Zedok looked down into her tiny crystal shot glass of something that tasted vaguely of grapes. She looked over her shoulder at the patrons of the bar sitting at the tables behind her. Many of them were ponies, either of the crystal persuasion or of the organic type, either with horns, wings, or neither. Sitting amongst them, though, were several members of a different species that resembled a hybrid of birds and large cats. Those patrons often seemed to have a more grizzled appearance, with scars and the sort of pitted and worn clothing that Zedok normally associated with mercenaries.

What she found herself looking at, though, was a table at which sat five identical pink ponies with curly hair and tails. Not similar- - identical. Down to their squeaky voices. They were apparently playing poker.

“How the hell do they hold the cards with hooves?” asked Zedok, turning to Jack on her left.

“No idea,” muttered Jack. She was staring into her drink- -something distilled that smelled vaguely like cider- -but not drinking it. Zedok knew that Jack was getting older- -as a human, her life expectancy was almost perversely short- -but she had never seen Jack not drink alcohol that was given to her.

“Jack?” said Zedok, leaning closer. “What’s up?”

“Back table, third from the door,” she said. “The pale-purple crystal pony.”

Zedok blinked, not fully understanding, but then slowly turned and looked as discreetly as possible. Her cybernetic eyes quickly scanned to the table that Jack was referring to, where a handsome blue-colored crystal stallion was laughing with a pink-violet crystal mare.

“So?” said Zedok. “What, are you thinking of hitting on her? Because I think she’s with that stallion.”

“No,” said Jack, her voice indicating that she did not find any humor in Zedok’s statement. “That’s her.”

“Her?”

“The changeling.”

Zedok looked back, this time less discreetly. “No way! How can you tell?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “It’s like…like I can smell her. Her biotics. It’s damn hard to explain.”

“I don’t smell anything.”

“Wait about two hundred years until you fill in,” said Jack. “Trust me, it’s her.”

Zedok looked back one more time, pretending to instead be focusing on a table of griffons who were cheering over an arm-wrestling competition. “But they look like they’ve been friends forever. Lovers, even. “

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I know.”

Zedok looked back one more time, and then turned to her drink. “So what do you want to do.”

“For now? Nothing. She’s been tailing us since we left. I haven’t seen her change, but I know she is. Damn it…” Jack sighed. “Or the implants in my brain are finally rusting and I’m about to go out.”

“No, I believe you,” said Zedok. Growing up, Jack had been her idol, but in adulthood she had come to realize that Jack’s experience and judgement was greater than that of most asari ten times her age. “But why is she here? Do you think the Princess sent her as a tail?”

“Maybe,” said Jack. Then she shook her head. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because Cadence is always watching. I can feel that too.” She took a long sip from her crystal goblet and wiped her mouth on her forearm.

“That isn’t possible,” said Zedok. “Nobody can be everywhere at once.”

Jack was silent for a moment. “You didn’t see it,” she finally said.

“See what?” Zedok leaned closer. “I’m not stupid, Jack. I can feel it too. This place, it’s like…I don’t know, vibrating or something. Like somebody is here. The last time I felt like this, I was on that giant pony ship.”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I feel it too.” She paused, and then looked at Zedok. “You know, for the longest time, I was the strongest biotic I knew.”

“You are the strongest,” said Zedok. “I’ve read all the comics. Even Samara couldn’t beat you. Even SHEPARD couldn’t.”

Jack smiled. “Shepard…you know, that son-of-a-bitch probably would have tried, too if it came down to it.” Her expression became more serious. “But then I met her.”

“You mean Starlight.”

Jack nodded. “Whatever they did to her, it’s like what they did to me. Except I don’t even think she needs all those machines. Even with them, she outpaced me years ago. But compared to Cadence…”

“Cadence was that strong?”

Jack shook her head. “I don’t…things like her. I didn’t know they could exist. And it frightens me. It goddamn terrifies me.”

“You? But you’re not afraid of anything! You’ve stared a Reaper in the face!”

“Yeah, a big machine. But not this.” Jack paused, considering. “And it’s not really her personally. Not the pony. What she represents.”

“What she represents?” Zedok’s eyes widened. “You mean Starlight. You’re afraid that she could become like that.”

“She’s trying like hell. The implants, the surgeries. She’s in constant pain, and if she keeps going deeper, she’s not going to be able to pull herself back out.”

“I get it,” said Zedok, taking a sip of her own drink. Even with her asari biology, she was not feeling any different. She was starting to wonder if the bartender had given her something nonalcoholic.

“And then the Princess’s offer. For Starlight to stay. It shouldn’t make me nervous, because I know her. Better than anyone. And I know she’s going to make the right choice. But I’m so afraid she won’t.”
“You mean you’re afraid she’ll stay behind and leave you?”
“No. I’m afraid she won’t.”

Lyra could not believe what she was seeing. She blinked again and again, trying to force her mind to find some rational reason, some logical conclusion as to how the pony standing before her could be real. In her heart, though- -not the mechanical pump that hummed endlessly in her metal chest, but her real heart- -she knew.

“Bon Bon,” she said, kneeling. “It…it’s you…” She reached forward, but Bon Bon slapped her robotic hands away and gracefully took a step out of Lyra’s reach. From the way she moved, there was no doubt in Lyra’s mind- -which only made the look of frigid disgust on her face more confusing.

“Lyra,” she said. “You should be dead.”

“I survived,” laughed Lyra. “They pulled me out. They rebuilt me. And all this time…all this time! I thought I had lost you!” She reached in to hug Bon Bon, and once again Bon Bon moved out of Lyra’s reach.

Lryra gaped, not knowing why Bon Bon was reacting this way. For a moment, she wondered if she had gotten the wrong pony, if this could have somehow been a different earth pony that looked identical to her deceased lover. “Bon Bon,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

“You should have stayed dead, Lyra.”

