The Star Child

by Silvertie

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 8183

A child falls from the stars, and is entrusted to the care of Riot Shield, former Night Guardspony.

A child falls from the stars in a pod of steel, is saved by Luna herself, and is entrusted to the care of Captain Riot Shield, retiring Night Guardspony.

With instructions to make sure the child is healthy and happy until something comes to retrieve it, and no prior experience with children, let alone an alien child from the stars, Riot's facing what might be his hardest mission yet.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-03 13:27:08 UTC

Prologue: Spaced

The metal deck lurched violently as the ship was thrown about, rocked by an explosion far larger than anyone on board would have liked. The artificial gravity held, and no atmosphere alarms sounded, but the explosions were nothing but bad news for the loyal crew.

“Hardy!” a yellow-and-orange jumpsuited woman screamed, short-cropped ginger haircut slick with sweat, as she clung to a bulkhead with one hand, and struggled to hold onto a wrapped bundle with her other arm, disregarding her toolbox as it slid across the deck and away from her, toolbelt jingling on her hips.

“Over here, Marilyn!” a gruff voice hailed from up ahead, through an airlock that had been jammed partially open by some power failure. Marilyn regained her footing, and clutching the bundle with two hands, ducked under an extended door bolt, slipped through the yellow-chevron-painted airlock, and stepped into a place she hoped she’d never have to walk.

Red strips along the walls, and reinforced pexiglass walls told her that she was in the brig, a secure holding area for the criminal element, such as there could be on board a spaceship. She looked around, and quickly located another red-plated security door open; this time, it was because a man in a red jumpsuit and black body armor was waiting for her, face creased in concern underneath a black helmet with an inpenetrable blue visor.

“Is he alright?” Hardy asked, as Marilyn drew close.

“He’s fine!” the ship engineer nodded. “Lets go!”

Hardy backed up, and Marilyn followed him into the security area, where the door sealed behind them. She found herself looking at a room in disarray, the table and floor covered with empty donut boxes and security equipment from unlocked lockers that had popped open with the recent ship-wide tremors, respectively.

As tempting as it was, she refrained from scooping up a stun baton or a taser, instead trusting in Hardy to protect her and their son from danger. The security officer led his wife through the mess, and over to another red-plated airlock, this time a more muted, gentle red of warning, and not the bright red of Security.

It hissed open, revealing a small pod; big enough to fit two people in sequence, a second, currently recessed metal airlock told a story of what it’s purpose was.

“In here, dear,” Hardy invited, gesturing inside. Marilyn slipped inside, and looked around. The pod was very simple, a basic control panel for the technologically-challenged, and simple padded chairs with harnesses to fit all sizes. She wasted no time in placing her bundle into one, and doing up the straps. The pods were designed for two, but they could hold more at a stretch, and if she or Hardy had to go without a seat, so be it.

There was muffled shouting, and the faint buzz of laser discharges, just as Marilyn finished placing her child into the harness, and Hardy looked up, worried, as he drew his own taser and stun baton from his belt.

“They’re coming,” he muttered.

“Why are the Syndicate doing this?” Marilyn asked, knuckles white as she clutched the shoulder of the chair.

“Bloody space-dollars,” Hardy muttered, igniting his baton. “It’s always about the space-dollar. Stay here, Mar, I’ll take care of these jokers.”

“Hardy, don’t,” Marilyn implored. “Get in!”

“And go where?” Hardy asked. “We’re in Superspace - who knows where we’d end up if we launched now?”

“Hardy, who cares?” Marilyn clutched his arm in an attempt to pull him inside. “As long as we’re together!”

There was a smash of reinforced glass, and harsh barks of synthetically-filtered commands from the break room proper, and Hardy acted. He shook Marilyn loose, and firmly pushed her in the chest. She stumbled backwards, long enough for Hardy to hit a button, causing the white metal doors of the escape pod to slide shut with a click, and lock, red LEDs confirming the air-tight, indestructably firm seal.

“No!” Marilyn ran up to the door, thumping it with a fist, before sinking to her knees. She heard a clink of tool on ground, and saw her screwdriver had tapped against the tiles at her feet.

The engineer stood up quickly, and muttering to herself, ran to her own control console; it bleeped an “access denied” command, thanks to her lack of security ID, but she was an engineer. There was no place truly out of reach of a competent engineer - every door had a lock, and every lock had a maintenance panel just begging to get hot-wired.

Her son began to whimper, as she sifted through wires and looked for the one she wanted. She spared the back of the seat a glance, humming a lullaby loudly in an attempt to silence her child, trying to shut out the sounds of shouting and gunfire from outside the door.

“Sshh, baby,” she murmured. “Mummy’s just going to step out to help Daddy keep the evil Syndicate away from you...”

There was a spark, a zap, and the door unlocked itself, going slack. Marilyn quickly repatched the wires, and closed the panel roughly, grabbing her crowbar and setting it to the seam; with a creak, she pried the doors open proper, allowing the unfiltered sounds of violence to seep into the pod.

The shouting and loud noises set the child into complete upset, and he began to cry loudly. Marilyn, standing in a doorway now held open by her own bare hands, spared her son a look.

“I’ll come back for you,” she said quietly. There was a shout of pain, and she recognized the voice, even as a blood-red-hardsuited man fell over, smoking from his joints.

“Who’s next?!” Hardy challenged loudly, his voice labored.

Marilyn didn’t waste time, and shoving her tools back into her belt, abandoned the door and ran outside, scooping up the laser gun from the syndicate operative’s twitching hands, and joining the fray as the door gave into automated pressure once more and closed itself.

