“Give me a test reading on resonators one and two.”

“Resonator one is at forty-three-point-five thaums; resonator two... shows no variance.”

“Excellent. Three and four?”

“Four has no variance, Your Highness; three is off by zero-point-two negative.”

“Adjust the alignment crystals. I want to get as close to perfect equilibrium as possible. This is an extremely delicate centering operation and I want everything as close to perfect as we can manage.”

I honestly had no idea what most of what they were talking about actually meant, and judging by Sveti's occasionally bewildered looks, she wasn't doing much better than me. But I could tell that the ponies' preparations were extremely painstaking and that they wanted their equipment- which looked for all the world like something out of a 1950's mad-science movie- to be running in top form. This wasn't the primary effort to open a portal back home for me; that wasn't going to happen for at least another month by Twilight's calculations. What I was presently standing in the middle of this “clean room” for was, if I understood the explanation, a sort of “portal hop” procedure designed to allow any subsequent portal to be opened from here rather than having to brave the Everfree Forest. Knowing all too well what sorts of dangers lived in that place, I was entirely happy to lend myself to the effort.

“Resonators are synced, Princess,” one of the ponies said. “No detectable variance.”

“Excellent.” Twilight checked something off on her clipboard. “The runeshape is ready; I ran a test on it myself three days ago. Everything should be ready to-”

“Hold on!” one of the other ponies called out, before gingerly bending down to pick up something off the floor. “Who left this here? It could bear latent magical charges if a unicorn was levitating it recently!”

“What is that, a flower?” Twilight trotted over to have a look. “No, it looks like a boutounniere or something. Able, please take it out of the room and dispose of it. We'll find out who left it here later, and have a good long talk about clean-room protocols.”

“At once, Princess.”

As the mare complied, Twilight returned to her station. “Peter, this time the magic will be traveling 'around' you, in a way, rather than through you, so it shouldn't affect you nearly as strongly as previously. But please be sure to tell me if you feel or sense anything unusual, okay?”

“I will.” I couldn't help but fidget a little, being in the center of all this; all of the strange equipment and magical objects seemed to almost crackle with arcane energies that I couldn't comprehend. I just had to trust that Twilight and her team absolutely knew what they were doing.

Off to my right, Sveti grinned. “Don't forget to smile for the birdie, Peter.”

“Oh ha ha.” I had to smile at the corny joke.

“Alright, I think we're ready,” Twilight announced, checking a number of readouts on various machines. “Gosh, I am absolutely excited about getting this underway. Remove the safety interlocks and open the conduits.”

With a loud electrical-sounding crack, a number of the tall, silvery spires around me began to spark and hum. Thin lines of light began to trace their way along the complicated shapes that had been drawn along the floor, culminating in a four-foot-wide circle in the center of which I stood. I probably would've considered it beautiful if I didn't have a vague idea of just how much magical energy was coursing around me.

Twilight checked a reading and nodded in satisfaction. “Power to stage one emitters in three, two, one....”

The outermost set of metal poles began to hum louder, more and more energy sparking up and down their lengths. One of the technicians manning another workstation looked up. “I'm seeing predictable phase arrays,” he announced.

“Acknowledged.” Twilight leaned over and placed a forehoof on a very large lever. “Stage two emitters activating... now.”

The hum only got louder as the inner ring of poles began to increase their charge as well. The shapes on the floor around me looked almost like bright neon lights now, glaring but not blinding. Twilight seemed to regard everything as going fine, so I did my best to relax. “Thaumatic capacitors to one-zero-five percent,” she called out.

The excessively large number caused some of my resolve to break. “Isn't that a bit high?” I asked.

“Don't worry! These go to one hundred and eleven!”

I wasn't nearly as comforted by her words as I would've liked, but still I held onto that trust that she knew what she was doing-

crack

-my heart seemed to stop for a moment as something on the floor gave off a subdued flash. I felt a strange energy begin to tingle along my skin, as if I was at ground zero of an oncoming lightning strike. “Twilight?!” I shouted.

“Wait... what's going on? There- there's thaumatic leakage in the runeform! It's an open circuit!” The alicorn began flipping switches. “Shut it down! Somepony get him out of there and shut it down!”

Alarms began blaring. “Shutting down,” one of the technicians called out. “Attempting shutdown... it's not- it's not shutting down!”

The light that had been issuing from the shapes along the floor began to glow brighter around the outer edges, flaring up into something almost solid-looking; the way that the air buzzed around it made me fearful of making contact with it. Twilight's horn lit up, and a streak of magic came towards me, probably her attempt to pull me out herself- but the moment her spell hit the circle of light around me, it exploded in a shower of sparks.

“Princess! What's going on?!” Sveti yelled.

“I don't know! This shouldn't be happening!” She glanced down at her instruments. “Re-engage the interlocks! Shunt all thaumatic energies into the reserve crystals! We have to stop this cascade before-”

The light had been steadily making its way along the runeshape all the while, and I watched in growing horror as it finished, the thick wall of blue-white light now forming a circular cage around me. It began vibrating subtly, ripples appearing along its surface, and as that vibration increased in sound I realized it was building up towards something that was highly unlikely to be beneficial to me. “Somebody help!” I screamed.

“Peter! Princess, I'm getting him out of there!”

“Sveti, no! You can't just wade into the field; there's no telling what it might do to you!”

The vibrations reached a crescendo, seeming to echo inside of me somehow, every last cell in my body moving in symphony with it. I felt a strange energy burn through my limbs, running through my heart, spine and brain, overwhelming me.

And then everything went white.

(-)

“What happened?! What the buck just happened?!”

