The danger has passed. I should stop shaking, but the full impact of what happened is hitting me hard. I came within a heartbeat of dying. Had a few things gone differently, if the slightest mistake had been made, me and everyone else would all be dead.

Dead... Wait! The tumor!

I struggle to yank out one of Silver Scalpel’s syringes. It’s hard to hold onto it, but I manage to inject myself. Oh please, don’t let it be too late. I should have done this after casting those spells, but I wasn’t thinking straight. Curse me, I couldn’t take thirty seconds to inject myself!

There. The syringe is empty. The drug’s in my system, and it’ll slow the tumor. It’s not so potent that it’ll grow large enough to kill me in less than an hour. No tumor can grow that fast. I’m still safe.

Aren’t I?

No. No, don’t think like that, Silverspeak. Those thoughts won’t help you. What’s done is done. You were too focused on staying alive and trying to escape when you cast that spell. No one would blame me for forgetting to inject myself. There’s no point in panicking and fearing what may happen.

I look to my fellow passengers. Like me, they’re shaking. Whether from excitement or shock, I can’t tell. Even Chrysalis has tremors.

Inside the cockpit, the pilot works the buttons on his console. A small vortex of energy appears before us, and then grows larger as we pass through it. A momentary queasiness washes over, but then it passes as we emerge into the hangar of the Resistance’s moon base.

With the ease of someone who’s done this hundreds of times, the pilot moves the ship into one of the larger docking bays. When clamps are attached and the ship secured, the exit hatch slides open, and the boarding ramp unfurls, touching down on the walkway beyond.

Standing, I walk off the ship and back onto solid ground. Oh Celestia... I never knew it would feel so satisfying to stand on something so wonderfully still and strong.

A cry catches my attention, and I spin before realizing that it’s not a cry of despair, but of joy. The hangar is filled with ponies and beings of other species, probably gathered here at learning that prisoners have been liberated from Iron Hoof’s fortress. One of those prisoners has wrapped her hooves around a stallion and a young child.

More cries fill the air as more ponies emerge from the airship, running to their loved ones.

“I’ll admit it-”

I turn. Onyx’s walking up to me, nodding in admiration.

“-I didn’t think you could pull it off. But fate seems to have smiled on you.” He takes my hoof and shakes it. “Well done.”

Perhaps it’s fatigue or the last residue of the shock, but all I can manage is a grateful nod.

Onyx lowers his hoof. “I know you want to rest and recover, but no one ever managed to infiltrate Iron Hoof’s southern fortress and escape. This should wait for a debriefing, but did you find anything that could help us?”

Oh no... how do I tell him that-

“Look!”

I turn at the terrified shout, and see Queen Chrysalis atop the ramp, caught trying to sneak off unnoticed, and now every security guard in sight raises their weapons.

“No!” I run to the ramp and throw myself before Chrysalis. “Don’t shoot!”

“Hold your fire!” Onyx shouts. “Silverspeak, get out of the way!”

I shake my head as fast as I can. “Onyx, listen, she-”

“Silverspeak!” Onyx yells as loudly as he can. “Get out of the way!”

“She knows where Celestia and the Bearers are!”

Onyx freezes in place.

“She knows where Celestia is,” I repeat, feeling my artificial heart hammering against metal ribs. “If she dies, then they die!”

The guards look to each other, unsure whether to fire or hold their ground. It may have been decades since Chrysalis’ last attack against Canterlot, but no one has forgotten it, nor are they in a forgiving mood.

“You’re sure of this?” Onyx growls.

I nod.

The seconds pass, each one longer than the last.

Onyx looks to Chrysalis, then myself. He doesn’t want to relinquish the chance of eliminating Chrysalis once and for all, but grits his teeth and lets out a long hiss. “Very well. But she stays under guard until Luna says otherwise.”

Chrysalis starts to yell, enraged at the prospect of being treated like a criminal, but realizes the value of not insulting her hosts, and stays silent.

Glancing back to make sure she won’t do something stupid, I head down the ramp and step away. Onyx nods to four guards, who surround Chrysalis, their weapons drawn. She flinches, but doesn’t lash out.

“Take her to the conference room,” Onyx tells the guards. “Don’t let her out of your sight.” Then, to another guard, “Come with me. We need to inform Luna of what’s happened.”

Onyx rushes from the hanger. The guards follow after him, escorting Chrysalis past the stunned resistance members, prisoners, and their families. She refuses to return their gaze, defiantly looking straight ahead.

I walk besides the guards. Not to give Chrysalis emotional support, but to let her know I haven’t forgotten our arrangement.

I hope she keeps her end of it.

The trip down to the conference room takes five minutes. We would ordinarily get there in half the time, but our progress is slowed by the crowds lining the hall. Guards fight to hold back angry ponies and members of the Resistance who scream insults at the Queen, wanting her head mounted on the wall, or, better yet, jammed onto a pike.

Chrysalis ignores the pandemonium, keeping her gaze forward and refusing to look anyone in the eye.

We finally reach the lift and ride it down to the conference room. King Thorax, Onyx, Green Wing, Ember, and numerous other important-looking representatives of the Resistance are waiting for us. There are gasps at seeing Equestria’s oldest enemy brought inside, and while there are no jeers or yells, I can see that most are pleased – even gleeful – at seeing Chrysalis humbled.

Onyx motions for Chrysalis to be brought to the table. The guards do so, and she takes a seat, the guards staying close. Onyx motions for me to sit beside him, which I do.

