From the daily journal of Steven Ambrose, Entry Number Eight

This has been one exciting day! Let's see, where do I begin with this one…? Okay, I started the day with as long trek through a dark forest filled with untamed horrors. I then spelunked through an ancient castle and accidentally discovered a human command center. The ghost of a dead woman told me a little about the dreams I've been having. Oh, and when I got back to Ponyville, I found it was hosting a poorly planned Thriller flash mob. If Micheal Jackson were alive, he'd sue somebody.

Now for the crazy part. I KNOW THESE PEOPLE. The ones that staged the flash mob or whatever the Hell it was, they came from my plane! Twilight is astounded that any of them are even here. I'm betting if a concentrated search of the Everfree were conducted, we'd find the remains of the plane and maybe the rest of the passengers and crew. Or what's left of the crew; my Rage+Quit assault took down a few of them. Better ask Hand That Mourns if she has the tech to pull that off.

I still don't know where they got those markings on their necks. Hand tells me that they stand for House Proletariat. Near as I can tell, they're like House Republicans. That isn't really a good comparison, though. GOP House members look like twaddling infants next to House Proletariats. Those folks sporting quills-and-coins instigate war, plague, and famine like it's a day at the beach. To think there is a body out there more amoral than the Koch Brothers… I'm still wrapping my head around it.

Now that Hand is becoming a more permanent fixture in my life, thanks to this neural interface I'm wearing, I'm starting to see even more vivid glimpses into Terran Empire society. SOme of the things I saw while dreaming last night are really putting things in perspective for me. Although, there are some drawbacks to that. Even as I write this, Hand is editorializing. (From Hand That Mourns: I am not. I am simply trying to interpret a very imprecise and rather archaic culture. It is very frustrating sometimes.) LIKE I WAS SAYING, being this close to an antediluvian artificial intelligence has it's issues. I'm learning to cope with them (Not very well, I must add. (Shut up, Hand!)) and there's still some room for improvement. (You don't say?)

Anyway, clean up in Ponyville is taking some time. The local arm of the Royal Engineering Bureau is here fixing up homes and repaving damaged streets. As per my request, all the bodies of the humans I felled are getting placed in cold storage for the time being. I'd like Hand and Twilight to give 'em a once over. Something about their behavior has my flummoxed and I don't like being flummoxed. Many of the tools they carried are being held as evidence. I say "most" because some of the party members has pistols on 'em. I've not got three additional mags of nine mike-mike to add to my diminished stockpile. I still have to ask Twilight to relinquish the Siggie, but that's the least of my worries now.

That award goes to Flutters, my new "marefriend." She- she didn't take my bring-your-daughter-to-the-slaughter of the advancing human horde all to well. I can see why; she is such a darling that I bet even when some pony accidentally knocks down a butterfly, she goes from sweet to full blown nuclear meltdown! With thirty-one kills now attributed to me, I'm also beginning to attract some unwanted attention from the Royal Sisters. Luna's been town since the riot and she's never taken her eyes of me. Mind you, I don't object to it much; she's so damn pretty! It's still a touch unnerving to see her eyes locked onto to me like I'm some sort of predator. (Hand again: That last statement could not be any closer to the truth. Humans are THE APEX PREDATOR. It's wonder these ponies don't see it. (Hand, you're editorializing again.)) … It's time to see how The Universe will conspire against me today.

"Thirty." Twilight muttered, as the last of the humans was laid to rest in a cold storage unit within Ponyville Hospital's morgue.

It goes without saying that in a sugar bowl like Equestria, a morgue is a quite unnecessary facility to have. In this case, though, it does it's job and then some. Even with all the bays filled, there was still plenty of empty drawers in the small morgue. I should ask why, but I'm not gonna bother. Might break up the mystique of this place or something. Having the ruins of a once proud human civilization standing side-by-side an anthropomorphic equine one is a enough disillusion for one lifetime.

