exact color I am.

There are a number of filly screams, and more as they realize magic won't get the dye off. Most of the legation kids and the Queen Bee's normal victims are laughing at her. The officers corral the fillies who've been dyed, and hustle them towards the bathroom. Mile Stone is heading my way.

"Excuse me, I think I'm going to be punished," I say as I stand and separate myself from the group. I move to meet the sergeant halfway.

"While I do think she deserved it, what would prevent anyone else from tripping that?" he whispers sharply.

"I had it hidden. And it's going to get worse. That dye is fairly magic-proof. I ginned it up after I found out someone other than the security forces had searched this room. It's been tripped before, three times. I needed some way for the tabloids to explain why I was a 'blank flank'."

The poor sergeant crosses his eyes, then shuts them. "I'm going to let an officer deal with this." He glares at me. "You stay here, lad."

I nod, and let him head over, not to the Major, who actually looks worried he would, but to a senior lieutenant who seems to hold an advanced degree in superciliousness.

The lecture on responsibility and deportment had been vaguely entertaining, and admitting all wrongdoing while reducing the lieutenant to raging contradictions had been useful in keeping the diplomatic kids occupied until nightfall, when the all-clear came through. They'd thanked me. The dyed fillies ran to their mommas and daddies, who were horrified by the 'maiming', but even more so when they were informed their darlings had decided to break into the place where the labeled material was kept, and ignored two clear warnings not to do what they'd done.

And my punishment, after they discovered the dye does not come off, and that it didn't affect their eyes, is to clean up the mess, I think as I sweep up the food wrappers, and mop up the spilled drinks, while half of Canterlot is celebrating the victory. The upright bed frames still have the maps hung from them, and those are harder to deal with. Why is paper the thing my telekinesis is weakest against? I can practically weld and forge metal with my bare horn, but paper . . . I guess I'm no Rarity. The mop and broom handles are wood, which presents no problems. The dust pan and buckets are metal, which are trivially easy. The maps I take down with my teeth, and carefully roll them up as best I can. If no one comes to get them, they're mine. I leave them where they aren't easily seen from the doorway, but a trivial search would spot them. The door is back, and bolted from the outside. A demand the Queen Bee insisted on, and I was only too happy to agree to.

Restacking the beds, and finally, applying the special lye soap to remove the dye from the floor and the bathroom fixtures completes the evening's cleanup. The party sounds like it's still going on, I note as I see the lights of the city illuminating the room's ceiling, and the sounds coming in.

I stand on my rear hooves, with my forehooves on the window sill and look at all the lights still moving through the town beyond the castle. The Great Hall is ablaze with light and people move through the gardens. But I could care less. Tomorrow, assuming they let me out, I've got a project, I think as I hop down to the floor, And if the Mane Six just dealt with the dragon, a trip to Ponyville will get me plans or at least examination of a working prototype.

Morning brings a rough shake from a guard I've never seen before. That's bad. The angry, white alicorn is a greater threat. "Lye soap, a minimum of water, and a bit of scrubbing. It's the ink they use on magic scrolls," I say quickly, "Good morning, your Majesty." I do my best bow, considering I'm still in bed and half-asleep. The paper that drops in front of me tells me I guessed wrong. There is a picture, of me, full side-view and the caption 'What is Celestia's toy hiding?'

"Ah, uh, oh," I manage as my brains spin up to speed. "Nothing, your Highness, but they don't need to know that." A skim of the article reports almost verbatim that I dye my cutie mark to hide it.

"There's no shame in not having your cutie mark," she says, stern, but motherly.

"Your Majesty, I never mentioned that, until last night. And the people who'd previously opened the box, and got a dye job, never hung around to ask." I glance around at the squad of guards, all of whom seem as disturbed as her Highness, "And this is irrelevant, isn't it?"

"Clear the room and lock it," her Highness orders. Some of the guards follow the order unwillingly, but in a few moments we are alone. One of the stacked beds floats over, a mattress floats from where they are stacked onto the bed, and is then covered with a sheet. All before the frame lands. It's an impressive display of power and control. Celestia kneels on the bed, eliminating the obvious height and size difference.

I wonder if she's even aware she feels a need to do this, I think uneasily, I am not going to tell her it's unnecessary. But I may mention it to Hardwood, let him decide what gets back to her Majesty.

