“And how long until we reach the site of my suffering?” Rarity asked. Applejack was below, apologizing to Rainbow Dash, and Twilight stood at the wheel.

“Two and a half days,” Twilight said.

“Marvelous.” She sidled up to Twilight. “I’d just like to thank you for trying so hard to defend my position.”

Twilight looked away from the distance at Rarity’s serious expression.

“You know, for understanding how painful it must be for me to return there. For acknowledging that.”

“Um…”

Rarity didn’t move away until Twilight sighed, speechless.

Manehattan was northeast of Appleloosa, and by the following morning, they were coming to a large, flat river, along its banks a single slash of a dirt road that would eventually intersect with one of the railroad tracks between the two cities.

After a quiet breakfast, they landed by a bend in the river to refill their water tanks: an uninteresting process, for which only Twilight and Big Mac got off. He stood at a grassy swell in the bank while she levitated a large pump out of a water-stained hatch in the ship’s side.

“So, what’s with the metal things on the sides of yer ship?” he asked.

“Huh?” She lowered the pump into the river and looked up. “Oh, the turrets. You know, I keep forgetting those are there. We’ve never used them.”

“What are they?”

She looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Turrets. Artillery.”

He returned her look with a blank one.

“Automatic machines that fire small, metal projectiles at lethal speeds. They only came into prevalence about a decade ago. I think the pamphlet said ours are for helping to clear things like ice, or dense undergrowth. But… I think it’s a lot more likely we have to use it on Discord.”

“Killin’ machines,” Big Mac said, strolling over to her. “Too bad ya gotta have those.”

“I’m just happy we haven’t used them yet,” Twilight said. “And they are interesting. I read about them a while ago, one night when I was bored.”

He looked down at the submerged pump. A cloud of displaced silt hung around its metal mouth. “The only killin’ machines Ah know of are the little, personal, magical ones. The crystals. Are these like that at all?”

“They’re based on the same idea.” Twilight levitated a stick from out of the river and tossed it aside. “These aren’t magical, but they operate on the same premise. These use tangible projectiles. Pulse crystals use magic ones.”

“Y’ever use one?”

“What? No, never. And I’ve only seen them in books.”

“Ah used ‘em a couple times back in Appleloosa. Braeburn’s got a pair he said got passed down to him.”

“How old are they?”

“Ah dunno. They work mighty fine, though. You can squish an apple with one of ‘em at twenty paces away, if yer aim’s fair.”

“I read that it’s supposed to be more difficult for non-unicorns to use them.”

He shook his head. “Seemed easy to me. You just strap it to yer leg, or head, or whatever the mount is, point, an’ the crystal does the rest.”

“What mount did Braeburn’s have?”

“Standard foreleg mount. He said they were special, ‘cause they were a little lower on the leg than the newer models, so you got more speed an’ maneuverability in yer aimin’. Ah don’t rightly know, though. Ah can’t follow that stuff.”

Twilight nodded and looked back up at the ship. Her friends weren’t in sight, and she thought back to what Applejack had said. “He really has changed.”

“If yer good, you can dual-wield ‘em, but he an’ Ah can’t. Tried shootin’ the broad side of ol’ Coal Heart, but we kept fallin’ down.”

“Coal Heart?”

“That’s the name of a train that didn’t quite fall off. She’s hangin’ by her caboose into a gap, way west of town.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to go outside of town. Didn’t Reverend Green warn you about that?”

“There ain’t no demons out there, Miss Sparkle. Miss Ringlet was an isolated incident.”

“How can you know that?”

“Just a feelin’. Braeburn had it too.”

She frowned and sat down on a rock, leaning back slightly to shade herself under the ship. Big Mac copied her. She looked at him, paying specific attention to his face, as she spoke again. “You really are different.”

“That’s what Ah hear.”

“You’re more talkative.”

“Eeyup.”

She huffed. “You can’t not see it.”

“Ah see it.”

She leaned forward, as if to goad him on. “And?”

His face was passive. “Ponies change. Ah’m a pony.”

“Hey! What’s the holdup down there?” Rainbow shouted. Twilight looked up to see her making tight, antsy circles off the ship’s side.

“It always takes this long, Dash, and you know it,” Twilight mumbled, tossing a pebble into the river, where it bounced off the pump’s pulsing hose before making a minuscule splash.

