The next morning I had Dodger and Chrysalis help me scrub the magic marker off my back with rubbing alcohol. That was one threat dealt with... two bazillion to go. Yes, I did "plant" those memories in Artful Dodger's brain, but that guff about memetic landmines was just that, guff. I planted them in his brain the old fashioned way...I showed them to him. Well, sort of the old fashioned way. No internet connection. I had to replay the images as illusions drawn from memory. Trauma? I doubt it. He saw Goatse.cx and laughed his ass off. What kind of people am I hanging out with?

Anyway, the next week or so was kind of quiet. Metaphorically. Flim and Flam were hard at work, and the work was growing as a web of tunnels spread out beneath us. All day and night you could hear drilling, digging, tunneling, and the clanging of hammers on stone and metal deep down below...

I kept myself busy studying up. Among other things studying those magical doodads I'd pilfered all those months ago--- floaty rock, chaos-in-a-bottle, the cloudwalking potion, and Shard-O-Magic-Mirror. That last one I had some VERY particular ideas about.

I'd already made some interesting discoveries about the rock. I'd cracked it open, and found out that it was actually a sort of geode. The "floatiness" came from the core of glowing blue crystals inside that my books said was something called "loftite." Turned out to be the main ingredient in the cloudwalking potion as well.... tiny tiny traces dissolved in mineral water (literally mineral in this case) and doped up with unicorn magic. Those loftite crystals had become the core of my next big plan.... which was going to have to wait several more months, till construction was finished.

So at the moment, I was obsessing over the mirror shard. I had my librarians (who were still sticking labels on all the books in my Library of Awesome) set aside any books they found having to do with magic mirrors and alternate worlds. After a few moments' thought I'd added glassmaking to that list.

Research was proving... well, just like what it was when I was in chemistry class back in school: boring and annoying. I'd only joined that class to see if I could learn how to make stuff out of the anarchist's cookbook, only to find out it largely consisted of incomprehensible gibberish and "math" that consisted of multiplying the square root of French grammar by half a carrot. That and staring at droplets of liquid in a bunsen burner flame and trying to pretend you saw the different colors or could tell the difference in smells between one evaporating drop of water and another.

Yeah, I wasn't exactly Marie Curie, you know? With or without boobs.

Of course, science in Equestria turned out to be a lot more-- um, action generating than the stuff in Chem 101. I mean, MAGIC everywhere. And in everything. Equestria was a world where you could be doing an experiment with dandelions and colored water out of "Fun Science for Tots" and something in the water could turn the dandelions into eight foot tall vegetable monsters with lion faces and bad attitudes to match. That or make them sprout feet and arms and start dancing the Macarena.

I swear I'm gonna kill whoever put Poison Joke sap in the water if I ever catch them.

Still for the most part my experiments with the mirror were fairly quiet; hours of grinding up bits of glass, various crystals with magic properties, melting them to droplets an open flame and observing the result. Experiments with hand mirrors soon followed. Later on, still more hours were spent commissioning large panes of glass from the workshops... and if you think it's easy making smooth, perfectly flat glass panes the size of your front door, you've got another think coming. Half the time was wasted sweeping up and re-melting the remains of something that hadn't even made it out the workroom door.

By the final phase, I was standing over the glassmaker, carefully adding measured ingredients as he poured the molten glass out on a flat bed of sand. But the results were STILL not good. The glass wasn't doing what I wanted it to... or much of anything, except lying there looking vaguely magical.

Finally I bit the bullet, smashed the last shard to splinters, ground several chunks of it to powder and added that to the mix. That did it.

Soon I had my lieutenants gathered in my workshop, gazing in puzzlement at two tall, drape-covered frames standing in front of them. Chrysalis and Dodger looked wearily patient. The rest looked nonplussed. I stood in front of the mirrors and addressed them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," I began. "Some time ago, after we began our little enterprise, we found ourselves running into something of a minor snag. It seemed that their Royal Highnesses did not approve of our traipsing about Equestria at our will. Can't imagine why." Some grunted, others chuckled. "Well, after long research, I have secured our freedom of movement once more." I pulled the drapes off, revealing two full-length mirrors. "Behold."