“Keep an eye on her,” Onyx whispers. “Luna wants you to make sure she doesn’t lie to us.”

I nod, but I doubt Chrysalis would do so; if Luna and the others learn that Chrysalis’ information, whatever it may, is false, Chrysalis would find herself back in a cell, this time never to be let out again.

Chrysalis’ gaze goes to Thorax, and his reflective eyes meet hers. They look at each other, but only for a moment before Chrysalis turns away in disgust.

The doors creak as they’re swung open. Several royal guards enter, followed by Princess Luna.

Chrysalis stiffens at seeing the princess.

Luna looks to the Queen, and for a long moment they stare into each others eyes, as if daring each other to make the first move.

It’s Luna who speaks first. “Queen Chrysalis.”

“Princess Luna,” Chrysalis says in the harshest ‘I-hate-you-so-much’ voice I’ve ever heard.

Not interested in trading insults or wasting time, Luna decides to get right to the point. “I have been informed that you know where my sister and the Bearers are,” she says upon taking a seat.

Chrysalis nods.

“Where are they?”

“Somewhere up north, far beyond the uncharted regions of the icy seas, in Iron Hoof’s main fortress.”

Luna’s teeth grind against one another. She’s in no mood for vague statements. “And where is this fortress?”

“I... do not know.”

What?! I leap to my hooves. “You told me you knew!” I yell at Chrysalis. I went through all that effort to break her out, risking death itself, all for a lie?!

A sly smile. “A half-truth,” Chrysalis says. “I do not know where the fortress is... but I know how to find its location.” She points to the map of Equestria upon the wall. “Iron Hoof never told me exactly where Celestia and the Bearers were kept, only that before they were shipped off, they were taken to a research base between the Haysead Swamps and the Forbidden Jungle. It is where Iron Hoof’s research on cybernetics and technology is carried out. If there is any information on where Celestia and the Bearers were taken, you will find it there.”

“Onyx,” Luna says, “prepare a scouting party.”

Onyx rushes from the room without a word.

“I am surprised, Chrysalis,” Ember says, enjoying the sight of a former enemy cowering before the princess. “Iron Hoof did not take you, one of his greatest allies, to his main fortress?”

“No,” Chrysalis growls. “Though we were allies, he never fully trusted me. He always believed I would betray him.”

“Then you know nothing about his plans, I take it?”

“Only that he wants to create a utopia for ponies, and ponies alone. All others are to be cast out, sent to Black Fang for-”

“Black Fang?” Ember’s eyes narrow. “Who’s Black Fang?”

The others look to Chrysalis, Luna included. While Green Wing probably radioed ahead to inform them that the Arch-dragons had a leader, this would be their first chance to learn about this foe.

“He is the leader of the Arch-dragons, and the first of their kind. I do not know how he and Iron Hoof first met, but they formed an alliance, with the promise that after Equestria was purged of everyone who wasn’t a pony, the Arch-dragons would get a new homeland of their own.”

“New homeland?” Luna asks.

“This was their original homeland,” Chrysalis says as she taps the table, unaware that she’s no longer on Equestria. “Before it was taken from them in the pony-dragon war. But it wasn’t going to work out; Iron Hoof was planning to wipe them out once his war was over, but Celestia saved him the trouble.”

“How?” Luna asks.

“It was two years ago: We had finally found her in the west, trying to take a sapling from a tree of harmony. Iron Hoof and Black Fang rallied their forces. Tens of thousands of soldiers and every Arch-dragon charged the princess, myself among them. We thought we could take her... but we were wrong.”

Chrysalis pauses. She doesn’t like the memory of what came next.

“She was ready for us. She brought the wrath of the sun upon us all, burning every Arch-dragon to ash.” The Queen shakes her head. “Few survived. I was on the verge of death. So was Iron Hoof and Black Fang. Celestia would have won that day, had she not been so exhausted from her efforts. Only then was Black Fang able to incapacitate her with the last of his magic. And ever since, she has been imprisoned.”

The others look to one another, murmuring amongst themselves. Some with fear, some with hope, and others a mix of the two.

“Chrysalis,” I say. “Iron Hoof told me that Black Fang has a plan to bring down the Resistance. What do you know about it?”

“Nothing,” Chrysalis says with disgust. “Black Fang and I never spoke. I was beneath his gaze, as Iron Hoof put it. I don’t know what his great and glorious plan is, but whatever it may be, he has the power to do it.”

“And how do you know that?” Ember asks.

“Because unlike other dragons, Black Fang has the ability to cast magic on par with alicorns. Now that he has recovered from the battle with Celestia, he is at his full strength. If he wanted to scorch the surface of the planet, poison the air, or unleash a plague that would poison all life, he can do so.”

“Then how do we stop him?!” Ember demands.

“Casting such magic takes time. If you could find him while he is summoning his spells, you could kill him. But Black Fang hides himself well, and he will not leave his lair until it is too late.”

“And where is this lair of his?” Luna asks, her voice warning Chrysalis that she won’t take kindly to more half-truths.

“Once again, I do not know,” Chrysalis confesses.

Luna’s eyes darken.

“I was never told where his lair was,” Chrysalis says. “He and Iron Hoof communicated via magic. I only met him during the battle against Celestia, and when it was over he retreated back into hiding.” She points to the map again. “However, I did overhear some of Iron Hoof’s generals; apparently all non-ponies who were captured were sent to Black Fang after the research facility was done with them.”