The day passed, and they spent the night gliding low and slowly over the river. Manehattan was in sight, and the following morning, they came to a stop a mile outside a small settlement of only ten imperfect houses, a way station, and a small, metal structure just outside. It took her a minute to remember, but Octavia identified it as Passage Town, a tiny haven of disenfranchised Manehattanites. Villages of its sort were all over Equestria, usually built along rivers, and inhabited by those for whom city life held no interest. Not quite hermitages, they were seldom represented on more than the most detailed of country maps.

“Well what can I do, Octavia? What do you expect from me?” Rarity cried. Twilight was at the back of the deck, and jumped up when she heard Rarity’s voice rise. Earlier, the two had been quietly speaking, and seemed on friendly terms.

“We will not be associating with either Strawberry or Lacey. All you must do is be with us in the city,” Octavia said. She sounded tired and impatient.

“I can’t! Don’t you get that?”

Twilight set down her book to approach them, moving slowly enough that they could see her approach.

“Octavia, please. I know it’s hard for you, but please try to understand. The very thought of going into that… city makes my skin crawl. I don’t care if I don’t see those two again.”

Twilight stopped and looked at them both. Rarity’s mane was frazzled, and she wore an ice pack around her head, under her horn: a practice she had abandoned before reaching Appleloosa. Octavia looked better; her eyes were clear, and she had combed her mane that morning.

“I do understand your feelings, but your request is not reasonable.”

“What are you requesting, Rarity?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, nothing you care about, I’m sure, dear,” Rarity said.

“She does not want to go into Manehattan, and has suggested that she, instead, stay in Passage Town,” Octavia said.

“Look at it, Twilight. There are ten houses and nothing else. How can I get in trouble there?”

“The same way you can find trouble anywhere else. We do not know what is down there.”

“Well, hold on,” Twilight said. “Rarity has a point. And she’s a smart pony.”

“Splitting up is not a wise decision.”

“I’m not going into Manehattan,” Rarity said. “If you drag me there, I’ll either walk out, or spend the whole time in bed.”

“Rarity, please do not do this.”

“I’ve been objecting since we left Appleloosa!” Rarity shouted. “I haven’t stopped saying that I don’t want to go, and none of you listened! Now you are trying to tell me to be reasonable?”

Octavia straightened up to match Rarity’s height. “You cannot endanger your life just because you do not want to follow us to Manehattan.”

“You can’t force me to go back there.”

“What if someone went with you?” Twilight asked suddenly. She was conscious of the others watching them.

“Then we would lose two instead of one,” Octavia said. “Twilight, this entire idea is very unwise. Do you not see that?”

“I’m not seeing that we have much of a choice. Rarity isn’t going to stay in Manehattan. The least we can do is make sure she’s not alone in that little town down there.”

“Who would stay with me, though?” Rarity asked.

Everybody waved a reluctant goodbye to Rarity and Fluttershy, standing together on the dirt road next to the train tracks a couple miles past Passage Town. They had wanted to arrive there on hoof, to not arouse suspicion in the inhabitants. As the ship floated away, Rarity lowered her hoof and turned around to look down the road.

“I hope they’re friendly there,” Fluttershy said.

“Me too,” Rarity said, looking back. She hesitated to start down the road, and Fluttershy took the first step. The sun was out, but shreds of cloud occasionally drifted over to dull it. “I hope this wasn’t a mistake.”

“I think it’ll be good for you,” Fluttershy said with a smile. “While they do what they have to do in the big city, we can rest outside. Think of it as a little vacation.”

“I need one.”

“You deserve one.”

Rarity dipped her head in assent, and they walked, unspeaking, toward the new village.

They touched down in a lot just outside Rose Tower and took a pair of cabs to Trixie’s apartment, with Octavia explaining the city to Big Mac, who had momentarily reverted back to shy quietude. They arrived outside a run-down apartment building with an aged brick front and a faded door, somewhere on the north side, in view of a large park. They found the door with a small wand and cape decal on the top floor.

“This is her room,” Twilight said, knocking.

“You don’t say,” Rainbow said.

Trixie opened the door just a couple seconds after Twilight knocked, beaming and offering a strong hoofshake to the unicorn. She was alone in the apartment, and the company, after days of unpacking and getting set up, was exactly what she needed, she told them.

They all crowded around a small table while Trixie dug a beer out of the fridge. “Help yourselves to whatever I have, but don’t go nuts,” she said, and Rainbow went wordlessly to the fridge and grabbed a pair of beers as well. Trixie activated a phone on the wall, simultaneously opening her bottle. “I’m calling my agent right now, before we get distracted. Her name is Globe Trotter.” With another press of a button, a ringing sound filled her kitchen, and a thick, drawling voice answered aloud.