Finally, far too late to do any good, the interlocks kicked in and the shunts began to drain magical power from the runeform and emitters. After a hoofful of seconds, the bizarre shield that had emerged from the rune shuddered, then broke like a soap bubble in the wind with a loud crackle. And when Twilight's vision cleared, what she saw terrified her:

Nothing.

“Peter? Peter!” Sveti was frantic. “Princess! Where is he?!”

Twilight couldn't move, couldn't even breathe for a moment as her mind struggled to understand what happened... and then her intellect recovered. “Somepony get the Princesses now!” she ordered. “Nopony touch anything else until they get here! The fastest way to understand what happened and reverse it is to have Celestia and Luna helping!”

The three minutes it took for a pegasus guard to alert Celestia, and for her and Luna to make their way to the clean room, seemed to take forever to Twilight. The thought that she could have accidentally caused the death of an innocent creature, of a friend, left her feeling like somepony had encased her heart in ice... and the forlorn, bereft expression on Sveti's face as she stared at the spot where Peter had been made it exponentially worse. And yet I find myself hoping that she doesn't turn around, because I don't think I could look her in the eyes right now without breaking down, she thought.

Finally, the doors to the room flew open, and both Celestia and Luna charged into the room. “Twilight!” Celestia called out. “Tell us what happened, quickly.”

Fighting the urge to babble everything out at once, she forcibly ordered her thoughts and gave the royal sisters the most brief and succinct summation she could manage. “And you tested this apparatus three days afore?” Luna queried.

“Yes. I brought the capacitors up to one hundred and ten percent to ensure that nothing would fail, then double-checked every last part of it for any sort of damage or overloading.”

“Her checklist was exceptionally thorough, Princesses,” Able Assistant offered from nearby. “If there had been any kind of fault in the system, Princess Twilight would've found it.”

“Then we have on our hooves the mystery of what happened.” Celestia turned towards the large runeshape, her gaze resting on the young griffin hen that still sat completely unmoving nearby; the alicorn approached Sveti, gently placing a wing over her shoulders. “Sveti,” she said quietly, though loud enough for Twilight to hear, “do not mourn Peter yet. The forms of magic employed here are powerful, but to simply kill a living creature is against their very nature. Also... Peter has proven himself a survivor when the odds were highly stacked against him, and I would not assume his streak is over quite yet.”

Luna paused just a moment to lightly brush her wing against Sveti's side in a show of sympathy, then continued on to the machinery. “Twilight Sparkle, you said that you witnessed a failure within the runeshape itself. Indicate its location for me, if you would.”

“Here.” Despite the fact that she knew the runeshape was completely discharged and safe, she still found herself stepping gingerly over its lines as she led the lunar alicorn to where she'd seen the spark. “That point, right there,” she said, pointing a hoof at the scorched-looking area. “That's where it happened. I can't think of a single reason it would have failed there.”

Luna bent down to examine the point closely for a moment, then raised her head, taking in the entirety of the runeform. “The complexity of your work is quite frankly astounding, Twilight Sparkle,” she said quietly. “As is your diligence. Indeed, there should have been no failure... but I suspect that the fault is not yours.”

Twilight balked, raising a forehoof in surprise. “...what do you mean?”

“I require more proof to be certain. Bring the apparatus back into operation, at one-third the power you previously utilized.”

The technical team went through the run-up sequence quickly, and soon the equipment was humming with energy again, though much more quietly than before. The damaged portion of the runeform sparked heavily. “...I see,” Luna said softly. “This was no failure of the runeshape itself. This portion was sabotaged.”

“Sabotaged?!” Twilight repeated. “But who....” She went silent for a moment. “There was a boutounniere found in the room. Nopony in the science team would've worn one, let alone left it lying around in a clean room.”

“Show it to me,” Celestia commanded.

Able galloped out of the room, coming back a moment later with the accessory in her mouth; Celestia took hold of it with her magic, raising it up to look at it carefully. “...isn't this Blueblood's?” she murmured.

There was a rustle of feathers, a gust of wind powerful enough to ruffle Twilight's own wings, and a tan-and-white blur that streaked out the doors. Twilight let out a gasp of shock. “Sveti?!” she called out.

(-)

“...where the blazes is my favorite boutounniere?” Blueblood pulled open yet another dresser drawer, pushing clothing left and right. “Silk Tie! Have you seen my boutounniere?! I can't be seen without it tonight; I'm going to a play, and everypony who's anypony will be there!”

“No, Your Highness, I've not seen it,” the stallion replied.

“Ugh. If I find out that Silver Sparks has 'borrowed' it again, I'll clip his tail hair and wear that instead! He'll-” he thought he caught something moving outside the window, but dismissed it as his imagination- “he'll regret thinking he can take liberties with my wardrobe! I'll show him just how-”

crash

He barely had time to register that the nearby windows had been smashed open before something large, tawny and very angry slammed into him, taking him clean off of his hooves and slamming him into the floor. He barely heard Silk Tie give out a terrified yelp and gallop away before strong claws and sharp talons were at his throat, and a pair of furious golden eyes glared into his.

“Where did you send him?!” the griffin practically snarled.

“I- I don't-” He batted ineffectively at her claws with his forehooves, trying to pry her off of him.

“Don't give me 'you don't'! I know you hate him! What did you do to the runeform?!”

Terror and confusion battled it out inside of his mind. “I don't know what you're talking about!” he wheezed. “Runeform? What....”

“Don't you even try to play innocent! They found your boutounniere in the room! I swear to every last one of my ancestors, if you don't tell me where Peter is now, I will pull your horn out of your skull and shove it so far up your plot that it'll come back out of your head!”