"A nice round number," I add, "and all seem to come from my plane. It seems I wasn't the only survivor."

"Maybe," replies Applejack, "but you wasn't the one who went plumb loco upon landin'."

"Too true," I say, "but these marks… Quill and coin. Hand That Mourns tells me that that sigil belongs to House Proletariat."

"Just what they hay does that mean?" the orchard owner asks, "And what is the hand the mourns?"

"Hand is- a representative of the Terran Empire." I answer, "They used to rule this planet until something happened between them and the early Equestrians."

"And this 'House Proletariat'?" Applejack inquires.

"Politicians," I reply, "of the Terran Empire. Like your people's nobles, but worse by several orders of magnitude. The make the politics of my home look petty by comparison."

"So why did they trash Ponyville?" ArDee asks, "I mean, what was the point?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I reply, "It's almost they were trying to get my attention."

"A really foul way of getting your attention," Twilight grouses, "do all humans act this illogically?"

I nod, "Yeah, pretty much. We tend to be about sixty percent emotion, thirty percent instinct, and ten percent reason."

"That doesn't sound like a good combination," Rarity laments, "ugh, what on EARTH would anypony think this is a good fashion choice."

I giggle little, as Rares is fooling around with the Hawaiian Shirt Guy's choice of fashion, "That's how Hawaiian shirts are: loud and tacky."

"Please tell me that not all humans dress like this?" Rares asks.

"Nope," I answer, "just the color blind ones."

"I am quietly surprised that these ponies can even SEE color." Hand That Mourns comments.

"No one asked you," I growl, "but now that you're here Hand, I have to ask, why didn't the Terran Empire revert to bullets and chemical bombs when the war broke out?"

"Well, uh," Hand stammers and for once I'm glad to hear the uncertainty in her voice, "We- we destroyed all our stock millennia prior. Also, the profession of gunsmithing was phased out in favor of plasma weapons technologist. There was also a growing demand for non-lethal personal defense items. A slug thrower was just too loud and too simplistic to use for daily interdiction."

"That figures," I comment, "of course, if I had asked for Twilight to hand me the Siggie, this entire affair would have gotten a whole lot-"

"Messier?" Hand interjects.

"-bloodier," I finish, "and louder."

"I still don't see why Humans need such- weapons." Rarity adds.

"I'll tell you what," I say, "your world is a paradise compared to where I come from. The weather is wild, the animals are even wilder, and humans may be at the top of the food chain, but that doesn't mean the animal kingdom is pleased with us being there. I can name at least ten animals that would GLADLY knock us off our pedestal given half a chance. That goes for our fellow humans, too. And let's not even get started on the way the planet behaves…"

"What do you mean?" Pinkie asks.

"Well…" I begin, "forget that we have tornadoes, typhoons, hurricanes, and forest fires; those things tend to be Acts of God. The planet itself is unstable; I've never heard of a single earthquake while living here, but back home, I've heard of at least sixteen significant quakes and more than three devastating tsunamis. Hundreds of lives lost, although if you ask me, living that deep in a quake zone is going to mark you as a casualty."

"Wow," Twilight muses, "your world sounds-"

"Scaaaaarrrryyyyyy!" Pinkie finishes.

"You have no idea." I say, "Hey, Hand, how long is it going to be before your autopsy gear is set up?"

Hand answers, "At least three hours. I have to find the equipment first in storage. It is spread out all over the Empire's former domain. Acquiring it is much more- difficult than I imagined."

"A question, Sir Steven."

Luna is the one interrogating me now.

"An answer, if I can provide one." I say.

"Was it necessary to-" Luna swallows, and I think I know why, "kill, your fellow creatures?"

"Necessary, no," I answer, "fun, yea, verily! That, and they presented a sizable amount of nuisance given their small numbers. Would YOU want a group like this tear-assing around Canterlot?"

Luna shakes her head, "Neigh, I would not."

"Ask and answered, then." I reply.

"Another question, praytell." Luna says.

