Chapter Thirty Five: Adjusting.

***

March 16th 2030. Somewhere beneath Scotland...

Rupert Giles led Twilight further down into the archive structure, taking long strides down the corridor. Twilight hurried to keep up with the man, eager to begin her work.

From the small village she had initially met the man in, they had driven to a remote area surrounded by hills. There, Giles had found and opened a large metal door, guarded by a mixture of what looked to be Equestrian Night Guards, as well as a series of soldiers in full potion-protective gear, each with a different flag present on their sleeves.

"The best of the Night Guard and the Dead Men," Giles had said at Twilight's questioning stare, his tone sombre. "Elite soldiers, specially chosen for their skill and dedication. Nothing will get past these doors while they're alive."

After checking Giles' and Twilight's identification, the guards let them into the main complex, though very little of it appeared to be on this level. There was a single chamber with more guards, a large cargo elevator, and a smaller personnel lift. Giles had led her to the latter, and they had descended something like ten levels.

"How was all of this built so quickly?" Twilight had wondered aloud.

"The government always had bunkers available for emergency preservation of key personnel," Giles had said softly. "As soon as the full nature of the threat from Solamina was understood, some of these bunkers - such as the ones we're in now - were expanded, and we still had a lot of resources to make that possible. This one especially: all that makes mankind what we are is here. Books containing all of our scientific and cultural knowledge." At this, Twilight had sucked in a sharp intake of breath, trying to hold in her excitement. Giles had ignored her as he continued. "Documentation of all our nations various histories, even the ones from whom no one has survived..."

"Some nations were wiped out?" Twilight had interrupted, her excitement dissipating at this realisation.

"It was inevitable," Giles had said quietly, his voice empty of emotion, "though we've done our best to prevent it by preserving elements from every culture present and members of every individual race in these archives. There are entire living spaces where those who will be the last humans can survive. Enough food to preserve them for generations." He had frowned, a distasteful thought occurring to him. "Enough weapons and equipment to make it so that when they do emerge, they will do so with the ability to avenge what has been done to the human race."

"Avenge?" Twilight had said, frowning. "You mean..."

"I mean that when enough soldiers have been trained and they are assured of victory, the descendants of the people here are, if the end comes, destined to burn the world above: to burn everything Equestrian if they have to." Giles' voice was filled with contempt, and it had been clear what his opinion of the idea was even without him speaking his next words. "With the space those weapons are taking up, we could have saved more knowledge, more people, but the military minds had other ideas. Still," he had continued, taking his glasses off and wiping them almost absent-mindedly. "There's no use crying about it. If we succeed, if your plan works, I suppose none of it will be necessary."

This comment made Twilight realise just how much was riding on her succeeding here, just how much was at stake. If she failed... if she failed, there was no telling just how far this world might slip.

Now they had reached the final level they were heading for. Directly outside the lift was a small doorway leading to a long corridor. Ahead of them was a large door, covered in ornate symbols that Twilight didn't recognise.

"Welcome to the Watcher's Council's addition to this archive," the man said, sounding almost enthusiastic for the first time since Twilight had met him. He pushed the door open, and Twilight's jaw hit the proverbial floor.

The room was filled with row after row of shelves, each filled to the brim with books: big books, small books, medium books, books that looked newly printed and books that looked ancient, and between each shelf was a table with chairs, just begging for someone to sit down and start reading.

"I trust this will be adequate for your purposes?" Giles asked, a slightly wry grin on his face at her expression.

"Oh," Twilight said, eyes wide and voice a tiny squeak. "Very much so. Thank you. I just... need a minute."

Giles smirked softly at that. "I believe I had much the same reaction." He began walking further into the library, and Twilight followed him, eager to begin her research. And some extra reading.

Oh yes, lots of extra reading. Lots and lots and lots…

***

Plymouth, March 17th, 2030.

"Down!" someone yelled as an RPG struck the side of a building near them. Rubble and masonry was shattered and lashed out, showering the BDF and Resistance in dust and debris. A troop of Royal Guards were marching on the defenders' position, backed up by what must have been PER soldiers, armed lightly but still dangerous.