Unbeknownst to the child, there was one more presence watching on, calculating risk and monitoring the situation.

UMLAUT, the resident AI, gauged the ongoing firefight in the brig’s break room - while Officer Hardy and Engineer Marilyn were putting up a valiant fight, it was a losing one; it was just one trained officer and one civilian crewmember against a team of three elite syndicate operatives, non-lethal crew-control weapons versus weapons designed to melt and destroy exclusively.

UMLAUT had no more cyborgs left to deploy to aid the humans, and no way of incapacitating the operatives without killing the two loyal crewmembers. And when they fell, the child in the escape pod would be next.

The ship was in superspace. But uncertain death was better than certain death, and so UMLAUT made a decision.

With a clunk, the escape pod doors relocked themselves, and the control panel beeped as invisible, digital fingers pushed buttons through a network connection. There was a hiss, then-

WHUMP

The pod was suddenly flying, weightless. The child screamed in terror as the world went from “merely terrifying” to “downright psychopathic” in a heartbeat, the (filtered) immaterium of superspace visible through the viewport.

UMLAUT’s external ship cameras watched as the white escape pod dwindled into the distance, the machine verifying that it had taken the correct, human-harm-preventing course of action. Then, a power alarm went off, and UMLAUT’s attention was torn from the pod. He had more human harm to prevent.

The pod, unwatched, hit the boundary of the ship’s superspace stabilizer field, and vanished back into regular space with a flash of energy and light, it’s destination, if it even had one, unknown.

One Last Quest

“Here’s to ol’ Riot!” the break room cheered. “Hoo-rah!”

Riot Shield had to blink back tears as the praise washed over him, the purple-armored, medium-grey unicorn rocking side to side as his shoulder was shaken playfully.

“You guys,” he said, smiling. “You didn’t have to do this!”

“Come on, Cap,” another armored grey unicorn cheered. “What’s a retirement without a sendoff?”

Riot Shield rubbed a foreleg with his other foreleg subconciously, and grimaced. “I dunno if you can call it a retirement,” he muttered sourly. “I think that’s a bit generous.”

“Oh, don’t be such a sour guts,” groused the almost-identical stallion next to Riot. “Let these boys give you the sendoff they think you deserve, eh? Last day on the job and all, let’s make it fun, huh?”

“You’re right,” Riot nodded. “Night Guard, work hard!”

“Party hard!” the room cheered back, reciting the second half of the unofficial motto of the newly-returned Princess Luna’s Night Guard.

With that, the break room broke into quiet burbling as the guards on break began to dig out the party food; cakes, muffins and other treats were all on display, and smiles were being worn on all the identical guard faces.

“These disguise enchantments still freak me out, you know that?” Riot muttered, using his magic to remove his helmet. With a ripple, his coat changed from the uniform medium grey to a more natural red, and he shook out a green mane as he set the helm on a nearby table.

“All part of the job,” his companion cajoled, taking off his own helmet to reveal a brick-orange coat with a short-cut, grubby-pink mane atop his head.

“You’d think after a couple of years, I’d get used to it, Claystone,” Riot grumbled, helping himself to a cupcake from across the room.

“Well, I think it’s certainly served its purpose,” Claystone argued, nodding at Riot’s foreleg. “It certainly covered that up until now.”

Riot looked down, and saw a familiar sight, even if it was another thing he’d not get used to. A wooden peg-leg from just above his knee, downwards.

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Riot muttered. “Retirement. They’re too kind, I’m being cut loose. Even Luna couldn’t keep making excuses for me.”

“There’s no shame in it,” Claystone said simply. “You lost that leg honorably, and practically demanded that Luna let you keep serving, without telling a soul.”

“Yeah, well...” Riot chewed the cupcake thoughtfully, and swallowed. “At least I know the Guard’s in good hooves, eh?”

“Naturally,” Claystone said, polishing a horseshoe on his chest and fluffing his wings proudly. “I always was the better guardspony, you know. You just got lucky because Luna took a shine to you at the interview.”

The two laughed - an old bone of contention, the two officers had started off rivals, continually one-upping each other, only ceasing their rivalry when Luna dashed Claystone’s hopes by promoting Riot Shield to ranking officer.

There was a flash of moonlight in front of Riot Shield, and he reflexively caught the missive that fell from the burst, setting what was left of his cupcake down and unfurling the message.

As he did so, Claystone leaned over his shoulder, to the point where he was infringing quite considerably on Riot’s personal space, which caused the three-legged senior to give him a look.

“Do you mind?”

“Who’s it for?” Claystone asked, complying and leaning back a bit. “Is it for me? I know how sometimes Luna sends you things meant for me when we stand next to each other.”

“By the moon, Clay,” Riot huffed. “Would it kill you to just wait?”

“Yes?”

Riot rolled his eyes, and scanned the header. “It’s for me,” he reported. “Captain of the Guard.”

“Hey, that’s me,” Clay protested.

“Not ‘til sunup,” smirked Riot. “This one’s mine.”

“What is it?” Clay pressed.

“Nothing,” Riot said, showing Claystone the scroll. “Just says to report to her chambers, pronto.”

“Oooh,” Clay grinned. “Someone’s getting a severance package~!”

“Shut up,” Riot thumped Clay in the shoulder with his good hoof. “Make yourself useful, and sort out the new patrol roster or something, would you?”

Clay chuckled, and slipped his helmet back on, his features returning to the Night Guard uniform, and fluttering his new bat-wings. “Yeah, yeah, make the most of it. Come sunup, I’ll be bossing you around. Don’t worry, I’ll only make you clean the toilets a little.”