"I can't understand more than a tiny amount of what I saw in your mind. And I thank you for the warning about Discord. I hope to be more ready than my counterpart. But you have to understand something about burying yourself in your work, or your studies. While your mind is in some ways more durable than my ponies. You've sealed away a huge pool of pain. If you don't find a way to release it, the explosion will destroy you. And I don't think a hug from friends will restore you. While my ponies break more easily, they heal much more easily."

This was not what I was expecting, I realize as I try to catch up to where I thought this was going.

"I'm doing what I always do," I admit, "I'd bury myself in work, to avoid dealing with problems. I thought I was over that."

"Pon - people do what they are comfortable with, especially when they don't know what else to do," she tells me.

"Something I suspect you've learned from recent experience," I say, and get a stern glare, "I guess I haven't decided that all of this is real. I mean this is a kids' show. Except it isn't, and I don't know how to deal with that. I have - I have to make sure I am who I was first. Then I can start discovering who I am now. There's a simple way to do that, and it might give one of your knights an insight into herself she desperately needs."

"Another of my students goes to Ponyville?" she asks sardonically, "The poor Ponyvillians are going to get a complex."

"I think they'll get an even bigger countercomplex when I get what I'm after. I think they'll survive."

"Can your trip wait?" she asks, "I'm planning to visit there next week. Why don't you come with me?" she asks, and nuzzles me.

She draws back when I react with horror. " 'Next week'?! I think I need to get there as soon as possible, and I'd better have an accordion when I get there."

"Trouble?" she asks in alarm.

"Nothing the locals can't deal with," I assure her, "The other is a just an immediate credential and entry."

"I'm not sure I want to know," she admits.

Then something about the column catches my eye. " 'What is Celestia's toy hiding? By Sunny Days'?"

There's only two people in Equestria who would get that reference, I think, And they're both right here.

The look of utter and abject innocence practically radiating off the ruler of Equestria tells me all I need to know. "You are trolling the ponies who think you're a monster."

"I don't have any idea what you mean," she replies.

I look up from my packing. "What's up, doc?" I ask Hardwood as he enters my room.

The poor pony looks chagrined. "One of these days, you're going to have to explain that. I asked her Majesty, and she had an attack of the giggles. While it's good to see her Majesty able to laugh, I'd really like to know what's so funny."

"It's the ears," I tell him, "They're perfect."

He tries to stare up to see his own ears. "That's nice, perfect for what?" he asks.

I sigh. "A joke isn't really funny, if you have to explain it. Suffice it to say, you physically and intellectually resemble a cartoon character."

"One different from the cartoon ponies we all resemble?" he asks.

"Exactly."

He shakes his head briefly. "I'm glad you're going to Ponyville, once you see you fit in there, maybe you'll let yourself fit in here."

"Whatever do you mean, that everypony in Ponyville is crazy?" I ask, "That's a paraphrase from the show."

"More an egalitarianism that exists there, but is lacking in all but the real movers and shakers in Canterlot," Hardwood says, "Too many people wondering about the pecking order here. I don't think you like that too much."

"Okay, now I'm worried. No questions, just statements?"

"Oh, I'm here as Major Hardwood, not Doctor Hardwood," he offers, "And we'll need your help on a mission of some importance. One I don't think you would have seen on the show, but one of significant importance to the rest of us."

"I've been sponging off the government for a while. I'd be glad, no eager to pay back."

"You'll need to use your insights to get a very special mission completed, for Princess Luna herself."

"I'm glad they sent Corps-Sergeant-Major Mile Stone with me on this trip," I tell him as he walks beside me. For a few moments pride wars with embarrassment on his usually stoic expression.

Although he has a mission of his own, I think as the two of us walk through the town of Ponyville, Although Hardwood tasked me to help, in between preventing a disaster.

"I think you look good in charcoal-gray, although the solid black sideburns makes you look younger than the salt-and-pepper did," I tell my friend, guard and the eyes of Canterlot, and especially Princess Luna.

The sergeant who glares at me currently possesses the highest, noncommissioned rank in the entire Equestrian military.