Lyra stared in shock. “But…Bon Bon…”

“Sweetie Drops?” said Calcite, looking from Bon Bon to Lyra. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

“Sweetie Drops?” said Lyra, confused. “Why are you calling her that?”

“Because it’s her name,” said Calcite. “The battle, the one where I lost my legs. She was the one who coordinated it. It’s only because of her that we were able ambush the Questlords.”

Lyra’s eyes widened, and she looked back at Bon Bon who continued to stare up at her defiantly. “No no no no no,” she said, standing up. “Bon Bon, he’s lying. He has to be lying. You didn’t- -you couldn’t! I know you! Better than anypony! The way you like imported oats, or how you think parasprites or cute, or that weird way you sit on benches- -he has to be lying!”

“He’s telling the truth, Lyra,” said Bon Bon, coldly. “And to be honest, I’m surprised you never figured it out. Frankly, I didn’t expect you would ever have to. Because I oversaw your death.”

“Bon Bon…”

Bon Bon burst into laughter. “Do you know how many times I thought about it? How many times I picked up a knife, or counted out the necessary dose of poison, calculating just how much it would take? That was my mission, after all. To kill the Elder Knight of the Questlords.”

“No, no,” said Lyra. She stepped back from Bon Bon, as if that would somehow protect her. “I met you in the business district of Canterlot. It was raining, and you were wet- -and I brought you home until the storm passed- -”

“Because I had already been tracking your daily routine. Because I knew that you couldn’t help yourself from giving aid to a pitiful, soaked, helpless mare.”

“Sweetie Drops, what are you saying?”

“Nothing, honey,” she said. “You already know I was an intelligence officer. Lyra was my mission. A mission I changed as soon as I figured out that I could bring the Questlords into an ambush just by pretending to be captured.”

“But- -I was trying to SAVE YOU!” screamed Lyra. “I was going to leave the war! For YOU! I loved you! I STILL love you! I never stopped! We were going to get a house together in Ponyville, we were going to adopt little fillies and colts- -”

Bon Bon sighed. “It was all an act, Lyra. I’m a spy. Or I was. I’m retired now. My job was to infiltrate and defeat the Questlords. Which I did. I didn’t expect them to bring back…well, whatever was left of you.”

“But- -”

“Lyra,” said Bon Bon, looking Lyra directly in her single eye. “Stop. Just stop. You shouldn’t be alive. Just pull your head out of that abomination and let it go. I don’t like looking at you. I don’t want you in my life. I never did. Just go die. And stay dead this time.” She stepped away from the bench. “Calcite. Come. We’re going home.”

Calcite paused, looking up at Lyra. His jaw quivered, as if he were trying to find words. He looked horrified, and Lyra knew that he was because he of all ponies could understand what that battle had meant.

“Calcite.”

“Yes, honey,” he said, pulling himself after her. He stopped and looked up at Lyra. “I’m sorry, Lyra. I’m so, so sorry.”

Then he rolled off after his wife, leaving Lyra alone. She stood for a moment, showing no expression or emotion as she watched them grow smaller and eventually fade out of sight. Then, when there was finally no pony around, the stupor began to lift. Lyra fell to her knees, and found that she could no longer control the weeping that overtook her and wracked her body without draining even the slightest fraction of her unbearable despair.

In a different park, far away from the desolate memorial, a pair of Cores sat on a wooden bench. Starlight looked out over the rolling fields, watching in the distance as children laughed and played, chasing each other and flying kites. They were all different species and races, all working together as though they did not notice the fact that some of them were made of crystal and others of flesh. For all Starlight knew, they were not even cognizant of that distinction.

One child, however, sat apart from the others. In one of the tall, branching trees that shaded the bench, Flurry Heart sat perched high on a branch. She sat like a large-winged bird, watching the other children play form a safe distance, knowing that they could not see her through the leaves. She seemed to not be able to take her eyes off them, even though she showed no inclination to actually go and play with them.

“Is she normally like that?” asked Starlight, looking up at Sunburst and immediately feeling herself blush. He had partially changed out of his flight suit, replacing it with a more simplistic type of uniform and donning a small pair of glasses. Starlight had quickly come to the conclusion that he was quite handsome, but not just because his physically fit body or the adorable sock-markings on his feet. It was the way he always seemed so happy, as if he was enjoying every moment outside to its fullest.

Sunburst sighed. “I’ve tried to get her to socialize with her peers, but she just won’t listen to me.”

“Because I have no peers,” said Flurry Heart from above. “I am a living goddess with significant military responsibilities. I fly starships in combat missions- -or would, if there was still combat. I have no need to socialize with children.”

“See?” said Sunburst. “As stubborn as her mother.”

“You really care about her,” noted Starlight.

Sunburst nodded. “I’m her mentor. I taught her how to fly, the tactics, how to navigate the skies. And eventually she is going to surpass me. Eventually.”

“It’s more than that,” said Flurry Heart, still looking out at the other children. “Mother is very busy, and Shining Armor is…himself. You are like a father to me. My real father.”

“Flurry Heart, Shining Armor loves you.”

“So he claims. But I don’t trust anypony who would betray Mother with an insect.”

“An insect?” said Starlight.

“It’s a long story,” said Sunburst. “And not a very pleasant one.”

He leaned back, and Starlight sat up. They were silent for a moment, and then she found herself putting her head on his shoulder. He allowed it- -although Flurry Heart’s full attention suddenly fell on Starlight instead of the other children.

“You know, you might be the first stallion I’ve actually ever talked to,” said Starlight. “I mean, extensively.”

“Really?” said Sunburst.

“There aren’t ponies in the Milk-Path. Just me. And Lyra I guess.”

“It sounds so lonely.”

“It isn’t. I have friends. Lots of them. Just…no pony friends.”

“I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

Starlight smiled. “Yeah. I guess you are.”

