“I've grown to hate Fridays.”
Benjamin Sisko, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: ‘In The Pale Moonlight.’

“There. I told you the truth was liberating, Major. Now don't you feel better? I do.”
– Gul Dukat, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: ‘Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night.’

I felt a wave of uneasiness that morning, even though rationally I knew we had a good chance of reaching the best conclusion. After all, I’d got everyone I needed to hash out a solution together. Top members of the PHL, and both the Princesses. I’d arranged a meeting - a confab, basically, where we could figure out exactly how we were going to deal with all of this.

But still… I was perturbed. And I was right to be. Given everything that’s happened, since… I wish I’d never set foot in that fucking room.

“Major Bauer. You asked to see me.”

Coming from Cutter, this most certainly wasn’t a question. Stephan gazed warily at the peculiar PHL operative whom nobody had ever quite been able to pin down, except maybe for the Umbrella Man and Pekka Salonen, neither of whom would be forthcoming. For her part, she looked at him the way she did everyone, unblinking and penetrating.

“Yes, Cutter,” began Stephan, then almost retracted himself, aware of how he’d inadvertently copied her verbal tic. But, steepling his fingers, he went on. “Ja. I’ve had a day to review your AAR, and your performance in Ponyville. As you are aware, things over there… didn’t go as we could have wished for.”

Cutter nodded disinterestedly. “I am aware, yes. And I am sorry, Major.”

“Are you sure?” Stephan wondered.

“I am,” she said, easing herself upon her seat. “You know I stepped in to try and stop the Spy from massacring potential witnesses. Not to mention the fallout of your less savory methods exposed to our new allies. It is not my interest to let the Tyrant win this war anymore than yours. At least worse damage was curbed.”

“But still bad enough,” Stephan sighed, dropping his notepad onto the desk. A too-familiar twist of his guts distracted him, as it had for the last two days. He ignored it, but no way would she miss the strain he was going through. Not her. “Anyway, although I say this with reluctance, your performance checks out. Testimonials from Sergeant Prasad, Sergeant Jaka and Corporal Bjorgman confirm you did your best to keep the Spy away from populated areas, and sought to incapacitate her, not kill.”

“That is so,” Cutter said. “Yet not why we are here. Is it?”

Damn. Resisting the itch to rub the bridge of his nose, Stephan leaned forward, meeting her gaze without faltering.

“No,” he said. “The truth is, Cutter, despite your distinct appearance, you’ve proven adept at tracking people without being noticed, even when standing three feet away from them. This… ‘lack of presence’, as you call it, is the skillset we value you for, and why we agreed to Salonen’s recommendation to include you amongst our first envoys on this Equestria.”

“A shadow tailing you,” Cutter smiled thinly. “Out of sight. Out of mind. Not the friendliest face. So. What can this shadow do for you?”

“I’m giving you an assignment,” Stephan said slowly. “Another… surveillance operation, like Colonel Renee ordered on me and Lulamoon.”

“Yes?”

He fixated on her gravely. “Operative, I want you to keep an eye on Stabsunteroffizier Kraber.”

At first, Cutter showed no response to this, no more than usual. Then, imperceptibly, she frowned.

“Major Bauer, sir,” she said. “Permission to speak freely?”

This was unexpected. He’d awaited a lot more enthusiasm from her. “Granted.”

“If I may make a request,” said Cutter. “I wish to refuse this assignment.”

Had Stephan been drinking coffee at that moment, he’d have spat it out. “What?” he demanded, recovering quickly. “Whatever for?”

“For starters? That is usually Mr. Claw Hammer’s job. Or ‘Aegis’ as they call him.”

“Yes,” Stephan said. “But I don’t trust him not to be an enabler.”

“Sounds like you need a psychiatrist more,” Cutter said. “Or a telepath.”

“He actually has a medical dispensation restricting him from using the services of any telepaths,” Stephan said. “Or… they have one for him. It’s sort of vague. So that was out.”

“Quite,” Cutter said, leaning back. “Do you want to know why I am refusing?”

“I’d have guessed abject disgust at being in Kraber’s presence, but that doesn’t feel likely,” Stephan said with a mirthless chuckle.

“Disgust might be a good way to put it,” Cutter said thoughtfully. “Kraber… bores me.”

Stephan blinked. “‘Bore’. Not a word I’ve heard used to describe Kraber.”

“Nonetheless it’s accurate,” the mare said, smiling coldly. “Dull. Mediocre. Repetitive. All means the same, yes? Means he is no fun. Not worth my effort. Could tail him in my sleep.”

“And you prefer the challenge,” Stephan said slowly. “Very well then, as we’d hate for your talents to go to waste, or for you to be bored, Gott bewahre, do you have any ideas, Operative?”

She nodded. “Ask me to tail Bowman. There is one who is never even here, or here before he was here, then after, then before again. Vaguely difficult. Might prove fun. Kraber is loud. Easy to track. Leaves trail of bodies and empty beer bottles and bullet casings.” She paused. “Speaking of.”

Stephan frowned. “Speaking of?”

“Bowman is more than he seems, yes,” she said, a crafty smile on her face. “And it is safe to say the Spy needs a… doctor.” She got out of the chair. “If that is all, Major?”

Stephan waved a hand. “You’re… dismissed, Cutter.”

She got up and left, leaving Stephan alone to his thoughts.

The morning had passed with a grim level of predictability. Marcus had signed off on a few requisition orders, finished typing up a report on the latest training statistics, and finalised any paperwork he didn’t think could wait until tomorrow. He didn’t think, after the meeting today, that he would have any stomach for anything. Except maybe going to a training room and breaking six punching bags.

That, he’d have the stomach for. Every single one of them with the Tyrant’s face, no doubt.

‘I’ll get my chance soon enough,’ he thought to himself.

He’d seen the satellite images, gone over them a dozen times, ran the numbers through his head – troops the PHL had, troops the Alliance was bringing to the table, weapons stats, intel on anomalous Newfoals and other top-of-the-line Solar Empire gear he had heard about… and the numbers were all muddled. He didn’t know whether they would break upon the defences like water on rock, or break the defences like a rock on a skull. It was all touch-and-go, relying on more variables than he cared to measure. Maybe one of the Doctors could have done the math, if Marcus could have bothered going to any of them for help, but Doctor Whooves was busy helping Daring Do with work at the Castle of Two Sisters, and Doctor Bowman… well, he wouldn’t want to ask for Bowman’s help.

The clock chimed 10:30, stirring him from his melancholy thoughts. He got to his feet slowly, deciding to go for a final walk around the courtyard before the meeting. Some fresh air would probably make it all moderately more bearable.

‘We can but hope,’ he thought grimly. He sighed. ‘Fuck my life.’

Luna and Chrysalis were already in the room, as was Cadance, when Stephan arrived.

“Ladies,” Princess Luna announced to both mares present. “Trust me, even though I may have haplessly missed out on the exact occasion which drove a rift between you, I understand how weird this must feel, and what a big thing I beseech of you. But, for the sake of a cause greater than any of us, I must ask it.”

Chrysalis scoffed, waving a hoof in dismissal.

“Please, Woona. I’m all for looking inside the mare’s little head!” she exclaimed in delight. “But I’m not too certain Candy over here would like to see or hear what goes on in my head, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t call me Candy, you fiend,” Cadance growled. “I haven’t forgotten how you tied me in a bundle and let your drones have their way with me.”

“Tut tut, Princess. You make it sound worse than it is,” Chrysalis replied, bopping the area right in front of Cadance’s nose. “Edgy edgy, are you now? But I suppose it’s all the same for the ponies on the other Equestria, all angsty and brooding and whatnot. Don’t disappoint me, by being the same as that group, Princess.”

She bared her fangs. “But, oh well, I trust you enjoyed their chatter and banter, did you now? Like I told your dear husband, I may be a vile creature, but there are lines I won’t cross.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Chrysalis,” Cadance replied softly. “Just because you’ve found a Titan whose crimes overshadow yours, doesn’t lessen the pain you’ve caused.”

The Changeling Queen opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

“Bah, I concur with your point,” she said, giving an acknowledging nod to the pink mare. “Though why focus on all the hurt, Your Highness? I thought you were meant to be the Princess of Love, don’t you think it’s a bit selfish not to share around? After all, I see what you like so much about Shiney. I do so miss him in bed…”

Cadance’s pink cheeks turned a bright red. “Why, you…”

“... As my pillowcase,” Chrysalis leaned down, with a particularly cunning smirk. “What? Wasn’t lying, you know. Just lying my head on him.”

“Enough, both of you,” Luna declared, a touch of the Royal Canterlot Voice seeping in, and Cadance embarrassedly realised her horn was alit. “Cadance, don’t make yourself such an easy target for her mockery. Chrysalis… please make yourself a touch nicer, are we clear?”

“Pfft, ponies,” Chrysalis said, blowing her cheeks. “Always so… what’s the word? Serious? The pink one certainly gets it. Fine, I’ll be ‘nicer’, by my standards, hm?”

With a shake of her head, Cadance dimmed her horn. “Fair enough, I’ll go along for now. But I marvel at how my other self could stand to be in the same room as you... then again,” she was quick to add, “that can’t be the worst thing she’s put up with… or done…”

“In any case,” Luna said. “It may well prove that the individual Major Bauer has sought out will have answers without us needing to resort to entering the Spy’s mind.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Chrysalis said, “but I suppose we can live in hope.”

