Soon after the funeral procession for Nimble’s father was safely away, the Enclave bore down on us again. Almost as if they’d been asked to wait. Small, anvil-black, and suspended on clouds, a slow-moving ship announced their arrival. Or rather, from the breach it made in the cloud cover, it was the morning light that first got our attention, springing over the ruins of the church, catching every hair and fiber.

We were sitting with coffee, eggy toast, and sausages: warm, encouraging food for the fearful, far from home. Wile had even found some mushrooms to fry up. But all that was forgotten, as the Enclave’s ship descended on us, its four stubby wings and deck draped under natural banners of light.

With it, came a stallion’s voice, gentle in tone but booming down. “Words fail me...” started the voice. “That is: I cannot scarcely begin to express my pride, when I reflect on your tenacity. Your endurance, in this difficult, losing fight. And much more than this. Much more. Yes, it’s natural to endure. So, what is it that distinguishes you, the so called free pegasi, from all the stubborn mules and Brahmin, enduring too?” The voice paused, and the air seemed free and clear, without it. “Only this, and it might sound simple but... your awe of me, your enemy, and your aspirations toward my high position.”

This was the voice of Lieutenant Colonel Hereafter, and he sounded as mild as a school teacher. In stark contrast, armored soldiers were now dropping from the open hangers of his ship in steady files, forming an almost graceful ribbon pattern as they flew off to either side. I lost count at a dozen.

Hereafter said. “I urge you to consider the following hypothetical: if your poxy wasteland were ever to be populated with only mules and cattle, well... what would be the point of me, and my contingent? What purpose to this: the manifest wrath of the Enclave? Now, instead, with all of you alive and fearfully admiring us, aspiring to match us for sheer staying power, well, with you we are given glorious purpose.”

His soldiers flanked the ship, and cast wider around it now like a net. I felt shaky against the ground, watching them come.

Hereafter continued. “Our purpose... to show you the pegasus race’s high potential, and give credence to the natural order, which places us forever above you. To allow that natural order to be tested and proven, as you struggle and fail against us. As you improve yourselves, and gain friends, and continue to fail.”

The girls and I were already winged with Limerick’s potion, ahead of traveling on. Our meager forces now stood randomly distributed around the ruined church, while Hereafter’s ship seemed aimed, as surely as a weapon is aimed, squarely at Keats, amid a circle of his followers on the mountainside.

“Long has the Enclave maintained its claim to mastery,” Hereafter said. “And how could this claim ever be doubted, where we prosper so highly, above the clouds? But let all the starved and scattered tribes of the wasteland realize it too, and let them admit to what we are: that is, the only valid form of life left on this planet. Able to keep the Equestrian spirit alive and on the wing, across this dark and lonely age. The sole inheritors of that spirit. We claim this position of high honor now, in trust. But always, for those who refuse to invest that trust in us, we will be prepared to press our claim. Always, you will remain free to attack us, and to test our high position. And always, you will fail.”

The free pegasi were arming and arranging themselves on the ground, in counterpoint to the soldiers hanging ominously in the air. Perigee and Wile stayed close to me, as I stood listening.

Hereafter said: “Poor, redundant ponies, who no longer have a place; it’s natural that you should want to kick against your betters. You’re autonomous beings, after all: who in the face of the difficult truth, must still demand proof. Who will resist, and test those that descend to announce that - sadly - you are no longer needed. That you are small and functionless, and invalid. Still, I understand you need your proof. So I invite you now, to test us here again.”

Silence then, as the ship and its arrangement of soldiers hung over us, as if stalled by stay of execution. Two of our snipers trained their rifles on the soldiers, from behind blocks of ruin. We had only about seven other fighters left with us on the mountainside, counting Wile. A good avenue of escape was open, as the mountain at our backs was all misty and multi-pronged: the free pegasi’s natural element.

I fully expected the order to come for us to turn and fly, and I looked to Keats and waited. And he took off after a moment, gently, into the air. He was silhouetted against the cloud, and turned towards us, midair, saying:

“I’ve often thought about this day. When I would find no spirit left in me, for fighting. Always a part of me, even as I fought and sent ponies to fight, foresaw this. A greater, deeper part of me. Which tells me now that it would be better to die in the vain hope of compromise, than to risk another life...”

It was doubtful that Hereafter could hear this, and yet even with Keats’ back turned to them, the soldiers waited. “I’m afraid I’ve done all I can, by violence,” Keats said. “If I do not return from this parley, I ask that you spare Hereafter, for fear of the punitive consequences of his death, from the Enclave’s vast government. And because only he can choose to end this conflict, peacefully.” And he seemed to look at Wile and I, when he stressed this point.