“You’re too kind,” Riot drawled, pulling on his own helmet, and focusing with his horn. There was a flash of light, and he was gone.

======

The guardspony re-materialized outside the throne room’s doors. Being the middle of the night, Luna was holding court -- or she should have been, at any rate. With the doors closed, guards absent and the usual line of petitioners cleared away, something was up.

Riot Shield approached the doors tentatively, his gait a little stiff, every other step punctuated with a muted click of unseen peg on hallway runner. As he drew near the door, he heard faint wailing, and muffled cooing.

It got a raised eyebrow out of him, but he pressed onwards, pushing the doors open properly, and entering the Canterlot Castle throne room.

The large chamber was filled with the sounds of a foal crying for it’s mother, and he grimaced as he closed the doors behind him, and approached the throne.

Luna was sitting in the throne, an expression of mild confusion and panic on her face as she rocked a small bundle back and forth at hoof’s length with her magic, face scrunched up as she tried to think of nursery rhymes.

“You summoned me, Princess?” Riot asked.

“Captain Riot, good to see you -- here, hold this for me, would you? Don’t drop it.”

With a haze of magic, the bundle floated over to Riot, and he took it, feeling a heavy mass inside all the swaddling. Surprisingly, the bundle stopped wailing.

“Don’t tell me somepony tried to stork you, Princess,” he joked.

“That’s not far from the truth, actually,” Luna replied, “Look.”

Riot brought the bundle closer to him, and gasped involuntarily as he saw the squashed, round face looking back at him, eyes red from crying and face caked in dried salt and grime.

“Sweet-” Riot looked up at Luna, and blushed. “I mean, by the moon, what the hay is it?”

“I would guess it is some sort of foal,” Luna stated, rummaging around in a bag. “Something’s offspring.”

Riot examined the child again, and grimaced. “Doesn’t half smell.”

“Poor thing was sitting in it’s own filth for what looked like a day or so,” Luna muttered, finding what she was looking for. “Please remove it’s swaddling.”

Riot obliged, walking closer to the throne as he removed the grubby blanket that encased the baby, and revealed a strange, hairless body. Four stubby little limbs, each one with a number of smaller tentacles that grasped and wriggled upon exposure to the air. About the only familiar thing on the alien creature was the diaper around what Riot guessed was it’s groin.

“Thank you, Riot,” Luna nodded, using her magic to cut away the diaper, and remove it; the hardened guardspony gagged a little at the smell, and averted his gaze from the groin and exposed genitalia of the child.

“It’s a colt,” he grunted.

The child burbled as Luna used her magic to clear away the excess poop, and placed a fresh diaper on him, fastening it with a pair of pins.

“There,” Luna nodded. “Thank you, Riot. I can take it from here.”

“Sure.” Riot handed the baby back to Luna’s magical grip, and almost instantly, the child began to cry.

Luna frowned, and regarded the crying infant. “Riot, if you would humor me, take hold of the child again?”

“Sure.” Riot took the child once more, and like a switch, the crying stopped. Luna frowned.

“I see,” she muttered. “The child likes you.”

“That’s great,” Riot said sarcastically. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“It is the offspring of some sort of alien,” Luna said. “It fell from the sky in a metal box, all alone. It looks like it has travelled from beyond the stars. I sensed its fall, and recovered the child before the pod hit the ground.”

“Beyond the stars, huh?”

“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “Even I do not know what lies between them. In any case, I believe that one day, more pods will fall from the sky, and this little one will need to be returned to it’s own kind. I had planned to look after the child until such a time, but...”

“He doesn’t like you,” Riot muttered.

“Exactly.” Luna nodded. “But he seems to like you...”

“Must be my rugged good looks?” Riot suggested.

“What looks?”

“Ouch, Princess,” Riot said, feigning a hurt expression. “Right to the bone.”

Luna cleared her throat. “Tonight is your last night with the Night Guard, is it not?”

“It is, Princess,” Riot admitted.

“Would you continue to serve the Crown of Equestria if you could?”

“Without hesitating,” Riot declared. “If you’d have me, of course.”

“That is a given,” Luna nodded. “I have a proposal for you. One last mission. It may take mere days, it might take months, it might never finish, and it could be crucial to the security of Equestria. Are you interested?”

“What kind of mission?” Riot asked.

Luna pointed a hoof at the child, who had been making attempts to grab Riot’s horn with stubby forelimbs while the diarch and guardspony had been talking.

Riot got the point. “Oh no, you want me to look after this kid?”

“Only until something comes for him,” Luna assuaged. “Care for him, keep him happy and healthy.”

“Princess,” Riot coughed. “You’re talking to the wrong stallion. I’m a bachelor. A kid was never on my horizon to start with, and I can barely look after myself, let alone an alien colt.”

Luna sighed, exasperated. “I guess you’re right. I never should have asked, I’ll just get Claystone to do it, tell him how you couldn’t...”

Riot’s ear twitched and he gritted his teeth. If she went to Claystone with the mission, he’d never hear the end of it, another invisible notch of superiority in their long-running competition.

No.

“Alright, alright,” Riot held up a hoof plaintively. “I’ll do it. Somehow. The kid’s as good as looked after.”

“Very good, Captain,” Luna smiled. “I trust the child will be safe in your hooves, and that you will protect him as you would protect me.”

“Count on it,” Riot grunted, adjusting his grip on the child as it squirmed and redoubled efforts to suck on his horn.

“You will be compensated, naturally,” Luna went on. “Mission pay, in addition to your disability benefit.”

