Author's Notes:

As noted in this blog post, 'Sunfall' has undergone substantial revisions to address reader criticisms. As such, I highly recommend re-reading the previous chapters or the blog's summary of changes to catch up with what's been changed.

After our talk in the dream realm, Luna told me that I would wake up in the hospital, at which point I would have an important meeting with those in charge of her special forces. Thus, as I open my eyes, I’m not surprised to find myself in a bed inside the medical wing. Green lights glow within alcoves set in the walls, letting me see as I sit up in bed, rubbing sleep from eyes.

“Ah, Silverspeak, you’re awake.”

I look over to find Silver Scalpel coming over. From the bags under his eyes and drooping eyelids, he’s been up all night.

“How do you feel?”

How are the condemned supposed to feel when they’re at death’s door? I never gave the matter much thought, but now I know: It feels like a clock is counting down, one that I can't stop.

I have no time to waste.

I move my limbs about, testing them. “Fine.”

“Good. This should hopefully keep things that way.” He takes a bag from a nearby counter and removes a syringe filled with a blue liquid. “This is a concoction I’ve made should help negate any effects from your tumor.”

I tilt my head to expose the jugular, flinching as Silver Scalpel injects his concoction.

“That will kill any pain and slow the growth ever so slightly. But I must warn you, Silverspeak, using magic negates its effectiveness. Doing so will accelerate your tumor’s growth and amplify any side effects.”

I slide out of bed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Silver Scalpel tosses the syringe into a locked trash can. “I will create additional syringes that you can carry with you, but it will take some time.”

Nodding, I rub my eyes again, trying to get rid of the remaining blurriness. “Doctor, my vision’s been getting fuzzy lately. Do you have anything I could use for that?”

“Yes, actually. I have some extra glasses stored around here somewhere, but need to find a pair that fits you.” He gestures to a nearby nurse. “In the meantime, you have a meeting to attend. I’ll get the glasses to you before you leave.”

As Silver Scalpel heads into a side room, the nurse comes to me with three guards in tow, all of whom escort me through the dimly-lit halls. Few are awake at this early hour, mostlythose walking about to cure insomnia or uneasy thoughts that refuse to let them sleep. They freeze on seeing me; Luna must have told everyone about what happened with me, but a single briefing won’t erase the desire to see me silenced.

I’m taken to the lift, which carries me down the shaft to a single, heavily guarded door. I'm led through and into a meeting room carved out of rock, where a large, round table sits under a plain, metal chandelier anchored to the jagged, rocky ceiling.

I blink, trying to sharpen my vision and make out who's at the other side of the room. There are three of them: one's an older pony in tactical gear, with a faded coat, greying mane, and sagging skin. Despite his age, he's surprisingly stocky and well-built for someone his age. A squint helps me recognize Green Wing, and the being beside her; despite my blurry vision, there's no mistaking someone that tall and colorful.

King Thorax walks to me. He’s changed since the last time I saw him so many years ago. His colors have faded, and his chitin carries faded scars, gouges, and holes from bullets and who knows what else, but age hasn’t dimmed his famed smile.

“Silverspeak,” he says warmly.

I nod, bowing respectfully. Best to follow protocol in the presence of a king.

“I know this must be awkward for you,” Thorax says, motioning for me to rise. “It is for me, too. Princess Luna told us about what happened to you, but it’s still–”

“Awkward to be in the presence of an enemy?”

Thorax nods. “But you’re not an enemy.” He puts a reassuring hoof on my shoulder. “You’re one of us now, and Luna says you want to help us find Celestia.”

I nod. How nice it is to be greeted by someone who isn't angry or resentful at me.

“Good. And as fate has it, we have a mission that can use your talents.” Thorax gestures towards the others with a wave of his foreleg. “You’ve already met Green Wing, and this is Onyx Shield, head of our special–”

“Onyx?!”

Onyx walks forward, a slight limp in his step. “Silverspeak. It’s good to see you again.” He offers a hoof for me to shake. “Looks like the years have been kinder to you than they have been to me.”

It’s a shock to see an old friend... well, old. But I don’t have the time or the luxury to gawk. He's here to help, and that's what counts, not his age. I shake his hoof, but mine drops under an unexpected weight.

“Implants,” Onyx explains. “Lost the original during the Crystal Empire fiasco.” He shakes his leg as if getting rid of cobwebs. “And the others in the years since.”

“Oh... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Gave me a new lease on life. Not the one I would have chosen, but there’s no use in crying about it now.”

“Onyx is the leader of our special forces,” Thorax continues. “If it wasn’t for his efforts, and those of his team, this war would have ended long ago, and not in our favor.”

Onyx groans at the unwanted recognition. “Don’t be so boastful.” Then, to Green Wing, "Green Wing? The map."

With a flash of her magic, Green Wing pulls down a map of Equestria. It’s covered in red circles, X’s, and lines connecting to various locations across our world.

“Much has happened since the siege of Canterlot,” Onyx explains. “I imagine Princess Luna already filled you in, so I won't bore you with the details.” Going to the map, he taps a blank spot in the western deserts. “We need to get to Iron Hoof. Our latest intelligence puts him here, at his command center.”

“His home base?"

A shake of the head. “Only for his operations on the continent. His main base is somewhere to the north.” Onyx taps the top of the map. “Problem is, we don’t know where the bucking thing is. He’s placed top-tier spells around the complex that make it impossible to find.” He taps the desert again. “If you're up for it, your mission is to take one of our transports to his base, pretend to surrender, meet up with Iron Hoof, and use your charm to find out where Celestia is.”

“And my wife,” I say.