“Trixie, is that you?”

“I’ve got Twilight, Globe.”

“…That’s a relief.”

It took them several minutes to get accustomed to the disembodied voice coming from the wall—only Octavia had encountered speakerphone in her life—but they spent an hour talking, going over logistics, schedules, story structure and acting techniques. As they talked, the others occasionally chimed in, except Rainbow, who moodily sipped Trixie’s beer and slouched at the table’s corner. When the conversation was concluded, and Globe Trotter hung up, Trixie stood up and stretched.

“So do you want to start this now?” Twilight asked.

“May as well, while the ideas are fresh.” She looked at the others. “Um… don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

“Hi, Trixie,” Rainbow blurted.

“I’m sorry?”

“Hi.”

“Dashie, how many beers did you have?”

“Your letters, dang it! You kept saying hi in your letters.”

“Oh, right.” She levitated Rainbow’s bottle caps over to the trash. “Is that a problem?”

“It’s just weird.”

“It’s called being friendly,” Trixie said innocently.

“Well… no, though. You don’t like me.”

“Oh, please, I like you just fine.”

“No you don’t!”

“Are we really havin’ this conversation?” Applejack asked.

“Do you want me to dislike you, Dashie?” Trixie asked.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, humbug. You like it.”

Rainbow grumbled and brought an empty bottle to the trash.

“We have recycling, you know.”

She dropped it in the basket with a loud clunk. “Yeah, but this is easier.”

Trixie rolled her eyes and walked with Twilight into the other room, where she had collected some sheets of paper and a pair of pens. “Go on, go about your business. We’re not going to entertain you.”

“Well, how long are you gonna be?”

“We’re writing an entire script, Dashie. Ever written before?”

“No!”

“Of course not. Go on and have fun; Twilight and I will be back here for the better part of the day.”

“Yeah, well, don’t you two write something stupid,” Rainbow said.

“Intelligent parting shot, love. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

They took a cab back to the ship, Rainbow moving with a tiny wobble. “She’s lucky Twilight likes her now. One of these days I’m gonna smack her,” Rainbow complained.

“Aw, she’s just teasin’,” Applejack said.

“No, you don’t get it. She gets me, AJ. She knows how to push my buttons.”

“You kiddin’? Ah’ve teased you way worse than that, an’ you didn’t even bat an eye.”

“Psh. This is different.”

“You do not have to get bent out of shape every time she speaks to you, you know,” Octavia said.

“Trixie’d beat you in a snark contest any day of the week, Applejack,” Rainbow said, poking her in the chest.

“Ah doubt that. There ain’t nothin’ like a down-home, natural-grown streak of sarcasm. Ah’d—” She shook her head hard enough for her hat to flop off. “Why are we even havin’ this argument?”

“Trixie started it.”

“I am not complaining, but I hope you both realize how ridiculous you sound,” Octavia said.

“Back me up, Pinkie. Didn’t Trixie start all this?”

Pinkie only grinned wide before toppling over in laughter.

Rarity and Fluttershy stopped for a short rest in the shade of the ramshackle way station on the outside of Passage Town. Rusted pipes clawed at the splintering, dried walls while a long-defunct ventilation grate leered at them. The river was a stagnant ribbon of cloudy blue, stretching far for both directions. Reeds and grasses grew in uncontrolled patches all along both sides, and near one of the small huts, a short, thin pony heaved at a cluster of thick stalks, scythe in his mouth. Sweat stood out on his visible ribs each time he bent.

“Let’s not volunteer our identities,” Rarity said, taking a step out of the shade.

“What if they ask us directly?” Fluttershy asked.

“They won’t.”

They passed the first pair of houses, identical mounds of tree branches slanted on dried mud with crudely colored bark doors. One scraped open enough to allow an inquisitive pair of eyes to watch their movement. Fluttershy looked back, but Rarity kept her eyes on the stallion, marching toward him with her best non-threatening expression and stance. When he looked up at her, chest and scythe gleaming, he made no acknowledgement aside from meeting her eyes briefly.

“U-um, excuse us,” Fluttershy started.

“Hey!”

They looked around quickly at the sharp voice from behind to see a dowdy mare in a faded sundress advancing, a stick floating by her side, apparently ready for use.

“Wait! We mean no harm,” Rarity said.