Everyone stared. Ironhide raised a hand. "Yes?" I said.

"What, exactly...." he hesitated. "Are you saying--- did you-- make new magic mirrors?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying," I confirmed.

A unicorn in the back spoke up. "How?" he said disbelieving. "Even Celestia and Luna didn't know for sure how the magic mirror they had worked. And everything I ever heard in magic kindergarten said they couldn't be made anymore!" Sounds of agreement and suspicion rose up. "nopony can make portals anymore," someone said.

"That's true," Chrysalis said, waving a hand in negation. "Noone can. Unicorns and other magic creatures have been trying for centuries. But the results were almost always bad. Their notes said they had no way of controlling when the mirror opened up, or where. Oh, the results would be fixed, once the mirror was finished... but there was no way to pick.  Sometimes they open twice a day, sometimes twice a century. Sometimes they opened up underground, inside solid rock. Or at the bottom of the ocean. Or out in airless space.

"And those that tried to open them to other worlds-- well, even when they worked they merely opened up into the Void between the universes. That never went well. And many of them were a one-way trip... you could step through, but you couldn't step BACK. Or worse, you had mirrors that let things from the other side come THROUGH, but you couldn't send them back the way they came. That's supposed to be how Tartarus ended up with many of its more famous tenants..."

I tapped centermost mirror. "But I have found a way to turn those problems into advantages. In a moment you will see."

"What are we waiting for?" Pumpkin Patch said.

Each of the mirrors had been set into an ornate, if roughly cut wooden frame. Each one had a silver crescent Moon set in a knot at the top of the frame. At that moment, the Moons at the top of each of the mirrors began to glow with a blue-white light. Hurray, perfect timing. "For Moonrise," I said. The reflection of the room disappeared from the mirrors and was replaced by a barren, star-lit desert that glowed with a faint blue-white light. A blue-green, cloud-covered marble could be seen hanging in the sky.

"Where is that?" someone exclaimed.

"The surface of the Moon," I said casually. You should have heard the eruption of noise at that. I finally had to bang my new walking staff on the floor for silence. "It was actually easy enough to open a doorway to the Moon's surface," I went on. "After all, the Moon is tied to this world many ways, magically. Luna controls it from Canterlot. The Elements banished her there. There's something of a beaten path up there and back." A few chuckled. "A touch of moondust added to the glass, and the mirrors are harmonized to the Moon. They open when it rises, and close when it sets. I've been there myself." (And went crazy bonkers for an hour like a little kid. Jumping around the Moon going "Wheee!" and "Bite me Neil Armstrong!" But I wasn't telling any of THEM that.) "Fortunately, while there is little else there, there is plenty of air..." (which I confirmed by the simple expedient of opening the mirror the very first time and NOT being sucked out into the cold void of space...)

"I don't see how that helps us any," Charcoal griped. "Great, so we can visit Nightmare Moon's prison any time we want. And why bother making TWO mirrors to the place?"

"Two questions, one answer," I said. "I bet Artful Dodger here can figure it out." For his part Artful Dodger looked really doubtful of that. "Come on, Dodger, think about it. Here's a clue. One mirror will get you there..." I pointed at the mirror on the left, which had an arrow carved into its frame pointing up at the crescent Moon at the top. "And one will get you BACK." The other mirror had an identical arrow, except it was pointing down.

You could see the lightbulb go on. "Oooohhhh," he said, his face lighting up. "Now that's ruddy nifty!" The others looked at him, expectant. "Oh come on, you lot! Fink about it. You keep one mirror here, send the uvver one wherever you want to be, step thru this one onto the Moon--"

"... and step off the Moon and out of the other," Chrysalis said. "HAHA! Perfect!"

"I'm guessin' you got at least two or three other sets like this un, right guv?" Dodger asked me.