“Yes, but remember that Celestia comes first. We find her, and this war is over that much quicker. After you find out where the princess is, use every means at your disposal to get out of the base. We’ll have a transport on standby to pick you up. If things get out of hand, we’ll have Spike present to provide backup.”

“Without any undue roughness, I hope.”

“He’s been told what happened to you,” Green Wing says. “He won’t attack you again.”

It’s a relief to hear that as I look the map over. “Sounds simple enough. I take it I'm going in alone?”

Onyx nods. “We're stretched thin, so you'll understand that we can't risk any of our agents.”

"Including changelings?"

"The facility's enchanted with anti-changeling magic. Makes sneaking in impossible."

“What about stealth suits?” I ask.

“We've lost them over the years. You’ll have to rely on old fashioned lies, deceit, and charm.”

“That hasn’t faded with age,” I assure him. “Now, how am I going to contact you when I get out?”

“We can’t have any radios on you because the fortresses’ security will search you when you arrive. Instead, we’ll implant a transmitter inside your body. You’ll be able to hear us talking to you, but no one else can.”

“Any weapons?”

Onyx shakes his head. “Anything you have on you will be confiscated.”

Alone, without any weapons or tools, and without the use of magic... It’s going to be dangerous, but I’m not doing this because it’s easy.

“Green Wing will accompany you down to the surface, but you'll be on your own from there." Onyx says. He walks to me, his eyes furrowed. “If Iron Hoof’s in a good mood, he’ll listen to what you have to say. If he’s in a bad mood, you’ll find yourself like all the others he’s taken prisoner: conscripted into his army with an implant in your brain. You’ll be a puppet on strings, aware of everything you’ll be forced to do, but unable to do a bucking thing about it.”

Such a thought would have terrified me a few days ago, but not now. Even if such a fate is to befall me, my life would still end before the horror became too great to endure.

“That won't be a problem,” I say.

The four of us, plus the guards, ride the lift back up the shaft, stopping below the temple. The hallway we enter is more metal than stone, with numerous pipes and tubes threading in and out of access ports. Heading through a series of thick doors, we emerge into a towering hangar filled with ships lining the scaffolding and walkways. There aren’t many; a quick count reveals twenty, each long past its useful lifespan and held together with components taken from other craft.

“You'll be taking a cargo skiff,” Onyx says. “They're not the fastest things around, or the most durable, but they'll get you to where you need to go."

Green Wing trots forward, looking over the berths and walkways. Irritated at what she doesn’t see, she peers over the walkway and down to a large pit of of scrap and junk.

“Gusty!”

Wait... Did she say-

An older pony emerges from the metal like a gopher leaving its burrow, the pockets of his dirty jumpsuit stuffed with tools. “What?!”

“Where’s that cargo skiff? It was supposed to be ready!”

“Hold your hooves, I’m still gettin’ her ready! Just need to find the last part she needs and–”

The pony freezes as his eyes turn to me. For a moment he stands there, gobsmacked. Then, throwing a bag over his shoulder, he scrambles to a lift, rides it up, and hurries towards us. He goes with the limp of a pony whose joints have all but worn out, but ignores the pain, his eyes wide.

“Can’t be... Silverspeak?”

I can’t help but smile. “Gusty?!”

The old pony grins. “Well, bless me be... my old boss has come back!” Dropping the bag, he rushes to me and wraps his forelegs around me, squeezing me as tight as he can. “Oh, I missed you, boss! Never believed for a second that you were yapping on about superiority and degenerates and inferior races and all that claptrap of your own free will!” He lets me go. “When I heard you were on base, I wanted to come up and see you. Really, I did. But I couldn’t–”

“Gusty,” Green Wing snaps. “The skiff!”

“Oh, pipe down! Haven’t seen this bloke in twenty five years! You can spare me, what, two minutes to catch up?” Taking his bag, Gusty limps down the walkway, gesturing for me to follow him. “I take it you’ve been told of our lovely situation here?”

I try to ignore his limping. “I’m afraid so.”

“You’re probably wondering what an old bird like me is doing here. Well, ordinarily there’d be no place for an old coot like me in a war. But this ain’t no ordinary war, and we need everyone we can get.” Gusty stops before an old, beat-up airship that would have been outdated long before the war began. “I’m too old to fly, but not too old to do repairs or tweak some things. One of the perks of being a pilot for so long: You know every type of aircraft inside and out.” Reaching into his bag, Gusty takes out a spare part and goes to work on an exposed engine. “So for the past ten odd years I’ve been fixing all the birds we have, trying to keep ‘em going when they should have gone to the junkheap.”

I chuckle. “You, too old to fly?”

“Father Time did his best to knock the life out of me,” Gusty says as he continues to work. I notice that his movements are slow, and his hooves shake, but he either doesn’t notice, or is pretending not to. “I flew for a little while, but had to give it up after a crash. Broke half the bones in my body. The higher ups figured I was a liability, and at that point I had to agree with 'em.”

I can’t see Gusty doing that. Just a few days ago he was talking about... Oh. That was decades ago.

“Still, could be worse. Could have ended up like Coin Counter.”

My gut tightens. “What do you mean?”

Gusty sighs. “Bloke was killed in the Crystal Empire. He was using some of his private ships to get everyone out, but his own got caught in the crossfire. Don't know if it was intentional or not, but the thing flew itself into the face of an arch-dragon and managed to kill it. I like to think he decided to go out with a bang.”

Coin Counter... gone? He was the oldest pony I knew, but to hear that he’s dead...

A sudden shake sends a wrench from Gusty's hoof to the floor. I pick it up and hand it back.