Luna looked to Stephan. “Major?”

“I needed to do some digging, but it turns out Doctor Whooves had his contact details,” Stephan said slowly. “He should be here any time –”

A sudden cacophony of noise interrupted him from outside the room. He paused, then looked behind him as a young man entered the room.

“… now,” Stephan finished.

It was strange to think that the redhead was the same being as Whooves in any way. He was tall and skinny, with brown eyes full of inscrutable depths and a half-smile that looked somewhere between resigned and sarcastic. He wore a tweed coat over a white shirt and brown corduroy trousers.

“I take it you’re the famous Doctor Bowman,” Stephan said to him.

“Nice to meet you, Major Bauer,” the Doctor said blandly. “Queen Chrysalis.”

“Greetings,” Chrysalis said neutrally, a smile playing upon her face.

“And Princess Luna,” the Doctor added with a small bow. “Et Lunar Gloriosa Aeternia.”

Luna blinked. “Pardon?”

The Doctor smiled softly. “Sorry. Wrong Equus.” He turned to Cadance. “And Princess Cadance, looking radiant as one should expect. I’m only sorry our meeting is not under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Pleasantries can wait,” Luna put in before Cadance could say anything. “We need to get back to the business ahead of us. Do you know why you’re here, Doctor?”

“Doctor Whooves explained some of it, what little the good Major mentioned, anyway,” the Doctor said quietly. He was looking at Trixie, who was still inside her glass box. “And as it happens, I have some ideas.”

“The sooner you’re done messing with Trixie’s brain the better,” Stephan added, looking suspicious. “You can help her?”

“That’s what we’re here to determine, Major,” the Doctor replied. He approached Trixie, placing a hand on the box. “Is this really necessary?”

“You don’t want her getting out,” Stephan said grimly. “I only just managed to stop her before.”

“I see,” the Doctor said, sounding tired, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “We’ll need to be careful about this. One wrong move and we could lobotomise your little blue assassin friend.”

Stephan growled, but Cadance held up a hoof.

“We’re just happy to have some help,” she said softly. “What do you have for us, Doctor?”

In response, the Time Lord brought out a small crystal. His eyes alighted upon it with a strange expression.

“This is an Eponian Apex Crystal,” he said. “A rather ingenious piece of kit from the Eponian Conglomerate.”

“And what’s the ‘Eponian Conglomerate’?” Stephan asked.

“A nicer place than the Solar Empire,” the Doctor smirked mirthlessly. “I actually spent about six weeks there, after... well, shall we say, ‘my recent sojourns’, just learning about their crystal tech, fascinating stuff. Picked it because the Eponians are ponies.”

“Figures from the name ‘Eponian’,” Chrysalis muttered.

“Crystal ‘tech’?” Luna asked, looking at the Apex Crystal with furrowed brows. “But if it is Equestrian in origin...”

“The Eponians’ work is closer to technology than magic, though it’s similar to magic in many respects: the energy signatures, for example,” the Doctor explained. He glanced at Stephan. “The tech is advanced. Hopefully it will do the job.”

“You said something about the chances of a lobotomy?” the Major asked, still suspicious.

“Well, yes,” the Doctor said, as though this were obvious. “We’re messing with a pony’s mind, with untested technology from another time and another universe. You’ll probably still get better results from this than a mind-probe, a Chameleon Arch or a Scribe of Arthenaz, but if I didn't tell you about the worst case scenario, you’d just get tetchy later if it came to pass.”

“If the risk is so great, should we not think of a better option?” Cadance asked.

“‘Great’ is a relative term,” the Doctor said.

The crystal began levitating, before floating about three feet away from the Doctor, about two feet from the ground. A moment later, a white light flared, and suddenly a grey unicorn mare was standing there, her expression impassive.

“Chalcedony, online,” she said dully, her voice tinged by something unnatural. “How may I be of assistance, Doctor?”

“Was zum Teufel?!” Stephan exclaimed.

“These things can have AI written into them,” the Doctor said shortly. “Not unlike the spell-matrix AI seen in more complex spells. In a way, this is a benign version of some things that your enemy have.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Stephan asked. He paused. “Wait. Chalcedony. Isn’t that the mare that-”

“I’d… really rather not talk about it,” the Doctor said shortly. “And yes. On both counts. The Solar Empire’s AI can almost completely rewrite a person into a Newfoal in the time it takes to say ‘almost completely rewrite a person into a Newfoal’. Chalcedony might be the best chance you have of repairing this damage.”

“How may I be of assistance, Doctor?” the mare asked again.

“Just assessment, Chalcedony,” the Doctor said quietly. “Get me a report, see what we can do with this.”

“Confirmed,” the mare said.

There was a flare, and the mare disappeared, leaving the crystal floating. It floated over to the glass, before a flare of light flashed, washing over Trixie. After a moment, the crystal floated back, before the grey mare appeared again.

“Initial assessment complete,” she said blandly. “Working.”

Stephan folded his arms. The Doctor’s expression was thoughtful.

“Assessment results follow,” the mare said. “Subject has sustained level eight fragmentation. Procedures possible: erasure of memory. Possibility of resistance and damage: 48%. Attempted erasure of hostile personalities. Possibility of resistance and damage: 94.7%–”

“What’s ‘resistance and damage’ mean?” Stephan asked, scowling.

“It means, Trixie would fight back against a foreign presence in her mind,” the Doctor replied, shaking his head sadly. “You’d not get her back the same.”

“So what this tells us is that we should go in ourselves,” Chrysalis put in, smirking. “I take it that’s what you’re saying?”

“Multiple telepathic contacts may be attempted, but risk of damage remains at–” the AI began.

“Log off, Chalcedony,” the Doctor said quietly. The mare disappeared, and he sighed. “I take it you intend to enter her mind yourselves, then?”

“That was one of our options,” Luna said quietly.

“Well, I can stay here and monitor you if you try now,” the Doctor said. “You might need someone on hand in case things get… unpleasant.”

“They won’t get ‘unpleasant’,” Chrysalis put in. “We’ll be able to fix the little mare’s broken psyche. Your machine might be from some distant world, but we’re the experts.” She grinned ferally. “Well, I’m an expert anyway.”

The Doctor held her gaze for a moment, before shrugging. “If you say so, Queen Chrysalis. I’ll wait out here.”

“Me too,” Stephan said shortly, arms folded. “I… there’s some places you need to leave alone. Besides, the meeting is soon.”

“Rest assured, Major, we will be there,” Luna said, glancing at Chrysalis, who grinned.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said. “It should be fun seeing how you deal with something that doesn’t take a song and dance to solve, Woona.”

Regally, Princess Luna drew herself up to full height over the comatose mare’s bed.

“So, we are clear?” she demanded of them. “Ideally, Major, I should have liked you to come into this dream in search of Miss Lulamoon, but if you are disinclined…”

“I’d do anything for Trixie,” Stephan said quietly. “But going into her mind? That’s…”

He trailed off.

“There’s some places we shouldn’t go,” the Doctor put in. “Places where secrets should be kept.”

“In any case, key pieces of the human mind remain elusive to me, in what limited time I’ve had to study its workings,” Luna said quietly. “That is why you, Cadance, an alicorn pony, and you Chrysalis, a cousin to alicorns, must together undertake the first leg of this journey yourselves, so that through your knowledge of love’s trappings, you may bring a lost maiden closer to her knight…”

Chrysalis giggled. “The first knight in human folklore whose maiden is also his horse, if I do so remember correctly, hm?”

And Cadance struggled to contain her own emotions, culminating, despite herself, into an unexpected outburst of laughter, followed a moment later by the Doctor, who chuckled. Stephan frowned.

“That’s not funny,” he said.

“It kind of is,” the Doctor said, still chuckling.

The Queen stretched out her hooves a little too exaggeratedly. “Now, do hurry up, Moonbutt, we have an appointment at the Palace awaiting us both.”

As it was, the nickname slid off Luna like water off a swan’s back. All she did was nod, glad that everyone’s attention was on the delicate matter before them, and her horn shone, an ethereal, becalming blue glow, which bespoke the power of the starts concentrated into one lone, sainted spot.

“This part always make me feel like I’m watching someone screw in a lightbulb,” commented Chrysalis. “And people criticize me for my taste in furniture, but it’s you ponies who’ve got a habit of placing glowflies in lamps…”

“Well, well,” Chrysalis exclaimed, over the hustle and bustle of the happy crowd. “This certainly is quite the spectacle, wouldn’t you say?”

That it was, Luna had to agree.

Perhaps, to her nightborn eyes, this wasn’t quite so glorious and tastefully coloured as the Nightmare Night celebration she had attended in Ponyville, on that marvellous evening when she had first dared show herself in public for this time in one-and-a-thousand years. Perhaps these displays just felt a little too flashy and gaudy to her taste, all bright colours, every imaginable shade of blue and red and yellow, of green, of purple, of orange, here a dab of white, there a dash of pink, yet still, they were a dazzle.

But the sights and sounds of the stands, proudly boasting an array of cinnamon buns, mangrove juice, pumpkin pastries, apple fritters and apple pies, and of course, the inevitable balloons of yet more colours of the rainbow, lots and lots of balloons, without forgetting, most important of all, the shrieks of laughter she so loved to hear from a child’s heart...

This was a funfair such as only Equestria could provide.