I nodded. "Several. Two pairs of twinned mirrors gives us a shortcut to anywhere in Equestria and back, so long as one of the mirror sets is there and the Moon is in the sky. And now, a practical demonstration. Dodger? See that silvery disk floating on the horizon?" I pointed at the scene through the "up" mirror. He nodded. "Step through the mirror, walk across and step through the circle."

He froze. "....This isn't some 'trust' exercise fing, izzit?" he said cautiously. I said nothing. "I thought so," he said. "Hello?" he said to the rest. "Lookin' fer a volunteer? Five bits in it for ya..."

The others jeered. He gave them a rude gesture and a raspberry. "Go on, quit stalling," I said. He looked at me, then back at the mirror. With a gulp and an effort at a brave face, he stepped through. We watched as he clippity clopped across the Moon dust, shrinking in the distance... meanwhile in the other mirror, his image grew larger and larger as he walked toward us, finally stepping through the mirror and back on Equestrian soil. He blinked and grinned in relief. He was greeted by applause and cheers. "Congratulations," I said. "You're the first non-royalty pony to set hoof on the Moon. Unless Celestia's been practicing her shot-put and not telling anyone." There were hoots of laughter at that.

While the others were laughing and thumping Dodger on the back, Black Fang was regarding the mirrors with a thoughtful expression on his face. He spoke up. "So this will give us easy access to anywhere we send the other mirrors," he said. "What's to prevent our enemies from coming the other way?"

That certainly got an awkward silence. Fortunately I had an answer. "Simple." I reached up and gave the Moon-decorated knot a twist. Though the image remained, the silver discs on the Moon's surface winked out. "We can lock them out."

"And leave anyone trying to sneak in stuck up there," Dodger said, cackling. "Sweet!"

"The mirrors with the control switches, of course, will stay with us," I said. "No sense in tempting naughty little hooves." I flicked it back on. I rubbed my chin and pretended to peruse the mirror in front of me. "As to our first location, I have already picked one out. The mirrors are already on their way. By tomorrow, the way will be open...."

The moment they heard me drop the name they set up a cheer they could probably hear all the way to the Moon without the mirrors.

Every world, most likely, has a Port Royale. A location just off the edge of the map called "civilization" and halfway into the region marked "here there be Dragons." A place notorious for its criminal class, its cutthroats, its license and debauchery, its free flowing gold and its seeming immunity to the distant touch of Law and Order.

Equestria had a Port Royale. It was, by one of those less-than-cosmic coincidences, actually named Port Royale. Other cities of that name and pedigree throughout the multiverse would have laughed, handed it a lolly and told it to go home to its mama, but for Equestria it was the picture of a wild, lawless harbor city.

The mayor of Port Royale, such as he was, was a former privateer who had retired ten years ago, permanently set himself ashore, took a berth in the office of Lord Mayor and proceeded to gain a hundred pounds, an illicit fortune in gold bits and crooked political power, and any number of enemies who were nevertheless smart enough to leave him in the mayor's chair rather than foolishly take his place and have his enemies become theirs. He was (for a mayor of a city full of pirates and mercenaries) fairly well liked, because as mayor he had the advantage in the public's eye of not wanting to rock the boat. He had grown comfortable in his life, and wished it to continue for many years just as it was.

Unfortunately while he did not like rocking the boat, the boat seemed to have taken a liking to rocking on its own. With the return of Princess Luna and the subsequent division of the royal workload,  the throne had finally started finding the time to look towards stifling out such places as Port Royale. Celestia's peaceful and formerly distant reign had started becoming uncomfortably close. Fewer ships were coming in loaded with booty and leaving with new crew; fewer and fewer mercenary bands were finding their careers profitable or their gold easy to part with.  Many were grumbling that the stream of money and rum that had once flowed under Port Royale's stained boardwalks were drying up, maybe for good.  The good Mayor was hearing complaints and demands that he do something.... but dogged if he knew what.