Sunburst stared out at the landscape around them, and the wind started to blow just enough to make the leaves of the trees rustle and the light through their leaves shift. “So,” he said. “The Princess offered you a chance to stay with us.”

“She did,” said Starlight. She paused, waiting for Sunburst to tell her why she should stay. He did not, though. He just seemed to consider for a long moment.

“What do you think so far?” he asked at last. “If you had to make the choice right now. What would you choose?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Starlight. “But…if I had to…yes. I would refuse.”

“Really.”

Starlight nodded, and pulled herself closer to Sunburst. “I would have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Yes,” said Starlight. “Yes I do.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said. “We’re not equal yet.”

“We? You mean the Cores.”

Starlight nodded. “I don’t know how many of us there are. Thousands? Tens of thousands? You and me, we got out. But I think we’re the only ones. Out of all those ponies, all trapped and dying. Only us two…”

“You want to try to save them.”

“I have to save them. Because nopony else will. You know that. Probably better than anypony. We’re not machines, Sunburst. We’re ponies. Equal to every other pony. And eventually, I’m going to have to fight for that equality.”

Sunburst paused for a moment, thinking. “So,” he said. “You actually consider yourself a Core?”

Starlight separated from him. “What do you mean? Of course I’m a Core. So are you!”

“Am I?” said Sunburst. “Because I don’t think of myself that way. To me, I’m just a pony. The same as any other pony. Being a ‘Core’ is a part of my past, not my identity.”

“Do you seriously believe that? Even with those implants?”

“The implants don’t matter here, Starlight. Being a Core has no meaning. The equality you want? We already have it.”

Starlight looked out at the children in the distance, watching as a pair of Pegasi raced by pursued by a gryphon. “I know,” she said. “I’m not an idiot. But I don’t want the equality for me. I don’t really matter. It’s them I want to help, not me.”

“But you do matter, Starlight,” said Sunburst. “You matter to me.” He looked out over the fields before him, his expression stony. “But I can see that this is something you really care about. So you have to think very, very carefully. Because if you choose to stay, you won’t ever be able to fight against Equestria.”

“That isn’t true,” said Flurry Heart.

“Yes, it is,” said Sunburst. “As long as I’m alive, I will do everything in my power to preserve the peace. Even in the latter years of the war, I saw enough bloodshed to last ten lifetimes.”

Flurry Heart fluttered down from the tree. “But you were the best. You ARE the best. You won so many battles, defeated so many foes- -”

“I sent thousands of sailors to their graves, and their Cores with them. I lost friends, and I’ve seen entire planets leveled.” He looked at Starlight. “Do you know what they do when they take a planet, Starlight? They don’t leave survivors. Everypony dies. Except the unicorns.”

“What happens to the unicorns?” asked Flurry Heart.

Sunburst did not answer. Starlight did not need him to. She was able to understand the implication and what he meant- -and it made her physically ill.

“War isn’t pleasant,” said Sunburst, simply. He was addressing Flurry Heart as though he were giving a lesson, but Starlight could not help but feel like he was actually talking to her. “There isn’t any glory, or excitement. Just pain, and loss. I did what I had to in order to protect the Crystal Empire, but I will die before I allow the War to return.” He turned to Starlight. “If you join us, our treaties bind you. Keeping the peace will fall to you as well.”

“Then I guess that makes my decision pretty easy, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Does it?”

Starlight considered the thought for a moment, and then a minute, and then more. Logically, it was simple. Her ultimate goal was clear: to free her people and spread equality across the galaxy. On an emotional level, though, the whole thing was so much more confusing. It was tempting, to say the least. She had not grown up wanting to be a revolutionary- -she had not grown up wanting to be anything because she had spent her entire childhood and early adulthood suspended in amniotic gel and linked to a starship. On some level, though, she wished that Sunburst could be right. That she could live as though that day had never happened, as though she had never been taken- -like a normal, ordinary pony.

Before she could eventually come to a conclusion, though, there were two loud bursts of blue light on either side of the bench as a pair of teleportation spells engaged. Two of the massive, chitinous guards appeared, the pale blue irises of their green eyes narrowing in the light and searching rapidly until they fell on Flurry Heart.

One of them released a low sound that sounded nearly like words, but in a language that Starlight did not understand. Flurry Heart looked up.

“Ver per as’h Ie’an Sunburst,” she said, nearly whining.

Her brothers remained silent. They did not blink, and although they made a slight rushing sound, Starlight did not see them breathing. She could not help but wonder what kind of alien monstrosity could have given birth to these creatures, or how the Princess’s handsome consort had been willing to impregnate it.

“I have to go,” said Flurry Heart, standing up. “Mother wants to speak with me.”

“Don’t look so sad about something like that,” said Sunburst. “It’s good that she takes time to talk to you.”

“I know…but I wanted to stay with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Go to your mother. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Be prepared for advanced formation training.”

Flurry Heart’s sad expression became a grin and she saluted. “Yes, sir!”

There was another flash of light, this one from three teleportation singularities. Flurry Heart and her two brothers vanished, pulled away by Cadence’s magic. Sunburst watched them go, and then reached out a white-patterned hoof to Starlight. “Come with me,” he said.

“Where?” said Starlight, taking his hoof.

“Let’s go for a walk. If you don’t stay, I want you to see the Imperium before you have to go. Not the caves and service tunnels that Flurry Heart likes so much, but the surface. So you can understand why I want to protect it.”

“You mean you so you can try to convince me to stay.”

Sunburst shrugged. “In all honesty? Yes. I would like you to stay. But I also want you to live your life, like I have. The choice is yours, and you are free to make it.” He grinned slyly. “Also, there is an ice-cream stand on the other side of the secondary aqueduct canal. Flurry Heart isn’t supposed to have any before dinner, but I don’t think it will spoil either of our meals.”

“Meals?” Starlight giggled. “Are you taking me to dinner, Sunburst?”