“I don't know! I didn't do anything!” He knew that the only thing keeping him from wetting himself was the fact that he'd just used the bathroom a few minutes ago. “Let me go, you beast!”

“Sveti. Please stand down.”

The griffin froze, her head slowly turning to look back at the door. Blueblood followed her gaze to see Celestia slowly trotting into the room, her eyes fixed on them. After a moment, the hen turned back towards Blueblood, releasing his neck from her grip and staring at her claws as though she'd never seen them before. “...what am I doing....” she whispered, backing away from him with a haunted expression.

“Auntie!” He was still too dazed and sore to stand. “This- this beast just attacked me! I demand to know-”

“Blueblood. Silence.” There was something in her tone that made him immediately clamp his mouth shut. “I want an explanation for this,” she said; her horn flared, and a small object appeared next to her.

“My... my boutounniere?” He blinked in bewilderment. “I've been looking for it for an hour; where did...?”

“This was found in one of the clean rooms in the science wing. Specifically, where a test was being performed in order to send Peter home. That test was sabotaged, and now Peter is missing.”

“What...?” He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You... you can't possibly think that I....”

He fell silent again at the look she gave him. “Follow me,” she commanded.

As quickly as decorum would allow, he fell into place behind her as she cantered out into the hallway. Across from him, he saw the griffin do the same- but the look in her eyes was vacant, her head lowered and her beak trembling slightly. And only at that moment did it strike Blueblood that something very, very bad had happened, and he was under suspicion for having caused it.

I have the sinking feeling that I won't be making it to that play tonight, he thought ruefully.

(-)

“Since Shining is back in the Crystal Empire, I have Majors Tulip and Rime examining the guard logs and canvassing every guard who was on duty in this section of the castle over the last two days.” Twilight glanced over at Luna, who was standing near the runeshape, pouring a thin stream of magic into its center. “Luna says she might be able to work out what happened. She's been at it since you left, Celestia, but I don't dare interrupt her to see how it's proceeding.”

Celestia nodded, pleased that Twilight had matured past her monomaniacal tendencies and had learned to delegate. “Blueblood insists he had nothing to do with this,” she replied, glancing back at her wayward nephew; he was pressing himself into a corner of the room with a dedication such that, were it possible, he would probably have melded with the plaster by now. “And truth be told, I am inclined to believe him... if for no other reason than I don't believe he possesses this level of initiative.”

“Then what-”

Twilight's words were interrupted by a shout from Luna. “Eureka!” she declared, staring at a tiny rift in space that floated at about eye level at the point where the human had disappeared. “I have discerned Peter's location! He is....” Her voice trailed off, and her expression fell. “Oh no,” she murmured.

“Luna?” Celestia approached her sister. “What's wrong?”

The lunar alicorn looked back towards Celestia with a truly haunted look on her face. “He has been sent to the Astral Plane,” she replied.

Sveti looked up at them. “...is that bad?”

“The Astral Plane is the realm of the mind. It is not meant that a physical body should inhabit it.”

“What could happen to Peter there?” Twilight asked.

Luna shook her head. “The explanation would require time we do not possess. Suffice it to say that we must retrieve him as quickly as possible. The task falls to me.”

“Princess, I want to help,” Sveti said quietly.

The alicorn gave her a gentle smile. “Would that I could allow it, but there is naught you nor any other mortal could do to help. Even mine sister would be nearly powerless there. Only I have the knowledge and skills required to effect a rescue.”

Celestia nodded in understanding. “I know the risks you're taking. Be careful, Lulu. Please.”

Luna smiled appreciatively, then pointed her horn towards the still-floating rift. A streak of void-black magic streaked from its tip, striking the rift and widening it into a portal of sorts, shaped like the iris of a cat's eye and just as black. Without a moment's hesitation, Luna flew into it, and it snapped shut behind her.

Celestia let out a quiet sigh. “Well, there is little we can do now but prepare for their return,” she said, not allowing herself for even a moment to contemplate any alternative outcome. “I'll explain to you just why Peter being trapped in the Astral Plane could have disastrous results... not just for him, but for all of us.”

(-)

It has not gotten any easier since the last time I had to do this.

There were a number of advantages to traveling through the Astral Plane in a mentally-constructed avatar, rather than one's own body. Chief among them was the inability to feel physical sensations- something that Luna particularly yearned for as she “flew” through the strange, substanceless void. To call it “cold” would be an attempt to apply physical laws in a place where they had no reign; temperature did not exist in this place, nor did other niceties such as gravity and air. Even she, who could stand upon the moon and endure the void of space without effort, had to expend no small amount of magic to protect herself from this place, lest its latent energies attempt to invade her body and erode the very forces that bound the fibers of her being together... and the form-fitting shield spell did little to remove the sensation of bone-aching chill all around her.

Things would have been different if she weren't also psionically shielding her mind, and that was how she knew Peter was likely still alive. The Plane will have constructed a pocket realm, of sorts, for his survival, she thought, deftly evading a streak of mental energy. Such as it has done for every pony who braved this place without mental shielding... until we ceased all such research and forbade its pursuit.

It didn't take her long to pick up the human's unique mental signature, orient herself on it and proceed what she arbitrarily designated as “forward”. While she couldn't sustain herself indefinitely, it wasn't a worry for her own safety that brought her to move as swiftly as possible. Time is a malleable concept here, she told herself, but it must still adhere to basic rules; therefore the situation is likely not yet unsalvageable. But haste is definitely called for.