“You leave him alone,” the mare said in a commanding tone.

“We’re really sorry. We’re new here, and were looking for someone to show us around,” Fluttershy said.

The mare examined them, then dropped her stick. “All right, come with me, strangers.” They followed her reluctantly back around the house, where there sat another several yards away, substantially larger and more ornate than the others. “Sorry to scare you. That was my brother you were trying to talk to.”

“Should we… not have done that?” Rarity asked.

“He doesn’t like strangers.” She lowered her voice. “He’s deaf, so first-time meetings are difficult.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“He can read lips, but his speech isn’t the best. I’m glad I spotted you early.” She indicated the large house. “As you can see, there’s not much here. Arch Carrier lives in there; he was a forepony before he moved to our village, and built this on his own. At least, that’s what they told me when I came along. Most of us just have little huts, as you probably noticed.”

“I think they’re very nice,” Fluttershy said. “They remind me of my own home.”

“And where’s that, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Um… we kind of do,” Rarity said, glancing at Fluttershy.

“Mm. You’re in good company. Cloud Line and Eggshell are mystery ponies too.” She grunted. “Sorry. Not used to folks not knowing who I’m talking about. Cloud Line’s our only pegasus—‘til now, I guess. She lives by the pump. Eggshell is her associate.”

“Associate?” Fluttershy said.

“Can’t exactly tell with them. Sometimes they act like friends, sometimes siblings, sometimes more. It changes. Eggshell’s a unicorn.”

“What’s this pump?” Rarity asked.

“A broken-down water pump on the other side of town. That’s all.” She shrugged and walked them around Arch Carrier’s house, to a smaller, but still large, hut with an imperfect patchwork of glass roofing. “If you’re okay with losing a couple hours of your life, ask Cork about it. She’s our record keeper-slash-photographer.”

“She lives in the pump?” Fluttershy asked.

The mare tossed her head back in loud laughter, and another pair of eyes appeared in the window facing them. “Heavens, no. She’s the first house you pass after the way station.” She trotted to the door as it opened, and a stooped, broad-shouldered pony in a wrinkled, black suit came out. “Clipper, these are… what are your names?”

“Butterfly and… Madam White,” Rarity said quickly, looking at Fluttershy again.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Good to meet you ladies,” Clipper said, shaking each of their hooves. None of the age on his face had made it into his voice, which came out as smooth and mild as milk.

“You’re not on the run from anyone, are you?” the mare asked. “Sorry. I hate to ask. But you understand, right?”

“We’ve done nothing illegal,” Rarity said. “Besides, we won’t be staying long.”

“Tourists,” Clipper said, snorting. “Did Cork bring you, or are you looking for enough isolation to remind you why you love the big city?”

“We come from Ponyville,” Fluttershy said. “That’s no big city.” Rarity looked at her, annoyed.

“How does a pair of Ponyvillians manage to sniff out our neck of the woods?” a nasal voice asked from afar.

“Speak of the devil,” Clipper muttered. He backed into his door and snapped it closed.

“He avoids Cork when he can,” the mare whispered.

“I saw you, Clipper!” the strange pony bellowed happily. Her mane was a bulbous, bouncing collection of curls around a fat bun, and her round face broke into a huge, underbite-marred smile as she galloped to the three of them. “Welcome to Passage Town, backwater visitors!”

“Cork, this is Butterfly and Madam White.”

“I heard,” Cork said, shaking their hooves. “I saw everything.” She smiled wide, showing large teeth.

“You really are a creep sometimes,” the mare said. “She’s not a threat, you two. She just likes to snoop.”

“A good reporter always has her eyes open,” Cork said.

“Except you’re not a reporter.”

“I may as well be, Deco.” She slipped between Rarity and Fluttershy. “How long are you staying for? Oh, it doesn’t matter! You can room with me.”

Deco laughed again, and Cork echoed her, louder.

“We’d love to,” Rarity said uncertainly. “Any help we can get is most welcome.”

“Beautiful!” Cork barked, leading them away from Clipper’s house with a gregarious spring in her step. “Come on, outsiders. I think you’ll find our little burg has just as much intrigue as any other town. Did Deco tell you about the pump?”

Date of Notice: June 24, 3315

Dear: Octavia Melody

Your rent has not been received as of the date of this notice. According to the terms of your Lease, a late charge has been added to your total balance. Your current balance is 1,152 bits. This balance must be paid in full, by check, no later than June 27, 3315. Failure to act promptly may lead to eviction proceedings. If eviction is sought, you may be responsible for additional charges, such as court and attorney’s fees, and your credit rate could be affected.