“If you’ll go with me, of course. Unless you’d rather have the prepared food that Cadence will no doubt try to supply you with. Or, I don’t know, graze on the field here. We are horses, after all, we can do that.”

Starlight laughed and stood up. “Of course I will, Sunburst. Go with you, I mean.”

They trotted off, away from the shade of the trees and into the rolling fields beyond. For just a moment, Starlight seemed to forget that the pair of them were Cores at all. For that short time, at least, she was able to allow herself to believe that they really were just two ordinary ponies.

When Lyra returned to the accommodations that she had originally seemed like a prison, she was not in the mood to talk to anyone at all. The guard standing outside seemed to notice this and stepped back from the door far more than was necessary to allow her to pass.

Inside, Lyra quickly moved through the hallways. She was not sure where she was going, exactly. For the last five hours, she had just wondered around, her mind in a fog and the anger slowly building, growing hotter and more potent until finally collapsing into a hideous, cold emptiness. She no longer had a preference for where she was, but on some level, she hoped that she could find Zedok. Even if she did, Lyra was not sure she could explain what had happened, and how things had just changed- -she just needed a friend.

Lyra entered one of the cavernous antichambers that branched into the complex and charged the crystalline lamps with her magic. The room slowly filled with light, and instead of finding Zedok, Lyra found a turian staring back at her as the shadows receded.

Beri’s cybernetic pupils narrowed in the glowing light, and she smiled. Seeing a turian smile was not a pleasant sight. The fact that she had been lurking in the dark made it worse.

“Hello, Lyra,” she said.

“No,” said Lyra. “I’m not dealing with you right now, turian. Get out of my way.”

“Aww,” said Beri as Lyra pushed past her. “Did somepony have a bad day?”

Lyra clenched one of her fists, feeling the metal charge with biotic energy. She paused, though, and turned slowly to Beri. “I’m not in the mood to deal with you. Go. Away. NOW.”

Beri raised both of her hands in surrender. “Alright. You win.” She started walking toward the door. “Whatever you say, Elder Knight.”

Lyra froze, and she saw Beri grinning. “What did you just call me?”

“What can I say?” said Beri. “I’m a stickler for proper titles.”

“How could you possibly have known that?” Lyra’s eyes widened. “Where you watching me?”

“No. I was researching you. The things I found…” Beri stepped closer to Lyra, still grinning. Something about the way she moved gave Lyra pause; it was as if for just a moment Beri had forgotten how to move naturally and for just a brief second moved far more quickly before catching herself. “The last Elder of the Questlords of Inverness, a direct descendent from a bloodline of knights stretching back millennia. Hundreds of successful military operations: rescues, planetary conquest, abject destruction of entire worlds- -and a body count in the tens of thousands.”

“And a turian of all people is going to lecture me on this?” spat Lyra. “I regret nothing, apart from being a young fool and letting myself get stabbed in the back.”

“Lecture? No, of course not! Lyra, I mention this because I admire you.”

“You what?”

“You don’t disappoint. I can’t stop looking at you, Lyra.” She stepped close- -too close. “At that body…” She touched Lyra’s chest, slowly drawing her fingers across the metal and moaning softly.

“You sick buck!” cried Lyra. Her rage had already been building, and Beri had just suddenly made herself a target. Lyra reached out and struck her, immediately realizing that she had hit too hard- -and not caring.

Instead of crumpling to the floor, though, Beri simply raised one of her arms and blocked the blow. It should have been enough to stumble a full-grown krogan, but she barely seemed to notice.

“What the hell?” said Lyra, instinctively stepping back from Beri. Something was wrong.

Beri laughed- -a horrible, flange-ridden wheezing sound. Then she removed one of her sleeves, revealing an arm underneath that was clearly robotic in nature.

“I’m like you, Lyra,” she said, flexing the narrow limb and admiring the thin artificial muscle that made the motions possible. “It’s not just this arm, either, although it was the first. I had it replaced at age ten. Then the other. Then the legs. The eyes. The rest.”

“You didn’t…”

Beri nodded. “When it comes to this job, you need every advantage you can get. And to get those advantages, you have to be willing to sacrifice, right? Like you did.”

“Don’t compare us,” snapped Lyra.

“But are we really that different? My body was weak, so I cut it away. Just like you did.”

Lyra lunged forward and picked Beri up by the neck. Beri attempted to resist, but her eyes widened when she realized that she was not nearly as strong as she thought she was.

“I am NOTHING like you!” screamed Lyra. “This body, do you think I WANTED THIS? Do you have any idea what I would give, what I would trade if I could just go back to being a real pony? To have the life that they- -that SHE- -took from me?”

Beri shifted quickly, getting one arm free and striking at Lyra’s face. Lyra pulled away, protecting her horn, and Beri fell to the ground. As she did, a large shadow fell over the pair as Darien entered the room. His eight eyes looked down at them, one to the other.

“Are you fighting?” he said. “Please, don’t fight. Especially you, Ms. Tyros. You will not win.”

“Yes, I would,” said Beri. “She may be a knight, but I’m a Spec- -”

Her words collapsed into a horrible scream as Lyra grasped one of her arms and twisted it, charging her own limb with amplified biotic strength and tearing Beri’s cybernetic appendage out of its socket. It cracked and bent, writhing rapidly and spasming as its connections were severed. Pulling it out was barely difficult, though, and once it was removed, Beri stumbled back, clutching the damaged, leaking hole in shock- -at which point Lyra immediately slammed the severed limb into her head, knocking her down.

“You think you’re superior? You could have had everything I wanted- -and you threw it all away!” Lyra charged her horn, feeling the biotic energy dripping from it as it transferred to her hands. “But you are right about one thing. Structurally, we are quite similar. Meaning…” she knelt down, and Beri tried to skitter away- -but not before Lyra was able to put her in a headlock. “That if I twist off your head, you die. Just like I will.”