“You know,” Riot said. “I don’t care about the mission pay.”

“I cannot ask you to do this for free,” Luna argued. “I must reward you for your work.”

“I want a new leg.”

Luna raised an eyebrow. “A new leg?”

“Yeah,” Riot nodded. “I’ll waive whatever money you wanted to give me, if you can just give me my leg back.”

It was Luna’s turn to bite her lip. “You know as well as I that your leg is unhealable, even by me...”

“All I ask is that you try and find a way,” Riot asked. “Just...please look. I’m sure there’s been advances in medical magic since you last read.” Riot waggled a stiff leg. “I just want my leg back.”

Luna nodded. “It is a fair price, then. I shall do all I can, as long as you do all you can to make sure that colt grows and thrives.”

“I still don’t know if I’m the right stallion for this job,” Riot muttered. “Why not get Ridgeback to do it? She’s a mare, she’s probably good with kids.”

“In that, you would be wrong,” Luna muttered. “Sergeant Ridgeback may be female, but she is best suited to direct combat and her current posting in Wyrmcast -  definitely not accustomed to small children. No, I believe you are the best suited and most trustworthy for the job.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, you seem to be a natural at getting him to sleep.”

Riot looked at the child, and his jaw went slack. The alien had gone to sleep in his grip, eyes shut and content as he hovered in the air. Riot looked up at the child, and despite how alien it looked... felt a twinge of affection.

Captain Riot Shield of the Night Guard sighed, and looked at his newest charge. “Looks like it’s going to be you and me, kid,” he muttered.

Welcome to Ponyville

The white-coated landscape glistened in the sunlight, a frosty expanse through which a solitary snowless path cut. That path was traversed by a train, that puffed merrily as it crossed the countryside and approached a small town in the distance.

With an expert touch, the conductor killed the engine, and the train coasted to a gentle halt on the platform, squeaking quietly as brakes made the train still. Ponies quickly made their way out of the train, looking over their shoulders in mild curiosity as they went.

The cause for their confusion was a small squad of Night Guard that flooded out of the last carriage, taking up positions around the train platform as the reason for their presence made herself known.

Luna stood tall in the sunlight, and at her side, holding the alien child in clean swaddling once more, an unarmored, uncamouflaged Riot Shield, in all his red and green glory.

“Was all this really necessary, Princess?” he asked. “I feel like I’m carrying some sort of time bomb. Or I’m a wanted criminal. Or, for some reason, I’ve missed the fact that I’ve become a pretty, pretty princess. Like yourself.”

“Come now, Captain,” Luna chuckled. “The Guard are here because I am here. And I am here to make sure the move happens smoothly, and that you’re all settled in.”

Riot looked around, and eyeballed the small, swinging sign that hung over the middle of the platform.

“Ponyville. Why am I moving to Ponyville?” Riot asked. “Can’t I raise the kid in Canterlot?”

“You would draw too much attention trying to raise an alien in Canterlot,” Luna argued. “And you know how the nobility will be. They’ll blame everything from slow moonrise to crop failure on it.”

“And Ponyville won’t?” Riot asked with a raised eyebrow, as Luna led her entourage off the platform and towards town.

“Ponyville is a small town,” Luna said. “Filled with good ponies who will hopefully give the child the benefit of the doubt. Not to mention, it also means there will be help close to hoof.”

“Help?” Riot coughed. “I thought I was going to be raising a kid solo.”

“An alien child,” Luna corrected. “As much as I feel that it poses no threat to Equestria, things may yet pose a threat to it, and while your talent for defense is remarkable, you cannot be everywhere - not to mention, as you’ve said, you’re largely ignorant of childcare. You will need help.”

“I’m not that ignorant,” Riot muttered. “Food goes in one end, poop comes out the other. Keep the baby clean, uh... store in a dry place?”

Luna rolled her eyes. “In any case, six ponies I can trust to help live here in Ponyville, the Elements of Harmony.”

Riot cleared his throat in surprise. “THE Elements of Harmony?” he asked, astonished. “Why are national heroes going to be helping me mind a kid?”

“Why is a hero raising the child?” Luna asked levelly as the entourage passed through town square, past a statue of Celestia. “The Elements of Harmony are just six good friends who happen to wield one of the strongest forces I’ve ever known -- their accomplishments aside, they’re good mares. They’ll help.”

There was a clattering of hooves, and Luna held up a wing to halt the procession. Her ear twitched and she nodded.

“Speak of the daemon,” she muttered. “Here they come.”

Six mares shot around the corner up ahead, running fast as they skidded across the cobblestones and made a beeline for the town square. Leading the charge was a purple unicorn that Riot vaguely recognized as Twilight... whatshername. Sprinkles. Twilight Sprinkles? Flanking her was a sky-blue pegasus and an orange earth pony, Rainbow Whatsit and... uh. Riot drew a blank on the orange one. He recalled her being a farmer, and her name being related to what she farmed. Orangejack? That sounded right.

And hiding around the back, a white unicorn, a yellow pegasus and a pink earth pony cantered carefully, galloped and bounced accordingly. R... Rarity, that was the unicorn. Nice and short name, how Riot liked ‘em. Then there was the shy one - Buttershy or something. And there was no forgetting the pink one -- Pinkie Pie. Few were able to make fools of the Night Guard by slipping past them in the dead of night, but she’d managed it. All while carrying a piece of artillery and ammunition to go with it, as it had turned out.

“Princess!” Twilight gasped as she skidded to a halt in front of Luna. “I... came as quick as I could! What...” Twilight wheezed for breath, and broke into a coughing fit.