So that’s it... if we go to this facility, we not only learn where Celestia and the Bearers are, but also where Black Fang is hiding. Two goals for the price of one.

No... not two. Three.

“What about the scientists there?” I ask.

“You mean, was your wife stationed there? Yes, she was. I see no reason why Iron Hoof would change that.”

Thank Celestia...

“There’s one thing you haven’t explained,” Thorax says. “You were once on Iron Hoof’s good side. How did that change?”

Chrysalis scowls at Thorax, not wanting to even look at him. “After the battle with Celestia, he was weak and wounded. I realized it was my chance to eliminate him and take his place. I waited until there was a storm to cover his screams before going to his hospital room. All it would take was an injection of poison to stop his heart.”

Chrysalis stops, biting her lip in suppressed rage at a mistake that cost her everything.

“I had not counted on Iron Hoof realizing that he would be vulnerable. Before we had gone into battle against Celestia, he had informed his guards to stay hidden in his hospital room, should he be injured. When I took out the syringe, they caught me. And when Iron Hoof learned what I had done, he had my wings and horn ripped off and locked me away to rot.” She looks to me. “But not before sending you to make my remaining days as miserable as possible.”

“Enough.” Luna rises in her seat. “Do you have anything else to tell us, Chrysalis?”

A sly smile comes across Chrysalis’ face. “I have given you all I know. I expect to be compensated accordingly.”

“For now, you will remain in the brig. We will take further action when Onyx has completed his survey of the jungle. For your sake, I hope you told the truth.”

Chrysalis offers no reply as she’s escorted from the room, standing tall and defiant as she passes those around the table. Only when she’s gone, and the doors closed, does Luna let her guard down and slump back in her chair. No one objects as she spends several moments rubbing her eyes, the overwhelming weight of all that’s just happened hitting her.

“Silverspeak... Was she telling the truth?”

I nod.

“You are sure?”

“She lied to me earlier,” I admit, “but she didn’t withhold anything from us.”

“She could still be working for Iron Hoof,” Ember says. “I mean no offense, Silverspeak, but for all we know, she and Iron Hoof schemed to deceive us. What better way to bring down an organization than by infiltrating it and spreading lies?”

“Iron Hoof wouldn’t have known that I was coming back after I escaped,” I point out. “Or that I would try to find Chrysalis and break her out. I didn’t even know she was allied with him.”

“That is true,” Ember begrudgingly admits. “But let us not forget that we are dealing with Chrysalis, a deceiver of the highest order. I would not put it past her tell the truth about the temple, but lie about what’s happening there.”

Luna holds up a hoof to calm the queen of the dragons. “We will take all precautions, Ember. No one has forgotten what Chrysalis has done in the past. But our need is great, and she is the only lead we have. Now, the matter of Black Fang concerns me. If we are going against a dragon powerful enough to fight my sister, we must find a way to defeat him quickly. Ember, I leave that matter to you.”

Ember nods. “Would you prefer to have him subdued or eliminated?”

Luna opens her mouth to answer, but pauses, having second thoughts. She doesn’t know which answer to give.

“I’ll look into both methods,” Ember says.

Nodding, Luna looks the others. “We will wait until Onyx’s squad returns before making our next course of action.”

One of the older ponies raises his leg. “Your Highness? If Chrysalis is lying and we can’t find Celestia, what are we going to do?”

Silence hangs heavy in the room.

“Let us pray," Luna says, "that Chrysalis wasn’t lying.”

With the meeting concluded, the leaders of the Resistance go their separate ways. Luna’s the last to leave, her face heavy with the new burdens and worries that have been placed upon her.

I hurry to Luna as she makes her way to the lift. “Princess? If Onyx forms a team to reach this research station, I would like to come along.”

Luna sighs. “I had figured you would say so. You may, provided Silver Scalpel gives you a clean bill of health.”

Wait, that’s it? I thought the princess would discourage me from going, saying that I would be too old or too emotionally attached at finding Beakbreaker, which would affect my judgment in the field.

“Should we capture any high-ranking scientist or field officers, your silver tongue would help in their interrogations,” Luna explains. “Which is why I must ask you not to put yourself in harm’s way.” She gestures to my chest. “I will have a mechanic come and repair your damage. He will meet you in your quarters.”

“Actually, your Highness, I would prefer if he meet me in the temple.”

“You are going to pray, Silverspeak?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Luna contemplates our answer. “In our situation, we need all the help we can get.”

She heads for the lift.

“Princess?”

Luna stops.

“We’ll find your sister. I know we will.”

Luna says nothing, but she does give me a small smile. Before I can say anything more, Luna gets onto the lift and rides it up, leaving me to myself.

The temple’s empty when I pass through its towering doors. Candles flicker as I walk to the frontmost bench and take a seat. Before leaving to face Iron Hoof and free his prisoners, I had promised myself to pray for Coin Counter when I returned, but now I need to add the soldiers who's lives I ended to that list.

I bow my head, closing my eyes, letting the temple’s silence sink into me. It takes several minutes before I feel calm and serene enough to petition the unknown with my request.

“I know it’s been years since he passed,” I whisper, “But I pray that Coin Counter has found peace, wherever he may be. After all he endured in life, he deserves it... And so do the soldiers whose lives I ended.” I look up towards the ceiling. “Let them find peace as well.”