“Thanks. Still, he was lucky in a way. Kamikaze run’s a better way to go than having your body rust out. Even got a nice little statue of him in the temple upstairs. Dedicated to the one who gave his life to save hundreds and all that.”

Assuming I come back from this mission, I’ll have to go up to the temple and pay my respects. It’s the least I can do for the pony who helped (unintentionally) make my dream of becoming an alicorn come true, if only for a little while. We may have had our differences, but at least in the end, things worked out.

I hope that wherever he is, he’s at peace.

“Wouldn’t mind a statue myself,” Gusty says, grinning at the thought. “Ah, it’d be grand to have one. Preferably the size of a building. Gusty the incredible. Gusty the Savior. Gusty the-”

“Slowpoke who takes his sweet time getting ships repaired,” Green Wing snaps.

“You want this done fast, Green Wing, or you want it done right?”

“Both.”

“Well, it ain’t gonna happen.” Gusty turns to me as he twists his wrench, not pleased at what he’s about to say. “You hear about Beakbreaker?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “She never stopped believing in you. Not once did she think you were spewing all that claptrap of your own free will. And she still does. I’m sure of it. Is that what you’re doing? Headin’ off to save her?”

“Of course.”

He grins. “That’s the Silverspeak I know.” A twist of the wrench, and Gusty closes the engine’s cover. “There. Good as new. Or at least, as good as it’s going to get.”

“We have something else for you to install,” Onyx says. He walks over to us, pulling a small device out of his vest.

“Ah, a communicator. Won’t take a minute.” Taking the device, Gusty indicates for me to be still. I do so, and I’m rewarded with the uncomfortable sensation of my side being popped open. Even worse is feeling Gusty reaching inside and pushing tubes and equipment about.

“Don’t worry, Boss. Done this plenty of times with other cyborgs like yourselves.” Wiggling and pushing for another few seconds, Gusty pulls his legs out and slaps the panel closed. “There we go. Good as new!”

“Then you’d best be off,” Thorax says. “The sooner we get this done-”

“The sooner we can all kick back and relax,” Gusty says. “I hear that.”

“Wait!”

We all turn as another pony hurries in. It’s Silver Scalpel, and he’s carrying a small case with him. “Oh, thank goodness! I was hoping I’d catch you before you leave, Silverspeak.” He rummages in his case and pulls out a pair of glasses. “Here. These should work.”

Taking the glasses, I slide them onto my snout. The effect is immediate, for everything’s now sharp and clear again. A relief, to be sure, but another sign of my age: needing to wear glasses to compensate for eyes that are slowly failing.

“King Thorax, could you ensure these glasses don’t fall off my patient?”

Nodding, Thorax casts a spell. The frames of the glasses glow briefly. “Now they won’t come off unless you or someone physically yanks them off,” Thorax says.

I shake my head. The glasses easily stay in place. “Thank you both.”

“It’s nothing,” Silver Scalpel says. “In fact, I think you’ll like these pair: They’re one of your wife’s extras.”

They are? I take another look at them and... oh my. He's right. They look just like hers-

“No disrespect, Silverspeak, but you need to get going,” Onyx says.

Oh yes. He’s right. Nodding, I head to the skiff and climb into the driver’s compartment. Green Wing’s quick to get into the seat beside me and power everything up.

“Hey, Boss?”

I look out the window. “Yes, Gusty?”

He gives me a grin. “It’s good to have ya back.”

I smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“No more chitchat,” Green Wing says. “Time to go.”

Closing the window, I turn to my companion as she flicks switches into the on position. “You ever fly anything like this before?” she asks.

“Once,” I say. “A zeppelin. But most of that was just spinning the steering wheel and hitting whatever buttons I could.”

Green Wing can’t tell if I’m joking or not. “Okay... how about a car?”

I indicate my back. “Never needed one. But I did try one once for a charity event.”

“What’d you do?”

“Drive around a racetrack a few times.”

My companion’s silent for several long moments. “I can work with that.” She points to the dashboard. “This ship follows the same basic ideas: accelerator, brake, gears, and the like. These tugs were designed to be as idiot-proof as possible.” She indicates my control panel. “Give it a try. Slowly.”

My memory of that charity drive is fuzzy, but I remember the basics. Taking the steering wheel, I grab a lever and shift us in the drive position. The gentlest of taps on the accelerator sends us over the hanger’s scrap pile.

“Good,” Green Wing says, her calm voice betrayed by how tightly she’s gripping her seat. “Now, turn us to face the wall.”

There’s nothing there, not even a door, but I do as she says.

Below us, Thorax heads to a nearby control panel and taps some buttons. As he does, a glowing circle appears before us, growing until it’s covering the wall and shimmering with magical energy.

“A portal,” Green Wing says. “It’ll take us to the planet’s surface.” She points at it. “Take us through. Slowly, please.”

I oblige, gently tapping the accelerator. The engines hum as we glide through. There’s a brief moment of nausea, but then it’s gone, and we’re through. The dark and colorless confines of the hanger have vanished, replaced by a grey sky and the peaks of jagged mountains thrusting upwards like enormous fingers bursting from the earth.

“Well, you didn’t crash,” Green Wing sighs. “That’s a start.”

I look around. “Where are we?”

Green Wing checks her instruments. “Right where we need to be.” She taps the compass. “Head south. Medium speed.”

I take us through the mountains, and in minutes we’re past the peaks, flying over a desert lined with deep gouge marks, as if raked by a giant hoe.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Where Klugetown used to be.” Green Wing points to the horizon. “Iron Hoof’s fortress is at the eastern edge of the continent, past the Sea of Clouds.” She glances back, and then right and left, as if searching for something. Or perhaps making sure there’s nothing out there.