Everfree team were sheltering near a ruined bus - Lyra and True Grit were throwing spells from inside the thing, ducking back behind the ruined window frames as return fire raked the bus. Rarity was busy trying to snipe the RPG trooper from the battered top deck, but it was tricky: the Royal Guards had their shields up, and getting through those shields would be difficult without giving the enemy the chance to respond.

Applejack, sheltering in the thing, blew a stray hair away from her face, before looking out at the approaching enemy from her own ruined window.

"Horseapples!" Applejack swore. "Anypony wanna do me a favour and slow those buckers down?!"

"Gimme a sec!" Desert Wind yelled. He and Sapphire Steel were fussing over the P220, which was being temperamental.

"Typical useless piece of bullplop," Desert Wind grumbled.

"It's just being temperamental," Steel said in a soothing voice. She grinned at Wind. "It's kind of like you in that respect."

He snorted. "At least I work when you need me to."

Steel grinned. "I'll beat that in mind." She smacked the gun with her hoof. "Ok, should be good - set yourself up!"

"How many rounds we got?" Wind asked as he moved to another window, Steel's magic steadying the P220.

"Uh… uncertain," Steel replied. "Less than half of full complement though - we’ve gone through ‘em kinda quickly."

Wind clucked his tongue. "Fine. That'll have to do. We're set, Everfree One!"

"Alright!" Applejack called back from her position. "Target the Unicorns first, take their shields down!"

"Gotcha!" Wind said. He aimed for the nearest visible Unicorn in the Guard formation, a stallion whose horn was lit up and whose face was a mask of concentration. He grinned, feeling the reassuring lightening of weight on his back as Sapphire Steel repositioned the gun slightly.

"You're set!" she yelled.

"Firing!" he called, and the P220 let rip.

The shield the Unicorn had put up started cracking under the firepower immediately - while shields were good, they couldn't block solid projectiles at a concentrated point indefinitely. The bullets slammed into the cracks, which widened, the strain on the Unicorn's face getting worse and worse…

And then the shield cracked open.

The heavy calibre bullets slammed into the Unicorn, punching him from his feet and sending his body flying through the ordered ranks of Guards, disrupting their formation. More bullets flew, killing dozens of the marching figures. With the shield gone, Lyra and True Grit's spells started tearing through ponies and PER, forcing them to take cover.

That's when the firefight really started.

***

BDF Forward position, Plymouth, March 17th, 2030.

Evening in Plymouth brought only relative silence - there were always distant shouts, gunfire, yelling, but even so, it was quieter than the day.

Sat away from the rest of the group, Lyra Heartstrings sat back, staring at the little leather-bound diary as though it was going to jump up and bite her.

It was a quiet moment, one of the rare quiet moments they got in Plymouth. The rest of Everfree team were sat talking - Desert Wind and Sapphire Steel were laughing about… something, though what it was no one could tell. A little further away, Applejack was having a nap, catching some time before they were called upon again. Pinkie was playing rock-paper-scissors with True Grit, who was spending the entire game looking faintly bemused.

Lyra didn’t like the quiet very much - more often than not, ‘quiet’ meant that something bad was about to happen. But she was determined that she would begin reading this journal, and there seemed no better time than a quiet moment to do it.

She grimaced slightly as she opened the thing, her horn glowing softly in the evening light. The first page held a simple dedication, written in scribbly handwriting.

From David Elliot to Lyra Heartstrings.

Lyra’s eyes widened. So Elliot had given the other her this diary? That had been nice of him. Perhaps within its pages she would learn why - and she would learn more of that empty-eyed mare whose last words to her, juddering and choked out as they had been, had been so cryptic and yet so heartfelt.

She turned the page.

December 25th, 2024.

According to Mr Elliot, the practice of giving people presents on Hearthswarming - or what the humans call ‘Christmas’ - is one that they have in common with ponies. It’s just another of the many fascinating things I’m learning in my time here. I only wish I had some more professional means of taking notes. It’s really a shame that the two species have had to meet under these circumstances - I can imagine that we’d have been able to share much as friends…

Lyra smiled. This other her seemed… well, like her - the words on the page made her seem bubbly, excitable, happy about being among humans. It seemed so unreal to her that her other self could be this cheerful when, by all accounts, the world she was living in seemed so dire, and yet here was evidence that - for a time at least - Lyra Heartstrings had revelled in the wonders of being amongst humans.