Beri clawed at Lyra’s arms, but to her credit, she did not beg for her life.

“Lyra!” cried Darien. “Please, stop!”

Lyra tightened her grip, and for a moment, she thought she would do it. She wanted to so badly- -but managed to stop herself. She realized that although Beri had provoked her at the worst possible time, she was not the cause of this anger. She was not the one who needed to pay.

Instead of finishing her, Lyra threw Beri away from her and stood up. “Don’t speak to me again, turian. Ever. Next time, I kill you. Do you understand?”

“You should have finished me now,” said Beri, picking up and clutching her still twitching severed arm.

“Don’t tempt me.” Lyra walked to the door, and stopped in front of Darien. “Move,” she said, and he did. Quickly.

As Lyra stomped off down the crystal corridor, Darien approached Beri. “Your arm is broken,” he said.

“I can see that,” said Beri, standing.

“We need to get you to Armchair. He can- -”

“Do you seriously think I don’t know how to repair myself? We are not all backward idiots like yourself, yahg.” Beri left the room in a huff, not accepting Darien’s help.

Darien watched her go, and continued to stand in the center of the room for several more seconds before his body shifted. His flesh tore away from itself, reassembling and increasing in density. Within seconds, he had reassembled himself into a copy of Jack.

“Well,” said Chrysalis, smiling. “This will be interesting…”

Several minutes later, Lyra reached what must have been assigned as her quarters. She did not go there to rest, though. Instead, her target was a large rectangular box. It was something she had brought with her from Parnack. Starlight, apparently, did not really have any conception of bringing supplies. For her and Jack alone, that was not really a problem, but for a larger crew, Lyra and Zedok had packed a portable unit of essentials.

The casket-like box contained a number of items, ranging from food to extra medical supplies that Zedok might need depending on any emergency she might encounter. Some of the items in the box, though, Zedok did not know about.

Lyra put her robotic hand on what otherwise looked like a seamless flat plate on the box. She jolted it with her magic, and the metal separated into a narrow drawer. She pulled it out and inspected the contents before removing a long, white object.

The electronics of the sniper rifle hummed to life as Lyra lifted it, and at her command the barrel and stock automatically unfolded and extended. Lyra inspected it and determined that it was adequate for what she needed to do.

She closed the drawer and folded the rifle, placing it on the locking mount on her back. There certainly was much work ahead of her.

Zedok had no idea how the sun set on the Imperium. Her background was in medicine, not in astronomy- -and even if it had been, she got the impression that the means by which this structure worked were beyond the understanding of even the most experienced asari astrophysicists. However it worked, though, it was starting to go down. The land was getting dark.

Above her, the sky was becoming clearer, which was an odd sight. It seemed to develop an unusual texture and system of colors as the angle of light through the atmosphere changed. This, Zedok knew, was largely because she was actually looking upward at a different populated surface, something that made her dizzy to think about.

The scenery on the surface, though, was actually quite beautiful. Its density was surprisingly low, with medium-sized inhabited crystal structures emerging from neatly trimmed artificially planted forests. Even though it was pretty, though, it still felt strange. Zedok had spent almost all of her life on starships with her father, and her conception of populated areas had largely been shaped by cramped and enclosed orbital facilities or utilitarian outer colonies. This place did not feel like that, but it also did not feel like any of the planets she had been on before. There were no vast, harsh forests and swamps like on Parnack or irradiated wastelands like on her homeworld Tuchanka. Instead, the Imperium felt more like the Citadel, where an artificial, alien, and vaguely threatening structure had been planted with ferns and flowers to give it some semblance of a natural dwelling.

Even stranger were the ponies. Zedok had experience with ponies; she had met Starlight when she was fifteen, and her stepmother not long after. She had been aboard a pony ship and talked to them- -but seeing so many of them living in one place felt bizarre. They were tiny and adorable, but something about their large eyes and lack of hands was unsettlingly bizarre.

The crystal ponies seemed happy, though, although weary. When Zedok approached them, they would usually move out of her way and give her a wide berth. Zedok was not sure why she took so much offense to that, but assumed it was an artifact of her asari biology.

Zedok eventually came to the edge of what appeared to be a playground and stopped. When she looked over the fence, she almost burst out laughing. While the various alien pieces of pony playground equipment remained largely empty, the children had instead busied themselves with climbing over Darien, who was sitting in the middle of a gravel pit, apparently meditating. The size difference was comical: he could easily have fit three or four of the pony children in one hand and he towered over them. As such, he hardly seemed to notice their presence as they used him as an impromptu jungle-gym.

Still on the verge of laughter, Zedok opened the gate to the playground. Several of Darien’s eyes automatically detected the movement and focused on her position. He opened his other eyes as well and blinked. Despite the number, his eyes were a very soft color that Zedok found immensely attractive.

The children also looked up at Zedok. Unlike the adult ponies, they were not well equipped to hide their emotions. Zedok saw the look of panic on their faces as they leapt behind Darien, hiding.

“Scary alien!” cried one. “Mister Darien! Don’t let her eat us!”

“Eat you? Why would I- -” Zedok tried to step forward but was interrupted as the children screamed in terror. She looked up at Darien. “Darien, what have you been telling them?”

“Me? Nothing,” said Darien. “I would never speak ill of you, boss.”

“Then why are they freaking out? More importantly, why are they not afraid of you?”

“Are you saying I appear frightening?” Darien sounded hurt.

“Darien, I didn’t say that!”

From behind him, one of the children jumped out and took a defensive stance. He was a tiny griffon- -a kitten, Zedok supposed- -and he puffed out his feathers to try to look as large as possible.

“Don’t be mean to mister Darien!” he squeaked. “Or- -or- -I bitechu!”

Slightly amused, Darien picked up the griffon and very gently set it on his shoulder. “Zedok is not scary,” he said. “Not usually, anyway. She is friend.”