“Set us down.”

“Right... How do I do that?”

Green Wing indicates a nearby lever. I pull it towards me as gently as I can, and the tug heads down. We hit the sand a little harder than we should, judging by how my partner’s hooves have turned white. To her credit, she doesn’t berate me as she unbuckles her harness.

“I need to get off here.” Opening her door, Green Wing jumps out into the hot, dry air. “I’ll rendezvous with Spike, and we’ll get as close as we can to the fortress.” She taps her neck. “Try the communicator.”

“How do I do that?”

“Tighten the muscles in your chest. You’ll feel it.”

Green Wing walks out of sight, and I do what she said. There’s something small within my chest; a flex, and I feel it click.

“You receiving me?”

“Uhm... Yes. Yes, I do.” It’s startling to hear Green Wing’s voice; it’s almost like she’s right next to me.

“Good. Glad to know Gusty’s skills haven’t gone soft. Flex again to turn it off.”

I do so, and silence returns. So does Green Wing, who heads to the copilot’s door. “Fly south, but go slow. You don’t want to crash, or make the fortress think you’re a suicide bomber. They’ll send some fighters to intercept you. Do what they say, tell them who you are, and that you want to see Iron Hoof. And for the love of Celestia, don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.”

“You’d better: Now, they're going to ask you why you're flying to them. Your backstory is that you were fleeing before Luna and the Resistance could execute you.”

“Makes sense.”

“It’s going to look suspicious if you managed to get away without injury.”

It takes a moment for what she’s saying to sink in.

With a sigh, I get out of the ship and circle around the cockpit. “Very well... just don’t hit too-”

My head snaps back as Green Wing hits me. A second hit sends pain down my cheek, and I can’t help but cry out as she rams a hoof into her belly. When the pain subsides, I crack my eyes open to find a trickle of blood dribbling down my forehead. The right side of my face is numb, and it hurts to breathe.

“That should do it,” Green Wing says. From the way she talks, she didn’t get any pleasure out of hitting me. “Now get going.”

The pain’s still there as I get onboard, but I can endure it if it helps my cover story.

Waving to Green Wing, I take off, keep my eye on the compass as I fly into the unknown.

I fly over the desert wastes for an hour, keeping an eye on the lifeless skies around me. There’s no aircraft in sight, or birds flying in the sky. The ground below is littered with rusted husks of abandoned machines and weapons of war, all broken and intertwined, as if smashed together from a long-ago cataclysm.

I continue on for another hour, flying over the endless wreckage and the rocky, barren earth.

Am I going the wrong way? I can’t be; the compass hasn’t moved since Green Wing adjusted it. Was she mistaken about where we were? Perhaps she–

“Unidentified aircraft, you are entering restricted airspace. Identify yourself immediately.”

I jump at the voice coming from the radio, yanking the microphone from the control panel. “This is Silverspeak, emissary of Iron Hoof!" I say, making my tone frantic and panicky. "I’ve escaped from Resistance custody and am coming in with a stolen cargo tug!”

Silence.

Do they believe me?

Six forms emerge from the clouds as I release the button. Fighter craft, and they’re quick to swerve into position around me, gun turrets facing me.

I hope no one inside those cockpits can see the sweat trickling down my forehead. Still, at least they haven’t fired. I just need to play along, do what they say, and everything will turn out alright.

“We will escort you in, Silverspeak," the radio voice says. "If you attempt to flee or attack, you will be shot down.”

“Acknowledged.”

For another hour, we continue on. I spend most of that time breathing as deeply as I can, nervously eyeing the guns and telling myself that they won't fire if I do as I'm told.

We fly into a thick bank of clouds, but only for a moment; they give way, revealing Equestria’s southern coast and the sea beyond. It’s an impressive sight, one that would be beautiful if not for the enormous fortress sprawling across the shoreline, layer after layer of walls enclosing another concrete monolith and numerous smaller ones nestled at its base.

So this is Iron Hoof’s fortress... It’s scale is impressive, but there's no color, no warmth, no gardens, parks, or consideration for the comfort of those unfortunate to live within those walls.

“Silverspeak,” the voice over the radio says. “Surrender manual control of your craft. If you do not comply, you will be shot down.”

“Understood.” I take my hooves off the steering wheel and the accelerator. Unseen forces take hold of the tug and bring it towards some hangar doors in the monolith. There are many such doors, all of which are open as airships fly out, each carrying enormous containers of cargo beneath their bellies.

The doors before me swing open like the jaws of some mighty beast as the tug and my escorts fly inside, passing row upon row of state-of-the-art fighters and bombers nestled within the wall, their guns and weapons poised to rip targets to shreds. So too, are the guns held by the welcoming party. There’s twenty of them, all soldiers, and they don’t look friendly.

I breathe deep as the tug drops down onto the hangar floor. I breathe deeper as the guards surround it.

“Get out of the tug!” one of the guards calls out. He’s not going to wait long for a reply, so I’m quick to open the door and step onto the hangar floor, keeping my hooves up.

“On the floor!”

I lie down. The moment my chin touches metal, two unicorns come over and scan me with magic, while a third shoves an inhibitor ring onto my horn.

“He’s clean,” the first unicorn says.

The head guard comes up, the barrel of his gun only inches from my snout. “What’s your purpose here?”

This guard and his fellows probably suspect I’m up to no good. If I’m going to get through this, I need an edge. “My name is Silverspeak,” I say, turning on my charm. “I’ve escaped from the Resistance, and I’m here to see Iron Hoof.”