The doors open as someone else comes in.

“Silverspeak?”

I turn to find Green Wing beside me, carrying a tightly-wrapped bundle with her.

“You don’t strike me as the praying type.”

“I don’t do it often,” I admit.

She looks me over. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Actually, I could use the company.” I scoot over, and she sits beside me. “I never would have imagined you being the praying type either.”

“I don’t pray to gods, the universe, or fate,” Green Wing says, scowling at the thought. “The only one I pray to is the one dearest to me.”

Who could that... oh.

“Your husband?” I ask.

Green Wing nods sadly. “I ask him for strength when everything is lost, and for courage when I can’t go on.”

Her bundle wiggles.

“But most of all, I ask him to watch over her.” Reaching down, Green Wing rolls her bundle over. “My daughter. Gold Wing.”

Tightly nestled within the bundle is a changeling infant. She can’t be more than a year old. Reflective eyes look back at me as I lean in, squinting as I adjust my glasses. I rarely get to see changeling infants this close; most of them rarely leave their nest or homes, so I-

A tiny foreleg shoots out and hits my nose. I instinctively pull back, surprised.

Gold Wing giggles.

“She does that to everyone she meets,” Green Wing says, amused.

Still giggling, Gold Wing reaches out with her tiny legs. But she’s not stretching out for her mother, but for... me?

“Looks like she wants a hug,” Green Wing says. “Care to indulge her?”

Those forelegs wiggle even faster.

I’ve never held a child before. Shouldn’t be that difficult, though. Just pick her up, hold her firmly, and make sure she doesn’t wiggle out of my grasp. How difficult can that be?

Reaching down, I carefully slip my hooves around Gold Wing’s bundle and bring her up, taking care to support her under her back and around the side to make her feel comfortable and secure. It seems to work, for the infant's tiny eyes close as she emits a content cooing sound.

“I think she likes you,” Green Wing says with a smirk.

“Yes,” I say, surprised at how quickly the child settled down. “She appears to.”

“Whenever I’m on a mission, one of the nurses or another fighter will take care of her. Gold Wing loves them all.” Green Wing studies her daughter. “She can never have enough affection.”

The tiny little bundle continues to coo.

“Your wife used to watch after her,” Green Wing says. “Loved doing so, too. Never could stand giving her up whenever I returned.”

“She wanted a child,” I say. “Before all this began, she told me how she wanted to be a mother.”

“She spent a lot of time with the young ones we have here,” Green Wing says. “Did it every day, no matter how busy she got.” She looks to the altar. “She always made sure to come here, too. Came to pray for you, hoping you’d wake up from whatever spell you were under. Even when her prayers weren’t answered, she didn’t give up.”

“Maybe they were,” I say. “After all, you found me.”

The idea surprises Green Wing; it seems the thought never crossed her mind.

I stroke Gold Wing’s cheeks. “Do you think prayers are answered, Green Wing?”

“If there are any gods out there, Silverspeak, they ignore the prayers for this war to end. They ignore prayers for Celestia to be found.” Green Wing breathes deeply, but her breathing sounds more like a hiss. “They ignored my prayers to save my husband.”

I say nothing.

“If this war is going to end, it’s up to us to make it happen.” She indicates Gold Wing. “If my daughter is going to have a future, it’s up to me to build it for her.”

“You don’t have to do it by yourself,” I assure her. “You have me. You have all of us to help.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Silverspeak. And I appreciate you wanting to help. But sentiment isn’t going to help us win.”

We’re both silent for a while.

“What about you, Silverspeak? Do you believe in gods? In prayer?”

“I don’t know what’s out there,” I say. “I think there is something. Fate, maybe. An intelligence of some kind. Whatever it is, I think it’s a chess player, moving us around for its own ends, ignoring our cries and protests as it does so. Occasionally it may listen and change its mind, for both good and ill.”

“Better not to tempt it, then.”

“Something like that, yes.”

Gold Wing yawns, stretching her legs. She looks at me briefly, and then turns its attention to Green Wing, stretching her legs towards her. I return her; no sense in keeping her from her mother.

“Boss?”

Turning, I find Gusty walking up to me, wearing saddlebags stuffed with nuts, bolts, and other mechanical parts.

“Gusty. You here to pray, too?”

He chuckles. “Me? Nah. I’m here to fix your frame.”

“You?”

“Ah, Luna didn’t tell you? I help repair the cyborgs we have on staff.” He indicates for me to follow him. “Let’s go. This is no place to perform surgery.”

Nodding, I stand and follow him between the benches. Yet, it doesn’t feel right to leave without saying one last thing.

“Green Wing?”

She looks to me.

“Thank you for saving my life earlier today. And the lives of everyone else.”

She waves it off. “It was nothing.”

“It was. I imagine all those prisoners prayed for freedom. If so, they were answered. Not by gods, but by you.”

As I follow Gusty out, I look back to see Green Wing rocking her daughter, deep in thought.

“Welcome to residential,” Gusty says as the lift comes to a stop. “It ain’t the suburbs, but it’s the best we got.”

This place is most definitely not the suburbs: A long, simple corridor has been carved into rock, each side holding dozens of doors, each adorned with a number and whatever decorations their occupants have drawn or hung upon them. I follow Gusty as he heads to one of the doors in the back.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.”

The door’s opened, and we both enter. The room’s scarcely bigger than a bathroom, just big enough to hold a small toilet, a closet, and a bunk that can hold two ponies.