"Just think: There is no one, not even the princesses, who is the sole holder of a high rank, commissioned or noncommissioned." I glance over at him. "You'll forgive me eventually," I tell him. The scowl is worth it. "On a serious note, if they didn't believe you deserved it, you wouldn't have gotten it. The Night Guards have their own princess back, and they have to establish an identity of their own. Other than 'the Day Guards' castoffs'."

"They will need more than that."

"The First Special Services Force was recruited from an elite Canadian force, and Americans assembled from training cadres all over the west. So you had half-trained ruffians, who'd learned lots of nasty tricks in their civilian life, and a disciplined force of professional soldiers. The combination had their enemies name then 'The Devil's Brigade'."

"Where do you come up with this stuff, lad?"

"Human history."

The Ponyvillians are preparing for the princess' arrival in a few days. They note our arrival, but take no real mind of us. "I very much doubt I'll forgive you, sir, but it is something of an idea," he replies. His only revenge for my 'help' in getting his post, is redoubling his efforts to turn a callow youth into a good officer, despite me not being a member of the military. He notes the large tree/house we're heading towards. "I thought we were heading towards this genius. I believe the library is Miss Sparkle's domicile."

"I need to drop off a housewarming gift, and a way to introduce myself without it appearing completely contrived."

"She might have read the recent column by that despicable 'Sunny Days'," the sergeant says, "That mare has never been given proper training in manners. Or even, discretion."

"You were about to say 'decency'," I tell him. "When we can secure an area, I'll tell you some things you need to know about him."

"Him?"

"Sunny Days is no Earth Pony mare, Unicorn mare or Pegasus mare," I reply, "I even think I've figured out who Sunny Days is. I'll hold your coat, while you give the blackguard a good, sound thrashing." I smile at his embarrassment.

"I hadn't meant that," he explains, "I am sure a stern talking to would suffice."

"I can just about guarantee, he'll politely tell you to mind your own business," I explain as I knock on the door. The voice on the other side is not the one I came to see.

The baby dragon revealed by the opening door looks at us in confusion. "Hi, I'm Spike. Twilight Sparkle's assistant."

"Hello Spike. I'm P.T. Barnum McHorsefly, and this is Corps-Sergeant-Major Mile Stone. Is Twilight Sparkle in?"

The little dragon looks worriedly at the mess inside. "She left to check on the preparations for the Princess' visit."

"Do you know where Miss Rarity's boutique can be found?" the sergeant asks.

The little dragon perks up immediately. "I can take you there!" he says happily, then his joy fades. "After I've cleaned up here."

"You take Sergeant Mile Stone to the boutique. I can't properly reshelve the books, but I can deal with the dirt."

"Would you?" the dragon asks happily.

"There are worse ways to introduce yourself," I tell him, "Besides, with my magic, it won't take long."

"Would you teach Twilight those spells?" he asks eagerly as he and the sergeant leave.

The dust and dirt are easily gathered in one spot, that being directly over the dust bin. The cleaning supplies, mostly for cleaning wood, are quickly mixed and a dozen sponges are soon hard at work on the shelves and carvings. With only the books to reshelve and the wood gleaming, I remove the gift I brought for Twilight. The stuffed bumblebee toy with the gray collar marked 'Mrs. Buzzy' I leave in a prominent place.

That should have her a bit curious, and just slightly off-balance, I think, then immediately facehoof.

"I didn't ask him where - " I facehoof again. "She should be at Rarity's." I check the rest of my parcels and head in that direction.

"Does anypony know where I can find an accordion?" my target asks the people within Rarity's boutique, "Gals, hello! This is important!" She stamps her hooves in frustration.

"Ma'am," I say, "I have one"

The pink mare immediately brightens up. "Ooo! Can I borrow it?"

"Parasprites?" I ask, praying that I correctly remember the details of the episode I only saw once.

"Of course, silly!" she says happily.

"Where can I set up to start assembling the instruments? Frankly, my musical skills would get me banished to the moon by either her Highness, if they ever heard me play. But I can build like no one's business."

"I'll have to modify it!" Pinkie Pie announces as she runs away with the accordion.

"I'll be glad to help," I tell her as I pursue.

"I'll have to make it a player accordion. Do you like ice cream, what's your favorite flavor?"

A player accordion!? Is that -? Never mind! This is Pinkie Pie we're talking about! I remind myself.

"I'm a fair engineer, I can help."