“What brings you to Ponyville, Princess?” Rainbow asked, clearly in better shape than the unicorn. “Twi here wasn’t really all that clear on the why we had to drop everything. Who’s he?”

“Riot Shield,” Luna said simply. “Riot, meet the Elements of Harmony, who for some reason felt it prudent to drop everything just to come and meet us, even though you likely would have met them all eventually anyway.”

“Applejack,” the orange mare said, tugging her cowboy hat with a hoof by way of greeting. “Nice to meetcha.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Riot Shield,” Rarity said primly. “It sounds like you’re going to be in town for quite some time.”

“You could say that,” Riot admitted.

“I run the local clothing boutique, Carousel Boutique,” she went on. “If you ever have need for fine clothing, just ask for Rarity.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Riot said, nodding reflexively.

“This is Fluttershy,” Rarity said, introducing the yellow pegasus, who made clear attempts to scoot behind everyone else in the party. “Fluttershy, why are you hiding so?”

“... he seems angry,” Fluttershy mumbled, reluctantly unscooting back into view.

“I’m not angry,” Riot clarified. “Do I look angry?”

“It’s the eyebrows, I reckon,” Applejack pointed out.

“It totally is,” Pinkie Pie judged, her voice emanating from beside Riot.

“You!” Riot exclaimed. “How did you do that?”

“How did I do what?” Pinkie said, with an air of innocence so pure, it could sell for hundreds of dollars in little five-gram plastic baggies.

Riot decided to leave the fight for another day, and jabbed a hoof at her as she waltzed back next to her friends. “I’ll work it out, one day,” he muttered.

“I’m Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow boasted, taking to the air briefly. “You may have heard of me.”

Riot shook his head numbly. “Nope.”

Rainbow deflated visibly. “Not even a little? Best young flier?”

“You... did a rainboom at the wedding?” Riot asked. “Or something?”

“There we go,” Rainbow clapped her hooves together. “That’ll do. You’ll learn.”

Twilight, having regained her breath, rolled her eyes. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. I’m also the town librarian. What brings you to Ponyville?”

“That is what I wanted to talk to you about,” Luna said. “But as I’m sure the letter said, there was no rush. Shall we go to the Library?”

======

“It’s so... weird!” Twilight exclaimed, examining the small creature that now lay, unswaddled, on the table. “Cute, but weird. It’s like a hairless, scaleless baby dragon!”

“Less handsome, too,” Spike added.

The library just held five people; with the Elements of Harmony electing to return to their homes and work, that left Twilight, Riot, Spike, the alien child, and Luna. And her bodyguard, but nopony was counting them.

“It is not of this world,” Luna stated. “Oddness is to be expected, I think.”

“And you’re raising it?” Twilight asked Riot.

“That’s my job,” Riot nodded. “Seeing as I’m being retired and all, might as well raise the kid while I’m at it.”

The child began to cry, and Twilight picked it up with her magic, making cooing noises. To everyone’s surprise, that just made matters worse, and the child cried louder.

“Wow,” Spike muttered. “Are you sure you’re holding it right, Twi?”

Twilight looked at Spike flatly. “I looked after you alright, didn’t I?”

“You held me upside-down for days, until somepony pointed out that I was upside-down,” Spike reminded.

“Mostly alright?”

“Here,” Riot beckoned with his good hoof, and took a hold of the baby. As he did, the child gurgled and went silent. Twilight’s jaw dropped.

“That’s... odd.”

“Tell me about it,” Luna muttered. “For some reason, the child is only calmed by his touch.”

“Yeah,” Riot chuckled. “We tested it; even Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance couldn’t get the kid to stop crying. Don’t know why.”

“And that’s why Riot Shield is raising the child,” Luna said. “For some reason, the child trusts him almost instinctively.”

“Does the child have a name?” Twilight asked.

“None that I could decipher,” Luna admitted.

“I was gonna call him “Gripper”,” Riot said.

“Why?” Twilight asked.

“You seen what this kid does with those freaky tentacles of his?” Riot asked, holding Gripper within reaching distance of his horn. Like a magnet, Gripper’s grippers reached out, and latched on firmly to the horn, struggling to pull the horn closer to his mouth, a squishy, gummy mess.

“I hope he doesn’t keep doing that,” Twilight murmured. “Ponies will talk, think he’s wierd.”

“More so than the fact that he looks like a hairless, pudgy monkey?” Riot asked.

“Point.”

“I trust that between the two of you,” Luna said, looking at the two ponies, “You will be able to care for... Gripper... until such a time as he no longer needs caring for.”

Riot threw a careful salute, using the gesture as a chance to separate Gripper from his horn. “Yes, Princess.”

“We’ll do our best,” Twilight confirmed.

Luna nodded, and looked to Riot. “If you could send me regular updates on Gripper’s condition, that would be appreciated. Weekly is fine, and if Spike will oblige, you can use dragonfire.”

“No problem,” Spike nodded. “Just don’t decide you want to send letters at, like, two in the morning,” he said, looking at Twilight pointedly.

Twilight giggled nervously. “Who even does that, really?”

Riot snorted, and nodded. “Will do, Princess. Reports, weekly, by dragon fire.”

Luna nodded. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to Canterlot now.”

The princess of the night turned around, and with her entourage falling in line, left the building. The door swung shut behind her, and the latch closed with a click.

Almost instantly, the baby began to cry, and Riot began to panic, even his magic touch having no effect on silencing the child.

“What is it?” he asked. “Are you hungry? Hurt?”