The effect, as I had hoped, is immediate. “Very well. Follow us.”

None of the other guards try to stop me as I stand and follow their leader from the hanger.

So far, so good.

I’m led through the building, going through numerous checkpoints and security scans. We reach an elevator guarded by a dozen soldiers in heavy-duty white armor, dual machine guns strapped to their sides via a shock-absorbing battle saddle. I’m scanned multiple times by each of them, both with hoof-held instruments and magic. This elevator must lead to Iron Hoof, and his guards are taking no chances when it comes to looking for bombs, magical enchantments, or any of the other myriad ways of assassinating someone.

I stay still, not moving a muscle. Need to stay calm. Don’t give anyone an excuse to shoot me.

The last guard completes a scan and stands back. Two of his fellows go to the elevator and enter a code, causing the doors to slide open. My escorts bring me inside, and we start up.

I focus on my breathing, trying to keep myself calm. It’s not easy, for I’m about to face the pony who’s kept me as a slave for twenty five years, ruined Equestria, and brought untold misery to millions. I won’t lose my temper and lash out at him, of that I’m sure. But how am I going to deal with him? He’s no doubt expecting me to be confrontational, to use my charm to force him to reveal everything he knows about Beakbreaker, Celestia, and the Bearers. But that won’t work. Dictators, despots, and sociopaths don’t bend to the will of others. If I’m going to have any chance of coming out of this conversation with the information I require, I need to do something Iron Hoof won’t expect.

What would Celestia do if she were here? Assuming she wouldn't obliterate Iron Hoof on sight, she'd probably want to understand her enemy, to know why he wants to subjugate all those he deems inferior to himself. Yes... that’s what I should do.

If you understand your enemy, you know how to defeat them.

The elevator stops. The doors slide open with a quiet hiss, revealing a hallway lined with statues of the pony race: earth, pegasi, unicorn, and alicorn, each upon pedestals tucked into the walls. Sunlight filters through a heavily-barred and enchanted window above us as my escorts guide me through a set of double doors and into a penthouse bereft of decoration, built from the same concrete as the Monolith itself. Only great chunks of black stone jutting from the walls give contrast to the endless grey.

The guards stop. I look around. Where’s the occupant of this cheerless place?

Hoofsteps break the silence.

I look up to see Iron Hoof coming down a staircase, his leather uniform creaking as he steps off. Now in his mid fifties, his face is as unreadable as it was decades ago.

He looks me over.

So do I.

“Guards,” Iron Hoof says. “Leave us.”

My escorts leave the room without a word, shutting the doors behind them, the quiet thump echoing through the penthouse.

Going to a nearby desk, Iron Hoof taps a button. Water pours from a small nozzle into two waiting glass. Taking them, Iron Hoof gestures for me to follow him. I do so as he leads me into a sparse living room. The only furniture here is two black couches sitting across from one another, faintly illuminated by light coming through a curtained window.

Taking a seat, Iron Hoof studies me as I sit across from him, as if trying to look into my soul. “You have many questions,” he says. “So do I: Is the pony who sits before me friend or foe?”

I say nothing.

“I imagine the Resistance told you what I’ve done to you.”

I nod.

“Then tell me why you came back.”

“The Resistance were going to execute me,” I say. "With them, I faced death. Here, I don't."

Iron Hoof studies me.

“I imagine you were told many things about me. That I’m a monster. A despot. A dictator who thinks only of himself.”

“I was,” I say.

Water flows from Iron Hoof’s glass as he takes a sip. “The Resistance thinks I'm a monster worse than Tirek, Chrysalis, The Storm King, and so many others. But I am not. Will you grant me the favor of hearing my words before passing judgement?”

Iron Hoof’s trying to win me over to his side with a speech he’s no doubt used to sway others to his cause. If he thinks he can persuade me, he’s deluding himself. But if he bares his soul, then perhaps I can find something I can use to my advantage.

I nod.

Iron Hoof swirls his water like a fine wine. “You want to believe that everything about me is black and white, that I am some villain and that the Resistance are the valiant heroes fighting to save the day. But life is never clear-cut, Silverspeak. What is truth to one is lies to another. To my enemies, I am a brute who tears everything apart for his own gain. But to my followers, I am a blacksmith. I’m forging a world from the remnants of the old, transforming something weak and corrupt into something refined and pure.”

“Evil does love to justify cruelty,” I point out. It’s a risk to insult Iron Hoof, but I need to test him. See how he reacts.

“Does it? Does evil not also deal in lies? You say you fled the Resistance because they were going to end your life. Tell me, then, why did one of my spies in the wastes see a changeling giving you those cuts and bruises before you flew here?”

I can’t stop myself from shuddering, and my composure cracks for a split-second.

“I do not blame you for lying,” Iron Hoof says. “If anything, you are to be commended for having the courage to come here at considerable risk to yourself. And yet, I don’t believe you’re here to assassinate me.” Iron Hoof’s quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “You came here for your wife, didn’t you?”

Disconcerting as it is, there’s no point in keeping up this charade. I may have lost the element of surprise, but Iron Hoof isn’t reacting as I thought he would. Tyrants tolerate no attempts on their lives, and yet Iron Hoof’s calm. He’s probably planning something, or perhaps has triggered a hidden panic button, but for now I'll play along.

“Yes,” I admit. “I did.”

“Then you will be pleased to know that she’s alive.”

She is?! Oh thank Celestia, I... No. Don’t get giddy. I can’t give Iron Hoof anything to work with.

“But there’s more to your visit than you’re letting on, Silverspeak. If you are hoping to find your wife, then you will not take any risks that could lead to her death. Ergo, you are here to learn something; the location of the Bearers, perhaps. Or Princess Celestia.”