He was sitting in his office, broodily working his way down to the bottom of a bottle of port, when the mirrors arrived. He had them set up in the office and puzzled over who might have sent him such a thing. They were quite ornate and grandiose, and he had to admit they suited his baroque decor, especially in the light of the Moonrise through the chamber window, but-- what could they mean?

As he pondered these things the silver Moon at the top of the mirror began to glow, and the image in the mirror changed. A sinister, heavily armored bipedal figure was striding towards him out of a moon-white desert. Before the Mayor could do more than gawp in surprise, the figure stepped OUT of the mirror and loomed over him, large as life and twice as real. The Mayor stumbled backwards, falling to the floor, his plumed hat tumbling off his head.

"Mayor Galleon," the red-eyed apparition growled in a voice like a dragon gargling gravel. "I hope that you and I can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement..."

"Confess," Chrysalis said, amused. "You made that connection to the Moon entirely by accident."

"Got it in one," I muttered from the bed. It was time to remove the bandages. Doc Sawbones was unwrapping them slowly and carefully. "It was the only result I COULD get, in fact. Tried a dozen times before it dawned on me that having an elevator to the Moon could be useful." I snorted. " After a dozen mirrors, the formula didn't even work anymore and I still don't know why. I dabbled around, fiddled and faddled, and got lucky. But I'll never be able to make another mirror like those."

Chrysalis chuckled."You can't always be the infallible genius," she said. "Not every plan can live up to that brilliant one with the library..." she paused. Dang, never let your emotions hang out around an emotivore. "All right, what?" she demanded.

I sighed. "Confession time?" I said. "I got that plan from a TV show." She blinked. "Like movies. Except at home, instead of the theater. About a superhero who could run at super-speed..."

She gawked at me wide eyed, her mouth hanging open in a silent laugh. "You got that plan from a foal's cartoon movie?" Then she laughed for real. "I don't believe it! That's so stupid!"

"If it's stupid but it works, it ain't stupid," I growled, annoyed. She just laughed all the louder. "Glad you're amused. You," I pointed an accusing finger at Sawbones. "Doctor-Patient confidentiality!"

"Didn't hear a thing," Sawbones said, his voice rich with humor. He peeled off the last of the bandages and stepped back. "Hmmm," he said, noncomittally.  He passed me a mirror.

I picked it up and got a good look at my new face. I'd expected worse, a lot worse, but.... I didn't recognize myself. The skin was... cragged and pitted. My cheeks and forehead especially, thick with pockmarks like pumice. Little thin linear scars marred it here and there, one through my eyebrow, one across the bridge of my nose. The most vivid was one that went up from one side of my mouth, leaving a white line through my lip and a faintly puckered line halfway up my cheek. My eyebrow was white where the scar cut through it. My right ear had a notch missing from it.

My face looked like someone twenty years older. Funny thing was it looked familiar. It took me a minute to realize it looked like my dad's face when he got back from the Gulf war; not scarred in the same way but--- weatherbeaten, leathery. Like he'd seen some shit and didn't want to talk about it. I guessed now I'd seen a few things myself.

Fanged abominations of tangled wood, lunging for my throat...

Dragon fire searing through my armor, licking at my skin....

Swords and axes flashing, the spray of hot blood and severed limbs flying...

The moan of a troll falling dead to its knees, a sword pierced through its skull...

That cannon mouth, large as the Grand Canyon, that deafening roar, the feel

of the blast ripping at my face--

My hand wavered and I let the mirror drop. Chrysalis' hand caressed my cheek, cool against my pocked skin. She turned my head toward her. "You are strong," she said. "Stronger than this thin layer of flesh." her alien, slit pupiled eyes locked with mine for several seconds. I finally let my eyes drop.

"Not exactly the grand plan I had," I said. Meaning the lair. The weatherbeating of my face. The whole situation-- with the diamond dogs  and the ponies and the changelings and with her and everything.

She sighed and slid in close beside me, resting her chin on my shoulder. "None of it is what any of us had planned," she said. "But it will have to do, for now."

I suppose she was right.