“Is everyone’s quarters this small?” I ask.

“Yep. Even Luna’s. She refuses to have something bigger than the rest of us.” With a clap, Gusty rubs his hooves together. “Right. Onto the bed with ya.”

I glance back. “Come again?”

“That’s where I’ll fix you up. That is, unless you want me to do repairs while you lie on the floor.”

I’d rather not, so I get onto the bed and lie on my back. Gusty pulls up a chair, lights a few crystals embedded in the wall, and pulls various tools from his saddlebags. “Just a heads-up: this will take a while. You’re an outdated model, but that’s a good thing.”

“It is?”

“Less parts. Easier to fix. Not like the bodies we have nowadays. So many components and gears and tubes and wires and chips and whatnot. Way too complex if you ask me.”

A cable’s threaded into the hole in my chest. Uncomfortable, but not painful.

“Nervous?” Gusty asks.

I shake my head. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah; hard to top a head transplant while you’re still awake.”

Gusty squeezes a pair of pliers, and my legs jerk involuntarily.

“Other ponies like to have something to squeeze when they’re being fixed, so don’t feel ashamed if you want to do the same.” Peering away from the hole in my chest, Gusty looks around the room. “Come to think of it, I know just the thing.”

Reaching under the bunk, Gusty pulls something out and puts it on my chest. I look down and... Wait. Is that-

“Beakbreaker found that,” Gusty says. “Went back to Canterlot two years after it fell. Went through the wreckage trying to find some equipment and scrolls, and found your old apartment. And what do you know? She finds this.”

Little Celestia looks at me. Her paint is cracked and chipping, and her hair’s faded, but despite the passing of time, her smile’s still there.

“Beakbreaker brought it back with her.” Gusty explains. “Planned to give it to you when you were rescued.”

My hooves shake as I take Little Celestia and look her over, her tiny eyes never leaving mine. I never thought looking at a child’s toy could make my heart ache so much... This Celestia was my companion for so many years. When I had no one else, she was there. When others judged and mocked and threatened me, she never did. I know she’s not real, that she’s just an enchanted statue, but looking at her again is like meeting a friend I haven’t seen in decades, one who still smiles despite life’s efforts to beat her down.

“Gettin’ nostalgic, boss?”

I chuckle. “Gusty, you know I’m not your boss anymore.”

“Sorry. Force o’ habit.”

I nod, still looking at Little Celestia. “You could say that, yes.”

“It’s not good to dwell in the past,” Gusty says as he takes a wrench. “That’s what the shrinks on staff say. Need to stay focused on the present, and the future we can still make. But you know what? I like the past. Back when all we had to worry about was flying around from one corner of the globe to another.”

“Amen to that.”

“Not to mention that I was young and dashing, without a saggy bit of skin in sight.”

“It’s not all bad,” I say. “You’re just well-seasoned. Older wine has more flavor than a new bottle.”

A laugh. “There’s a fine line between wine and vinegar, and I passed it long ago.”

Gusty keeps working for a while, slowly repairing the damage Iron Hoof inflicted on me.

“So,” Gusty says, wiping some sweat from his brow, “What are you and Beakbreaker gonna do once all this is over?”

My throat tightens. Unless someone’s told him, or he’s forgotten, Gusty doesn’t know about my tumor.

“Boss?”

“I’m... I’m not sure, Gusty. Probably spend as much time with her as I can.”

“Wanting to make up for lost time. Good plan. Well, you’ll have plenty of time to do that. Seventy five’s not so bad. And you’re in far better shape than someone like me.”

Do I tell Gusty that I’m not going to reach seventy six? That he’s almost certainly going to outlive me?

Scooting over, Gusty pops open a panel in my lower belly. “And don’t you worry about Beakbreaker. She’s slower than she used to be, and doesn’t do all-nighters anymore, but her spirit’s as strong as ever. She’s in good health, too.” He chuckles. “Maybe if she became a full-on cyborg like you, the two of you will make it to a hundred and seventy five. What stories you’ll be able to tell the younging’s a century from now, eh?”

I should say something. A joke, a quip, something to show that I’m amused at the idea. But I can’t find the strength to even pretend. It doesn’t feel right.

Gusty notices.

“Hey, Boss? Everything alright?”

Gusty’s going to find out about this tumor sooner or later. Best he learned it from me, rather than hearsay.

“No, Gusty. I’m sick.”

“You? You just came back from breaking our oldest enemy out of a fortress which was blown to kingdom come. Anyone else your age would have been happy sitting on a porch watching the foals trot by.” He chuckles. “If you’re sick, you sure fooled me.”

“I am,” I say, wanting to get the words out before I lose my nerve. “And it’s not a cold or the flu... It’s a tumor. It’s in my brain.” I gulp. “It’s... it’s terminal.”

A wrench clatters to the floor. A pair of pliers follows moments later.

Of all the motormouths I’ve met during my life, none have been as prolific as Gusty. He always has something to say, whether it’s an opinion, some obscure fact he picked up while drinking in a tavern in a faraway land, or a witty joke. And in all those years, I’ve never seen Gusty speechless.

He is now.

I look at Little Celestia again. She may be an inanimate statue, but I need the strength her smile can give me. Admitting the truth is like staring at a monster that’s slowly coming to consume me, taking its time, knowing that I can’t kill it. Instinct and common sense would scream at me to run and hide, to get as far away as possible.