She didn't know how long it took her to home in on Peter's location, but she did know when she came close. What appeared to her eyes as an enormous silvery bubble, suspended in nothingness, loomed before her, shimmering like a giant globule of quicksilver even though there was no light around for it to reflect. Satisfied that she'd found her target, she concentrated, focusing her magic to open a hole in the sphere for her to traverse.

Gravity reasserted itself the moment she moved through. When her hooves hit soft, grassy ground, she looked back to find the tear she'd created gone, and a lightly-forested area in its place. In front of her she found what appeared to be a strange road, made of a flat black material with a pair of yellow stripes painted along its center. Is it roads such as this that carriages like Peter's traverse upon? she wondered, as she took to the air, following the road away from where she'd entered. It wasn't long before she came upon a rather ordinary-looking dwelling situated not far from the road, with what appeared to be an intact version of that very same carriage parked on a small path that branched off of the main road.

Luna came to a light landing on the dwelling's front lawn and trotted onto the porch, looking through the windows set into the front doors but seeing no one present. Carefully, she unlatched the door with her magic and pushed a door open, poking her head inside. “...Peter?” she called out, keeping her voice low.

As if brought into existence by her call, the human walked into the living room, glancing up at her for a moment- then freezing in place, the small plate of food he was carrying falling from his hands to crash into the floor unheeded as his eyes locked onto her. “...you can't be here,” he said, his voice flat, as if he were stating an indisputable fact.

“Peter Collins, you must listen to me.” She trotted into the house, noting how he instinctively stepped back away from her. “Time is short and your very existence is in danger in this place.”

“No. Shut up. Just shut up and leave. You're not....” She saw his shoulders slump as a pained expression crossed his face. “You're not... supposed to be real....”

Carefully, slowly, she approached him. “Peter?”

“I thought....” He waved a hand around, indicating the house itself. “I thought I was back home. I thought it had all been a dream. I... wanted to believe it.”

She could understand all too easily. “But you noticed inconsistencies, did you not?” she asked. “Things which are odd or out-of-place.”

“Yeah, like... no wind. No other houses nearby. Or the fact that this is my parents' place, not mine, but they're not here.” He picked up a small device from a nearby table- one of the strange communications devices he called a “phone”- and tapped at it with a fingertip. “This works, but there's no signal.” The understanding she gained from that concept was almost dizzying, and she was forced to shove it into the back of her mind in order to keep her attention on the problem at hoof. “I... ignored it, at first. Stupid. I should've paid more attention.”

“Peter, I will not fault you for wanting to-”

“Just save it, alright?” He looked up with her with a scowl that didn't last for long before worry overtook it. “...is Sveti okay?”

She found the clear concern in his expression heartwarming. “She is. She worries for you.”

“Okay.” He couldn't quite hide his look of relief from her. “If I'm not home, then where am I?”

“This realm is known as the Astral Plane. It is a dimension of mentality, of thoughts and dreams... and of nightmares. Here is where I watch over the dreams of my little ponies as they sleep.”

“Yeah, and others.” She tried not to wince at his tone. “So I'm stuck in a dream, then?”

“No. When the test apparatus malfunctioned, you were apparently caught in a transplanar rift that brought you here in your physical form. What you see all around you is 'real', for want of a better term, but it has been constructed from your own mind.”

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped for a moment. “...constructed 'from'?” he repeated. “Not 'by'? So I'm not the one who actually made this?”

She couldn't quite keep a small smile from her lips. “You are perceptive, and correct. The Astral Plane is... not 'sentient', per se, but it is reactive to the will and power of an awake mind. However, it is also dangerous in that it reacts much more strongly to dark emotions such as anger, fear and hate than more benevolent ones. No living mind can remain completely free of those emotions forever, and it is only a matter of time before the Astral Plane conjures something from those emotions, which will in turn cause the creature to feel them more strongly, causing a feedback effect- and, eventually, the death of the creature.”

He stared at her for a moment, then asked a surprising question. “How the hell do I even understand you so well? I'm sure that I didn't know a couple of those words, and yet... I did.”

“As I said, this is a realm of thought. The imprecise nature of language is negated here- it is our minds that speak to each other. You merely perceive it as vocalization.” She glanced back towards the door; something was darkening the skies above them. “We are running short on time. Already the Astral Plane is reacting to your emotions; there is no way to know what it may unleash upon us. I must return you to the rift as soon as possible.”

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “If I'm in danger, then I need to know what you're capable of here.”

“Very little.” Despite herself, her wings drooped slightly. “The nature of magic is different here; I am incapable of any powerful spells, external or internal, and my body has lost the inborn defenses that I have gained over the centuries. In short... I am as vulnerable as you here in this place.”

“...I see.” After a moment, he walked slowly towards her; she watched with a mix of impatience and curiosity as he approached-

THWACK

-and then found herself sprawled on the wooden floor, dazed and sporting a sore muzzle. Stars swam in her vision for a moment before she could focus, and when she looked up, she saw Peter standing over her, shaking his fist loosely, a couple of his knuckles already reddening from the impact. “That was for the dream with the pony on the plate,” he told her... and then reached down with his other hand to help her up.

After a moment, she raised her foreleg and allowed him to pull her to her hooves. “Fair enough,” she said. “Now let us be off.”

Unfortunately, her primary escape plan was already infeasible. The entire landscape in the direction she had come from had become a grey, roiling wall of instability, slowly but inexorably advancing towards the house. “Blast,” she murmured. “The point I entered from would have been easiest to use for escape. We will need to seek a weak point in this worldlet's boundaries in order to make good our exit.”