The children seemed to accept this, but remained wary of Zedok as they went about playing as far away from her as possible. The griffon on Darien’s shoulder remained as puffy as possible as though that would be intimidating rather than adorable.

“Perhaps a cultural difference?” suggested Darien. “I don’t think you look scary.”

“Thanks, Darien.” Zedok could not help but feel self-conscious, though, and felt herself touching the scars on her face. The krogan in her took their presence as a badge of honor, a tribute to her ability to survive. As an asari, though, their presence hurt far more than the initial injury that had created them.

Darien pulled the griffon off his shoulder. “Gerold, please go play with your friends. I need to be talking to Zedok.”

Gerold hesitated, but quickly got distracted by a pair of winged ponies that were playing ball. He ran off to play with them, and Darien stood up.

“Do not take their reaction to heart,” he said. He put his hand on Zedok’s shoulder. Despite its immense size, it did not feel heavy. “You are not yahg, and yet, you are still most beautiful person I know.”

“Are you saying that because you actually believe it or because I’m higher on the hierarchy than you?”

Darien shook his head. “I would never insult you by lying. Such would be against the Column.”

Zedok sighed. She understood that the dynamic of their relationship required that she be explicitly stated as Darien’s superior, but that ever-present requirement had grown tiresome quickly. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t even care. But, you know…damn it. Kids are afraid of me.”

“And tell me, then. Were I to go to Thessia, what reaction would the asari children have?”

Zedok laughed. “They’d be terrified.” Of course, they might also be terrified of her. “But you’re not actually scary, though.”

“Now you see, then.”

Zedok was silent for a moment. Then she lightly punched Darien in the arm.

“Ow,” he said passively. “I will take that as a sign of understanding.”

“Yeah,” said Zedok. She paused again, and then smiled at him. “You know, you’re actually pretty good with kids.”

“Care for my younger cousins once fell to me. My experience is not large, though.”

“You know,” said Zedok, looking at the group of playing ponies and one griffon. “In a few years, I’ll probably be able to have kids.”

Darien blinked all eight of his eyes in surprise and looked down at Zedok. She looked up and smiled.

“The differences might be too great,” he tried to explain. “I am yahg. You are not.”

“I’m asari. We’re compatible with everything. Trust me. I could probably make babies with Starlight if I wanted to.”

“Well,” said Darien. “That image I will fail to remove for some time. However…it is good to know.”

Zedok leaned against him. The children were now starting to end their games and return home. Within half an hour, the playground was empty, and the asari and the yahg watched the setting of the Imperium sun over the crystal horizon.

The light faded, and Starlight found herself standing alone with Sunburst on a small bridge overlooking a shallow canal. They had been talking for so long, Starlight had hardly noticed that it was getting darker, or how the ponies around them were returning to their homes with their families.

“Sunburst?” said Starlight, looking up at the sky. There were not stars, exactly, but rather the distant webs of the cities far away built into the crystal shell that surrounded the Imperium. It was both beautiful and bizarre, but provided comparatively little light. “It’s getting dark. Actually, no. It has gotten dark. We should go.”

“Sure,” said Sunburst. “But do you mind waiting just one more minute?”

Starlight smiled. “One more minute? Sure. It’s not like I sleep anyway.”

Sunburst pointed down at the water that was trickling below the bridge. “Any moment now. Just watch.”

Starlight stood up, leaning over the rail and looking down at the passing water. At first, she had no idea what Sunburst was pointing to, and she strained her eyes to see what it might be. Her sensory implants, however, detected only water and fish.

She was so dedicated to optimizing her sensory equipment to close-range scanning that she almost failed to notice the sudden surge of light. It started off small at first, but then flickered and grew. It was a strange, pulsing blue-green that grew into a chorus of subtle shades. Starlight realized that it was coming from the fish, which resembled exorbitantly long segmented worms. Their light as they schooled and danced as they flowed upstream reflected off the clean crystalline bed of the canal bottom, and the crystals seemed to amplify the hues and break them into sparkling light that quickly illuminated the entire stream.

For a moment, Starlight was not able to speak. She had seen many amazing things in the short time since she had been freed from her status as an engine component, but she now came to realize that nearly all of it had been viewed through the sterile and abstract systems that fed the sights of the universe into the tech components of her brain. This, though, she saw with her own eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” she said at last.

Sunburst nodded. He, too, was engrossed by the bioluminescence of the fish. “The hospital that I woke up in overlooks this park,” he explained. “It took almost two years for me to learn to walk again. Sometimes they would wheel me out here, but never at night. Then, one day, I tried to walk on my own. I collapsed. It was the next morning before they found me, but I saw this…”

Starlight smiled. “Thank you for showing me,” she said. She looked at him, his face lit by the shifting colors of the fish below, and found herself wanting to lean against him- -but a question occurred to her, one that had been nagging her for most of the day. One that she did not initially think she had the need to ask.

“Sunburst?” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he said, jokingly. “But seriously? Yes. You can ask me anything, Starlight. Anything at all. Anything I can do to help you, I will.”

“Is there a Mrs. Sunburst?”

Sunburst frowned, but he did not hesitate in his response. “Yes,” he said.

“Oh,” said Starlight, feeling her heart sink. Suddenly the light of the bioluminescent fish looked much less intense. “I see.” She put on a smile, realizing that of course Sunburst would be married. He had been living in the Crystal Empire since he was a child, it only made sense. “Well, what’s she like?”

“You’ve already met her, actually.” Sunburst’s tone was strangely neutral.

“Really?” Starlight thought back through her day, trying to recall the various ponies she had met. Apart from Cadence- -who was quite conspicuously already married- -and the shapeshifter Chrysalis, she could not recall having met any mares. “When?”

“It’s Flurry Heart, Starlight. I’m betrothed to Flurry Heart.”