That made Lyra smile.

She turned the page again.

January 1st, 2025.

Fireworks! I stayed up til midnight with Bon-Bon and Mr Lake to watch the fireworks go off. Mr Lake says that there used to be more extensive fireworks, but that the provisional council - everyone just calls them ‘the Council’ now - decreed that there could only be a small number used. The gunpowder has other uses now.

How much of human culture has been lost, I wonder, never to return?

Lyra found herself nodding in agreement with her other self, a sad smile developing on her face. She vaguely wondered who ‘Mr Lake’ was, but she supposed she could ask Elliot in the morning.

She turned the page.

***

Somewhere beneath Scotland. March 21st, 2030.

Twilight frowned at the group of soldiers passing her quiet little room.

Most of her time was spent researching various ways to make the spell Well Spring had taught her work - possibilities of stretching the time limit of the portal of the size it could be made. In her “off hours”, she liked to sit down with a random book from the monumental library and read, often staying up later than Spike would have allowed her…

She paused, shaking her head. She still missed Spike.

In any case, the soldiers passing by her door and through the barracks complex were a regular occurrence: whether they were just walking by, or escorting a human or pony in a white coat to some other room, or sometimes - very rarely - escorting someone or somepony else.

The group who had just passed had been escorting someone, someone in battered military fatigues. Twilight felt curious, and so she poked her head out of the door. The soldiers were definitely escorting someone else - a human male with bare arms, a kevlar vest and a toned, lean body.

I wonder who that is? Twilight thought to herself. She frowned, looking back to her desk, her bunk and her book, and then she sighed and followed the troopers.

She caught up to them a few moments later, and saw them enter a complex listed as “prisoner storage”. She frowned. ‘Prisoner storage’? What prisoners were here?

“You shouldn’t be here, newcomer,” a new voice said. Twilight started, and turned, only to see a man stood, arms folded. He had cold grey eyes, dark hair and a tired expression. He wore grey fatigues, and a single metal pauldron was strapped around one arm. He held an assault rifle, sleek and burnished metal glinting from the dim lights in the corridor, and a sword was girt at one side.

“Is it beyond my authorisation?” she asked quietly.

“Strictly speaking, I don’t think so,” the man replied quietly. “You’re one of Albion’s Spec-Ops, they told me you had authorisation to go anywhere.”

“Then why shouldn’t I be here?” Twilight asked, looking back at the door.

“Beyond that door are things you don’t want to meet,” the man said quietly. “You’ll have seen the worst your kind can offer on the front before you came here, or some of the worst anyway. And there’s no doubt some of the worst of humanity out there too, somewhere. Through there, though…” He paused, frowning, as though he was trying to figure out exactly how to say whatever he wanted to say. “Through there, there’s some of the worst things this war has. People and ponies and things worse than people or ponies.”

Twilight frowned. “What are they?”

The man gave her a soft smile. “Better you don’t know, ma’am. Better you go back to your reading.”

Twilight frowned, looking back at the door, before walking away from it, back the way she had come. The grey-clothed human moved to guard the door, nodding at her as she walked, and she turned away, feeling disturbed.

What was down here? What had they brought down here, and why?

***

Plymouth, March 20th, 2030.

"All clear!"

Applejack slumped against a wall, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Her hooves were slicked in blood and sore from bucking bodies and armour alike. Her side was bleeding from a large cut from some spell or another that a unicorn Guard had thrown her way. Bucker had been a Converted, and probably pretty recent, so he hadn't known how to aim his spells properly, but he'd managed to clip her.

Their position had just been attacked - for the seventh time in as many days - by a large group of Converted militia and Royal Guard, and while the defenders had managed to repel the attack, it had been a close run thing. Resistance ponies and human soldiers lay dead everywhere, some of the latter’s bodies now finishing the last, disturbing stages of conversion, holes in their heads where they had taken it upon themselves to die rather than be converted (or their comrades had made that choice for them). More Converted had been killed than defenders, but the difference was that the Converted could apparently afford such horrendous losses.