"Okie dokie loki. You drive trains?" she asks, "What do trains have to do with ice cream?"

"Only to test them after I build them. That's what I came to talk to you about, but let's deal with the Parasprites first. What do Parasprites have to do with ice cream? Feeding them makes them multiply!"

"Yeah, and we want to subtract them from the town!"

"So are you a descendant of Sleipnir?" I ask.

She turned her head to look at me. "How do you know that? Are you some alien being who dropped down to Equestria from outer space?"

"I'm from Canterlot," I tell her, "I only work in outer space."

The evening is spent assembling, welding, screwing bits together, and getting Pinkie Pie to get a night's sleep. 'Pinkamena Diane Pie, you are going to have to run this thing tomorrow. It's important that you rest. So you will rest, or I'll knock you out,' I had told her, and checked up on her twice. We compromised on two three-hour naps. With her cutting the roll that would control the accordion's player mechanism between those naps. During one of those naps, I located the wreckage of her Pinkie copter.

"I still have to get more instruments," she announces as she leaves at first light, "We need a banjo, and some tambourines! Maybe AJ will have a harmonica."

"Don't forget the tuba, that's the centerpiece. I've got the mounting fixtures all ready when you get them," I tell her as I work on the collection of musical instruments, and the frame that will hold the assembly comfortably. I've progressed steadily from an NDT lab on four legs, to being able to do a form of welding that most machinists only dream of. All based on my growing unicorn magic.

I'd almost be afraid to describe this to people, I think as the crystals of material twist and shape themselves into each other like roots or tentacles growing and twining, wood, metal and glasses all are easily attached to each other using my new power, I'm almost glad this doesn't work on living things. That would be a little too tempting.

The sergeant enters. "There are Parasprites in this town!" he gasps as he closes the door behind him.

"Hence the musical instruments." I don't look up from my work.

"That will get rid of them?" the sergeant asks.

"Yep, lead them back to the Everfree Forest, where the predator-filled environment will make short work of them," I explain as I test the spell to power the player accordion. The music is serviceable and I listen as I watch the clock. "I've have got to improve that spell," I comment, "Four minutes isn't enough. If I can't get at least twelve, we could be in a lot of trouble."

"There is a magic expert in town," Sergeant Mile Stone points out.

"Been by three times, and she's been gone each time. If she's avoiding me, she's doing a good job."

"What can I do?" the sergeant asks.

I glance around. "Are you any good at jigsaw puzzles? The real reason I came is in the shed out back, and it's in a lot of pieces." I look up from the cooling weld. "Oh, did you have any luck with getting the uniform designs out of Miss Rarity?"

The gentleman doesn't show his true frustration. Instead, he manages, "Yes, although I need better words to explain the difference between 'dress', 'battle dress' and 'ambassadorial dress' uniforms."

"Black tie, Business Casual, and White tie," I say as I return to staring at the mechanism, and try to wrack my brains to figure out how to store more power in the assembly, without blowing it up or setting it on fire.

Pinkie Pie drops off the sousaphone-style tuba and rushes off.

Now I can integrate that into the assembly . . . and now I have the mass to store the energy the spell needs! I think happily and begin threading the harness and the other instruments through the circular coils of the sousaphone. I note the sergeant has departed at some point.

"That is what you were after, sir?" the sergeant asks as he returns from the shed, "It appears - " Even his ability to remain polite and expressive fail him.

"It's a level of technology beyond anything you're used to. I'll give you a hint," I say, between using my horn to carefully tack weld the frame to the tuba, "It is damaged from crashing. It did actually fly."

"And the lady, flew it?" he says in disbelief.

"The lady designed, built and flew it," I tell him. I look him over, then abandon the thought. "No, you're too big, help me on with this thing. She has to have freedom of movement and I have to keep the weight balanced. It's going to be hard enough playing a half-dozen instruments all at once, without the harness stabbing you someplace, or the whole thing trying to tip over."

"I don't understand," he admits as he helps me test fit the assembly.

I walk around the room, trying to make sure all the important pieces are within reach. "What is that rattling sound?" I ask as I look around.

Mile Stone sticks his head in the bell of the sousaphone, the impulse is tempting. "There appears to be a harmonica at the bottom," his voice echos strangely.