Please contact me as soon as you receive this notice.

Sincerely,
Summer Skies

PS. You may disregard this notice if you have already mailed your payment.

Then, on the other side, scrawled in a tiny, clear script:

Forwarded by your very good friend, Vanilla. What kind of ally would I be if I let you shirk responsibility?

Octavia floated the letter to the side of the bed, where it drifted to the floor, jostled away as she flopped onto her back. The letter had been sent only two days ago. She could see it arriving in her choked mailbox, the other residents’ curious glances at the signs of her departure. Had anything happened to her apartment?

Her eyes remained open as they unfocused. She had been traveling a little more than two months, and they had only one Element in their possession, a second battle with Canterlot in the future. They were far from finished.

“I could arrive in Canterlot in around two weeks, if they drop me off on their way to Hoofington. That is enough time to find the money.” She let out a sigh. “And return to what? Debt. Work. More travel, moments of freedom. Face it, Octavia, you performed for years. You had your chance at stardom. And I am so out of practice now, I can probably be replaced.”

She turned over just as the door opened. “Or I can keep ignoring my obligations and hope that I get lucky.”

“Okay, Miss Octavia?” Big Mac stepped over to her side of the bed.

“Fine, thank you.”

“Tired?”

“It is a long day.”

He nodded and walked back out of her sight. “The girls were talkin’ ‘bout goin’ to a show in one of those giant towers. Ah think you should come.”

“Thank you, but I will pass this time.”

“You’ll feel better. Get whatever it is off yer mind.”

“I do not need that.”

The bed creaked as his weight came down on it. “Ah recognize a funk. Come on, Miss ‘Tavia, you’ll enjoy yerself. Escapin’ this dreary bedroom’ll do ya good.”

She rolled back onto her back. “I am not the only one who runs.” She suddenly smiled. “You know the danger that you are in by being with us, yes?”

“Eeyup. An’ Ah don’t care.”

“Then…” She got up and picked up the letter, shredding it until it was snow in a fog of gray. “I do not care either.” She forced a calm smile. “Let us go to a show.”

On the outside, Cork’s small house was cluttered with branches and ferns, but inside, it was cluttered with trinkets and junk, photographs blanketing every inch of the walls. Rarity and Fluttershy sat in her den, sipping cucumber water from an ornate, swan-necked decanter, as she paced and gesticulated, telling them all she knew of the abandoned, broken-down pump on the other side of town.

“And Rotor thinks it’s haunted, but Clipper just keeps saying it’s unsafe because it’s so dark down there. He’s just jealous he’s not a unicorn, I reckon. Cloud Line says—”

“Dear, please,” Rarity said, holding up a hoof. “I’m really sorry, but you’ve been talking for an hour now, and the names are starting to blend together.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re so interested in this pump anyway,” Fluttershy said. “Um, no offense.”

“You have to see it to truly understand,” Cork said. She looked away quickly, but then turned again with a sly, guilty smile. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in that?”

“In spelunking the abandoned water pump that Rotor says is haunted.”

“She’ll say anything to get a reaction, Rotor will. What do you say, Madam White? Have I not managed to intrigue you?”

Fluttershy looked at Rarity nervously, but Rarity only sipped her water—through a straw, being too clumsy with her hooves to bring it to her lips. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little fascinated with the idea of it. But actually exploring it… no, I’d really rather not.”

“We’d be happy to see the photographs you took of it,” Fluttershy said, offering a conciliatory smile.

“I’m not going down there alone,” Cork said. “That’s why I asked you two. You look brave.”

“Maybe, but we’re not stupid,” Rarity said.

“It’s the moral support!” Cork whined. “I don’t seriously think there’s anything mean down there, not like Rotor says. But… you know, just in case.” Looking from disinterested face to disinterested face, Cork huffed. “What if I got Clipper to join?”

“Um, I’m sorry, but why should we care if Clipper comes? We don’t know him,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“I like him.” They stared at her, unimpressed, until she chuckled and turned to paw through a collection of unorganized photos. “Let me tell you about my theories on how the cave got there.”

Rarity and Fluttershy looked at each other, displeasure and exhaustion passing between.

An information kiosk had directed them to the Prancing Prince Music Hall, outside of which they stood in a half-hour line. Two months ago, the wide area, though lit and functioning, had not been witness to more than a few scattered patrons, and to all but Octavia, its new life and sound was a disorienting surprise.