The human was staring at the advancing barrier with an unmistakable expression of fear. “...okay, yeah,” he said quietly. “Good idea. How do we do that?”

“I shall cast a tracking spell that can detect emanations from the Astral Plane. We will need to move quickly, though....” She glanced at the carriage still sitting on the thin path. “Is that functional?”

“I didn't check.” He pulled what appeared to be a small keychain from the pocket of his pants, then pressed two small button on a tiny black fob of some sort; each press was followed by a loud clicking sound from the vehicle. “Passenger seat is on the right side; get in and belt in.”

She'd seen the carriage examined enough times in the castle to have a general idea of how to get inside. She pulled at the door's handle with telekinesis as she galloped towards it, managing to get herself settled into the surprisingly comfortable seat, then waited as she watched him retrieve something from the vehicle's rear- the very same weapon he'd had when he'd first appeared on Equus. She watched as he quickly strapped the holster to his leg, then entered the vehicle and pulled a long strap with a buckle over himself, sliding the buckle into a receptacle sticking up next to the seat. “How did you know that your weapon would be there?” she asked.

“I didn't actually think about it. I just expected it to be there.” He put a key into a small opening near the control wheel, then turned it; the vehicle's engine roared to life. “I thought I said to belt in.”

“...yes, of course.” The procedure itself was simple enough, but her physiology made it tricky; it took her a hooffull of seconds to secure herself with the belt. As soon as she'd gotten the buckle latched, he moved a lever in the center of the front compartment, and the vehicle lurched backwards; as soon as it was on the larger road, he moved the lever again, and with a roar, the carriage sped down the street.

“Tell me what we'll be up against here,” he said.

“I cannot. It is your mind that this pocket of pseudo-reality has attuned itself to, so whatever may come from it will be based upon your thoughts and memories. Which means we may well see dangers from your world presented to us... which means I will need you to advise me as to the nature of any threats we encounter.”

“Yeah, okay.” He tapped a hand against his weapon. “Is this going to be effective against them?”

“I would believe so, at least at first. On other occasions, adversaries proved vulnerable to ordinary weapons and spells, until they grew to such power that we could not hope to combat them and were forced to withdraw.”

“Other occasions?”

“Yes. Many hundreds of years ago, ponykind researched the Astral Plane. We discovered its dangers firsthoof, and further exploration was proscribed... but not before several lives were lost. And the loss of those lives only exacerbated the problem, to the point where three generations passed before it could be remedied.”

The road became a series of sharp curves going up a steep hill, and Peter slowed the vehicle to navigate them safely. “What problem?”

“The shock of a living mind meeting its demise is a powerful thing. When those ponies died, the mental energies created all manner of phenomena, all of which were inimical to physical creatures. Tears were rent in the boundaries of the plane, weaknesses which could only be patched but never repaired, and to prevent further damage- and danger to our own plane- Celestia and I banned all further research into physically entering the Astral Plane and destroyed all the accumulated documentation of our efforts. To the best of our knowledge, no other civilization on Equus has been able, or even interested, in duplicating that feat.” She gave him a serious look. “Were you to meet your death here, there is no telling what could manifest... and with the knowledge of how to combat such things lost to the ages, and scant few unicorns alive today with the magical skill, let alone knowledge, to do so....”

She left the rest unsaid, but he understood, remaining silent for a moment. “So how'd I end up here?”

“The runeform that Twilight Sparkle created was sabotaged. As Canterlot- though it was called a different name then, and had not yet become this nation's capital- was the site of the previous experimentation with the Astral Plane, it is not impossible that an old tear was reopened by its energies.”

“Sabotaged? You've got to be fucking kidding me. Who the hell has it out for me and Sveti?!”

“We do not know yet.” She felt a scowl cross her face. “But rest assured, Peter Collins, that when the malefactor is found, he or she will come to severely regret it. Far more than your life or mine was endangered by this foalish action.”

“Great. I hope we live long enough to see that.”

The road had just straightened out again when a small red symbol lit up on the strange cluster of gauges behind the vehicle's control wheel. “What is that?” Luna asked.

“Low fuel warning.” Peter frowned. “I'd have sworn there was more gas in the tank than that.”

As the vehicle turned a corner, a small, strange-looking building came into view. “And what is that?” she asked.

“Gas station.” The frown on his face grew. “This is a trap, isn't it?”

“Indubitably. This worldlet would use your own suspicions and fears against you, to force confrontations.”

“That's lovely. Why isn't it doing the same thing with you?”

“Because I can shield my mind from it. Effectively, in that manner I am invisible to this place.”

“And I'm going to figure that you'd do the same for me if you could.”

“Indeed.”

“Well.” He drummed his fingers against the wheel. “Let's go fall into the trap, then.”

(-)

There was an advantage to this whole situation, I had to admit to myself. If this place couldn't pick up on Luna's thoughts, then all it had to go on was mine- which meant that I'd be much more able to recognize threats if and when they showed themselves. And while I wasn't dumb enough to believe that the alicorn would actually try to sabotage me, I still didn't trust her to not try to manipulate me somehow to her own advantage, and having the upper hand in knowing what was going on let me feel like I had control over my own survival rather than depending wholly on her.

It was paranoia, pure and simple, and I recognized it as such. But while I'd come to understand ponies well enough to deal with them at least somewhat rationally, and Twilight and Cadance came across to me as regular ponies who just happened to be alicorns, Luna and her sister were on an entirely different level- trying to confront them mentally was like an eight-year-old playing chess against a grandmaster. And while I understood that they weren't just looking for some excuse to throw me in a cage somewhere, I couldn't bring myself to trust creatures that had literally thousands of years of experience in getting what they wanted from others.