“How’re we supposed to even find her in this crowd? Heck, I can’t tell who’s who with all these colors!” Cadance exclaimed loudly.

“Oh, Princess,” Chrysalis said, patting her on the back. “If you were only half as familiar with Twixie, little Bella, as I was, then you’d know the Spy still loves a bit of crowd-pleasing attention here and there. One only needs to look closer. Shall we?”

And so they did.

The mismatched trio gazed around, looking around for a mare in blue, a performer, any sort of mare that fit the description of one Trixie Lulamoon. Certainly, the place was, as Cadance had expressed, a mishmash of colours.

“She can’t be far,” Cadance insisted. “A mare of her ego wouldn’t go under for long, not inside her own mind of all places.”

Luna heard her fellow princess sigh.

“Chrysalis…” Cadance began, the utmost reluctance peppered all over her tone. “So long as there’s no projection of Major Bauer in this crowd, I can’t follow the trail of love Miss Lulamoon might feel for him. We’re going to need to keep our senses open for her self-aggrandising, and that’s where you’re best at… what a shock...”

“You know me too well, deary,” Chrysalis replied, with her characteristic smirk. “The stage right over there would be the obvious spot.”

Her hoof pointed straight at the central stage, amidst the cheering, buzzing crowd.

“So there,” she stated in triumph. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“BEHOLD!” boomed a familiar voice from the stage. “Behold, PONIES! Come and feast your eyes upon the wonders which the GREEEAT and POWERFUL Trixie shall deliver to you on this fine summer afternoon!”

There she was, dressed in a magician’s outfit, pointed hat and all. The crowd roared in utter joy, and Cadance couldn’t help but smile.

“Aye, that be her, alright,” Luna noted. “Voice like that, she’d have fit in well at Canterlot Court from a thousand years past.”

Chrysalis glanced at her. “What, now you’re thinking of taking her on as a personal student? Job’s already taken, my dear… in another universe, another me took care of it.”

“I doubt it.” Luna pondered, tapping a hoof to her chin.

“Ladies, let’s, keep our focus?” Cadance said, clearing her throat. “Chrysalis, thank you, but we haven’t actually reached her yet. And Aunt Luna, surely you know how these things go, all very happy and smiley at first, until… something scary happens.”

“She’s right,” Luna said, giving the younger princess a grateful nod. “We mustn’t dilly-daddle.”

“Well, maybe not,” Chrysalis remarked. “But first, we’re gonna need to squeeze our way through this admiring rabble. You can tell this is a dream, none of them are trembling and cowering away in awe at my beautiful face.”

“As if,” Cadance mocked. “Look, let’s just… keep an eye on her?”

“You say the show must go on, after all, then?” Luna asked her niece. “Mayhaps it is not proper decorum to interrupt a performance, yet as you yourself said, time is of the essence.”

Cadance swallowed unhappily. “Yes, but I don’t think Trixie would appreciate us messing up her show. That’d only lead to further complications. I suggest we wait for a crucial moment in the applause, when she’ll be at her happiest. Then we go in.”

“I suppose it’s fine by me,” Chrysalis agreed. “I for one, would love to see what Bellatrix Lulamoon has to offer!”

Onstage, Trixie had called up a new item into existence. By the looks of things, it resembled nothing so much as a treasure chest, complete with a perfectly rounded wooden lid and huge iron lock, such as one might find in a children’s picture book.

“AAAND for my next trick!” the showmare announced. “BEHOLD, this chest! As you can see, fillies and gentlecolts,” she declared, holding out both forehooves in turn. “I have no lockpicks up my sleeves, no crowbar hidden under my wizard’s cap, and my horn shall not shine during this whole trick, except to turn the key in its lock. But, before your wondering eyes, I shall ask for a volunteer, an earthpony or a pegasus, for your confidence, to lower themselves unto this very chest, from whence they shall make their getaway without magic!”

“Aah, pretty standard trick, that,” Chrysalis muttered. “Double trapdoor, one on the stage, and the other at the bottom of the chest. How anyone can be amazed by it…”

“It’s all show business, Chrysalis,” Luna admonished her. “Trixie does it well.”

For some reason, she noticed a childlike grin tugging at Cadance’s dainty lips.

“Niece?” Luna asked. “What about this trick brightens your countenance so?”

Cadance tittered delicately. “Well, it is kinda sad, too, thinking back on it…” the Princess of Love confessed. “But… Bluey. Makes me think to when we were little foals with Aunt Celestia… he did so love his pirate games…”

“Ah, yes. Him.” Chrysalis sneered. “Dear Fancypants dropped the news that, somehow, Sunbutt found it in her to harangue Discord into freeing him. Said the ponce grew a backbone and volunteered to join the fight. Good luck with that! Last I saw him, he was a soaking wet, whimpering mess of a stallion. My children caught him in the shower.”

“Oh, shut it, Chrysalis,” Cadance snapped, stomping a hoof in annoyance. “At least he’s in this for a worthy purpose! You just want to save your own sorry hide.”

“My, my, Candy,” Chrysalis taunted her. “Sticking up for your loser brat of a cousin, are we? How terribly sweet. If you’re so fond of Blueblood, why wasn’t he at your wedding?”

“Aunt Luna wasn’t at the wedding either,” Cadance retorted, dodging the question. “I don’t expect everyone to come at my beck and call, Chrysalis, unlike you. Caught my cousin while he was showering, did they, your foul brood? Well, when was the last time you even sponged yourself down without having one of your drones do it for you?”

Chrysalis sputtered and stammered, and for the first time since she was here, Luna thought she saw a glint of frustration beneath the queen’s smooth facade.

“That is enough, please,” Luna declared, standing between the increasingly aggravated mares. “Both of you.”

“Fine... look, I’ll make it up to her,” Chrysalis told Luna placatingly, reaching toward a nearby wheeled confectionary stand she hadn’t noticed before, like it had only just appeared. “Here, Cadance, my treat. Fancy some candyfloss?”

“Candy… floss?” Cadance repeated in disbelief, with a twitch of the eye which failed to escape Luna’s gaze.

“Yes, candy floss!” Chrysalis exclaimed cheerfully, picking up one a pink-and-blue example of the confection from the stand, without paying. “Remember, just as delighted us a few months back... well, it was delightful for me, anyhoo. Quite a story, Luna. Would you care to hear it? It’d make old Discord himself proud.”

But Luna felt she very much did not want to hear it. The nervous twitch had spread from Cadance’s eye to all her joints now, lips and hooves and wings, to a spasm which shook the pink mare in a manner Miss Pie could scarcely have kept up with.

“Ch-chrysalis, you… you d-disgusting, tw-twisted, uncaring m-monster!” Cadance spluttered, half-strangled by her own fury.

Without warning, she made an angry lunge at the Changeling Queen. But she did not get very far, when just as suddenly, a wooden stake burst from the ground right behind her in a horrid screeching sound, in synch with the three lengths of rope which appeared in mid-air and, swaying like tentacles, launched to wrap themselves tightly around her petite torso and forelegs, dragging her to the stake, leaving tracks of upturned earth in her wake. Cadance barely had time to gasp before a silken gag clamped over her mouth.

And, to Luna’s horror, with bursts of green flame, every pony within the crowd melted away into Changelings.

“Queen CHRYSALIS!” Luna roared, seized with rage. “What is the meaning of this?”

Even Chrysalis looked a bit surprised, until recognition dawned in her eyes.

“This is not my doing, Princess,” the Changeling Queen said, barely holding back a giggle. “My best guess is, our little ‘Candy’ here has a powerful memory which has overcome her, one she’d prefer you didn’t see! Ooh, this ought to be fun!”

Before Luna’s incredulous sight, Cadance’s horn crackled, not with magic, but as though some foreign body were trying to emerge from it. The alicornial tissues frazzled, and something blossomed forth. At first, Luna mistook it for a thick, pink cloud. Then the punchline hit her.

“... Candyfloss?”

Chattering and chittering with glee, the Changeling drones surged forward unto the spot where Princess Cadance, her horn converted into a common stick for cotton candy, was held bound and gagged to the stake.

“Well, admittedly, I did not think this through,” Chrysalis said curiously. “But yes, Woona. What you see here is not some trick of the mind, merely a memory come to life, of a use my sweet children found for Candy while she was in our clutches. Isn’t it just darling?”

In two and threes, drone after drone leapt to take bites out of the candyfloss atop the struggling Cadance’s unpowered horn, the amount of which never seemed to grow any less.

“You used my royal niece… as a stick of candy…” Luna shook her head, trying to clear it. “Chrysalis,” she uttered lowly. “If you do not make an active contribution to our efforts here. So help me, I will personally ensure your removal from–”

But her inquiry was interrupted, by another yell from on top of the stage.

“For our volunteer, a traitor, from the false Equestria! A slave, of the dastardly Tyrant herself!” Trixie declared, and in came a bound and gagged Royal Guardsmare, clad in a sort of armor that Luna was sure she had seen in photographs of Earth’s battlegrounds.

A Guard of the Solar Empire.

On the stage, a yellow pegasus mare struggled against her bonds, whimpering from beneath her gag. Looking down an as-yet unseen threat, her eyes widened, and her struggles increased.

“Cease your petty squabbling, both of you!” Luna boomed, but it was no use, for the chittering of the Changelings washed over even the Royal Canterlot Voice like it was nothing.