Starlight felt her jaw drop. “Wh- -what?” she said. “Sunburst, she’s EIGHT!” Starlight took a step back. “You’re- -you’re some kind of pervert, aren’t you?!”

“It isn’t like that,” said Sunburst, firmly. “I love Flurry Heart. Like a daughter. I practically raised her- -no, I DID raise her. But she’s a Princess, and I’m a war hero. Princess Cadence decided that we should be wed when she comes of age.”

“And you just accepted that?”

“After everything she’s done for me? Starlight, I can’t defy the Goddess.

“Does Flurry Heart know about this?”

Sunburst shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Or at least she doesn’t understand. I don’t want her to. Not yet. She’s just a kid. She should be on the playground or playing with dolls, not worrying about strategic command and creating the next generation in the Cadence dynasty. I can’t protect her from everything, but I can try.”

“It’s not fair,” said Starlight. “I don’t care if she is a Princess, she can’t do that to you. She just can’t!”

“I agree. It isn’t fair. But not to me. I’ve sworn an oath to serve Cadence in whatever capacity she needs. But Flurry Heart didn’t. She was just born into this.”

“Then do something about it!”

“Like what? What could I do, Starlight?”

Starlight started to answer, but stopped. She could not think of an answer short of him walking into the throne room and demanding that Cadence release him from his duty- -and having met Cadence, that thought was terrifying even to Starlight. So, unable to answer, they both fell silent.

“What about you?” asked Sunburst at last.

“There aren’t any ponies in the Milk Path Galaxy.”

“That doesn’t quite answer the question, does it?”

Starlight frowned. “Do you think I’d have a relationship like that with a non-pony?”

“I dated a griffon once.”

“A griffon? Seriously? When?”

“When I was a lot younger and a lot more rebellious. It didn’t work, though. She tried to eat me.”

“That’s usually a sign the relationship is going good.”

Sunburst seemed to take a moment to get the joke, and then suddenly realized what she meant and burst into suppressed laughter. “Starlight!”

Starlight smiled, but she could not help but actually consider what he was suggesting. She had not really had much time to meet many individuals, and it was not that she did not understand attractiveness in other species. It was just that she never really thought about aliens that way. The only possible exception was Jack, and even then, Starlight’s feelings were mixed. Jack had slowly become Starlight’s most trusted friend, and had Jack been a man, the relationship might have taken a very different course over the last few months.

“No,” she said. “I can’t afford that sort of thing. Not yet.”

“I see,” said Sunburst, taking his spot on the railing next to Starlight. “But be careful with that attitude. Or one day you might wake up a five-hundred year old mare, wondering where all that time went.”

“I could say the opposite to you. Don’t marry children.”

“I’m not married to her yet,” said Sunburst. “‘Betrothed’. As in, will be married in the future. Ten years in the future, actually. Which has, of course, not stopped Shining Armor from starting the wedding planning.”

Starlight giggled. “I just imagined you walking down the aisle in a white dress!”

“Well, between you and me, Shining Armor’s track record with weddings is not exactly great. Knowing him, I probably will.” He paused. “Actually, if you are still around then, maybe you can be my best mare.”

“It would be my honor!” Starlight laughed, but her laughter trailed off. “You know, the last time I can remember seeing you, I remember us playing together in your father’s library. I never thought I’d hear you asking for me to be a best mare the next time we met…”

“Did you have a different question in mind?”

Starlight once again did not answer, even though on some level she knew that she had- -but that was part of the different timeline, the life she would have had if things had gone differently. Her fate had already been set, as had Sunburst’s. There was no escaping it, Starlight realized- -and once again found herself hating Equestria for what it had taken from her.

“Starlight?” said Sunburst.

“Just, you know, thinking.”

Sunburst leaned over and put his foreleg around Starlight, holding her close. She immediately blushed, but she did not resist and let the embrace continue.

“That isn’t like you,” he said. “Thinking and all. You never had to think or study, life just always came naturally to you, even as a child. I was actually really jealous of that, but now, I think I admire that about you.”

“You were jealous of me? Sunburst, I was jealous of you! You always knew how to do everything, and you were reading those big musty books before I even knew my letters!” Starlight did not bother to note the fact that, since then, she had not actually learned how to read Equestrian.

They both laughed, and then stood in silence for a long moment, watching the light below.

“So,” said Starlight, eventually. “I was right.”

“Right? About what?”

“A griffon, Sunburst? You really are a pervert.” She snuggled in closer to him, feeling the warmth of his coat and the cold metal of the implants that matched hers. “So? Aren’t you going to tell me about her?”

Riflery was a mostly lost art in pony culture, an obsolete skill that traditionally belonged to the unicorn nobility, a task meant for leisurely hunting instead of combat. Despite this fact, it had been one of the many skills that Lyra had been taught. If anything, it had only become more important when her cybernetic hooves gave way to arms in the midst of a culture that fought largely with projectile weapons instead of magic or condensed particle beams.

Lyra looked through the scope of the sniper rifle, but finding it inadequate deactivated the computer sights. Instead, she stabilized it against her shoulder with her magic from her vantage point atop a crystal building. In the dark of night, nopony saw her. Nopony could. But she saw what she needed to.

Through the scope, she looked through the window of a distant crystal structure, one that had not been difficult to find. The night air was cool, and the occupants had opened their windows allowing the light of their home to flow into the streets.

Lyra watched as a pony appeared in the window, his crystalline body glimmering in the light. Despite his rear legs being confined to wheels, he approached counter and began to wash several dishes. Lyra felt a momentary spark of distant pity. Calcite was not a bad pony. He was not mean or cruel, and in a different world, he and Lyra might even have been friends. Now, though, he would be a witness. More than perhaps any pony, Lyra understood the both the durability of crystal flesh and its limits. One proton round through a kinetic accelerator to the head would be more than enough.