Applejack could see Elliot amongst the defenders, Excalibur in hand as he spoke with Sergeant Dietrich. The man seemed in oddly good spirits for this situation, but he had managed to accept this situation. Maybe she could do well to follow that example and accept this place - she was trying, but it was so hard to ignore the nagging voices in the back of her head, screaming about how wrong all of this was. Some days, it was hard to not just curl up into a ball and start crying...

"Applejack!" somepony called out, distracting her from her thoughts (thankfully). The farm pony looked up to see Rarity galloping towards her. "Good heavens, dear, you're bleeding."

"I reckon I am," Applejack agreed, smiling tiredly. "But I wouldn't worry, I got more of the other guy's blood on me than my own."

"Yes well, be that as it may, you're still injured," Rarity said, giving her a slightly distasteful look. "Let me have a look."

"Since when did you know anythin' about fixin’ up injured ponies, Rare?" Applejack asked, giving her friend a look.

"Since somepony recognised the fact that being a seamstress, I probably knew how to sew things up," Rarity said tiredly, whipping a needle and thread from her saddlebag and applying a mild anaesthetic spell to the injury. "This might sting."

It did, but Applejack barely noticed. She had a lot of aches and pains going on, one more didn't make much of a difference. She felt a bit of relief at the sting of the graze itself slowly receding as Rarity did her work, and after a moment, her friend stepped away.

“There,” the unicorn said softly. “Better.”

“Thanks, Rare,” Applejack said softly. She gave her friend a tired smile. “We didn’t do so bad just now, did we?”

“By the standards of this horrible situation, I guess not.” Rarity was pensive, Applejack could tell. “I’d still much rather be home.”

“Yeah,” Applejack said. She cast her mind to home, to Sweet Apple Acres and her friends and family. “You suppose they’re all alright back home?”

“You’re thinking of Apple Bloom,” Rarity said sagely, nodding slowly.

“Eeyup,” Applejack said softly. “And Mac, and Granny.”

“I’m sure they’re all fine, Applejack,” Rarity said, and then with a wry, slightly bitter grin, she continued. “They’re probably doing better than the Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom of this place.”

“She’s only a contract builder,” Applejack said irritably.

“Working for Solamina,” Rarity added knowingly, giving Applejack a look. “You may have fooled everypony else that you’re ok with it, but I know better, Applejack. My sister in this place is as much a part of this insanity as yours. Moreso, in fact.”

Applejack grimaced, and then sighed.

“It makes me sick to my core," she said after a moment, her voice filled with emotions she had usually managed to suppress. "How can Bloom be ok with this? Hay, how could I have been ok this?! We know some ponies ain't any different from how we knew 'em, war aside. How could we be that different, or our sisters?"

For a moment, Rarity looked thoughtful. "Different lives," she finally replied sadly. "We come from a different world, one where things never became... like this. It's a crying shame, but that's how it is."

"It's more than a crying shame, Rare, it's a bucking disgrace," Applejack growled, her eyes burning like coal-fires. "That ponies should become what these ponies are, that ponies should hurt folk, kill 'em just for bein' different. It's wrong. It ain't natural."

"Ah, but that's just it," Rarity said softly. "It isn't natural, is it? There's the question. Not natural for Celestia or Equestria. Is what happened here..."

"Ah gosh darn it, Rarity, I'm not gonna have this discussion," Applejack said, sounding almost annoyed. "Whether Solamina is crazy or somepony did somethin' to her or any of the above, I ain't interested. What matters is, she's done things we can't let slide, and she's gonna pay."

“No, you’re right,” Rarity said solemnly. “Whatever the case, whatever her reasons, we have to stop her.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, each considering the monumental challenges that faced them and the rest of the Equestrian Resistance, as well as the Defence Force.

“Do you think Twilight will find some way to make that portal thing work?” Applejack finally asked.

“I don’t know enough about that kind of magic to hazard a guess at how difficult it would be,” Rarity replied, but then she smiled. “But if there was ever a pony who could do it, Twilight Sparkle is that pony.”