"I am not going to ask how you saw that," I say as he helps me set the 'one-pony band' rig down, and I fish the harmonica out of the tuba and fit it into the wire frame. "All we need now is the musician." I feel a massive surge of magic pass through. "What the hay was that?" I start looking around, expecting the Death Star to appear.

"I didn't feel anything."

Before I can explain, there's a hammering at the door. "Don't let me in! They're eating the tambourines!" Pinkie Pie shouts through the door.

"If they get the tuba or accordion before we're ready -" I shout.

Mile Stone has lowered his head, and paws the ground. "Let the lady in," he says harshly.

I yank the door open for the pink blur, and slam it behind. From the ruined satchels, and the disappearing tambourines, come dozens of the grapefruit-sized monsters.

"Go, lad!" he tells me. Then we get a display reminding us that Celestia's soldiers are not decorations, or ornaments, and that sergeant means he's a master of the fighting craft. Dozens of Parasprites try for the musical assembly. Rear hooves, fore hooves, teeth, and tail, he lashes out at the Parasprites, dashing them against the walls and ceiling. He whirls and twists, too utilitarian to be a dance, but none of the Parasprites gets past as I buckle Pinkie Pie into the contraption.

"This only has 12 minutes, the player roll is looped, so it'll play as long as it has power," I tell her, then strap the cymbals on her legs.

"Ready, steady, go!" she grimly announces, as the Parasprites outside begin eating through the door.

"Gone," I tell her as I release the spell that sets the mechanism going. The door falls away, revealing a swarm of the eating machines. She plays the tuba and harmonica as she marches determinedly through the pack and out onto the street. The Parasprites stop trying to eat the instruments, the building, or anything else as she moves long.

I glance at the sergeant, as he trots after her, and I fall in behind.

I came here to convince Pinkie she's not a caricature or a joke, but I was thinking Sergeant Mile Stone was a bit of a joke, I realize, That too proved not to be true by a long shot.

"Lad," the sergeant asks as we follow the pink music machine and her trail of Parasprites onto Ponyville's main street, "What are we really doing here?"

"Getting our horizons broadened, sergeant," I reply.

"You'd think we could get that in the capital," he says.

"Good Lord no," I reply, "The capital, any capital, is the last place that can happen. True here, true everyplace I remember. Cosmopolitan, but not really inventive."

He puts a hoof on my shoulder. "Before you start making plans to repair all this damage." He and I look at the collapsed and collapsing buildings all over the town square. "When was the last time you slept?" he asks.

"Canterlot. Too long," I admit, and glance back at the shed. "A half-hour, then I'll help."

"Agreed."

I trudge back and collapse on the floor, exhausted.

My nose tells me I'm not asleep in the shed anymore, there is no smell of wood, dust, burnt metal or machine oil. I try and place where I've smelled this before, as my other senses report I'm in a bed, with clean sheets and a comforter, and I've been washed.

The last brings me fully awake. I sit up and realize I'm back in the library. Twilight Sparkle is below, studying diagrams and papers, and I'm in the guest bed. Okay, I don't know the societal implications of this, so I'm just going to go with being a good neighbor.

I look around carefully, and spot the sergeant asleep on a couch in another room. Spike is asleep in his basket in the bedroom alcove, and Twilight is off in study land. Outside it's dark, with barely a moon in the sky. I make it down the stairs to the library's main floor before she notices me. I carefully close the door to the sergeant's sleep room, before walking to the table she's working at.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Since yesterday afternoon. I appreciate your help with Pinkie Pie and the Parasprites, but from personal experience I can tell you that depriving yourself of sleep is not the best thing. Especially for a growing colt who's trying to do delicate work and make good decisions," she replies, and visibly restrains herself from continuing her lecture. "I do have one question," she says as her horn glows. "What is this?" Mrs. Buzzy lands in front of me, and the glow around her fades.

"The mathematician's answer is 'A present of a stuffed bumblebee named 'Mrs. Buzzy''," I tell her.

" 'Mathematician's answer'?" she asks.

"Technically correct, but utterly useless," I reply, I look side to side, then lean close. She leans closer. "It's a joke that even should you bend time and space for a solution, you shall never know, for it rests in a universe twice-removed from your own."

The flat ears and frown show exactly what she thinks of that answer.