I nod.

“I regret to say that your efforts are in vain. They are not here, and I will not tell you where they are, or even if they are alive.”

Blast it all… I can’t even tell if Iron Hoof is lying. Emotionless he may be, but he’s an expert at controlling his body language and tone of voice.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter. The world to come has no place for them.”

“Millions would beg to differ.”

Iron Hoof takes another sip from his glass. “Everything ends, Silverspeak. Every country, every leader, every individual, no matter how strong, inevitably falls. Equestria is no exception. Our golden age ended decades ago, and you were the one who brought it to an end.”

“Excuse me?”

“The technology you helped create started a new era, one of technology, of weapons and tools that allowed others to invade our homeland and nearly wipe us out. In ages past such an invasion was impossible. Armies could invade, yes, but they could not control our bodies or wield guns instead of swords and halberds.”

“So you’re blaming me for what happened?”

“No,” Iron Hoof says. “Such a technological advance was bound to happen. You were the match that lit the fuse, and in the aftermath we had to change with the times.”

“By enslaving everyone who wasn’t a pony?”

“Yes.”

The ease with which he admits such a thing chills me.

“Dragons, Griffons, changelings, hippogriffs... they are not us, Silverspeak. They had seen how successful we were, and jealously would inevitably take root. Jealousy would make them try to take what was not rightfully theirs.”

“That’s absurd.” I say. “We haven’t had a war with any of them in centuries.”

“Peace is always temporary. All nations are only interested in themselves, Silverspeak; alliances are forged to to keep competitors at bay until one side is stronger than the other. Do you really think Equestria promotes friendship out of altruism? We only did so to protect ourselves.”

“And that justifies war? Enslavement?”

“If one war can prevent a dozen more, it must be waged.”

“The civilized fight only when they’re attacked,” I say. “Only the cowardly, the primitive, and the paranoid see enemies where none exist.”

Iron Hoof’s face softens. It’s almost imperceptible, but it’s there. “Is that something the princesses told you?”

“It’s logic,” I say it stronger than before. I have an edge, however temporary, and I need to push it. “Even a child learns such things.”

My words affect Iron Hoof, but not the way I expect. He’s softening, and for the first time since I saw him all those years ago, he shows an emotion.

Sympathy.

“I was once like you, Silverspeak. Naive. Idealistic. Believing what the princesses taught me. But then I learned that all their words were lies.”

He takes another sip.

“Many years ago, I was a young pony from a small town on Equestria’s most distant border. It was little more than an outpost. Everyone there was poor, my family included, but what we lacked in money we made up for in love and compassion. All of us in looked out for one another. I was taught that nothing was more important than helping each other, to hurt no one. I lived by that code. I tried to become friends with everyone who came to our village... but all that changed when the changelings attacked.”

Changelings? Is he talking about Chrysalis’ second war?

“When word came that the changelings were attacking all of Equestria, I joined the armed forces to protect my family and my neighbors. I went on every mission given to me, fought harder than my fellows, and did everything I could to save our country.”

Reaching up, Iron Hoof parts his mane, revealing a faded scar upon his forehead.

“I was there the day the arch-dragon attacked Canterlot. I was forced to stand still as it incinerated my comrades, to watch as flesh was melted off bone, and to listen to them scream. And then I was burned: hair, hide, and skin.”

My host goes silent at the memory.

“I barely survived. The best surgeons, doctors, and magic casters could only partially heal my body, but I didn’t care. I would gladly be a cripple if my family was safe... But then word came to me that my town had been attacked again. Everyone had been taken... my family among them.”

Iron Hoof is a hardened pony. I can tell he’s the kind who buries his emotions deeply, refusing to let them affect him. But his defenses are cracking. Long-buried grief is seeping through.

“I had never known true fear until that day. I joined every search party, went through every hive, and did everything I could to find them. And then I did... They had been drained. They were were lifeless husks.”

For the longest moment Iron Hoof says nothing, oblivious to my presence.

“I wanted to die. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without them... But I didn’t. I gave myself a mission: to ensure that no one would ever go through what I suffered. That no pony family would ever be torn apart by parasites and degenerates.

“I stayed with the armed forces. I worked to protect our country. I watched as other nations armed themselves. I was there for secret negotiations, working to pacify our jealous neighbors and those who wanted everything we had. And then I realized that we could never turn our enemies into friends. No matter how long we had allied with them, they would inevitably turn against us. I knew we had to strike first, and ensure that we would rule, and rule alone.”

Standing, Iron Hoof walks to the fireplace beside the sofas. “I’m not enslaving the world, Silverspeak. I’m saving it. For our kind. For Equestria.”

I had expected to meet a lunatic here today, a fanatic who was about purity of blood, race, or some other fringe belief. I had expected to find someone beyond the reach of reason, enslaved to his own maniac desires, little more than a thug in a uniform.

I didn’t expect this.

It would be so easy to mock Iron Hoof, to scorn him and call him a pathetic, warmongering paranoid lunatic... but heaven help me, I can’t hate him. I can’t be furious with him. I know where he’s been.

I know what it’s like to have your family taken from you.

“I’m sorry for what you went through, Iron Hoof. But that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. It’s not right that-”

“Not right?” He glares at me. “Tell me, Silverspeak, is it right that my family died not as free ponies, but as food? Is it right that we imprison so many despots and evil beings instead of eliminating them? If Celestia and Luna had exterminated the changelings when they first showed themselves, my family would still be alive. Would yours?”

I refuse to answer. I won’t be pulled into an argument.