“I reckon you’re right about that,”Applejack said with a smile.

There was another pause as the two sat in silence, thinking about the future.

"You know, Applejack," Rarity said quietly, trying to be delicate, "it isn't good to not talk to ponies."

"Whaddya mean?" Applejack asked, frowning at her.

"Pinkie and I have both noticed that you've been rather... quiet about how you feel," Rarity explained slowly. "I know it's hard, but we're here to talk to you if you need us."

"Aw shucks, Rare, I'm fine," Applejack said dismissively.

"Except I know you aren't," Rarity hissed, trying to keep her voice down, her voice straining, "because only a monster would be 'fine' with everything we've seen since we got here and I know you aren't a monster, Applejack!"

At that, Applejack gave Rarity a look that almost frightened her - a half smile, with a look in her eyes filled with grim acceptance and something the former fashionista didn't recognise and almost didn't want to.

Before they could continue their conversation, a shout went up from the front of the defensive line.

“More Converted inbound!” somebody or somepony yelled, and quickly the defenders scrambled to their positions again.

“Come on!” they heard True Grit yell as the former Guardspony raced by them, Lyra and Pinkie in tow. “Another wave’s coming!”

“No rest for the wicked,” Applejack said dryly, before racing off after im. Rarity watched her go, a sad look in her eyes.

“When did we become the wicked, Applejack?” she wondered aloud. “And when did you become so… accepting of it?”

She sighed, and raced off after her friends; they had a battle to fight, after all. And maybe, after all this, she might succeed in getting through to Applejack after all.

***

Sky above Plymouth, March 23rd, 2030.

"… and boom!" Rainbow Dash said, grinning as she flew into another Guard, sending the hapless armoured figure spinning off into the air. She ignored his descent, instead dodging past the next Guard and charging for another clump of Guards dead ahead.

Compared to fighting Wonderbolts, fighting the regular Guards was easy - their formation-heavy flying was just right for her to use the corkscrew on, and though they were armoured enough that you often had to give them more than one pass, that didn't stop them from being too formed up to readily adapt to the flying style that Grey Squadron used.

"Dash! Roll the the left!" she heard Errant Flight order through the comm. Instinctively, Dash did so, and she saw a throwing spear zoom through where she had been. She smirked.

"Too slow, bucker!" she called out, dropping speed and letting her pursuer catch up, where she promptly cut his wings apart.

“Good call!” Errant said, and Dash saw him zoom past. “Link up with Fluttershy ahead and prepare to follow One Flight in!”

“Roger that!” Dash said, pushing herself forward. She felt, ridiculously enough, alive in the air. Sure, there was always the crash when she landed and she remembered that she had killed ponies, and sure - she could be killed (and nearly had been more than once), but for now, for this moment, she was alive and flying and free.

What more could she ask for?

***

Canterlot Archives, Private Imperial Chambers, March 25th, 2030 (human calendar).

Solamina led Sparkle deeper into the chambers of the Canterlot Archives. Though Sparkle had, for a long time, considered this place home, and had always been allowed into most of the archive, there were certain places she simply could not go: vaults sealed, she assumed, for good reasons, where only Celestia - Solamina - could go. To go there now... well, if she had been a younger, more carefree version of herself, maybe she might have been excited. As it was, right now she felt nothing but driven.

Solamina had asked her to research the various possibilities that could explain the presence of doppelgängers of the Element bearers. Sparkle had done precisely that, pouring over every book she could find as well as reading (former) Commander Scootaloo's report on the doppelgänger of Rainbow Dash (Scootaloo's report had been oddly lacking in detail: suspicious, Sparkle had ordered her demoted as well as assigned, with the rest of the Wonderbolts, to garrison duty. Scootaloo had taken this surprisingly well). None of the explanations she could find, however, made sense. It couldn't have been magical cloning or changeling interference, simply because neither of those options were available to the humans - or at least, neither of those options should have been available. The Iron Wall kept the changelings out, and the mirror pool, the only known way to clone ponies through magical means, was safely guarded by some of Solamina's best guards.