"I heard you only had Smarty-Pants and Spike, so I figured you needed a fourth for bridge," I tell her. She stares at me worriedly. "If your partner messes up the bid, can't you declare 'dummy' and play their hand?" I ask. She still stares at me. "You do know I came here primarily to get Pinkamena Diane Pie's permission to produce industrial versions of some of her inventions?"

"Pinkie Pie?!" she asks, now adrift in the only island of rationality in an insane world.

"Yes, the flying machine, and a few other items," I tell her, "Pure genius."

"Pinkie Pie?" Her mane is noticeably frazzled by now.

I pick up Mrs. Buzzy with my horn magic and set her before Twilight. "Go get some tea, and cuddle Mrs. Buzzy a while. The world will make much more sense."

She puts the bumblebee on her back and walks into the kitchen. "Pinkie Pie?" she asks the universe in general.

I look over the lists and diagrams, mostly involving the repair of Ponyville. "I think I'm going to have a lot of work to do."

The sergeant comes out of the room he'd been sleeping in. "No arguments, you needed the rest," he tells me without preamble.

I shrug as best I can, and return to staring at the plans.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"She's a great organizer, but a rotten engineer," I reply, "There are much better ways to do this."

"You are two of a kind. I was referring to her charm," he says, "She's quite lovely, and an intellectual. Considering your desire to shake things up, you could do worse. Especially if 'Sunny Days' got a hold of the idea that Celestia's favorites were stepping out on her, with each other."

I stare at him. His expression is guardedly neutral, but I've learned to see the laughter in his eyes. "I still think I used to be a married, hairless ape. I'll take your word that she's attractive, but I don't see it. I have enough trouble telling girls from boys without looking underneath."

"Your loss, lad," he says and shrugs.

Okay, you're learning my tactic of giving up something easy, and going for broke on what you really want, I realize as I can still see the hidden laughter.

"So, are the designs unusable?" he asks, "Or just inefficient?"

"Poor use of resources, and bad, well, overly complicated designs," I reply, "It overworks the fliers, and under-works the ground-bound. But there's a simple way to fix that."

"Glad to hear it, Engineer Officer, you're conscripted, her Nightjesty's orders," he says and grins at me.

I look at him. His grin remains unshakable. "Great," I comment, "Shanghaied on dry land. So does an Engineer Officer outrank a Corps-Sergeant-Major?"

"In everything but ordering troops around. And now you have a rank no one in all of Equestria has. And no one to command but yourself," he says, just barely hiding his grin, "Congratulations." He salutes me. "Sah!"

"Great, now I am the Royal Corps of Engineers, Ubique to you too."

To their Highnesses Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,

The repair work is going surprisingly well, and quickly. Having a mage who rivals the Alicorn Sisters in raw power is handy. Teaching said mage and the Ponyvillians about prefabrication made the speed possible. The Earth ponies and a few others would assemble a large section on the ground. The unicorns led by Twilight would raise the piece into place, and hold it there. Then Earth pony/pegasi teams would drive the nails or turn the screws to attach it securely. Entire buildings would go up in a day, instead of requiring several. Patches took minutes instead of hours. Once they got the bit in their teeth, they ran with the idea.

Of course Sergeant-Major Mile Stone walked around like a proud poppa. More proud that I was smart enough to teach them something, and let them work it out without micro-managing. That left the final touches . . .

"How could you?" Rarity holds me in the alley's corner, and shows every intention of driving her glowing horn straight through my chest and into my heart.

"I only mentioned dazzle painting in passing, and I only mentioned it to Rainbow Dash," I explain quickly to the irate unicorn, "I had no idea Pinkamena Diane Pie and Derpy Hooves would paint your shop that way."

"I want it fixed!" she says carefully and emphasizes with a hoof stomp. She glares at me, so I understand my entire future rests on my answer.

"We'll have to give it a coat of dark, gray primer to cover the existing paint, then start over from there."

"Fine," she says, satisfied. She moves back to give me figurative, and literal breathing room.

I decide to take a chance. "You should leave one interior room in that pattern," I suggest.

She stares at me, as if I had been the one threatening to impale her.

I think waking up to find the two or possibly three of them painted her boutique, inside and out, with the garish patterns has pushed the refined mare too far out of her comfort zone, I think as she looks at me in horror, It was originally designed as naval camouflage.