They stood in the middle of a chattering group of socialites, looking around with varying degrees of fascination. As before, the sights and smells created a heady atmosphere; bright, colored lights glinted off countless reflective surfaces, while the air was mixed up with a thick, powerful aroma of sweet, tangy, and salty foods. Spinning stands of souvenirs and less tacky wares sat at shop corners, and weak sounds of faded music leaked from all around. Where the area had once been a lit but unpopulated row of attractive images, it had transformed into a proper city destination. Electricity once again filled the air, and everyone seemed comfortable.

Everything—the crowds, the shops, the food and lights—was subject to Prince Blueblood’s domineering grin. His giant eyes and teeth were lifeless wooden blocks set into a lurid imitation of his face, too square and too happy. Those that stood below his chin were quieter than the others.

Pinkie shivered where she stood, and Big Mac looked at her inquisitively. She looked around with a tiny frown. “I just got something with my Pinkie Sense.”

“How long has it been since you pulled that one out?” Applejack asked.

“I haven’t been getting it much. I don’t know. It comes and goes.”

“What’s it say?” Rainbow asked.

“Gimme a sec,” Pinkie said, her voice even as her face twitched, a combination of the tics that gave her sense such presence. Among the rest of the ponies, it was almost disturbing for its singularity. “Something’s gonna happen pretty soon here. I’m not sure how soon, but in less than an hour.”

“And?”

“But this isn’t quite the same as an ‘impending doom’ reflex. It’s not… I can’t tell. I don’t think I’ve had something like this before.”

“Is…” Rainbow lowered her voice. “Is it Discord? Is he coming?”

“No, I can tell that’s not it. No, we can’t prevent this.”

“Why would you get a sense from something that we cannot prevent?” Octavia asked.

“I think we’re just supposed to pay attention,” Pinkie said. Her face screwed up in a dramatic representation of concentration. “Yeah, this is more like an opportunity to figure something out.”

“One Celestia-blessed day,” Applejack complained.

“What do you mean?”

“Not even. We’re in this dang city fer a couple hours, an’ Pinkie’s got her sense tellin’ us how to start sniffin’ out yet another dang conspiracy. Ah’m startin’ to think Rarity’s right.” She looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “This city is a blight.”

“We are here for Trixie only,” Octavia said. “We cannot get caught up with other things. Not like last time.”

Big Mac looked at her, and Applejack threw a foreleg around his back. A small crowd was gathering toward the front of the line, and Applejack told her brother of their experiences in Manehattan, starting with Strawberry, the paranoid businesspony who had helped them secure the towers for their spells, at the price of their embroilment in his personal conflicts with the law.

By the time she got to Lacey, and the way she presented herself as a friend, the crowd at the front was pronounced enough to draw Pinkie’s attention. Standing on her hind legs, using Octavia for support, she could see the top of an aquamarine mane bobbing with conversation.

“Is that the thing we need to watch out for?” Rainbow asked.

“I can’t tell, Dashie.”

“Your precognitive sense has never been very powerful, has it?” Octavia asked.

“It’s hit or miss,” Rainbow said. “I’ve seen her be dead on with details before.”

“But it’s usually pretty vague,” Pinkie said.

“An’ so Twilight decided to use yet another spell we’d never seen her do before, an’ sneak into the studio, invisible,” Applejack said. “Corporate sabotage, big bro. That Strawberry had us doin’ this, an’ we hardly knew him!”

“Oh, I think I know who that is,” Octavia said, grunting quietly as Pinkie took her weight off her back.

“He some kind of celebrity or something?” Applejack asked, turning her attention from Big Mac.

“I believe that that is Captain Shout. He is a local radio personality, popular with the younger ponies.”

“Captain Shout. There’s a name for ya.”

“His persona, so to speak, is ‘loudmouth rebel.’ I interviewed with him once. He spent the entire time talking about how no one listens to my kind of music anymore.”

“What a jerk,” Rainbow said. “Ponies like this guy?”

“He is charismatic,” Octavia said dully. “That is all that matters in this day and age.”

The crowd cleared slightly at the front, revealing a small, strutting pony with sunglasses and a sour smirk, like he was personally offended by the attention he was getting. He passed right by them, not sparing a single look in their direction, and made a short patter on the ground with his hooves. “Captain Shout’s over here now, dummies!” he snapped, his mouth curling in a slight smile as ponies diverted out of line to flock to him.