Dejected, and regretting bringing both mares into the mind dive, the Lunar Princess struggled to keep her focus upon Trixie, and whatever it was she intended for the poor soul on her stage.

“Surely it can’t–”

But Luna’s exclamation was cut short, by a bloodcurdling scream, punctuated by the splatter of blood and viscera from within the box, a truly unsettling sight. Luna sighed, wincing from both the squabbling Queen and Princess, and the horrific show before her. She would have to clear both their minds, when all was said and done.

It had started so well, too...

“Curses.”

When they came out of it, the Doctor was sat on a chair, reading a book, his eyes narrowed. He looked up as they all started shaking their heads and stretching their tensed muscles.

“I take it your little sojourn didn’t go quite as planned?” he asked.

They said nothing, but Luna stretched herself out and, glowering, left by the door behind which, the Doctor knew, Bauer was waiting. She looked as if she wanted a word.

The Element Bearers and Lyra had, for the moment, stopped their usual training regimen. Twilight and Rainbow Dash had taken the opportunity to go visit their families. None of them knew when they might next get the chance, after all. Pinkie Pie was taking the time to get to know Viktor Kraber, much to Major Bauer’s dismay.

“You like that show too?!”

“Fokkin’ right I do! I watched it all the time back in college! Don’t lose your way… and we all got drunk and sang along in our apartment. It was fokkin’ kwaai!”

“You watched a lot of Earth cartoons, wow! Any recommendations?”

“Star vs. The Forces Of Evil seems right up your alley. It’s...”

“I don’t have an alleyway! But if you think it fits there, I should check it out!”

“That’s not what I… ah fok it. Why not.”

Lyra, for her part, was taking the opportunity to indulge in a little sitting and reading. It had been a long time since she’d been able to do so. Between training and… certain revelations, she hadn’t been able to find time for it.

She had spoken with Applejack, Rarity and Fluttershy about the events of the past few days. The three of them had been somewhat tight-lipped. Apparently, although they had not witnessed everything, they had witnessed enough that an order to ‘not discuss the mission’ had trickled down to them.

“Feels like lyin’ to me,” Applejack had said. “Lyin’ by omission is lyin’ all the same.”

“Why, though?” Rarity asked. “I’m just curious.”

“Because, even if there’s still some truth, it’s dishonest all the same to conceal stuff like that,” Applejack said.

“There must be a reason for it,” Rarity had said quietly. “Something important. Maybe they’re still trying to piece together what happened and don’t want an incomplete story getting too far out there and distorting the truth.”

“Maybe,” Applejack had admitted grudgingly. “But still... somethin’ about this feels wrong.”

Fluttershy had said nothing, which in and of itself was a sign that things had gotten pretty hairy out there.

“At least you’re all okay,” Lyra had said to them.

“Not everypony is,” Fluttershy had whispered.

They had left the conversation at that, and the three had soon gone off to do other things, leaving Lyra alone.

Shaking her head free of her reminiscing, she glanced up at the sky - the weather was sunny, with a slight breeze running through to make it just perfect. She frowned slightly - the forecast for today had been overcast and rainy. Then again, it wouldn’t be impossible that plans had changed for whatever reason. It would have been nice for some warning though.

At that moment, she spotted Marcus walking quietly through the courtyard, a pensive expression on his face.

“Hey, Marcus,” she called over. He turned to look at her, a slight frown on his face. Lyra blinked, remembering that she was still addressing a superior officer. “Uh, that is, Colonel Renee.”

“No, it'’s fine,” Marcus said. “We’re not in a formal situation here.” He paused, smiling at her. “How have you been doing, Lyra?”

“Oh, fine,” she said, smiling. “Feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“It can’t have been that long,” Marcus said. He shook his head. “I guess time flies when you're having fun.”

“And does the opposite when you’re not,” Lyra agreed. “Not,” she added hastily, “that my work isn't rewarding, it just–”

“I get what you mean,” Marcus said, holding up a hand to forestall her explanation. “And yeah. I guess it does seem to slow down just when you don't want it to.”

He paused, shaking his head. Lyra frowned.

“What is it?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

“It’s my fault,” he said softly, looking up at the sky.

“What is?” she asked.

“This… this whole fucking thing,” he clarified. “Your world coming to the war. I’ve robbed your people of their innocence.”

Lyra paused, thinking his words over. “The Tyrant robbed us of our innocence. You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“If I had never come here–”

“We would only have been a target eventually,” Lyra reasoned. “It’s like Discord says, Tirek wouldn’t stop with just one world. He’ll only keep going.”

“That’s true,” Marcus said quietly. “But I made your world his next target.”

“Better me than some other me,” Lyra said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t ask anything of anypony that I wouldn’t do myself. Not knowing what I know.”

Marcus smiled. “You sound like her.”

There was a pause as Lyra smiled at the compliment.

“Whatever else happens, Marcus, I think there’s a lot of good that can come of your world and ours meeting,” she said softly after a moment. “I mean, look at me. I’ve met humans. I’m going to do something with my life, something more than just sitting on my plot doing nothing.”

“You might… die,” Marcus pointed out.

Lyra shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m gonna die one day anyway. Some souls die in battle, others in their sleep, and some die for no reason at all. But fighting alongside humanity… that’s a chance for me to die for something I believe.”

Marcus paused. “Isn’t that from a game?”

Lyra shrugged. “I got an Xbox. So sue me.”

Marcus snorted. “You’re as bad as she was.” He grinned. “And I wouldn’t change it.”

He gave her a little hug, and she smiled, before he walked off. She watched him go, wishing she could do more to help him. Still, she was doing her part. What else was there?

It’s strange how comforting it was talking to Lyra, even for a little bit. She’s not our Lyra, and God willing she’ll never have to be, but she's still got the same generosity of spirit.

I wished our Lyra was alive, then. I wished she was here to help me deal with the fallout. But then if Lyra had been around, none of this would have happened.

The council chamber that had been chosen for the meeting was old. Ancient tapestries adorned the walls, and a clunky suit of ancient plate armor stood in the corner, looking faintly ominous as the slit in the visor stared out at the occupants.

Celestia and Luna had arrived first, both looking grim. Chrysalis had arrived a few minutes later, looking faintly amused by the whole thing, as if she was privy to some private joke. Marcus and Stephan both came with unreadable expressions, like they were carefully schooling their emotions. Finally the Umbrella Man himself came, a soft frown on his face.

“Mr. Holmes,” Marcus greeted him. “These are Princess Celestia and Princess Luna–”

“I know who they are, Colonel Renee,” the Umbrella Man said with a soft, patient smile. “A pleasure to meet you both, in circumstances not involving the imminent obliteration of my species.”

Luna inclined her head. Celestia smiled.

“A pleasure, Mr. Holmes,” she said. “I believe your reputation precedes you.”

“Only the parts I wish to, Your Highness,” the Umbrella Man said with a deferential air. “And if I may, I prefer to keep my name off the record.”

“Alright,” Marcus said softly. “Where’s Fancypants?”

“He will be along later,” Celestia said vaguely. “To an extent, I was hoping we could get any… murkier business finished with before he arrived. The less we incriminate the new government in these sorts of backroom dealings, the happier I shall feel.”

“And the more secure they will prove to be in the long run,” Luna added with a sage nod.

“A wise policy,” the Umbrella Man commented. “It is usually accurate to say that the fewer people know a secret, the easier that secret is to keep.”

Marcus sighed. “I assume you're up to speed, sir?”

“I read the briefing notes you left,” the Umbrella Man said dryly. “Your style is certainly direct, which for once is helpful as well as tedious to read, so thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Marcus said, leaning on the table, his expression surprisingly neutral. “I’m glad my ‘tediousness’ was helpful.”

"How'd you end up here, anyway?" Stephan asked the Umbrella Man irritably. "Last I heard, weren’t you supposed to be positioned in Antarctica?”

“I finished my... errand there, Major,” said the Umbrella Man. “Besides, it’s become something of an open secret that I come and go as I please.”

“‘He is the British Government’, that’s what some people say,” Stephan scoffed.

“Oh, please. I merely am blessed to go places where people extend their generosities towards me,” the Umbrella Man said, shrugging. “In terms of my actual occupation, technically, I merely occupy a minor position in the former British govern–”

“But we both know that isn’t really the case, right?” Marcus interrupted, frowning. “Lyra had eyes in her head, sir. A fine pair of golden eyes. And they didn’t miss out that you are more than you claim to be."

“They also didn't miss that I was on her side,” the Umbrella Man said pointedly. “Something I would ask you to remember, despite your personal… reservations.”

“If you are as insightful as your reputation suggests,” Celestia said diplomatically, “your input will be welcome here, sir.”

“I suspect I am nowhere near as insightful, so to speak, as yourself and Princess Luna, Your Highness,” the Umbrella Man said modestly. “But I spend my time almost exclusively dealing with messes of this sort. In this, hopefully I shall bring a point of view that is useful in resolving this situation to the maximum benefit for all involved.”

“If there can be a benefit,” Stephan muttered.

“There’s always a way to wring an advantage out of even the most dire situation,” Chrysalis put in with a soft, almost predatory smile. She did not elaborate.

“Now, I’m curious as to whether you have captured the perpetrator, Colonel Renee?” the Umbrella Man inquired politely.

“Short Fuse and his accomplices are being interrogated as we speak...” Marcus began.