“Tell me, what’s fair? Ensuring that all ponies everywhere are never threatened by the barbarians at our gates, or sitting aside and letting our enemies scheme, plot, and backstab us while we hold tea parties?”

“Genocide is never justified,” I say.

“Genocide? No, Silverspeak. I am not murdering our foes. I do not chose their fate. Black Fang does.”

Black Fang?

“Oh? The Resistance hasn’t told you? Black Fang is the leader of the Arch-dragons. The oldest and most powerful of their kind, even older than Celestia. One of his emissaries came to me with an offer years ago: In return for their help in wiping out our enemies, the dragons would take half of our territory to begin their empire anew. They would have crafted a mighty realm... if there were any of them left.”

My curiosity overwhelms me. “You killed them.”

“I had planned to, yes. But Celestia took care of them for me.” Iron Hoof takes another sip and puts his empty glass on the mantle. “But that’s all in the past. What interests me now is the future.”

Leaving the fireplace, Iron Hoof goes to the window and pulls the curtains aside, revealing a vista of the fortress below us, and the wastes beyond. Dozens, if not hundreds of airships fly into the sky, each carrying enormous cargo containers beneath their hulls.

“In one week, Silverspeak, this war will end. Black Fang has crafted a plan that will destroy the Resistance once and for all. It’s quite drastic, and more destructive than I’d like, but the results will be undeniable.”

“And what plan is that?”

Iron Hoof shakes his head. “Really, Silverspeak? Do you expect me to tell you so you can return to the Resistance and inform them? Even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. The Resistance is already dead; do you really believe that a ragtag group of rebels with outdated relics could defeat an empire spanning an entire world?”

“A germ can bring down even the mightiest of dragons,” I say.

Iron Hoof pauses, then continues. “By this time next week, the Resistance will be defeated. The loss of life will be catastrophic, but it doesn’t need to be.” He turns to me. “If you help me, no one has to die.”

“And how many have died already?” I ask. “How many have lost their lives because of you?”

“Too many,” Iron Hoof says as he walks around the sofa, keeping it between me and him. “I gain nothing from the death of even a single pony, even those who oppose me. If you tell me where the Resistance is hiding, I will show them mercy. They will be pardoned and forgiven, and we will all share in building a new world.”

Others would find Iron Hoof’s offer to be too good to pass up. A chance to end the war here and now, without anyone else having to die. I must admit that a part of me wants to accept... But I won’t. Every leader who creates an empire built on conquest and blood inevitably wants more and more control until even those who swear loyalty are enslaved.

“No,” I say.

Iron Hoof stops. “I thought you’d be delighted to end this war.”

I stand, matching Iron Hoof's gaze. “I was once like you, Iron Hoof. I wanted what I believed was mine, and at any cost. But I know where that leads." I gesture to my wings and horn. "I know the suffering that these cost, and if I could go back and stop myself to save everyone from the misery I caused, I would.”

Iron Hoof’s eyes narrow in disgust. “Because you are weak.”

“And wiser than you. If you continue down this path, you will regret it forever. When you lie at death’s door, when you see the pain you have caused, you will give anything to go back and change it, but by then it will be too late.”

Silence fills the room as Iron Hoof studies me, my words heavy in his mind.

“But you haven’t reached that point," I say. "You can still make things right. The damage you’ve wrought can be repaired. Those you’ve enslaved can be freed.”

I walk towards Iron Hoof. He stands his ground.

I offer my hoof.

“The princesses are merciful. They saw what I had done and gave me another chance. They even gave Mangus Bluehorn a second chance. If you turn from this path, they will do the same to you.”

Iron Hoof looks to my hoof.

I say nothing more. I can’t risk saying something I shouldn’t.

The minutes pass, and Iron hoof doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak.

Did I get through to him?

“You truly have a silver tongue,” Iron Hoof says at last, his face unchanged. “But I will not turn from my path. Not now, and not when my dream is so close to becoming a reality.”

He snaps his hooves. In an instant, the doors swing open as six guards hurry inside.

“You were most useful in building my empire, Silverspeak. And you will help bring about utopia.”

The guards quickly surround me.

“I’ll let you consider my words overnight. I trust you’ll see reason. If you don’t, you will serve me whether you want to or not.”

I should rush Iron Hoof, grab him, and teleport him to the moon. But the guards surrounding me are packed in too tightly; I have no choice but to go with them as they march out.

The guards lead me down the hallway and into another penthouse, one as sparse and empty as Iron Hoof’s, but without any windows. When I’m inside, the guards leave, and the door locks behind them.

Glancing around, aware that there’s no doubt monitoring and recording devices or spells surrounding me, I take a seat in an uncomfortable chair and activate the radio inside me. “Green Wing, you there?”

Her voice is as clear as if she were right beside me. “Yes. Are you all right?”

I keep my voice as low as I can. “A spy saw the two of us land, and now I’m in a cell.”

“Buck... Are you hurt?”

“No. But I do have some information: Iron Hoof’s working in league with the leader of the Arch-dragons, someone who goes by the name, ‘Black Fang.’”

“They have a leader?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No... Luna’s not going to be happy about this.”

“I’m afraid it gets worse. The dragon’s got something big planned. I don’t know what it is, but Iron Hoof said it would end the war and wipe out the Resistance by this time next week.”

I can almost see Green Wing taking it all in. “Alright, I’ll pass the info on to Onyx and the others. Did you find out anything about Celestia?”

“Only that she apparently took care of all the Arch-dragons.”

“Really? Well, that explains why we haven’t seen any since she vanished. Do you know if she’s alive?”

“My host didn’t say.”