But I can’t.

“Silver Scalpel’s managed to slow the tumor,” I say, “but he can’t stop it. Neither can Luna. At the rate it’s growing... I’ll be dead by the end of the year.”

Gusty stares at me, trying to speak, to find a voice, to give speech to learning that one of his friends is going to die. When that fails, he sits on the edge of the bunk, burying his face in his hooves.

“Boss, I... I’m sorry. I had no idea-”

“It’s alright, Gusty.”

“Alright?! You’re dying!”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I am.”

“And you... you’re just going to accept it?”

“I can’t stop it, Gusty. Celestia might be able to, if we can find her,” I say. “If she can’t-”

“No, don’t say that! She can! She’ll be able to heal you, I know it!” Shaking his head, Gusty tries to calm himself down. “Look at me... panicking while you’re the calmest pony alive.”

“I’m not,” I assure him. “I’m scared.”

“And so am I!” Gusty’s almost in his face, eyes wider than I’ve ever seen, face almost overflowing with grief and despair. “You can’t die, Silverspeak! You know how many friends I’ve lost? How many have died or been taken by that monster down there?” Gusty grabs me by the shoulders. “You’re the only friend I have left, Silverspeak. I can’t lose you, too!”

This isn’t the Gusty I know. He’s not even an adult anymore: he’s a child who’s just learned that their parents are going to die.

I’m suddenly not in this room anymore. I’m back in Saddle Lanka’s ice cream shop over fifty years ago. Celestia… I don’t want this memory. Not now, not ever; I can still feel the numbness, the shock, the fear that rushed through me when my mother and father told me they were going to die. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted them to tell me that everything was going to be all right, to tell me the words I needed to hear. But now I’m in their position, and I realize the horrible truth: You can’t convince a loved one to accept the inevitable. Their hold on you, their love, is too strong, and they will never sever it willingly.

Gusty waits for me to speak, to tell me that everything’s going to be fine. He’s desperate, almost pleading, wanting to hear those words more than anything.

I have to make Gusty face reality. Everyone knows that everyone dies; they just don’t want to look the fact in the eyes. If this is my time to die, then nothing’s going to change that.

Gusty’s on the verge of tears.

I… I can’t lie to Gusty. I can’t give him what he wants… but maybe I can give him something that kept me going: Hope. Desperate hope, but it may help him adjust and accept the inevitable.

“I don’t want to die, Gusty,” I say, “and I’m not giving up.” I manage a smile. “You think I want to save Beakbreaker and then spend only a day with her before I kick the bucket?”

A chuckle breaks through Gusty’s pained face. “No.”

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be around,” I assure him, “but I’m going to make every second count.” I don’t know if that’s enough for Gusty. Perhaps nothing short of a proclamation from Luna or Celestia would help him handle what’s coming, but my words seem to have given him some comfort.

Reaching out, Gusty takes my hoof. “You can bet I’ll be there all the way, Boss. If there’s anything I can do to help make it happen, I will.”

Gusty’s never touched me like this before. It’s not the gesture of a love to another, but of someone who wants to comfort someone dear to them.

It feels... good.

I take his hoof in mine.

When Gusty manages to get back to his work, he throws himself into it with unmatched zeal, working with the speed and focus of a youngster, able to ignore his aches and pains as he does his best to bring my body back into working order, putting part after part inside me. Many parts I recognize, but a few I don’t.

“Gusty? Those look like aircraft parts.”

“A few of ‘em are, yeah.” Gusty grabs one without looking up from his task. “Scraps from a project I’m working on. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna put a jet engine on your back or anything. When I’m done, you’ll look just like before, but your insides’ll be a little better.”

I hope so. Yet, I don’t voice that concern. I trust that Gusty knows what he’s doing, and that he wouldn’t make such modifications to me without good reason.

A half hour later, and Gusty turns off his welder, flipping up his visor as he closes a plate. “There. All done.”

Rolling off the bed, I take an assessment of my body as a whole.

“Well, how ‘ya feel?”

I flex my legs and body. They feel normal, but a bit heavier than before. Thankfully, nothing’s weighted down so much as to be a hindrance. If the added plating and parts gives me more protection in a fight, and the extra weight additional heft when hitting someone, then these are acceptable upgrades.

“They’ll work,” I say. “I’ll just need a little time to adjust and adapt.”

“You will,” Gusty assures me. “With these plates, you’ll be like a walking tank, able to take a lot of small and heavy arms fire. Not that you-”

There’s a knock at the door. Before either of us can open it, it does so on its own, revealing Onyx and Green Wing in the hallway.

“Silverspeak,” Onyx says. “Princess Luna requests your presence in the conference room.”

Putting Little Celestia upon the shelf, I follow the two out, with Gusty following up the rear as we take the lift to the conference room. Perhaps understanding that he’s not required here, Gusty takes it up to the hangar level. But as he leaves, Gusty gives me a worried, yet hopeful glance, probably silently reminding me that I’m not supposed to give up.

Giving him a reassuring nod, I follow Onyx and Green Wing into the conference room. Luna’s waiting there with the other council members.

“Onyx. Green Wing. Silverspeak. Thank you for coming.” She gestures to three empty seats. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

I take a seat as the others do the same.

“Onyx’s scouts have completed their search,” Luna says, “and it appears Chrysalis was telling the truth.” Her horn glows, and the map of Equestria is pulled down, with a small portion of the southern jungles circled in red. “There is indeed an old temple deep within the southeastern jungles, one that has been fortified with more modern enhancements and emplacements, including what appear to be research buildings.”