The Umbrella Man cut him off with a cough. “Singular, Colonel Renee, singular. You cannot possibly assume all of this resultant mess was the work of a few rogue thugs?”

Palms pressed to a stack of documents, Stephan leaned in, sudden interest lighting his face.

“As a matter of fact, sir, we don’t,” he said. “The report, which you’ve read, prominently mentions I was approached by a hooded mare. Whoever she was, she was unnervingly resourceful, and came closest to killing me, not to mention actually succeeding in incapacitating Discord.”

The Umbrella Man’s face was unreadable. “Wraiths are not my domain, Major. I’m a person who deals in hard, rational fact. The Lord of Chaos’ current status is a matter for the thaumaturgic experts of our friends on Equus Prime. Instead, please enlighten me, how did we lose control of our most valuable infiltration asset? Would you blame that on a hooded mare as well?”

Stephan frowned, tapping his fingers irritatedly.

“You are asking me the how, when I barely understand the entire situation,” he growled, “which, currently, is blowing up in our collective faces. We have theories, but no way of confirming anything. In the meantime, Discord is down for the count, and while Princess Luna reassures us he’ll recover some by the time we make our move, he won’t be back to full power for a while. And this situation in the town of Ponyville…”

“Is the source of the potentially devastating PR disaster we are here to avert,” Celestia put in calmly. “Gentlemen, please remain calm. We are all on the same side.”

Stephan scowled, but said nothing. The Umbrella Man merely inclined his head.

“As you say, Your Highness,” he said softly. “I am merely trying to uncover the truths we will be attempting to process.”

“Maybe you should stop being so fucking high and mighty,” Marcus said bluntly. "The more time we have to deal with us getting on each other's neck, the less we can accomplish.”

“Oh, I can move mountains in my field, Colonel, make no mistake about that,” the Umbrella Man said with a quiet confidence. “It is merely regrettable that the task before us is moving planets.”

“Moving planets,” Luna put in with a small smile, “is something I am very familiar with.” She looked around. “We are getting bogged down in irrelevancies. Before us is a truth, that the Blue Spy was compromised and turned against us, resulting in her killing an innocent mare.”

“And nearly killing several others, including her poor lover,” Chrysalis pointed out with an oddly cheery smile. “Don't forget that part. It adds weight, tension, gravitas.”

Luna scowled, but ignored her. “We are left with the question of how this news should be broken to the public.”

“A difficult question, to be sure,” the Umbrella Man commented quietly. “The PHL’s position in this world is tenuous. It may make your subjects question the moral integrity of the organisation, at a time when they need to believe absolutely in the cause.”

“There’s also the fact that, even if they don’t think you’re a bunch of savages, they’ll think you’re weak,” Chrysalis put in.

“‘Weak’?” Stephan repeated.

“Think about it,” Chrysalis said, sounding oddly serious. “You go out there and say ‘oh, one of our top agents was compromised, went mad, and then killed somepony’. ‘Oh, one of our top officers was captured by one mystery mare and a bunch of lowlife thugs’. Even if they don’t think you’re employing lunatics, they’ll wonder how weak you must be for these events to happen as transpired.”

“Is that such an issue?” Stephan asked.

“Believe me, Major, a sign of weakness is also not a good thing,” the Umbrella Man said. “You’ve banked on convincing this alliance that we are not only a moral ally to stand by with a moral cause, but also that we’re the strongest partner in the alliance. You’ve made a point of teaching them our tactics, giving them our weapons.”

“You’d make them question, even subconsciously, whether you’re even competent,” Chrysalis finished, smiling slightly. “They’ll ask, ‘why should we listen to you?’ They might even be right to.” At Stephan’s glare, she grinned. “Merely playing devil’s advocate, as it were.”

“Conjuring all the potentially bad scenarios from this isn’t helping in our approach on how to deal with the information,” Marcus said, irritated.

“That’s because you’re approaching this from the perspective of ‘we’re going to tell people the truth’,” Chrysalis said with a small, feral grin. “Which, if you ask me, you shouldn’t.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”

“How many people and ponies know who killed that mare?” Chrysalis asked. “As in, who the killer really is, what really happened to her? Not enough to whistleblow, since most of them are under your command.”

“So, what? We conceal what happened?” Stephan asked.

“It needn’t be that big a lie,” Chrysalis said, mock-sweetly. “‘An agent operating under the command of Imperial forces, working in collusion with the Empire’s sympathisers, engaged in a terror attack on Ponyville. One mare was killed. The enemy agent is in custody.’ None of that would even be a lie, just… not the whole truth.”

“There would be questions about this enemy agent,” the Umbrella Man said softly. “Questions that we’d need satisfactory answers for at some point.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Chrysalis said, still smiling. “All you’d need is a body.”

Celestia, silent up until now, frowned. “A body?”

“All ponies in Ponyville who saw your vaunted Blue Spy will know about the agent is that she was… well, blue, and a mare,” Chrysalis said. “That shade of baby-blue is hardly unique to Trixie. I’m certain a suitable corpse could be found.”

“Acquiring a corpse is an easy business in times of war,” the Umbrella Man said. “I can even have one shipped to us by an acquaintance’s private conveyance.”

“Of course,” Marcus said heavily. “So, what? We use the corpse as a scapegoat?”

“It would be easy to provide a public statement that the enemy agent was killed attempting to escape capture,” the Umbrella Man said.

“And you have it all nice and neat... no-onw would ever be able to ask the corpse if she was a scapegoat,” Chrysalis said. She grinned nastily. “Well, they could try, but she’d probably not be very talkative.”

Marcus and Stephan exchanged glances.

“There’s another choice we haven't considered,” Luna put in, gaining everyone's attention. “We do not need to acquire a new scapegoat, not when we already have Trixie Lulamoon in custody.”

“We’re not throwing Trixie under the bus,” Stephan said angrily.

“Not the Spy,” Luna said quietly.

Everyone in the room stared at her. It took a long moment for the Night Princess to speak again, her expression doleful.

“Our world’s Trixie Lulamoon,” she explained, each word slow and steady. “She was arrested and placed in prison a very short while ago. A short enough time that it is plausible she was still free in a feasible timeframe to be the perpetrator of the attack on Ponyville.”

“She would still need to die,” the Umbrella Man said without inflection. “Or she might still be able to tell the truth.”

“Not if she were convinced that our lie was the truth,” Luna said slowly.

The Umbrella Man frowned at her words. “In what sense?”

“We have a rare opportunity presented before us, but it is as much of a delicate undertaking as your own plan, sir,” Luna said slowly. “However, I believe having a live accused, not just to blame, but to have confessed to the deed, would do more damage to the Tyrant and those seeking to undermine all we have worked for than a simple body.”

“And you believe you can arrange for... this world’s Trixie Lulamoon to make that confession?” the Umbrella Man asked.

“We already know the enemy uses memory wipes,” Luna said grimly. “I believe we can convince her that she has undergone such an erasure.”

“Would she believe you?” Marcus asked, folding his arms.

“Why would she not?” Luna asked with a mirthless smile. “One who has undergone a memory wipe would hardly be able to say they ‘did not remember’ such a deed, and a competent magician usually attempts to cover the gaps, even if merely with a thin perceptual alteration.”

“As I said yesterday, Colonel,” Celestia added, her face grim. “Ponies usually believe us when we tell them something is a certain way. We have a lot of trust built up in us, and it allows us leeway.” She frowned in what might have been disgust. “I suspect you will find this selfsame trust is a large reason for the following the Queen retained, at least at first.”

“Seems to me that relying on your reputation is a big risk,” Chrysalis commented idly. “When you have another way to ensure she believes you.”

All eyes turned to her.

“Explain, Chrysalis,” Celestia said shortly.

“You have a copy of the memories of the attack already,” Chrysalis said, a slow, dangerous smile forming on her face. “Why not simply transfer those to our little scapegoat?”

“Transfer them?” Stephan said. “How would you do that?”

“Easily enough,” Chrysalis shrugged. “Lie to Lulamoon as you intended. Tell her that she’s had memories wiped by some of the Empire’s agents, and that she needs to have the memory block removed in order to remember them. Then, you can simply transfer the relevant memories in while she’s out.”

“Is that even possible?” Marcus asked Celestia and Luna.

“This is more your field,” Celestia told her sister quietly.

Luna looked thoughtful. “Transferring the memories between two beings would normally be caught within a few moments, owing to the discontinuity. No two beings are the same, after all. But…”

“But?” Stephan pressed.

“This has obviously never been tested before,” Luna whispered, “but if the two beings were essentially the same person, then it would theoretically be much easier to achieve.”

“That may be so,” Celestia agreed, “but such spell casting and mental manipulation could be found if anyone were to look deeper into it.”

Marcus frowned thoughtfully. “Is there a way to do it without magic?”

“Without magic?” Luna asked. “You would be speaking in the realms of technology, but it is your kind who understand advanced technology best.”

“And there's no technology I know of that is that complete when it comes to messing with people’s heads,” Stephan said with a frown. “There's chemicals, there's hypnosis… wait a minute.”

“What?” Marcus asked.

“Technology that can mess with someone’s mind,” Stephan said, sharing a glance with Luna. “We know someone who can do it.”

“He was willing to help us before,” Luna reasoned.

“Who was this?” Marcus asked.

“Doctor Bowman,” Stephan said.