She could have killed him then and there, but he was not her primary target. She appeared behind him, smiling as she leaned over and kissed him. Bon Bon looked so happy, and it made Lyra sick as she watched her former lover shoe away her now-husband and take over the dishes for the half-paralyzed stallion.

Carefully, Lyra moved the reticule of the sight over Bon Bon’s head. If a proton round could kill a crystal pony, there would be almost nothing left of her above the torso. It would be quick and painless. Calcite would no doubt rush to her side, and Lyra would finish the job. It would be quick and painless, the death Calcite deserved- -but one too good for Bon Bon. Since Bon Bon was occupied washing dishes, Lyra would have more than enough time to get the perfect shot.

To Lyra’s left, a cat suddenly climbed onto the roof. It let out a questioning mew, and then approached Lyra, rubbing its face against her metal legs. It then moved out of Lyra’s peripheral vision. Lyra did not turn to look at it, but she saw the dim flash of green light and the crack of bones and flesh tearing apart and reassembling themselves.

“Do you really think you can stop me, changeling?” asked Lyra, her scope following Bon Bon’s head as the earth pony placed a pretty floral plate in the drying rack beside her sink.

“What makes you think I would want to do that?” Her voice was not her own; just hearing it, Lyra could tell that she had taken Jack’s form, even though she spoke with a cadence and tone that was unlike anything Jack herself would ever use. It seemed to drip with cruelty, as if this were nothing more than amusement for her.

“She was a spy. Cadence sent her to kill me. To pretend to love me, and then betray me. And every day, every single day I wept for having lost her…”

“I know.”

“Then you understand what I have to do.”

“Of course. Pull the trigger. She deserves it.”

Lyra felt her grip tighten on the rifle, and for a split second she nearly took the shot- -but something was wrong.

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted her dead?” The false-Jack leaned forward, lying down beside Lyra. She was smiling and her green eyes reflected the dim orange glow that surrounded Lyra’s rifle. “I’ll even make you a deal. Kill them all. Leave no witnesses, and I’ll make sure my children take care of the bodies. There were be no signs of a crime, no signs they even existed. There will be no prosecution, no legal consequences. So do it. Kill them.”

“Why?” asked Lyra. “Why would you do that? What do you have to gain?”

“Why? Well, in part because Sweetie Drops is a loose end. A relic of the War. Her head contains a great many secrets about both sides. And it would be better if those particular memories were splattered on her kitchen walls.”

“This isn’t a joke!” snapped Lyra. “You have no idea what she did to me!”

“Don’t I? I’m a changeling. Not just any changeling. I am Chrysalis, the last changeling queen that ever will be. I can taste your love, and the hatred. I can feel how many times you wept for her, how your life collapsed around you as you became fixated on that one defining failure. Only to learn that it was all a lie, that she never loved you, that she betrayed you and has been living the life you thought you would share with her without you.”

“I loved her! And she- -she did this- -how? How could she do that? If she had just told me, just asked me- -I would have quit the Questlords then and there at her command. But this…”

Chrysalis stood up and moved out of Lyra’s range of vision. “Of course she did. Because she’s a bad pony. So END HER.”

Lyra took a breath. She began to squeeze the trigger, feeling the internal mechanisms of the gun reacting to her touch.

“Of course,” said Chrysalis. “I can’t help but wonder what he would think…”

Lyra released the trigger, but held the reticule on Bon Bon’s head. “What?”

Chrysalis’s voice changed again. This time, it became far deeper- -and Lyra felt tears well in her eyes as she heard Fenok speaking to her.

“Lyra,” he said, his voice sounding on the verge of breaking down. “How could you? You murdered a pony in her own home!”

“I had to! What she did to me- -”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of justification? Did you even accomplish anything? Did killing her bring your body back, or bring back the love you thought you had? Did you even feel better after?” He took a breath. “Lyra, I don’t know you. I can’t even look at you anymore. I thought I loved you…but after this…Lyra…”

Lyra’s gun started to shake. She was losing heart and knew it; if she did not take the shot now, she never would. She began to pull the trigger.

As she did, Bon Bon suddenly moved, kneeling down. Lyra followed her, only to see a small eggshell colored filly jump into her forelegs and hug her. Another similar colored colt followed, and behind him one made of crystal. Calcite entered, looking somewhat exasperated, but then they started laughing together.

When she saw Bon Bon’s children, Lyra threw down the gun. There was no way she could fire. She stood up and faced Chrysalis, who had now assumed the form of a younger Jack.

“You knew,” she said. “You knew she had children.”

“Of course. I assumed you would kill them too. It would not be the first time you killed fillies and colts, Lyra.”

Lyra pointed the rifle at Chrysalis. “I should kill you instead. You know that, right?”

Chrysalis sighed. “I have a distributed nervous system and protoplasmic flesh. That primitive weapon would smart quite badly, but that’s about it. It would also be very, very messy.”

“I don’t mind making a mess.”

“Really? Is that any way to repay me?”

“For torturing me?! For trying to make me kill Bon Bon?!”

“For showing you what she actually meant to you. What was that emotion you actually felt for her, Lyra Heartstrings? That love, when did it die? When did it get replaced with guilt? I can taste it. The rot. What you felt for her? It wasn’t love. It was self-hatred.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? My own actions resulted in the genocide of nearly my entire species. I had over thirty billion children. Now I have less than fifty. If anyone can understand that kind of regret, it is me.”

“Don’t expect me to thank you.” Lyra looked back, and saw Bon Bon stick her head out of her kitchen window. She looked around, as if on some level she was aware of what had just nearly befallen her. Then she gently closed the shutters. Lyra watched, and then sighed.

“Come on,” she said, reluctantly gesturing toward Chrysalis and the edge of the fire escape that led to the roof. “Let’s go back. I don’t have anything to do here anymore. And I need to sleep. I need to sleep very, very badly.”