Gripper just cried harder, and Riot gave the child a firm jostle with his telekinesis.

“Are you broken?”

“Mister Shield!” Twilight grabbed the baby with her own telekinesis, stopping the shaking. “You don’t shake a baby!”

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Riot asked.

Twilight opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again, going a shade of green as she made suppressed coughing noises, holding the crying Gripper back out to Riot, who took his charge back, mystified.

“For a start,” Twilight gagged, “You can change Gripper’s diaper.”

Riot sniffed the air, and blanched, gently placing Gripper on the table and backing away. “Why me?”

“He’s your responsibility,” Twilight pointed out, joining him. “I’m just support.”

Riot swallowed. “Got any spare diapers?”

“Actually, yes,” Twilight said. “I’ll go fetch them, be right back.”

The purple unicorn left, leaving Spike and Riot to stare at the crying Gripper.

“Thank the moon I’m not a pegasus or an earth pony,” Riot muttered.

Applesauce

“Alright,” Riot said. “I’ve changed your diaper. You have been cleaned.”

The library was in a state of disarray. The table itself was a nebula of talcum, with a vaguely-square gap in the middle of it all where the baby and it’s swaddling had rested. The air had a distinct odor of poop to it, which Twilight was doing her best to vanquish with open windows and a large fan summoned out of nowhere.

The red unicorn picked up the baby, and glared at it disbelievingly. “So why are you still crying?!”

“Maybe it’s hungry,” Spike pointed out, sweeping some excess talcum powder into a small pile. “I got pretty upset when I wanted feeding.”

“What does Gripper even eat?” Riot asked.

“Something soft, I’ll bet,” Twilight said. “Why not start with Sugarcube Corner?”

Riot raised an eyebrow. “That sounds incredibly unhealthy. Sweet treats this early in the morning? He doesn’t have any teeth yet, let alone any sweet ones!”

Twilight snorted. “I mean, the Cakes -- they run the bakery, and they’ve got two foals of their own. If anypony knows what’d be best for Gripper, it’d be them.”

“What about you?” Riot asked.

Twilight sat down and held out her hooves. “Do I look like I’ve had kids?”

Riot just pointed at Spike, who paused in his sweeping, and shrugged.

“He’s gotcha there, Twi,” the baby dragon admitted.

“Yeah, but you eat gemstones and spent most of your days sleeping in the fireplace,” Twilight countered. “And chewed anything I left lying about, actually, come to think of it. You pretty much looked after yourself.”

“Heh, yeah,” Spike chuckled, giving the broom a flick. “I guess I was pretty low-maintenance.”

“Right,” Riot nodded, and shook out the swaddling, bundling Gripper back up. “Sugarcube Corner. Where is it?”

“Main street,” Twilight pointed out a window, where a tall brown roof could be seen. “Big place, looks like a gingerbread house.”

“Gotcha.” Riot grabbed a set of saddlebags he’d set aside, and threw them on his back, and after a moment’s thought, put Gripper into one of them so the baby’s head was poking out over the top.

“Novel,” Twilight remarked. “Be careful he doesn’t fall out or anything.”

“He’s all bundled up,” Riot dismissed. “There’s no way he’s gonna escape.”

“You’d be surprised,” Twilight said. “Good luck, Riot Shield.”

======

There’s something to be said for walking down main street with something unusual and weird, visible for all to see.

Namely, that it’s a really disturbing feeling, and most would rather not. A sensation that Riot Shield was used to, given his past, only now it was renewed and in far greater strength.

“What IS that?”

“Is it some sort of... hairless monkey?”

“Another baby dragon?”

Gripper, for his part, didn’t seem to care in the slightest, content to keep crying and drawing attention. Something that Riot tried to assuage by whistling a ditty and jostling the saddlebag, and having minimal success.

It was something of a relief when the next thing that reached his ears wasn’t curiosity about Gripper, but curiosity about him.

“Hey mister, are you a pirate?”

Riot stopped walking, and even Gripper stopped wailing, as a small pinto colt jumped down from a nearby bench and trotted over to Riot, eyes fixed not on the bag, but on Riot’s peg-leg.

“What makes you say that?” Riot asked.

“Peg leg,” the colt nodded to the leg in question. “Pirates have peg legs. I was dressed as a pirate for Nightmare Night once.”

“Heh, no,” Riot shook his head. “I used to be one of the Night Guard.”

“Night Guard?” The colt gasped. “Ooh! Ooh! Do you know Princess Luna?”

“I might,” Riot admitted.

“Ooh! Could you tell her, Pip says hi?”

“I’ll be sure to pass it on?” Riot raised an eyebrow, itching his head with a hoof before resuming his walking.

If he meant to ditch Pip and carry on alone, he was a bit out of luck, as the small colt began to orbit him like a pinto moonlet of his own; from what Riot managed to decipher, Pip had met the princess prior, during a Nightmare Night celebration.

“What’s that?” Pip asked, changing tack and catching the older stallion off guard.

“Hm?” Riot was suddenly paying attention, having drifted off under the onslaught of questions, chatter and Gripper’s crying.

“This thing,” Pip said, point a hoof at Gripper. “It looks kinda like Spike does. Only Spike’s a dragon.”

“I don’t know,” Riot said. “Luna said it fell from beyond the stars.”

“From beyond... from beyond the stars...” Pip finally shut up as Riot drew nearer to a remarkable building that had to be Sugarcube Corner... or the owners were getting ripped off by the signwriter that made the sign labelling it so.

Riot kept walking, and noted that he’d lost his sattelite, turning around and walking backwards. “So, Pip says hi to Luna, right?”