"Why would I ever do that?" she asks, nearly swooning.

I shrug. "Oh, inspiration, a reminder that no matter how badly something fails, people have done worse on purpose," I suggest, "Or as a waiting room for really troublesome customers."

She smiles and laughs at that. "Like your dear friend, Sergeant Mile Stone. I simply do not know what he wants."

"Something simple, comfortable, that could intimidate an enemy into surrendering/negotiating with a good hard look."

She leans back and stares. "Why didn't he say that?"

"Because you two don't speak the same language," an inspiration hits and I get it out before it fades, "Ask Fluttershy's help. She's a wildlife expert. She understands about threat displays. The clothes should say 'no better friend, no worse enemy.' Has he asked for camouflage?"

"Oh goodness, yes. Urban, woodlands, and arctic." She looks at me in confusion. "How does one hide in snow, unless one is solid white?"

"Like I said, ask Fluttershy."

Rarity stares at me. "I think I believe you did come to town to speak with Pinkie Pie," she tells me and saunters off.

Go talk to the paint crew! I think, then spot Twilight staring at Rarity's hideously and insanely striped boutique, the glow from her horn and sigils of the spell visible in broad daylight.

Rarity's shriek as the spell takes effect sends me running.

"Get the paint crew, NOW!" I tell myself.

The Mane Six, minus Pinkie, watch as the Apple family's barn goes up. Again prefabricated, and four walls go up against each other. Twilight is saving her strength to place the roof.

"I'll have to ask you all to forgive Pinkamena Diane Pie," I say as I look up from the progress on the roof. The crews are fixing the four walls to each other with practiced ease.

"Pinkie Pie?" Rainbow Dash asks, "What did she do now?"

"Oh, she was doing what she was supposed to be doing. You see Twilight Sparkle, Pinkamena Diane Pie had to keep throwing parties and dragging you to them, to prevent you from concentrating your efforts on the pony space-program. Rainbow Dash could theoretically have been the first pony sent by rocket magic to outer space."

"I coulda flown higher and faster than the Wonderbolts!" Rainbow Dash exclaims, "Pinkie! Why'd she do it?"

I ignore the agitated pegasus' frantic circling, and reply in a calm tone, "The fear was that they'd send someone to the moon, and release Nightmare Moon. Then she'd come back on the return rocket."

"Hold your horses," Applejack interjects, "That makes no sense no how. We freed Princess Luna from Nightmare Moon, months ago. Pinkie is still throwin' parties like crazy. Always has, always will."

"The change in bylaws hasn't made it through the steering committee," Rarity says, "Semicolons must be used properly, on such a momentous document."

"You mean you kept me from being a - space flyer?" Rainbow Dash laments to Rarity, "I thought we were friends!"

Rarity looks offended. "It's not as if I painted your home some hideous color scheme."

Twilight sighs and shakes her head. "I'm going to go check the roof."

"Say what you like about good ole' Twi, she can raise the roof when she wants to," Applejack says as she trots after her.

Rainbow Dash begs, "Rarity, please, please, please tell Pinkie Pie I can be a -"

"Astromare?" Rarity offers, "I shall consider it."

"Is that a yes?"

Fluttershy just stares at me for a moment, then flutters after Twilight and Applejack.

"Why does he have to take me seriously!?" Pinkie Pie shouted in frustration as she sat with her friends in Sugarcube Corners. She gripped the straw in her teeth, glared at the wall and blew bubbles in her drink.

"Don't you like that someone appreciates your inventions?" Fluttershy asked quietly, "You seemed happy about it."

Pinkie glanced over at Fluttershy. "I told him I was going to build a moon rocket, and he said to be sure Rainbow Dash got a ride on it."

"Well, I -"

"Then I told him I was going there to solve world hunger," she exclaimed.

Pinkie's hair went flat, and her eyes half closed. "I think that you should check with Princess Luna," she said in a deep monotone, "About the presence or absence of cheese on the moon, before committing so much effort to the endeavor."

Her eyes widened and her hair reinflated to her usual style. "It was a joke, and he acted as if I was serious! Just to test it, I told him my funniest joke!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed.

Then her hair flattened out. "Oh, very droll," she said in a deep voice, "Very droll indeed."

Her hair poofed out. "I told him about adding all the candy canes and flower decals to my flying machine."