“What an ass,” Rainbow muttered. She sniffed the air. “You smell that?”

Octavia looked up. At first, she did not process what she saw, but as the others followed her eyes, and their own faces turned to horror, she felt the familiar, cold grip of tense terror in her chest.

Coming out of Blueblood’s eyes and mouth, pouring like gouts of black disease, smoke rolled and rose. A small, rosy glow pulsed behind his teeth. Ponies cried out and scattered, and an uproar bloomed slowly inside the auditorium he guarded. An alarm shrieked above as the overhead sprinklers came to life, but the uncontrollable crowd was already shoving through and separating the small knot of friends.

Octavia did not react immediately. Her mind and reflexes were dulled with sleeplessness, and Blueblood’s feverish face, stuck in a detached, charring grin, looked more to her like a malformed tree stump than a face. His paint curled across the smooth wood of his face, and a hairline of fire swept out of a seam near the top of his head, throwing chaotic beams of shadows up against the scaffolding above. His teeth were rotting away before her eyes, and his lower jaw sagged.

“Octavia, you wanna hop to it?” Applejack yelled.

She looked back at Applejack and the others. “It is not spreading,” she said evenly. She didn’t know why she said it; it was too early to tell, and they were absolutely right. Evacuation was the correct choice. Still, she stood.

With a splintering creak, Blueblood’s lower jaw swung open, releasing a blast of hot air and a clawing curtain of bright fire, accompanied by a spray of sparks that vanished before it hit the wet floor. Ponies streamed in semi-formed lines out of side exits, and the doors behind Blueblood’s face had closed.

Applejack grabbed onto her hoof and tugged. “Come on,” she growled.

Octavia was led away to the sound and heat of his giant, wooden jaw hitting the floor. More screams, and a fresh wave of ponies jostled past, one almost knocking Pinkie to the ground. They trotted with the rest of the crowd to the nearest exit, illuminated by stringent, white lights: a stairwell. The doors to the zip train station were closed, and ponies in forest green vests directed the fleeing crowd down the stairs.

“We are more than halfway up this tower,” Octavia said. “If that fire spreads, we are not escaping in time.”

“Aw, chin up, sis!” Pinkie cried. “At least I know who my Pinkie Sense was about!”

Twilight and Trixie had completed a couple pages of their tentative script, finished with the introduction and ready to invent the meat of the story, and were taking a break in her dining room. “So how long have you been here?” Twilight asked.

“Like two days, but I’ve been here before, many times.”

“How long were you a wandering performer before you came to Ponyville?”

“Six or seven years. I started when I was pretty young.”

“You started with Octavia, right?”

“Nope. I started on my own, and so it stayed for a year and a half.”

“Huh. Did it get lonely?”

“I’m more resilient than I look,” Trixie said with a proud smile.

“And then, something happened, and you wound up in Fillydelphia, a changed pony,” Twilight continued.

“Sorry, Twilight. This is where I draw the line on talking about myself. Nothing personal.”

Twilight laughed politely. “No problem. I’m used to that line from Octavia.”

“She’s still Miss Private?”

“Only about everything even remotely related to her past.”

“Well, you’ll get nothing from me. I don’t know anything either.” She adjusted her position and leaned forward, her voice darkening dramatically. “All I know is I ran into her on the side of the road coming towards Ponyville, somewhere east of the Everfree. She’s good at music, and sometimes gets homesick. At least, she did then. Wherever ‘home’ is for her.”

“Trixie, you somehow know even more about her than we do, and we’ve been traveling together for months now.”

“What can I say? The mare is a mystery. I’ve tried to get her to talk before, but it’s always the same. She doesn’t want to tell me about it, her secrets are her own,”

“It is nothing personal; she trusts no one enough to tell them these things,” Twilight completed.

“You even got the stiff verbiage right. You really have been around each other a while.” Trixie smirked.

“I like her, but…”

“Yep. I feel the same way. My advice is to give up. You’re not opening her up, life-changing adventure or no.”

Twilight scribbled a line on the script before crossing it out. “I’m sure our friendship will reach her eventually.”

“Suit yourself. Now, on the topic of friendship… what’s Dashie’s deal?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Twilight said with mock exasperation. “You should have seen it. She got so worked up when I told her you said hi in your letter. She wanted me to give her a part of my reply letter so she could give you a piece of her mind.”

“Did it really bother her that much? I was just being friendly.”

“She thinks you’re messing with her.”