“And I have one more request,” he said, to us all. “If I should fall today, I ask you each to search your hearts, and ask yourselves: what is it that I most need to do? What path, for me, leads most nearly to Celestia? One may want to stay and fight, and another to fly from here. I won’t decide that for you. For each of us, it’s different. Still, it falls to each of us, to choose...”

“Whether to honor our vital lives, and to search for and follow our appointed path,” he said. “Or to block life’s great dignity out instead. A choice: either to curse and hurry life along with easy habits, or to treat it as sacred, and to help it be felt. To live this life as seems best to us, or not to. To go climbing after it, looking for it everywhere, even in this wasteland, or to turn and hide our eyes.” Keats shook his head. “I leave it to you, my trusted friends. Be truthful, and live as you see fit.”

Then he rose unarmed to Hereafter’s ship, whose hangars remained opened to him.

Perigee and Wile sat close to me, on either side; Wile with her tail over mine. We were afraid. Of violence and of accident, and even age – of every force that separated friends. Of Hereafter’s force, we were afraid. And we all waited in suspense, on the ground, as our two leaders met. The Enclave soldiers too had landed, positioning themselves on shafts and perches of the ruins. They now sat brooding over us like large vultures, arriving in time with the slight rain starting just to bead the tips of our ears. So slight a rain, that the free pegasi’s fires still burned in the shadow of the church’s soaring arch.

“He’s dead,” Wile said, more to herself. “He’s as good as dead already.” She stood and started to pace a few meters back and forth, looking up at Hereafter’s steady ship. “Without Keats,” she said. “We’re finished. Peirene's theirs, and Hereafter will be free to do whatever he wants.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s freedom, exactly,” Perigee said.

Wile rounded on her, almost aggressively. “Come again?”

“To do whatever you want,” Perigee repeated. “I wouldn’t say that’s freedom.”

“You know, I think I must be a little plugged up in this ear– I don’t think I heard you right…”

“Hereafter,” Perigee said. “He doesn’t seem free to me.”

Wile shook her head, and I felt for her. It didn’t quite seem like the time to split hairs. “This stallion,” Wile said. “Hereafter. He sends his winged soldiers out, to hunt us for his sport. He sits there in comfort on the Temerity, and drinks his preferred wines by evening. He can’t be killed, for fear of attracting more Enclave attention. And in all this, he doesn’t seem free to you?” Simply, Perigee shook her head. “Then, uh, forgive me, but: who does?”

“The pious dead,” Perigee said. “Safe under Celestia’s wing. Whose sport and wine alike are love eternal. Theirs is a whole other kind of life. We can’t understand,“ she added, mysteriously. “Still, I wouldn’t turn it down, if I were you.”

“I already have,” Wile said, rolling her eyes. “Or, isn’t that the idea? You either embrace and serve Celestia, or else turn her down and please yourself. It’s supposed to be as easy as choosing, right?”

“As simple,” Perigee said. “Not easy.”

At this, Hereafter’s voice came down again over our heads:

“My little ponies,” it said. “What am I, but a heart that bleeds for you? That would rather you were killed than face another moment's pain, in your illegitimate lives? I know, in the secret depths of your own hearts you understand: you want this to be over. You know you don’t deserve this strain and torture.”

I looked around me at the free pegasi, points of color across the rain-darkened ruins, and I remembered what Keats had said. It’s a difference, again, in our attitudes toward the world as it now stands. To the Grand Pegasus Enclave it seems frightful, vacant, and uncaring. While to us it rings with the spirits of the divines, in every shaft of light. To us it’s a world of love, that was made for love. Not one of violence, that demands violence. And that was what made the difference, wasn’t it? What would make Hereafter a prisoner whether he won or lost here, and what made the free pegasi, already, free.

“I’m only here as a comfort, to you,” Hereafter said. “As a mere assistant, in fact, to that part of yourself that most cares for and pities you, and searches always for a quiet place, where you can let your burdens down, and die. Inside, you know life isn’t worth this strife and effort. So, here I am, for your comfort, in accord with your own secret desire.”

“Who has commanded you to live and suffer?” he asked. “Celestia? I ask you, even if she were real: why should you obey her? When she’s allowed the pains of this wasteland to wrack even the most innocent children with oversized, adult pain: much more than they can bear. Why should you think she still sees you now, when she seems not to care whatever she sees? Take my word: I’ve done the research, and I can assure you now... Celestia lies dead in the ground.”

“For him,” Perigee said, bitterly. “Yes.”

Another soldier exited the ship then, alone, and came descending almost gracefully down toward the ruins.