I roll my hand, begging her to continue,

"What is this 'Siggie' th- you have mentioned?"

It's explained to the Night Princess the weapon that the sky marshall was wielding when he burst into Fluttershy's cottage and how I used against him. Twilight's report is accurate up to a point; she makes the assurance that the weapon is hidden away has not been used since. I beg to differ, but I'm not stupid enough to voice my dissension. Judging by Luna's expression as the explanation goes on, she is shocked that such a weapon can even exist.

"Twilight, do you still have this 'pistol' in your domicile?" The Night Princess asks.

"Yes I do," Twilight answers, "hidden someplace where NOPONY can find it."

I think that last part was for me.

"Please see that it stays that way," Luna adds, "we do not want to see a repeat of that grisly episode."

"No, we don't," Twilight says, with eyes narrowed in my direction.

"What did you want me to do," I query, noting how defensive I'm sounding,"beat him back with harsh language? I very much doubt Mr. Sky Marshall was in any mind to be considered right."

"Even so," Luna warns, "it would do well to remember that Equestria hasn't had this many murders in almost a thousand years. Sir Steven, you- have effectively quadrupled the number of homicides Ponyville, neigh, all of Equestria has even had!"

That gives me a bit of pause, "That is an alarming increase…"

"Aww, look at her!" I coo.

Since the day before, Flutters has been in a sort of restorative coma. Traumatized by my actions and exhausted by her travels to and from the Royal Sisters' Castle, the golden coated object of my affection is curled up in a corner of the lobby. She snores softly even as the foot (or is that hoof?) traffic peals on by. The poor thing… I'll take her home.

If she's this tired, then she might not be in any state to walk or fly back home, so I may as well earn back some good karma and carry her. It's amazing that for a pony so small and light, she has such amazing strength. Or maybe I'm just that out of shape. Either way, she is force to reckon with when in the right situation. I hope I never meet any of those criteria. Getting the stare is bad enough…

You know, I don't think I'll ever take being completely ambulatory for granted again. The trek to Flutters cottage was a long, arduous march when I was using crutches, but now, it's a pleasant little walk. Not even the pony in my arms is much of a burden when I have use of both arms. I'm going to keep my crutches though; a simple reminder of what being partially invalid is like.

So far, all is quiet around the menagerie. All of Fluttershy's critters are asleep and they don't look underfed or no. Good thing, too; I have no idea where she keeps the animal feed. The cottage is expectantly dark. I'm beginning to miss my old Maglite. That XL200 was great at piercing total darkness. I don't even think I'd need 100% power; I know the cottage well enough to navigate by 10% power or even total darkness. Still, I better sort through the pile of artifice that was gathered; I bet I can find my flashlight in there somewhere.

For now, though, I need to put Fluttershy to bed. She's been at the hospital with me (Hand: Not exactly with you, but in the general vicinity of you, I must say.) and I doubt that she had her day planned out to like this. Oof, these stairs are harder to navigate in the dark…! Even with two good feet, I'm almost tripped! Thank God I didn't drop Flutters. I'd never hear the end of that, for sure. Now to open the bedroom door…

Ah, there we go. Huh, I've been here a number of times before, but for the life of me, I can't quite get over just how TINY Fluttershy's bed is. I don't even know how I slept in the damn thing…! Still, it was only intended for pony use; what pony in Equestria would reckon that humans actually existed? Certainly nopony currently alive.

Now to set Flutters down… Ah, yeah, she sleeps under the covers; I should put them on her. Oh. My. Gawd. Flutters asleep… My mind is full of billions and billions of "d'aww!" Hmm, where does she keep-? Ah, there he is, Flutters teddy bear. I should put this in her fore hooves. Aww! It's even cuter when she wraps her legs around that stuffed bear! I should sleep well tonight with that image. One more thing before I go; I should kiss Fluters goodnight.

*Smeck!* Sweet dreams, Fluttershy!

Time to pick up the pieces…