The gas station loomed ahead, well-lit but disturbingly empty as we drove up. I noticed something odd as I cut the engine- the pump looked normal in shape, had the usual long hose and nozzle... but there were no gauges, no credit card slot or receipt printer. “Is there some weird kind of conservation of detail going on here?” I wondered as I got out of the car.

“Of a sort.” Luna stepped out onto the pavement as well. “It will not bother with extraneous details if it deems them unimportant or likely to hinder you.”

As I passed the pumps, I noticed that the hoses didn't have the usual manufacturer printing on them either. “Yeah, I see. Can you fill up the tank? I'm going to look inside the shop for anything useful.”

“Aye.” I supposed she'd been telling the truth about the whole “minds speaking to each other” thing after all- she hadn't needed me to explain how to refuel the car. As she was busy with that, I walked into the attached convenience store to look for anything useful. Unsurprisingly, it was vacant, the register unmanned and the aisles empty. Visions of every last horror and zombie movie I'd seen crept through my brain as I spent a few moments checking the likeliest areas for anything that could be helpful, only to come up empty. Is it worth taking any food? I wondered, picking up a candy bar from a nearby display, only to find that Luna had been right- while the front of the packaging was just as I'd expect, the back was completely blank. No, probably not- I don't want to be here long enough to get hungry. Maybe I'll grab a couple of bottles of water for me and Luna-

Out of the corner of my eye I saw something moving. A door opening, a long metal tube swinging out from behind it, a jet-black hand gripping a wooden forestock-

“Shit!”

BOOM

Half of an aisle and most of the front counter were turned into high-speed confetti by the blast of buckshot, but jumping away from the door had saved my skin. I stumbled into a soda display, cans tumbling every which way as I pulled my handgun free and fired three hastily-aimed shots, my breath catching in my throat even as I did so, realizing that what I was firing at wasn't human.

The first shot went wide, putting a hole through the cheap plywood door. The second hit the thing's right arm, the porcelain-like substance shattering, and the third struck it in the sternum, sending a spiderweb of cracks along its silvery skin. Bereft of its right hand and unable to pump the slide, the thing grabbed the shotgun's still-smoking barrel in its remaining hand, intending to use it as a club; still trying to regain my balance, I brought my weapon to bear, planting one foot behind me to steady myself.

Or at least that had been my intention, but a rolling soda can picked that moment to get underfoot, and I went ass-over-teakettle to slam into the floor, my head thwacking against the hard tile, sending stars swimming across my vision. I'd managed to keep a hold of my weapon, but it felt heavy in my hand as I struggled to raise it up, seeing a silver blur raise a brown-and-grey blur-

CRASH

-and then something large and metallic slammed into the thing at high speed, sending it sailing through one of the windows with a sound not unlike a cannon going off. When my vision cleared, I found Luna standing at my side, one silver-booted hoof raised towards me. “Are you hurt?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“Smacked my head on the floor, but I'm alright besides that.” I took her hoof and let her pull me to my feet, needing a moment to lean against her until my sense of equilibrium returned. “...thanks,” I told her; I still didn't like or trust her, but she'd saved my life with her quick thinking.

“You are most welcome.” She seemed pleased for a moment before looking around. “What manner of weapon causes such damage as this?” she asked. “Your firearm is hardly capable of this.”

“I'll show you.” I led her outside, where I discovered what had attacked me- and couldn't quite suppress a shiver. “It's a goddamn mannequin,” I said, looking down at the hollow humanlike form partially shattered on the concrete.

Luna glanced up at me. “You seem rather perturbed by this.”

“I... I had a phobia about mannequins when I was a kid, alright?”

I expected a laugh of some sort out of her, and was surprised when none came. “I understand irrational fears better than most, Peter Collins,” she said. “But in this place, you must face them given form and substance, and the tools to do you harm.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured that out when it shot at me, thanks.” I had to pull the shotgun out of the wreckage of the energy-drink display cooler she'd thrown at the thing. “The handgun fires solid lead slugs,” I told her, unloading a shell from the shotgun to display for her. “This weapon is called a shotgun. It fires lead shot, about twenty or so small pellets.”

She studied both the weapon and the shell. “It seems as though it would be ineffective at any great distance,” she remarked.

“Yeah, but inside of about fifty or so meters it's going to make a mess of things.” I placed the shell back in the magazine and leaned the weapon over my shoulder. “I want to see if there's any more shells inside. Is the car fueled up?”

“Aye. I had been coming to inform you of such when I witnessed the attack.”

“Great. Grab a couple of bottles of water; I'll only be a minute.”

The room the mannequin had come from turned out to be a manager's office, and inside I scored a jackpot- two boxes of 12-gauge shells, one of them missing five of the promised twelve, which had probably been loaded into the shotgun previously. Twenty-three rounds, then, I thought, and forty-two for the handgun. Let's hope I don't have to burn through it all.

Luna was standing by the car when I came out; she was staring down the road. “Peter Collins, we should be on our way forthwith,” she said as I approached. “I hear activity not far from here.”

“Right. Let's go.” We got back into the car and buckled up, and I pulled back out onto the road, happy to put as much distance between the station and us. “Seems to be getting late,” I commented, glancing up at the sky.

“This is a simulacrum, unbound by what rules of reality would hamper it. More likely, this worldlet seeks to impose darkness upon us for greater tension and fear.”

I sighed. “You know, this is probably just payback for all the times I said I'd do better in a horror movie than the usual protagonist.”