“He owes me a favor, and even if he doesn’t see it that way, there are other means of persuasion,” the Umbrella Man said softly, nodding thoughtfully. “And you know he has technology to assist us in this matter?”

“He demonstrated technology that he believed could potentially assist,” Luna explained. “Without knowing the technology well, I suspect he could use it to assist, or find something similar.”

Marcus frowned. “Bowman might have helped with Trixie earlier, but I know him, his reputation. He’s a wild card, a loose cannon. Wouldn’t Whooves be just as good?”

“We don’t have the leverage over Whooves we have over Bowman,” the Umbrella Man said, his smile turning slightly predatory. “And leverage is a powerful weapon, in the right hands.”

“Your hands?” Chrysalis asked, apparently amused.

“Among others, Your Majesty,” the Umbrella Man said with a slight incline of the head. “I tend to know what I’m doing with people. They are easy to manipulate. Even the clever ones.”

Marcus sighed. “Fine. If we can convince Bowman, and I mean we,” he added, glaring at the Umbrella Man, “then… I guess it’s better than killing an innocent.”

“Indeed, Colonel,” the Umbrella Man said. “It would mean calling in less favours.”

Stephan shook his head. “This seems too easy. Someone’s bound to learn the truth eventually.”

“Probably,” the Umbrella Man admitted. “There is no such thing as the perfectly-kept secret.”

“If we can’t keep the secret, then what’s the fucking point of the lie?!” Marcus asked.

“Because they’ll believe it today,” Chrysalis said, rolling her eyes as though the answer were obvious. “You need them to believe it today. You don't need them to believe it forever.”

“Precisely,” the Umbrella Man said. “Tell a lie today, one with enough fabricated evidence to keep it from being exposed too quickly, and it’ll keep the Alliance intact. If we tell the truth, we risk the Alliance fragmenting, ponies questioning whether the price is worth paying. This way, the Alliance is… strengthened.”

“How the hell do you figure that one?” Marcus asked incredulously.

“Revenge is a powerful motivator,” Chrysalis said with a feral smile. “They have had their homes struck. This war just became personal. If you tell them their enemy attacked them, play it up as ‘an attack designed to weaken Equestria’s resolve for the war’, using one of Equestria’s own, no less, then they’ll be all the more determined to give their enemies a bloody nose.”

“Essentially accurate,” the Umbrella Man commented quietly.

“And after?” Stephan asked quietly.

“After the war, it is not a priority,” the Umbrella Man said. “Once the war is concluded, assuming we are not all corpses and Newfoals, the lie is kept only for as long as we can, and we do not need to keep the Alliance stable. It is not sufficient enough a lie to risk anything other than mild political embarrassment for those involved... and since the Princesses are stepping down from true rulership, I am not on record, and no one likes the Changelings anyway... no offence, Queen Chrysalis.”

“None taken,” the Queen smirked.

“The damage is superficial,” the Umbrella Man finished. “The only damage we suffer today is whatever damage goes on your... conscience, for what we must do.”

Marcus gave a hollow chuckle. “Well, I’m certainly glad we had this little chat. I’d have hated to do anything morally murky.”

The Umbrella Man raised an eyebrow. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Colonel.”

“We’re going to convince an innocent she’s guilty of murder, just to cover up our own agent’s mistake and our inability to stop her in time,” Marcus said grimly. “Forgive me if that pisses me off.”

The Umbrella Man clucked his tongue. “This war is not clean. You know that. Do not pretend this is dirtier than anything else which can and has been done. We’re not doing this because it is good, we are doing it because we must.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chrysalis interrupted. “I find this all immensely funny.”

The Umbrella Man ignored her. “However ‘murky’ you find this course of action, it will save the Alliance. It will strengthen the resolve of our allies to fight our implacable foe, and will, ultimately, serve us better than any other outcome. And it will be done with no innocent blood on our hands.”

“We’ll destroy a mare’s life,” Marcus said hollowly.

“To spare Earth’s existence,” the Umbrella Man retorted. “One individual’s reputation, her freedom, is nothing compared to that. If she spends the rest of her days paying for the deeds of the Spy, but we win the war, it is a price worth paying. Considerably less a price than many others have paid.”

Marcus said nothing, looking away from the Umbrella Man with a conflicted expression.

“I do not like this,” Celestia put in. “But I have ruled long enough to know the morally shining path is not always the right one, much as I detest that truism. And at least this way, we won’t need to kill any more innocents.” She sighed. “You have my support.”

“As you have mine,” Luna put in. “Trixie Lulamoon’s sacrifice will be necessary, but this way, she will in effect save us all, and we can ensure she stays in comfortable imprisonment.”

Stephan growled. “I’d have stronger words than ‘morally murky’. But…” he sighed. “It’s the pragmatic choice.”

Marcus made a noise at the back of his throat. “Alright. Fine.”

“We can inform Fancy of the results of this meeting when he arrives,” Luna put in. “I suspect he will have questions, but he trusts us.”

“All we really need tell dear old Fancy is that we’ll soon have an announcement to be given concerning the Ponyville attack,” Chrysalis said with a wistful smile. “He’ll be grateful for having something positive and productive. And like you said, Celly, your little ponies trust you.”

Celestia frowned. “I will ask Fancy to arrange for a press conference in a few days. Hopefully all will be well by then.”

“Yeah,” Marcus said quietly. “Hopefully.”

The first hurdle we faced would be convincing Doctor Bowman.

Doctor Bowman… the Doctor, or one of him. I didn't know much about him: he’d worked for a while with R&D, helping Colonels Hex and Munro, before supposedly taking a leave of absence after a mission gone wrong. I knew he was, supposedly, a version of Doc Whooves from some other world, here with his own agenda - an agenda that included helping the Reavers, an HLF group that was, supposedly, one of the ones that actually wasn't completely mad.

I didn’t trust him. I was sure he didn’t trust me. We’d met once, briefly, and the experience was less than positive for either of us. Nonetheless, I had to convince him to help with our plan, whatever ‘convincing him’ took.

The office seemed colder today. Marcus didn't know why that was. The weather was as sunny as it had been for days, which left Marcus with the distinct impression that Celestia was quietly requesting nice weather from the local weather teams. God knew, they didn’t need rain to dampen their spirits.

Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Who knew?

Other than the cold, the office was unchanged from how it usually looked, save for a slightly larger pile of papers on the desk, a symptom of the ever-increasingly desperate situation in Earth. Projections had been drawn up by their best tactical minds, projections that were as inconclusive as the calculations Marcus himself had tried to make. No one knew if the defences they had spent so long building up would do the job.

‘All the more reason to do what we’re doing,’ Marcus thought grimly. ‘We have enough on our plate. This problem needs to be dealt with.’

The Umbrella Man was standing in one corner of the room. Marcus could almost have called it ‘looming’, except that he seemed more like he was trying to be invisible. The two of them were waiting.

“He is coming, right?” Marcus asked.

The Umbrella Man held up a small, beeping device. “I believe so.”

“Comforting,” Marcus said irritably. “And when he gets here–”

“When he gets here, Colonel Renee, I will be the one who speaks to him,” the Umbrella Man cut him off. “You’re many things, but your skills are ill-suited to this.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a point. My best shot is threatening him.” Marcus snorted. “So I suppose you think you can convince him.”

“Perhaps,” was all the Umbrella Man said.

A few moments passed, before a slow rumble could be heard - a noise not unlike strangled trumpeting. It was soft at first, as though it were far away, but slowly came closer, getting louder, until a shape - a nine foot tall box - appeared in the room, the words “Police Public Call Box” showing.

“Well,” the Umbrella Man said with a slightly sardonic tone. “He knows how to make an entrance.”

Marcus said nothing. He wasn't looking forward to this. He and Bowman had only met once before, a few months ago, but it was enough to convince Marcus that he didn't want to repeat the experience.

And yet, here he was.

A moment later, the door to the box opened, and the auburn-haired face of Doctor Bowman popped out of the door.

“Who rang?” he asked.

Bowman, the Doctor, frowned, folding his arms as he stepped out of the box, though he stayed within a step of it. His eyes glanced over to the Umbrella Man, then back to Marcus.

“Colonel Renee,” he said.

“Doctor Bowman,” Marcus said coolly.

It was hard to see this man, this young, distinctly humanoid man with murky hazel eyes, as being the same man (ish) as Doctor Whooves. Where Whooves radiated cheer tinged with age, this Doctor radiated much more impatience, as though he resented being on someone else’s time.

“You’ve been busy,” Marcus said. “Helping Stephan and Luna with Trixie, for one thing.”

“Well, I always like helping where I can,” the Doctor replied. “Before that I was busy transporting Discord. Not sure when he’ll be done, I left him a means to signal me if he needs it.”

“Transporting Discord?” Marcus frowned.

“He needed help,” the Doctor said. “Thought he could heal faster somewhere else.”

“Where did you leave him?” Marcus asked. “We might need him sooner than we’d like.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I’unno. Space Bermuda? Risa? Some resort, a couple of thousand universes to the right, and down a bit, and maybe the left at Albuquerque…” He trailed off at Marcus’ unamused expression. “Look, we got lost and he’s terrible at navigating, especially since whatever he got hit with put him through the wringer more than even he expected. I don’t know where I left him. He should be able to make his own way back, though I told him he shouldn’t try too soon... in case he isn’t back at full whack. I doubt that’s why I’m here anyway. Speaking of, though...” His eyes flicked back to the Umbrella Man. “The space-time signaller I gave you was not a gift given to call me for any old reason.”