Her hair flattened. "I think that would be very good for sales models, but for an engineering unit, plain is better."

Her hair poofed. "I even got his friend to laugh. But not him, I tell a joke and he looks like Twilight reading a book."

Her hair flattened and she stared at the wall. A faint wisp of smoke could be seen rising from where her gaze fell.

"I'm not that bad," Twilight grumped.

"Sugarcube, sometimes you're worse," Applejack said and patted Pinkie on the shoulder, "Maybe you've just ain't got to what he thinks is fun."

"Oh, I know what he thinks is fun!" Pinkie exclaimed, "Work! I leave him with one of the things I just threw together and he's so busy studying it, that his friend has to remind him to eat."

"He isn't ignoring you," Fluttershy pointed out.

"No, he just won't go to any parties, and when I invite him, he acts like he's imposing," she said, "Let's have fun!"

Her hair went flat. "I am having fun Pinkamena Diane Pie."

Her hair poofed. "But you're working all the time!"

" 'The joy of discovery can exceed what any party ever conceived can do. And I appreciate your eccentric genius,'" Applejack said along with Pinkie Pie.

Pinkie stared at Applejack in surprise.

"I heard him say it when I invited him to this little get together. He was out at Sweet Apple Acres, I think he was taking your new 'Diane' out for a fly," Applejack added.

"And that's the other thing!" Pinkie shouted, "Why did he name it after me? And why not name it a 'Pinkie'!?"

Her hair flattened out. "Diane has more gravitas, and sounds like 'dyna' which is movement, and di- means two which can refer to the twin rotors. The inventor gets to name the invention, and you deserve an honored place to cement their recollection in history."

Now her hair stuck straight out. "I don't even like cement! I really don't want it all over my name, and all over history!"

"I think that's not what he meant, dear," Rarity said, and forcibly hid her smile.

"He hasn't made you feel bad, has he?" Fluttershy asked.

"No! He's . . ." Her hair flattened. " . . . been very respectful and encouraging. Praising my ingenuity, my ability to think beyond existing design paradigms, and designing superb manufacturability into even the prototype models." Her hair poofed out. "But where's the FUN!"

"Don't ya'all want to be thought of as somethin' other than 'party, party, party'?" Applejack asked nervously.

Pinkie stared at her. Applejack drew back.

"If I can't have that, and parties too. I - don't - want - it!" Pinkie returned to angrily blowing bubbles in her drink.

Rainbow Dash couldn't help herself. She fell on the floor, hooves waving in the air, laughing.

"And what do you think is so funny?" Pinkie Pie indignantly demanded.

"I think she realizes, he pranked you," Fluttershy said, "Maybe he shouldn't have. You seem hurt."

"Pranked me?" Pinkie asked in confusion.

Twilight quietly explained, "He gave me a stuffed bumblebee, and told me it was a joke I'd never understand. And after a week studying everything I could about bumblebees, stuffed animals and my family tree, I still don't get the joke!" Twilight ended shouting.

"That's the joke!" Rainbow Dash laughed, "You couldn't just leave it alone."

Twilight growled at her friend.

"He had Rainbow Dash convinced that you were preventing Twilight from making her an Astromare," Rarity told her.

"He gave Angel a set of little bagpipes," Fluttershy added, then glanced around nervously, "Uh, he is really good with them."

"I kin think a better ways to scare off bears, but I ain't no bunny," Applejack said.

Pinkie Pie was looking from friend to friend in amazement. "You mean, all the seriousness, 'yes Pinkamena Diane Pie', all the-" Her hair flattened and her eyes half closed. "Was a prank? On me?" She shook her head. "Help! My face got stuck this way!"

Twilight leaned over and whispered in Pinkie's ear.

Pinkie's hair stood straight up and her eyes opened to the size of saucers. "Don't even joke like that!" she exclaimed. Then her expression went back to normal. "Ask Fluttershy, bees are hardworking, they'd never cheat at cards."

Twilight grinned.

"Well, if you want to give him a piece a yur mahnd, he's out at mah farm. That would be the best place, and I reckon all a us should talk ta him," Applejack said.
Mrs. Buzzy
Creation of FiMFlamFilosophy
(in My Little Pony: The (Abridged) Mentally Advantaged Series)