Luna surprised me with a chuckle. “So much easier to evaluate a situation from without than from within. So far I feel you have managed adequately.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” I smirked, though maybe it was a little less hostile than before. “Are you sensing any other tears we can use to get out of here?”

“None close enough for me to detect. For now we must continue along the road set before us.”

So that's what we did for a while- I wasn't sure how long; the clock on the radio was blank. I could see the alicorn giving me pensive looks out of the corner of my eye, and after a couple of minutes she broke the silence. “Peter Collins-” she began.

“Just Peter.”

“-Peter,” she corrected herself smoothly. “I have wished to apologize to you for some time for my actions.”

I would've glared at her if I didn't need to keep my eyes on the road. “Right. You think you can just apologize for invading my mind, twisting my dreams around, doing God only knows what to my subconscious mind?!”

“I-”

Whatever she had to say was cut off when a blinding light hit us from behind. I reflexively hit the anti-glare switch on the rear-view mirror and saw two sets of headlights racing towards us. “Oh, hell, they get cars too?!” I groaned.

“They gain on us quickly! Cannot your vehicle go faster?”

“I bought this thing for my workday commute, not for street racing!”

Try as it might, the little four-cylinder engine couldn't hope to outpace the sports cars that were racing up behind us; some part of my mind noted that they were replicas of the white '96 Corvette I'd had my eye on before I'd ended up buying the Escort. One of them hung just behind me as the other roared up along the right side of my car; I could see that the window was rolled down, and something blocky and silver was pointed towards us-

BANG

The .50AE round from the Desert Eagle smashed through my passenger-side window and obliterated a fair amount of my windshield, but jamming on the brakes had saved Luna from getting her head taken off. The anti-lock brakes kicked in, keeping me from spinning out, and I pulled the wheel to the right to slam the car's nose into the Vette's rear panel with just enough force to send the other vehicle out of control. Its tires squealed across the pavement as it spun out, careening sideways off the road and tumbling out of view in the tall grass.

The other pursuer didn't seemed fazed by the fate of its friend, immediately zooming forward to try the same trick; I managed to cut it off with a well-timed swerve, but I knew it could pull the same trick I did. “Luna!” I shouted over the wind. “The shotgun! Aim for the wheel!”

She understood, and her magic immediately seized the weapon from the back seat, pointing it out the shattered window. I swerved wide to the left, and the other driver took the bait, the Corvette's engine roaring as it came up to overtake us-

BOOM

Luna's shot was off, decorating the front end and hood of the car with holes and blowing out a headlight, but missing the tire. Still, it was enough to get the car to back off for a moment, and I waited to hear the follow-up shot- but all that graced my ears was a repetitive metallic clicking. “Peter!” the alicorn said. “It will not fire again!”

“Pull the foregrip back until it stops, then forward again!”

I heard the harsh click-clack of the action being worked, the faint tink of the spent shell hitting the door frame- and then another thundercrack, followed by a harsh scraping sound as the now-tireless front left wheel of the Corvette threw sparks into the air. Amazingly, the car was able to keep pace with us for a few moments, actually starting to gain some ground despite its damage, and I saw a silvery arm raise another gun to aim it towards us-

BOOM

- but Luna's third shot peppered the windshield with buckshot, and the arm slumped, dropping the handgun onto the road as the car began to pull itself to the side. By the time it had run itself off the road, it was almost gone from my rear-view mirror. “Jesus, that was close,” I muttered, easing off of the gas so that I wouldn't go sailing over the next curve in the road. “You alright?”

“Mostly.” She turned her head to return the shotgun to the rear seat- and I saw several long red lines across the side of her head and neck.

The sight bothered me for some reason. “Shit, you're bleeding.”

“The wounds are superficial.”

“You're lucky you didn't lose an eye. Hell, you're lucky you didn't take that bullet to the skull.”

“That would have been....” She looked at the windshield, missing a large chunk where the bullet had gone through, and most of the rest of the right side a mess of spiderwebbed safety glass. “...detrimental,” she finished.

“Yeah, no kidding. Let me find a safe spot to pull over and I'll give those cuts a look.”

“There is no need to-”

“The hell there isn't. I'm not taking any chances; you're my only way out of here, and they're obviously gunning for you. That shot wasn't aimed at me.” I pointed at the hole in the windshield.

She shot me a withering glance. “Your concern for my well-being is heartwarming,” she said, packing more sarcasm into that last word than I thought possible.

I had to admit that maybe I was being a bit more hostile than was warranted. “Okay, look,” I said. “We'll have that conversation when we pull over.”

“Very well.” She leaned against the door, looking out through the shattered window, the wind blowing into the car not seeming to disturb her ethereal mane.

Something occurred to me, and it was always in my nature to give credit where it was due. “Oh, one other thing.”

“Aye?”

“That was some good work with the shotgun, all things considered.”

She gave me a brief smile and a nod in reply.

(-)

She couldn't help but wince as he rubbed the alcohol pad across her wounds; it had been a while since she'd felt actual physical pain. “Hold still,” he chided her. “It's bad enough that I can barely see what I'm doing.”

The small light that illuminated the inside of the vehicle likely hadn't been designed for making medical treatment easier, nor were the seats meant for an ad-hoc triage station. Peter apparently wasn't letting that stop him, however, and she marshaled her willpower, keeping herself as still as a statue while he treated her. “This would be easier if I had my flashlight,” he murmured. “But it doesn't look like there's any glass stuck in the wounds. Bandages are out of the question, though- I don't think they'll stick to your fur well enough to be useful.”