“Be assured, Doctor, we are not calling you for ‘any old reason’,” the Umbrella Man replied.

“Best not be,” the Doctor said, grimacing slightly. “I was enjoying myself with a little break on the Citadel after all the excitement getting Discord where he was going.”

“The what?” Marcus asked.

The Doctor waved a hand. “Not important. Let's just say, I don’t like being treated like I’m at someone’s beck and call.” He paused, looking Mycroft in the eye. “So - what political intrigue is it this time, Mikey?”

“How do you know it’s political intrigue?” Marcus asked with a frown.

“Are you joking?” the Doctor asked. “This man doesn’t actually step out from the shadows for so much as afternoon tea. I hear there used to be a saying in the halls of Westminster, ‘when the Umbrella Man cometh, the storm runneth away and calleth for its mummy’.”

“An exaggeration,” the Umbrella Man said tightly. “It was only the one time.”

“Sure, mate,” the Doctor snorted. “Alright, so what is it?”

“We need your help to avert disaster for the PHL and the Alliance,” the Umbrella Man said.

The Doctor frowned, looking from one to the other again. “I take it this isn't the Solar Empire allying with Sontarans, or any other nice and simple work.”

“Regrettably not,” the Umbrella Man said. He folded his arms. “You are aware that there have been certain issues facing the Alliance?”

“You mean the incident in Ponyville?” the Doctor asked.

“How do you know about that?” Marcus demanded.

The Doctor smirked, tapping his box. “This is a time machine, Colonel. You do the math.”

“Do you know who perpetrated the incident?” the Umbrella Man asked. “Or better yet, who was behind the planning?”

The Doctor paused. “No, those particular details were lost by the time I read about it.”

“‘Lost’?” Marcus repeated. “How can it have been lost?”

“The same way history doesn’t record who threw Tiberius in the Tiber, or the names of every single Senator who stabbed Julius Caesar,” the Doctor said with a smile. “I was far enough ahead that the details were lost.”

“Then let me enlighten you,” the Umbrella Man said quietly. “The Blue Spy was compromised and conditioned to attack Ponyville. She engaged several PHL operatives in combat, before murdering Miss Berry Punch, whom, based on testimony from her next of kin, we are led to suspect was involved with a dissident group.”

The Doctor’s smile faded as the Umbrella Man spoke.

“Cheerilee’s sister… I see,” he said quietly. “So what do you need from me? I can’t change it.”

“I don’t wish you to try,” the Umbrella Man said. “Risking the fabric of reality might be somewhat too much to risk for a lone deceased individual.”

The Doctor nodded once, though he frowned. “Then what is it?”

“Simple,” the Umbrella Man said. “We cannot allow the PHL’s name to be slandered. We cannot allow ourselves to appear incompetent and weak, or worse, too dangerous to be allowed to stay. Either option would greatly jeopardize the Alliance.”

The Doctor’s frown deepened. “A coverup, then?”

“A coverup,” the Umbrella Man confirmed.

“I take it you don’t need me for anything simple,” the Doctor said slowly. “You're more than adept enough at regular political maneuvering, Mikey.”

“Indeed,” the Umbrella Man agreed. “We have already selected a suitable scapegoat. This universe’s Trixie Lulamoon. It is our intention to convince her that she was responsible for the attack on Ponyville.”

The Doctor frowned. “‘Convince’ her?”

“Alter her memories,” the Umbrella Man clarified, “so as to make the lie believable. My understanding is that it is possible.”

“And my understanding is that you’re able to provide us a way to do that,” Marcus added.

The Doctor glanced from the Umbrella Man to Marcus. “Am I really? News to me.”

“Don’t play coy,” Marcus said irritably. “You’re capable of going into the future, let alone travelling between realities. You can get technology that would be able to alter a person’s memories from that future. Hell, Stephan and Princess Luna mentioned that you’d already used something advanced to try and fix Trixie's head.”

“I see,” the Doctor said. He folded his arms. “Perhaps I can do what you suggest, Colonel. But I won't. I don't know which of you decided on this ridiculous plan, let alone asking me for help, but I’m not going to have any part of it.”

“Asking you was Stephan’s idea, but the plan wasn't my idea or his,” Marcus said tiredly.

“The plan was mooted by Princess Luna, and she and her sister were present at the meeting,” the Umbrella Man said.

The Doctor snorted. “Of course. Pragmatic.”

“Thought youd be more surprised,” Marcus frowned. “I didn’t think those two had a reputation for backroom dealings.”

“Anyone who thinks those two are naive is more naive. They’re wiser than you give them credit for,” the Doctor said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And capable of doing whatever they think they have to in order to maintain harmony.”

The Umbrella Man sighed. “If your objection is on moral grounds-”

“Right in one,” the Doctor snapped. “You’re talking about not only lying to cover your own backs, but destroying an innocent life to do it. I can’t stop you from doing what you're going to do, but I’m not helping you.”

“Your assistance is necessary,” the Umbrella Man put in. “Only with the technology you have at your disposal, or else retrieved from some other place and time, can we hope to do this in such a way that Miss Lulamoon is truly convinced of her own guilt. It is by far the cleanest cover up option available.”

“All the more reason to refuse helping you, then,” the Doctor said, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve done a lot for you people. I supported the PHL for three years, did R&D work with some of the more odious officers I’ve ever encountered, but I kept at it because I knew the stakes. I will not do this.”

Marcus growled. “We need you.”

“You already have a Doctor who’ll happily support your efforts if you ask him,” the Doctor said. “Whooves will–”

“We have no leverage over Whooves,” the Umbrella Man put in. “No way to ensure he doesn't talk later, should he find our actions… distasteful.”

At this, the Doctor snorted. “And I suppose you think you have leverage over me.”

“You have a checkered history on Earth, Doctor,” the Umbrella Man said. “Any effort on the part of ‘Doctor Richard Bowman’ to reveal what we have done can be dismissed as the efforts of a known traitor to the PHL to attempt to slander his former employers.”

“Clever, Mikey, clever,” the Doctor said, “but revealing something implies there's something to reveal. And there won't be. I won’t do anything.”

At this, Marcus let out a growl. “You sanctimonious prick. We’re talking about actions that could save lives.”

“No,” the Doctor countered, “you’re talking about actions that might save your reputation, and you’re banking on the idea that your reputation is fragile enough this will break it, and important enough that breaking it matters.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why not actually be honest? The Spy was manipulated and controlled, presumably by an agent of the Empire. There’s no way a reasonable individual can blame her for what she did.” He looked at Marcus. “Is it so hard for you to have faith in your allies to see things the way they are, instead of expecting the worst of them?!”

“Faith’s easy to have when you’re not in the trenches,” Marcus said quietly.

“We cannot take the chance that the Alliance will not be damaged by the truth,” the Umbrella Man put in. “Things are too precarious. We are standing on the edge of oblivion. A position you are familiar with, Doctor, if the television show’s depictions of the Time War are to be believed.”

“Spare me your third-hand knowledge of my life,” the Doctor said with an irritated expression.

“So you can't help us now, but you can do it whenever it benefits you,” Marcus’ scathing voice echoed out. “Better watch out, Holmes. He might turn and run, like he does every time something hard comes around.” Marcus stepped up to him, looking directly in his eyes. “This is the man everyone fears. The Oncoming Storm? What a joke. I don’t see anything but a man-child.”

“Ah, and is this the vaunted Commander Renee’s famous ‘diplomacy’?” the Doctor said with a bored expression. “Insult someone with third-grade jibes about how stupid they are until they do exactly as he says? And if that doesn't work, what, threats?”

“If it comes to it,” Marcus said with gritted teeth. “God knows, maybe the next you won't be quite such an asshole.”

“Ah, lovely, so here it is,” the Doctor said sarcastically, holding his palms out. “And how do I get to go this time? Shot? Magical attack? Slam my head against a wall until I give in or my skull caves in, whichever comes first? Or maybe all of the above. I’ve got all day, lives to burn, and nothing but time.”

Marcus tensed for a moment, before suddenly relaxing, his expression turning from fury to… resignation?

“If I were you, I’d allow Mr. Holmes speak his turn without your input,” he said, shaking his head tiredly, turning to the other man. “Go ahead, Mr. ‘Umbrella Man’.”

The Umbrella Man raised an eyebrow. “I don't mean to be rude, Doctor, truly I don't. I am merely trying to impress upon you the seriousness of the situation.”

“I’m well aware of the ‘seriousness of the situation’,” the Time Lord said. “More so than you think.”

“But you won't help,” Marcus said heavily.

“Help you break laws that haven't been written yet about the code of conduct of the technologies you're talking about?” the Doctor asked. “Help you potentially destroy an innocent mare’s sanity, and certainly destroy her life?”

“We don’t have many options, Doctor,” Marcus pointed out.

“Then find one,” the Doctor retorted. “And don’t count on having any ‘leverage’ over me. I’ve been threatened by far scarier things than this undisciplined, temper-deficient pseudo-God with more hubris and hamartia than the entire cast of a Greek Theatre piece, let alone a man who plays enough chess to occupy seven tournaments and still doesn't know when to quit.”

Marcus shook his head, turning away from the Doctor to go stare out of his window. The Doctor snorted, before looking to the Umbrella Man, who was scrutinising him with an expressionless face.