Trixie shook her head and levitated a beer out of the fridge. “Want one?”

“Oh, no thanks. I don’t drink.”

The bottle hissed and snapped as Trixie opened it. “I mean, now I’m teasing her, because her reactions are gold, but before, I was just trying to be nice.”

“She’s upset you singled her out, I think.”

“I like her.”

Twilight cocked an eyebrow.

“Not like that, Sparkle. She’s funny and interesting.”

“Would you like me to talk to her for you?”

Trixie choked a little on her beer and set it down with a thud. “No, no, definitely not. Let me handle her.” She smiled tranquilly. “I want to see how much teasing I can do before something truly interesting takes place.”

Cork finished talking about the pump around sunset, and, mercifully, left them alone in her house while she went to gather water and confer with the others. Rarity and Fluttershy still sat on her couch, where they would sleep.

Fluttershy only looked at Rarity. She didn’t have to ask any questions, but Rarity resisted her tempered expression. For a few minutes.

With a moody sigh, Rarity rested her head on the couch’s back. “You said it was like taking a vacation. I just thought, if we’re taking a vacation from this, you know, task, then maybe we can take a vacation from ourselves too.”

“I like myself,” Fluttershy said softly.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Does this have anything to do with Manehattan?”

Rarity laughed heartily. “You flatter me, Butterfly. That such a trivial occurrence should make me do this. It was merely a whim!”

“Is that right, Madam White?”

“Yes, dear, that’s right.” She sobered. “I do apologize for not consulting you first, though. It was truly a spur-the-moment kind of thing. But I implore you, don’t tell anyone. Especially that Cork pony. I really don’t trust her.”

“I won’t,” Fluttershy said with an encouraging smile. She touched Rarity’s wither gently. “But don’t make snap decisions like that, okay? It invites trouble.”

“Speaking of trouble, how much do you want to bet she’s out there trying to rope Clipper into this foolishness right now?”

“He didn’t seem to like her that much.”

“No, but I recognize a crush when I see one,” Rarity said. Her thoughts strayed briefly to Spike. “What’s he up to, anyway?” “She’s smitten, darling. I can kind of see why.”

Rose Tower survived easily. The fire in Blueblood’s hollow head went out after only ten minutes of frantic downwards movement, and they were able to take the train down and out twenty minutes later, after the area had been inspected and cleared. They walked back to the ship and ate at a tiny diner just off the lot.

“It’s him, Captain Shout,” Pinkie said. “He’s the suspicious one.”

“Loud and annoying I can see, but suspicious?” Rainbow said.

“You could tell on his face that he was lovin’ the attention,” Big Mac said. “That frown he wore was all posturin’.”

“So?”

Big Mac took a long draw from his caramel milkshake. “Look at the sequence of events, Miss Dash, an’ the timin’ between. He was at the front of the line, drawin’ ponies from all over the place. Pinkie gets her sense. ‘Bout five minutes later, he walks to the back of the line an’ lets the crowd re-form. Then he shouts out fer others to come to him. Not even a minute later, fire, an’ almost no one was directly underneath it.”

“You do not suppose that Captain Shout has precognition, do you?” Octavia asked.

“Either a precog, or responsible,” Big Mac said. “At least involved.” He sighed and took another drink. His voice was quiet and distant. “If he’s involved, an’ Ah think we should assume that fer now, then it’s strange fer him to lead those ponies away. He didn’t want ‘em to get hurt.”

“But why start the fire, then?” Octavia asked.

“Ah’m seein’ two possibilities. He’s workin’ on his own, or he’s workin’ fer someone else. Either way, he wanted destruction and panic, not injury or death. If he’s on his own, then we find him, talk to him, an’ turn him in once we’ve got a confirmation of what we know. If he’s workin’ fer somepony else, we know a little more. It means someone in the chain of command don’t want blood on their hooves, either him or the pony he answers to.”

“And what does that mean, Mr. Detective?” Rainbow asked.

“It means he’s either got a moral compass, probably twisted, or the pony he answers to ain’t lookin’ fer senseless deaths. She might wanna send a message to someone, or just make a lot of disorder. That’s where Ah’m stumped, though.”

“If he has some sense of morality, we can exploit that to find out who he’s working for,” Pinkie said. Everyone looked at her. “What? Oh, so Big Mac can talk all serious, but I can’t?”

“Real question,” Applejack said.

“What’s that?” Big Mac asked.

“What happened to you in Appleloosa?”