The council looks to one another. No one speaks, but I can feel the excitement in the air.

“This is our mission,” Luna says. “Sneak into the facility, find out if Celestia and the Bearers are there, and extract them. If they are not, we will gather what intelligence we can, free any prisoners, and ensure the base cannot be used again.” She points to Onyx. “We will need your finest agents for this mission, Onyx.”

“Of course.”

“Because we have Chrysalis in custody, Iron Hoof will rightfully assume that she’s told us everything she knows about his operations. Thus, he is likely moving to evacuate all those who have vital intel from the facility to another location. Because of this, we must get down there as quickly as possible. Onyx, can you get a strike force ready to be in the air within an hour?”

“Consider it done.”

I raise a hoof. “Your Highness, will Chrysalis be joining us? If she knows about the facility, she likely knows its layout.”

“She may. And she will be joining you, but only under guard.” She turns to Onyx once more. “I want four of your guards watching her at all times.” Then, to Thorax. “Thorax: I would like you and whatever changelings you can spare to go along with Onyx in case we need to infiltrate the facility without being noticed.”

Thorax nods. “Of course.”

“Spike will come along as backup if things go wrong.” Luna looks over us all. “If this is successful, we may have Celestia with us by this time tomorrow. Let’s make it happen.”

With the mission decided, things quickly fall into place. Once Onyx has summoned his agents and briefed them about the mission, I accompany him and four guards to the dungeons to retrieve Chrysalis. She doesn’t look pleased to be back in a cell once again, but she’s enduring it well. Knowing that she’s on the road to revenge no doubt gives her the strength to endure the indignity of being behind bars.

“Silverspeak,” Chrysalis says as we arrive. “Here to let me out, I hope?”

I nod. “We’re infiltrating the research facility,” I say. “And we need you to come along. Have you been to this facility?” Onyx asks.

“Yes.”

“Then you know how it’s laid out. We need that knowledge.”

“I can draw you a map if you desire.”

“Better to have you on the ground,” Onyx says. “And if Iron Hoof is there, you can get your chance for revenge.”

The Queen’s on her hooves in moments.

“You will be under armed guard, though,” Onyx says. “I trust you understand why.”

“In case I am planning to betray you,” Chrysalis sighs. “I do not like it, but I will endure it.”

The guards get into position as Chrysalis is let out of the cell, and we ride the lift up to the armory. A substantial amount of it has been emptied, but there’s still plenty of gear and equipment for the rest of us, and we get dressed.

It’s unnerving to pull myself into a combat suit. Once, years ago, I did this to save my parents. Now I’m heading back into battle once again, and the stakes have never been higher. Once the suit is zipped up and the vest tightened, I fill the pockets with ammo and first-aid equipment before taking a submachine gun. Not as heavy as a rifle or cumbersome as a shotgun, and it’s a good choice for someone in a support role.

The others get dressed as well, including Chrysalis. Onyx stops her as she heads for the weapons rack. “You’ll understand that we can’t give you any weapons, Chrysalis.”

“Then how am I to defend myself?!”

He hands her a taser.

“Surely you jest!”

“Single-shot and reusable. Good for taking out one enemy at a time. And if you were to try and attack my troops, you would only get one before the rest subdue you.”

Grumbling, Chrysalis takes the taser.

As everyone prepares to move out, I take two pistols from the rack and sheath them in my vest, along with several clips.

“Silverspeak, you won’t need so many weapons,” Onyx says.

“They’re not for me,” I say. “They’re for Beakbreaker.”

Onyx thinks for a moment before nodding. “Very well. Now, let’s go.”

We head out to the lift. I’m about to get on when Onyx holds out a hoof, blocking my path. “Wait. Silverspeak, have you seen the doctor yet? Luna told me that you aren’t to come along unless he gives you a clean bill of health.”

Oh confound it all. I had forgotten about that. “No,” I say. “I’ll go see him now.”

“Make it fast. Ten minutes, maximum.”

I don’t answer as I hurry up the stairs, the lift rising up behind me.

The halls are a mess of activity as I hurry up towards the medical wing. Word’s likely to spread fast about the mission to find Celestia, and even if they aren’t going along, those here in the base would want to help any way they can, gathering supplies, equipment, or even going to the hangar to wish the soldiers luck. Because of the commotion, it takes a little longer than I’d like before I reach my destination.

The medical wing’s filled with the freed prisoners from Iron Hoof’s fortress, all being examined by Silver Scalpel and his nurses. He glances over as I enter, and hurries over, handing his patient over to a nurse. Before I can even give a greeting, the doctor’s already looking me over and indicates one of the tables in the corner. When I reach it, he pulls a curtain around us. “On the table.”

I climb up and take a seat.

“I heard you got into a fight with Iron Hoof.” Silver Scalpel says as he examines me.

“You heard correctly.”

The doctor pokes around a little, shining the flashlight on his glasses over Gusty’s repair work. “You would be wise to avoid skirmishes from now on. Ponies your age should not be getting into fights, especially with much younger opponents.”

I nod. He won’t get any disagreements from me. “Am I fit enough to go on a mission?”

“You mean what’s causing everyone to run around like rabbits in heat?”

I nod.

“And what exactly does this mission entail?”

“It’s a rescue operation.”

“Any combat?”