“The good Colonel’s methods are limited, it is true,” the Umbrella Man said quietly after a moment. “Be assured, however, Doctor, that I always knew threatening your person was not going to work. We are not the Daleks, after all.”

“No... you’re not...” the Doctor said tightly.

“That being said,” the Umbrella Man continued, “I was hoping you would choose to aid us as a concession to the greater good, so to speak.”

“Not going to happen,” the Doctor said. “It isn’t for the greater good. I’ve told you what you could do.”

“It is regrettable that you see things that way,” the Umbrella Man said with a slightly exaggerated sigh. “Such a shame. I had hoped not to resort to unpleasantness. As it stands, however, I know enough about you to know what I can threaten you with.”

The Doctor blinked, his eyes narrowing, but he said nothing.

“The Reavers’ attempts to reunify the HLF have been surprisingly helpful,” the Umbrella Man continued. “PER cells are being eradicated without needing to tie up PHL units. That being said, the Reavers have also moved into the open once more - it would be a shame were some overzealous PHL officer to decide that an army of HLF active in America was unacceptable.”

He smiled, his face a polite yet feline thing that looked oddly unsettling. Marcus turned to look at him, before looking at the Doctor, whose expression was icy.

“It would be such a shame if... Bastion, was it?, were to suffer the same fate as Defiance,” the Umbrella Man continued.

“Such a shame, besides, they are still HLF, and the HLF is classified as a terror organisation,” Marcus added, arms crossed. “Make no mistake, Bowman. We know about your deals for smuggling weapons and armor to them, we just haven't done anything because they didn't matter. However, you both are still guilty of illegal trades, and it is within my rights to send out orders to detain them, with the President’s approval.”

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “You wouldn't.”

“Oh, I am only beginning, Doctor,” the Umbrella Man said, leaning forward. “Colonel Munro? Sergeant Elliot? Even the Prime version of your old friend Chalcedony, if I can find her, and I can. If you refuse to help us, let us see what interesting charges I can bring to the table to lay at their feet. I’m certain I can make things stick.”

“And he’ll have my full support,” Marcus added.

The Doctor’s eyes were icy, his face emotionless. “You seem to have made your point, Mycroft.”

“I am certain I have,” the Umbrella Man said coldly. “So. Do we have your agreement?”

“Two conditions,” the Doctor said shortly.

“You aren’t in a position to be making demands,” Marcus snapped, his eyes narrowing on him. “Just because you got sloppy and refuse–”

“No, I’m willing to hear them,” the Umbrella Man said, holding up a hand, causing Marcus to frown. “Let us be amicable about this.”

The Doctor raised a finger. “First. The Reavers don't just get left alone... they get praised. Medals. Ceremonies. Statues. I want a full, unreserved apology for the deaths of Wolfgang Brennan and Arthur Rand. I want people in jail for it. I want another apology for lying and concealing their actions in support of the PHL. I want a brass band.”

“You’re kidding,” Marcus said.

“Nope,” the Doctor said. “I mean it. Best brass band on Earth. Most expensive trumpets. Snazzy uniforms, bright red.”

“A… somewhat ostentatious demand,” the Umbrella Man said slowly, “but hardly impossible.”

“As for my second,” the Doctor said, and his eyes narrowed further, “I reserve the right to it. When I come to you, either of you, you don't get to ask questions. You don't get to have qualms about the morality or the legality or whether you like what I’m asking. All I want to hear, if and when I ask for your help, is ‘yes’.”

Marcus growled. “So what, you get to ask us to kill someone?”

“Hardly,” the Doctor snorted. “You know Doctor Whooves, Colonel. I am, still, a version of him. Do you believe he would ask anything that terrible of you?”

“Then why make it a condition?” Marcus asked.

“Because I’m in the unique position of being able to make a demand, and I have nothing in mind that fits,” the Doctor said. “I might come back in two months and ask for some nice tea if I don't think of something better, and that would be it, but that's my business.”

Marcus snorted at that remark. He struggled to remember that he was still dealing with the Doctor. Bowman had helped HLF, had deliberately run shady deals, had come and gone as he pleased… and yet, the sheer innocuousness of what he had said was so very like Doctor Whooves that it gave Marcus pause. He didn't like Bowman… but making a deal with someone he didn’t like, especially someone he knew wasn’t a bad person at heart, was hardly the worst this business would ask of his soul.

“If you promise to stick to your end of the bargain,” he said, “you’ve got a deal.”

“I don't tend to give a price if I don't want to stick to it,” the Doctor shrugged. He paused, clapping his hands together. “You want memory-messing tech? Fine. You want to swap memories between the two Trixies, and then - what, study the tech, I take it?”

“Potentially,” the Umbrella Man began. “If...”

“No,” Marcus said. “You use it once, and then it goes back with you.”

The Doctor blinked. “Indeed?”

“I’m not an idiot, Doctor,” Marcus said quietly. “Whatever future tech you're using doesn't belong with us.”

The Doctor nodded, almost looking impressed. “If you weren't about to do something utterly reprehensible, and if you hadn’t just decided to threaten my friends, I might almost respect that.”

“I have to do whatever I can to make things right,” Marcus said. “You’d think the man who killed his entire race to save a universe would know that feeling.”

“The difference being, I went back and saved them, much good it did me,” the Doctor said, his expression cooling again. “You can't ever go back and change what you do over the next few days, and you certainly can’t change what you’ve just done.”

“I guess I can’t,” Marcus said, and for a moment his expression was haunted. “But I’ll live with it.”

The Doctor said nothing for a moment, before shaking his head. “I’ll be back tomorrow to begin,” he said. “Be ready.”

He turned and walked back into his box, which disappeared with the same cacophony as it had when it arrived.

“We shall have to tread carefully,” the Umbrella Man said quietly. “I suspect he will not abide entirely by his end of the deal.”

“Maybe not, but he's better than killing an innocent,” Marcus retorted. “Even if he is a smug ass.”

“A ‘smug ass’ who, I suspect, will not take kindly to my threats,” the Umbrella Man said with a wry smile. “Risky proposition, making him angry. One’s career could be at stake.”

“How terrible,” Marcus deadpanned. “But you still did it.”

“We all have sacrifices to make,” the Umbrella Man said. “Even myself. I am willing to lose everything, the same as you are.”

Marcus shook his head, feeling a wave of what might be nausea running through his stomach.

“This shit is getting ridiculous,” he muttered. His head was spinning, like he was coming down from an adrenaline rush. He’d threatened a man with death, threatened his friends…

“‘Ridiculous’, Colonel?” the Umbrella Man asked. “That is an interesting choice of words.”

Marcus sat back in his chair. “What are we doing, Holmes? What the fuck are we doing?”

The Umbrella Man merely inclined his head. “We are doing what we must, to win the war.”

“‘To win the war’,” Marcus echoed. He nodded once. “Alright. You'd better go.”

“Take heart, Colonel Renee,” the Umbrella Man told him with a sibillant smile. “We will get through this.”

“If you say so, ‘Mr. Umbrella Man’,” Marcus sighed, putting his head in his hands. “I have a lot of paperwork. If you'll excuse me.”

He didn’t look up as the Umbrella Man left.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Quiet.”

Trixie Lulamoon was not having the best of days. About twenty minutes ago, a pair of Royal Guards had showed up at her cell, demanded she exit, and began escorting her up a variety of flights of stairs, without telling her where she was going or why. It was hardly comforting, and doubly not so, given the fact that their expressions were both cold and hard. The only saving grace, such as it was, was the fact that she had finally been separated from her odious cellmate.

“Through here,” one of the Guards said grimly. The two Guards led her down a surprisingly well-lit corridor, which contrasted with her former prison accommodation sharply. She frowned in confusion as they reached a small wooden door and opened it, before ushering her inside.

The room was sparse, with plain walls, a single, small bed, and a few books on a shelf, but it was hardly a prison cell. There were no bars on the window, although it was quite high, and there was even an en-suite bathroom. Nothing spectacular, but it was a bathroom.

“Is… is this a joke?” Trixie asked, turning, but the Guards were already gone, the door locked behind them. She turned back to look at the room, and smiled.

‘Perhaps things are finally looking up.’

What did I do?

I threatened a man I don’t like. I shouldn’t feel bad about that. He was an asshole. He was confrontational (yes, I know, I’m confrontational, but I try to keep it for when it’s needed, and I usually know what I’m doing). I shouldn’t have cared. Except… except that he was right. We should have had faith in our allies, faith in their ability to understand, faith in the population of Equestria to see that the PHL had done everything we could.

The thing is… Bowman, the Doctor, he can have faith in people, because he’s an idealist, and more importantly, he’s a civilian. He doesn’t have to sit down with the casualty reports. He doesn't have to look at the projections for when the Solar Empire arrives. I do. I did, that afternoon.

I spent six hours going over the statistics. An estimated few hundred potioneers, untold thousands, tens of thousands of Newfoals, and God only knows what else.

This Alliance was the only hope we had. The PHL’s preparations weren't going to be enough without them. I had to do everything I could to preserve it. Bowman didn't have to like it; no one did, so long as they did what we needed.

It was the early afternoon the next day. That was when he came through for us, with company.

Author's Notes:

Hey guys. Jed R here again, posting for Red. :-)

Things are starting to take shape now with this arc. Hopefully it'll all prove entertaining.