“And the Bearers?”

“The same.”

A long silence. “Alright... we’ll deal with that later. What’s your situation?”

“Iron Hoof’s given me a day to think about rejoining his group. If I say no... Well, he’s probably going to brainwash me again and make sure I never wake up.”

“No. I was hoping you'd have some ideas.”

"Give me a few hours and I’ll see what I can come up with.”

The line goes dead, and everything is silent once again.

With no windows, clocks, and lights that constantly stay on, I don’t know how long I stay in the room. It gives me plenty of time to think, and to go over everything Iron Hoof said. I don’t want to believe it, but he’s probably right in saying that the Resistance is doomed. From what both Luna and Thorax said, their situation is desperate, and against an empire that spans our world, they can only hold out for so long. Rag-tag resistances always triumph in comic books and movies, but this is real life, and there are no guarantees of a happy ending.

Truth be told, after seeing what our world is like, I’m not sure we can even have a happy ending anymore.

No. No, I can’t think about that. If Celestia is alive, there’s still hope, both for Equestria and for me. And Beakbreaker’s still alive; Iron Hoof wasn’t deceiving me there. And as long as she’s alive, I can still find her. That’s reason enough not to give up yet.

Still, I can’t help but feel the familiar pangs of regret. If I had gotten through to Iron Hoof, if I had made him reconsider his path, all that misery could have been avoided...

The radio beeps. “Silverspeak, it’s Green Wing. I’ve just finished talking with Onyx and Thorax, and... well, We’re still working on a rescue plan.”

“You mean you don’t know how you can rescue me.”

Silence.

“What about Spike?”

“Dragons are powerful, Silverspeak, but not invincible. He wouldn’t get far inside a fortress before getting cut down. Look, we’ll keep trying to figure out something.”

I glance at the door. “You don’t have to. If you don’t hear back from me in ten minutes, it probably didn’t work.”

“What are you–”

Turning the radio off, I head to the door. Iron Hoof, well aware of my talent, would no doubt assign some of his strongest-willed guards to keep watch. It’s what I’d do if I were in his position. But there’s one thing Iron Hoof doesn’t know: With my wife’s life at risk, my will to save her turbo-charges my charm.

I knock at the door and step back.

A voice comes through the speaker. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about my talk with Iron Hoof, and have made the decision to join him,” I say. “I’d like to inform him myself.”

The door opens and the guards come in, quickly forming a circle around me. They start to march, and I make my move.

“You will all put down your guns,” I say.

They stop, but their guns remain firmly in hoof.

“Be quiet-”

“You will put them down, or I will smash them into your skulls and tear your heads off,” I seethe, my skin tingling from goosebumps. My charm... it’s never been this strong before.

The guards hesitate.

“You are all intelligent ponies,” I say, deciding to try a softer approach. “You know about the suffering your master is inflicting. If you continue to support him, you will one day die knowing that you enabled a power-hungry despot to enslave millions. He will be worse than Discord, Chrysalis, the Storm King, Tirek, and every other would-be conqueror in history. But if help me, you can prevent that.” I narrow my gaze. “Will you?”

A long minute passes.

One guard puts down his gun. Then another, and then the third, the fourth, and the fifth.

The last guard grips his gun.

“The rest of you, please stop him.”

A shot from a taser, and the sixth guard goes down.

“Thank you.” I turn towards the closest guard. “Is my wife, Beakbreaker, in this fortress?”

The guard shakes his head. “Iron Hoof shipped her out somewhere a month ago.”

“Where did she go?”

“We weren’t told.”

Buck... “What about Princess Celestia? The Bearers? Are they kept here?”

“No. And we don’t know where they are, either.”

“But they’re alive?”

“Yes.”

I nod. “Then we need to find them. Now, how can we get out of here?”

“We can commandeer one of the cargo transports,” another guard says.

“Excellent.” I’m about to head for the door, but stop. “Are there any other prisoners here? Ponies Iron Hoof plans to conscript into his army?”

“There are a hundred prisoners in the dungeons, including one in high security.”

I can’t leave those prisoners here, not after knowing what’s going to happen to them. “Is there any way to get them out?”

“There’s a train used to ferry supplies and prisoners in and out of the fortress.”

I ponder my options. “What can carry more prisoners? The train, or a cargo transport?”

“The train,” the closest guard says.

“Then we’ll take it.” I indicate for the guards to get their guns. As they do so, I activate my communicator. “Green Wing?”

“Did your plan work?”

I smile. “Perfectly. I’m breaking out of here, but I’ll need some assistance; I’m bring about a hundred prisoners with me, and we need a quick way to–”

“Wait, hold on: Did you say, a hundred prisoners?”

“That’s correct.”

“Silverspeak, you can’t–”

“I’m not leaving them. Plus, one of them is apparently a VIP. He or she might know where Princess Celestia is.”

There’s a long silence on the other end. “I’m going to regret this, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Thank you.” I turn my attention back to the guards, keeping my charm at maximum. “You four will escort me to the dungeons.” Then, to the fifth, “You will prepare the train for departure. Eliminate anyone who could stop us, but non-lethally. We don’t want to kill anyone. Understood?”

All of them nod.

“Good.” I give them a warm smile. “Celestia will be proud of what you’re doing today.” I head to the door, which one of the guards opens. Once we’re outside, the fifth pony hurries off down the hall, and the rest surround me and head the other way. I keep up, hoping we can finish this quickly; it won’t be long before my absence is noticed, but with any luck we’ll be out of here before that happens.

And, if my luck holds, then this VIP prisoner, whoever he or she is, might know where to find the ones who can save Equestria.