“Uh, yeah!” Pip snapped out of it and nodded.

“I’ll pass it on,” Riot confirmed. “See you around!”

With practiced ease, the ex-guardspony turned around, and hopped up the stairs to enter the bakery. As he did so, a wave of smells wafted out over his face; even Gripper went silent as his nostrils were assailed by the smell of baked goods.

Riot had to make a conscious effort to not drool, and regained his composure as a blue mare in an apron drifted out from the kitchen to stand behind the counter as he approached.

“Hi there, welcome to Sugarcube Corner!” the mare said by way of greeting. “I’m Cup Cake. New in town?”

“Riot Shield,” Riot nodded. “Just moved into town. Listen, I have a favor to ask, need some help.”

“Of course, dearie,” Cup Cake leaned forward. “How can I help?”

“My kid’s hungry, and I’m not entirely sure what he should be eating, he’s only little.” Riot turned sideways, so Gripper could see the proprietor, and she could see Gripper.

“Goodness,” Cup said, taken aback a bit. “What is that?”

“I have no idea,” Riot said bluntly. “But I’m looking after it for the duration, and he’s hungry for something. You’ve got experience with small kids, I’m told -- what’s good for ‘em?”

“Hmm, yes,” Cup nodded. “Pumpkin and Pound are just moving on to solids now, actuallly. Does he eat...” Cup Cake coughed and tilted her head awkwardly. “...you know?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Riot shrugged. “Mashed foods, right?”

“Mhmm,” the mare nodded. “The twins loved their mashed fruit. Mashed vegetables worked well, too. Carrot with honey, applesauce, that sort of thing.”

Riot nodded, pulling a notepad out of his bag and taking notes with a pencil. “Gotcha. Anything else?”

“I think for now that’ll be all he can handle,” Cup Cake guessed. “After that... well. Solids, like anyone else. Does he still need milk?”

Riot turned his head around, and looked at Gripper, who stared back blankly.

“I think he might.”

“You should probably look into that,” Cup said. “Milk is an important part of any foal’s diet, after all. Filthy Rich’s got formula in stock at Barnyard Bargains, but between you and me...” Cup leaned in close. “He charges a fortune for it. You might want to consider talking to Applejack, out by Sweet Apple Acres; the Apple family’s got cows, but not much use for the milk, I’m sure they’d oblige.”

“Right,” Riot nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Not a problem,” Cup Cake said, nodding. “Raising foals isn’t easy, Celestia knows. And you’re raising something alien; I think you’ll need all the help you can get.”

“I probably will,” Riot laughed, before he was drowned out by Gripper crying, and he looked around. “I don’t suppose you have anything that’ll keep him happy until he can be fed proper?”

======

Riot sighed as  he cantered along the snow-strewn road to Sweet Apple Acres, the only sounds in the air aside from his hoofsteps in the snow the vigorous sucking coming from his saddlebag. He thanked his lucky stars that the Cakes had had a spare rusk they’d been willing to sell, and made a note to ensure he had a stock of them on hoof. Gripper certainly enjoyed them enough, flexing those stubby grippers of his and shoving one into his mouth, content to just watch the world go by.

At least, until a steady, thwacking noise began to echo through the air, which had Riot curious. He’d heard that Ponyville was one of the few places that still practiced “Applebucking”, the earth pony art of literally kicking an apple tree so hard, all the fruit fell out. Most places just got a pegasus to knock the fruit out of the tree, or a unicorn to use their magic.

Some places were just traditionalists, Riot guessed, as he made his way through a convenient gate, and entered the orchard.

His ears leading the way, the thwacking got louder, and he made his way through the trees to find...

A big red stallion wearing a yoke, ambling over to another tree with buckets surrounding it, where he extended a leg, and nonchalantly delivered a kick to the tree that looked like it’d snap one of the old Guard training dummies clean in two.

Riot realized he must have made a noise of astonishment, when the stallion fixed him with a look, a stalk of hay poking out of his mouth, and he had to remember why he was here. Possible responses stumbled over themselves, and his brain picked the only one that made it out of the tangle intact:

“You’re not Applejack,” Riot blurted.

“Nnope,” the stallion grunted, staring at Riot.

“I was looking for milk. From Applejack.” Riot shook his head violently. “I mean, Applejack was going to give me baby milk.”

The stallion didn’t say anything, just staring at Riot and switching the stalk of hay in his mouth from one side to the other. Riot began to sweat as his brain retroactively repeated his sentences back to him, and he realized how bad it was.

“Guh,” Riot ventured, unable to put together the intended apology and rewording, his tongue and mouth refusing to fall in line.

“Eeyup,” muttered the stallion, who turned and began to walk away, motioning with his head for Riot to follow.

Relieved that things had seemingly resolved themselves, Riot obliged, cantering through the snow, following the path that the larger pony was plowing through the snow just by walking. The procession continued until the pair got to a large barn, from which the sounds of maintenance and ratcheting could be heard, along with muffled discourse.

“Alright, if y’ reckon that’s how it fits, go ahead,” a familiar voice said.

“Ah do reckon so,” stated a younger voice levelly.

There was a clunk, and a clicking noise, followed by a grunt of surprise from the familiar voice, just as Big Mac pushed the door open.

On the other side, Applejack was there, leaning against a support as she watched a foal tinkering away underneath a large machine of some unknown function with conveyor belts extending to either side, the expression on her face one of pride. She turned her head and saw her brother and Riot standing in the doorway.

“What’s up, Mac?” she asked.