“So long as my wounds are clean and free of foreign objects, they should heal well.” She watched as he climbed out from the rear seat, returned the first-aid kit to the trunk of the car, then resumed his position at the steering wheel and started the car again, pulling back out onto the road. “Now,” she said, as quietly as she could above the sound of wind coming through broken glass, “about that conversation.”

He nodded, taking a moment to quaff some water from the bottle set at his side. “Yeah. Listen. I know how this whole 'dream-delving' thing is your job when it comes to ponies, but where I come from, that sort of thing gets called 'mind rape' for a damn good reason.”

She recoiled from the implication. “It is nothing like that!” she shouted at him, barely able to keep herself from using the Royal Canterlot Voice. “It is my sacred duty to defend and succor my little ponies, and the friends of this nation as well!”

“That gives you no right to go trotting through my head, twisting my dreams around for your own purposes!”

“What would you have had me do?!” She glared into his eyes. “We knew almost nothing of you, Peter, save for that you had killed three creatures with a weapon we could not comprehend, and had all due reason to hate ponykind for what had been done to you!” She watched him struggle to make an argument for a moment, only to fall silent and fix his gaze on the road ahead. “I did not enter your dreams to violate them, Peter- only to gain a better understanding of you.”

“Yeah? Then explain the Pony Meal dream.”

Now it was her turn to look away. “...it was a gambit of desperation. I sought to gauge how you regarded ponies on an instinctive level- would you consider them prey? I could think of no better way than to invoke your basest instincts and see your reaction.”

“Yeah, well, I hope you got what you wanted, because I felt like shit after that. I thought my mind was starting to turn against me there.”

“I am sorry, Peter. Truly I am. I had no wish to violate you in any way. My actions were performed in ignorance and fear, well-meaning but unintentionally harmful... can you say you have not been in the same situation?” She saw the tiny slump in his shoulders that told her she'd hit a soft spot, and felt guilt wash over her. “...forgive me,” she said reproachfully. “I meant not to-”

“No. You're right.” She watched his hands open and close on the steering wheel. “God, it's just....”

“What?”

He was silent for a moment, obviously thoughtful. “If I'm being honest, you just scare me.”

She let out a quiet sigh. “A reaction I am all too familiar with from my subjects.”

“I'm not just talking about the whole 'spooky darkness' thing. It's you and your sister both. You're thousands of years old, you have powers and magic that are worlds beyond just about every other creature on this planet... and apparently you went crazy a thousand years ago and tried to cause eternal night, and Celestia banished you to the moon for a millennium. And honestly, I can't tell which half of that story terrifies me more!” He glanced over at her, and she could easily see the wariness in his expression. “I don't understand you, I can't comprehend you, and you could do pretty much anything you wanted to me and I'd never stand a chance to resist. I feel like an ant under the eye of a titan.”

“Also a reaction I am all too familiar with from others.” Luna took in a slow breath. “I have been told that you have no such creatures as my sister and I upon your world; that all of humanity is, within small variances, essentially the same. To see 'titans' such as us, and the power that we hold, must be unnerving.” She leaned forward, just a little, not wanting to disturb his personal space. “But underneath this armor, this spectral mane, this power... I am but a pony. A pony with a wider perspective, a greater understanding of history and the forces that move this world, certainly- but I am not some unknowable alien entity, toying with lives without care or comprehension of their value.” She let her eyes lock onto his. “I do care, Peter. It is not often I am able to show such, due to the decorum that my position demands... and I suppose it does not help matters that I am not often comfortable expressing myself.”

Was that the trace of a smirk on his lips? “I sort of picked up on that.”

“Quite.” She didn't quite suppress her smile, but it was one that didn't last long. “Peter, what has been done to you is horrible, inexcusable. I am truly sorry for all the suffering you have known at the hooves of ponies... including mine. I understand better than most the feelings of alienation and isolation you must have felt.” She looked out through the window for a moment, noting how a thick wall of trees had closed in on either side of the road; in the encroaching darkness, they looked particularly foreboding. “I would be your friend, should you allow it, Peter,” she continued. “There are few souls here in Equestria who can truly sympathize with feelings such as what we have experienced.”

His gaze returned to the road, and he seemed about to answer- but something ahead of them caught his attention. “...the hell is that?” he wondered.

The vehicle's bright lights illuminated a long, solid-looking wall ahead of them, completely blocking off the thin valley they were in; in the center of the wall stood a formidable metal gate, and a number of steel barricades stuck up from the road, obviously meant to trap the wheels of approaching carriages. Peter gave her an inquiring glance. “Luna?”

She concentrated, and at the very edge of her awareness she felt a slight tugging sensation. “I sense a tear beyond that gate.”

“Then it looks like we're walking from here.” He brought the vehicle to a stop just in front of the first wheel-trap, shutting it off but leaving the lights on. “Grab the shotgun.”

She was quite honestly surprised. “...you wish me to carry it?”

“I can't use two guns at once, and you've shown you can manage with it. Do I need to give you a rundown on firearms safety?”

“Neigh. I am well-versed in the use of an arbalest, and I surmise that the basic precautions are the same.”

“I, um... I guess so.” The somewhat confused look on his face was mildly amusing, but soon enough both of them turned their minds to what lay ahead of them- a small door set into the wall next to the gate. “It's another trap, isn't it?” he asked.

“Without a doubt,” she replied, before spinning around to lash out with both hindlegs; the door was torn from its hinges by the power of the kick, clattering loudly as it landed. “Let us not keep our hosts waiting,” she said, striding confidently through the doorway.

His quiet murmur of “I think I'm starting to like her style” did not escape her ears.