Her thoughts had then turned to technological means: she had interviewed Converted who had been human scientists on the possibility of cloning bodies from tissue left behind (of which, she admitted ruefully, there had been many). The former scientists, though, had been very clear. Firstly, the very fact that they had been seen as adults made it highly unlikely that these ponies were clones in the traditional sense. More importantly, there was no way it could have happened anyway. Rainbow Dash's body had been thoroughly examined upon its retrieval: there had been no tissue samples taken from it save for a chunk of her mane. Pinkie Pie's body had been retrieved and returned home without the humans ever getting hold of her body, again save for part of her mane. Twilight, though she hated to admit it, knew what those manes were used for - the rumours existed that they were worn by the so-called "Avatar" as a trophy. She had nonetheless suggested that the manes might have provided tissue samples, but the former-scientists had replied that these would have had to be entirely surrendered to the meagre science facilities left to humankind in order to achieve anything, and Twilight knew full well they hadn’t been - and even if they had without her knowledge, that wouldn’t explain the presence of a clone of her. In any case, the former humans had also pointed out that the scientific facilities left to the humans were so meagre and ill-equipped after so many years of hardship that it was doubtful they were in possession of the right equipment to clone anyone, pony or otherwise, especially to have them alive and fighting now.One thing was clear, therefore:, some kind of advanced technological cloning on the humans’ part was impossible. With that, too, ruled out, Sparkle had found herself at a loss as to what could possibly have been the cause for ponies who should have been dead returning to life. When she - reluctantly - explained her findings to Empress Solamina, her mentor and leader had only smiled, and told her to come with her. Which had been how Sparkle found herself in the Canterlot Archives.

The chamber held some of the most arcane books known to Ponykind: stacked on rows of shelves, twice as high as Sparkle's old library home. To Sparkle's... not anger, but certainly consternation - there were a number of guards: they looked to be converted militia, judging by the crude armour and the Solaminan symbols liberally plastered all over said armour. As Solamina and Sparkle passed them, they bowed low to the Empress, less like subjects to a ruler and more like the willing servants of a God. Some small part of Sparkle twinged slightly at that - she didn't know why and she quickly ignored it. Still, it was irritating that they were somehow deserving of the privilege of being in this place and she, who had given up so much, lost so much more, somehow was not...!

"Through here," Solamina said softly, interrupting Sparkle's train of thought (for which she was very grateful: she didn't like getting angry. She saved it for the battlefield, where such things belonged).

Sparkle followed her leader through a large set of double doors, each one covered in a variety of strange runic symbols the meaning of which Sparkle could not divine (yet another thing to add to the list of "things she didn't know about that she would go home and research").

Through the doors was another chamber. Sparkle could only assume, looking at the size of the doors vis a vis what she could see of the height and size of the room, that it was a large chamber, but it was so dark that she couldn't tell: the walls, ceiling, and even the floor were all pitch black, impossible to tell what was going on.

"Oculus," Solamina called out into the room. A moment later, a giant, intricately latticed circular symbol, glowing with some inner power, appeared in the centre of the floor.

"Stand within it," Solamina said. Sparkle did so obediently. The circle’s light brightened and Sparkle felt an odd floating sensation - which was explained a moment later by the fact that she was actually floating.

“Welcome to the Heart of the World, Twilight Sparkle,” Solamina said. “In this place, you will be exposed to other lives, other ponies with your name and your face, other ponies who have lived other lives than yours.”

“How is that possible?” Sparkle asked, frowning in confusion. “And what do you mean ‘other lives’ - other Twilights? How…?”

“Clear your mind of questions,” Solamina instructed, and Sparkle fell silent. “You will understand in a moment, and we will know if the Twilight who walks among the enemy is an impostor - or a broken mirror.”

Before Twilight could say anything else, the light from the circle glowed even brighter, filling up her vision. Solamina vanished, the room vanished, everything was consumed by that bright, all-powerful light…

Author's Notes:

And here's the first of what may well be several new chapters added to the story. There's some material that was formerly part of "Heart of the World" (which in itself has been edited and expanded) and there's also some hints to some stuff that'll continue in other chapters as rewrites progress.

Apologies if this comes up weirdly, and thank you all for sticking with this story as you have and reading thus far :-)