“I hope not.”

Silver Scalpel continues his examination for a few moments before rubbing his face. He’s tired, likely from working for hours, and wanting nothing more than to rest.

“Physically, you are repaired and capable. But is there anything else I should know about? Anything Iron Hoof might have done to you?”

I sigh. He isn’t going to like my answer. “I had to use magic when fighting him.”

“What?! Silverspeak, I told-”

“I had to use it, Silver Scalpel, or you and I would not be talking right now.”

His fatigue forgotten, Silver Scalpel motions for me to get off the bed and yanks the curtains away. He hurries to a small, jury-rigged machine mounted over a standard dentist’s chair. “Lie down and remain still.”

I do. Something clicks.

“Done.”

I sit up. Silver Scalpel is already going through the display on the machine’s monitor.

He doesn’t like what he sees.

“Doctor?”

Groaning, Silver Scalpel motions for me to come and look.

I bite my lip as I hurry to the monitor, preparing myself for the worst. I almost don’t want to look at the screen, but I need to know how serious this is.

I look at the screen, and my heart drops.

There’s an X-ray image of my skull and brain upon the monitor, revealing the tumor. It’s bigger than I last saw it, its roots spreading further throughout my brain like the gnarled roots of a diseased tree, almost touching the edges of my skull.

“Please tell me you injected yourself.” Silver Scalpel says.

I nod. “Not immediately afterwords; maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“You must be quicker than that, Silverspeak!” Silver Scalpel snaps. “You’re lucky you’re still talking at this point, let alone walking!” Silver Scalpel tries to lower his voice, but it’s difficult for him to contain his anger. “The drugs can only do so much, Silverspeak. When you were out earlier, before gallivanting off into Iron Hoof’s fortress, Princess Luna used the most powerful spells she could to keep your brain working normally. Had she not done so, you would now be lying on the floor, drooling uncontrollably.”

“I get it,” I say. “Don’t use-”

“You cannot use magic! Cast another spell and you will pass the point of no return, and there will be nothing no one can do to help you! Do you understand me?!”

Other ponies and patients are looking our way. I’ve got to calm the doctor down. “Yes, I do,” I say, turning my charm on. “I didn’t want to cast any magic, doctor, but I had no choice. Now, if the worst came to worst, I could use more of your medication.” I look around, hoping he’s made more. “What if I took several syringes and injected myself all at once. That would help, wouldn’t it?”

Silver Scalpel’s breathing deeply, realizing that he let his emotions get the better of him. “They might blunt the effect, yes,” he says, “but it would only work once, and even that’s not guaranteed.” He goes to a drawer and pulls out three syringes. Taking a large one, he puts all the fluid inside the new syringe, seals it, and slips it into a pocket of my suit. “But for the love of all that is holy, Silverspeak, if you value your life, you must not cast another spell.”

I nod, tightening the straps holding the pocket closed. “I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. But if using magic means I save my wife, then I will.” I look at the clock. How much time has passed? “Now, am I fit enough to go on a mission?”

Realizing that he’s not going to stop me, Silver Scalpel sighs, nodding.

“Thank you.” Before he can say anything else, I rush from the machine and out through the door.

Going as fast as I am, it only takes a few minutes to reach the hangar, where a hundred troops are getting onto transports. Pony, changeling, dragon, and hippogriff alike are dressed in combat gear and outfitted with rifles, shotguns, grenade launchers, and anti-material rifles powerful enough to punch through a dragon’s thick hide.

“Silverspeak!” Turning, I find Onyx waving at me from one of the smaller craft and hurry over. “Did Silver Scalpel give you the go-ahead?”

I nod.

“Then get on. We’re about to leave.”

I hurry up the ramp as it closes behind me. Onyx, Green Wing, Thorax, Chrysalis, and her guards are already inside. I take a seat next to Thorax as Onyx sits before a console, numerous screens showing camera feeds from the troops in other ships, as well as their vital signs.

“Green Wing. Take us out.”

“Copy. Taking us out.”

Engines warm up behind the cabin. It’s going to take a minute for them to get up to speed. I spend that time breathing in and out to steady myself. Not to calm my nerves, but to prepare myself or whatever may be coming. With how many troops we have, I have no doubt that we’ll be able to get into that facility and rescue Celestia, the Bearers.

Just one more raid and we can end this war.

The engines get louder. A jostle shakes the cabin.

I feel the syringe vibrating from the roar of the engines, and tighten the straps around it once more. I can’t afford to lose it, not when it may be the only thing protecting me from a fate worse than death. Despite what I told Silver Scalpel, I really don’t want to use magic again. But if I have to, then his concoction will save me.

Something gnaws at me. A thought. Four simple words.

I ignore it.

The thought grows stronger, refusing to go away.

I focus on the shaking as the craft pulls away from the docking platform, following the other craft as they head through the portal at the end of the hangar. But even the loud hums of the engine can’t drown out the thought as it grows and grows, until those four accursed words are etched into my mind.

“Brace yourselves,” Green Wing announces. “We’re going through.”

“Silverspeak?”

I look over to Thorax. He’s concerned about me. “You feeling okay?”

I nod. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” he assures me. “We’ll get through this.”

I nod again, giving him a fake smile. Satisfied, he closes his eyes, readying himself as we head for the portal, unaware that I’m not feeling okay at all.

The medicine… it should save me if if I’m forced to use it, but…

… what if it doesn’t?