At this point, things happened. There was a snap of metal and suddenly, a loud rattle of machinery filled the air as the machine sprung to life. Riot faintly heard a “yes!” from under the machine, before his attention was drawn back to Mac.

“This stallion’s here for y’ milk or somethin’,” Mac deadpanned in a deep baritone, his face stony neutral. A stark contrast to Applejack and Riot’s faces, who both went slack and turned red in shock. It was a blessing that the machine chose that moment to activate, keeping this little discourse between the three of them.

Applejack just looked at Riot, who held up his good hoof in defense.

“I can explain!” he shouted over the sound of machinery.

“What’s going on?” a yellow foal shouted as she scooted out from under the machine, and pushed goggles up her face as she saw Riot. “Who’s he?”

======

“I think I can hook you up with a deal, Riot,” Applejack said, as the two sat at the Apple household dining table, the din of machinery from the distant barn faintly audible through the window as Applebloom continued to work her magic.

“Thanks,” Riot nodded. “Big help. I’m just uncertain, is all. I’m fine with gambling my life, but Gripper... he might be an alien, but the little guy’s helpless, and I’m not sure if he’d drink milk.”

“Everythin’ drinks milk, it’s okay,” Applejack dismissed, before pausing. “Except Berry Punch. She can’t drink milk, an’ I remember how we found that out the hard way.”

Riot pursed his lips. “...At school?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack nodded. “How’d you know?”

“I just had a hunch,” Riot shrugged.

Applejack laughed. “If you’re half as good at guessing that, raising the lil’ tyke should be no problem.”

The child in question, lying on his back in the middle of the table, was quiet and content to suck on what was left of his rusk, after a very successful test-run of mashed apples seemed to satisfy whatever need he had at the time.

“‘s wierd,” Applejack muttered. “He’s all pudgy. And them grippers on his forehooves. When’s he gettin’ a coat?”

“I don’t think his kind have a coat,” Riot shrugged. “Look, he’s already got some of his mane growing in, but not much coat.”

“He’s gonna get mighty cold then,” Applejack pointed out. “‘s the middle o’ winter.”

“He’s a little old for a scarf, isn’t he?” Riot asked.

“Prolly.” Applejack leaned in close. “Y’all have met Rarity, right?”

“Briefly,” Riot said, nodding.

“Have a talk to her,” Applejack said. “Gettin’ her to stitch up anythin’ practical over fashionable is a real uphill slog, but worth it; a good vest keeps me toasty in practically any weather, although ol’ Gripper here might need a little more than that.”

“We just met, though,” Riot said. “And you two are Elements of Harmony.”

“Pfft. Don’t tell anypony I told you this,” Applejack said, leaning closer. “But when it comes down to Rarity, the hard part’s actually payin’ for what she makes, ‘specially if you needed it.” Applejack tapped her chin. “Actually, it might be a close second to gettin’ her to not gussy up perfectly good duds.”

“Speaking of,” Riot said, “How much for the milk and applesauce?”

“Ain’t nothin’,” Applejack said quickly. “Y’all owe me nothing, it’s all goin’ spare anyway. Y’ can only get Applebloom to eat so much applesauce.”

“I thought Rarity was the Element of Generosity, not you,” Riot said. “I’ll feel bad getting it for free.”

Applejack sighed, and shook her head. “Alright, alright. Let’s see... Y’all were part of the Night Guard, right?”

“That’s right,” Riot nodded.

“What’d you do?”

“Played sentry, dealt with the odd creature that didn’t want to play by Equestria’s laws...” Riot looked down. “Got a little sloppy with the shield. Now I’m retired, I guess.”

Applejack nodded. “Do any heavy liftin’?”

“Does running up and down canterlot in full armor count as heavy lifting?” Riot asked dryly.

“I reckon so,” Applejack chuckled. “The way this farm’s grown, me and Mac can’t handle it all on our own, and AB’s more mechanically minded; y’all saw that automated bottlin’ machine, and she’ll have her hooves full gettin’ it ready for Cider Season. We need somepony who’s willin’ to help out, the Earth Pony way. Paid work, naturally, but there ain’t many ponies who can handle the work. You interested?”

Riot rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The Earth Pony way... no magic?” Riot asked.

“No magic,” Applejack nodded. “I know it’s all well-meanin’, but magic ain’t perfect, and I prefer to do things how my parents did it, y’ know?”

Riot nodded. “I think I can manage that. But it’ll have to wait until Gripper’s old enough to look after himself. Or somepony’s willing to take him off my hooves for the day.”

“Fair enough,” Applejack nodded. “Let us know when you’re ready, and there’ll be a job waitin’ for ya.”

Riot stood up, and nodded to Applejack. “Thanks, Applejack.”

“I should be thanking you,” Applejack said, walking over to the pantry. “Now that y’all are takin’ the applesauce off our hooves, maybe there’ll be space in the cupboard for somethin’ that ain’t applesauce.”

There was a creak, and Riot’s jaw dropped as he beheld floor-to-ceiling shelving, each shelf two layers thick in sealed glass jars of applesauce. Riot was beginning to have doubts about how much applesauce he’d actually be able to get Gripper eating.

“There’s more in the cellar,” Applejack said with a sigh.

“Why is there so much applesauce?” Riot asked, numbly.

“Y’all know those moments when the cider’s just a wee bit too hard, and y’all have several bins of apples about to go to waste for bein’ too green?” Applejack asked, not taking her eyes off the jars. “Yeah. I’ll be honest with you -- I don’t ever wanna have applesauce ever again.” She turned around, and smiled. “Y’all wanna borrow a cart?”