“Your master’s come to me now, in the name of peace,” Hereafter said. “And he’s asked that I spare your lives. Of course, I will accommodate him. You’re free to leave Peirene, and live. But I leave the option open to you all as well, to attack us here and die. To end your invalid lives. I only ask that you wait a moment to choose, as there remains one final item of business between your master and I. As soon as that’s complete, I’ll hear your choice: to leave Peirene, or to perish, as should seem most natural to you now.”

As the voice fell silent, the lone, descending soldier made landing in the church, at center, fully vulnerable to attack. Of all our fighters, Wile seemed the readiest to start gunning back at him, if he should fire. But the soldier had not, in fact, come bearing the order to attack.

“Lemony Cream?” he called out, generally. “You’re wanted on the Temerity.”

The soldier agreed to take all three of us with him, once we discarded our weapons, and Wile signaled to the free pegasi that we were going up willingly. I knew that she and I were due to lose our wings soon (Perigee's seemed always to last longer), but Wile had taken to carrying a flask with at least a dose of Limerick’s potion in it.

It felt strange to leave the ruins after so much time there. Worse, to leave it for the so-called Temerity, being mysteriously called there.

“How could he have known my name?” I asked Wile, as we followed the soldier.

“I can only assume Keats is asking for you,” she said. “Which must mean he's still alive in there.”

Once inside, the ship felt like a sweaty nightmare of the Stable: its passageways choked with pipes, throaty and black. The ship was all but deserted, and seemed to groan on the wind. Given how close the broad, open air outside was, it felt impossibly dark.

Our escort was limping, as he landed and led us down a passage. “I heard what your master said to you,” he said after a time, without looking back at us. “About you each choosing to do what’s best for you, after he’s gone.”

“If he goes anywhere,” Wile said.

The soldier stopped and, as far as his helmet could express emotion, looked sadly back at Wile.

After a loaded silence, he said: “I can’t excuse myself for what I’ve done, or what I’ve allowed to happen, but I do know I didn’t understand it all. Not fully. At least, I wasn’t asked to think about it. Not like your master asked of you. To think, and choose carefully, for yourselves.”

Next, he looked with strange intensity at Perigee. “We were just another generation of soldiers, raised and sent away, to live on ships like these. Our government sending us off in glory, passing on congratulations, to graduating classes like ours, it was all part of a tried and tested script. And we were trained to follow it. Scripted behavior, scripted by habit. I hope you understand me...”

He was speaking directly to Perigee now, earnestly. “Language as precise as theirs was, leading us all listening straight toward a certain attitude to the wastes and surface dwellers, telling us our own opinions, quickly shutting off any second thoughts. All to reassure us against what should have been clear all that time: that we were being farmed and used for other ponies’ dirty work.”

“Some upbringing,” Wile said at last, still wary of the soldier, who we didn't yet realize we knew.

“I’ll be in your debt for life, you know,” he said, this time to her. “I’m the one you shot in the knee.”

Wile and I both lowered our heads, as if he’d threatened us. Because of course this small admission implied much more. I’m the one that caught and cruelly branded your friend. I’m the one you spared, instead of killing.

“Your master gave me your name,” he said to me, in answer to our surprised silence. “There should still be time to save him, I think, so take this.” He unholstered my automatic pistol, which he seemed to have taken after I discarded it. “The Lieutenant Colonel’s at the rear hangar of the ship,” he said. “It’s just down this passage. The door at the end.”

He stepped aside, leaving the passageway open. “I can’t fight my own contingent, but I’ll serve no further beside them,” he said. “It’s clear to me now: this life of service has been spent in vain.”

“Not in vain,” Perigee said, to our surprise, and the soldier’s head turned quickly toward her. “Not if it’s lead you to this point. Or if it lead me to where I am, because of you. I've learned a similar lesson, I think. It seemed to me, suddenly too, that life is supposed to be lived, and that laughter and friendship and shared experience are all somehow worthwhile. More than mere obedience.”

Now the two of them looked gratefully at each other, and I finally understood. We were being turned loose, to act.

“Keats!” Wile said suddenly, catching up too. “Come on, let’s go!”

So, we left the soldier there, with Perigee and I waving back at him. We set off down the passageway at speed, full of sudden, wild enthusiasm. To face the unseen figure there behind a door, who had so far overseen our fighting. The figure that had seemed so bureaucratic and removed, until now.

Funny thing: Wile left the soldier seeming much more animated herself – almost shivering. More full, it seemed, of energy. With her dark and congested mood suddenly opening out, for in her mind now Keats was still alive, and I saw a silvery, backwards-running tear streak her face as she ran, and she was laughing.

I reached forward telekinetically and opened the door to the Temerity’s rear hangar, and the girls and I almost fell over each other, entering. All this to show how dramatically our momentum disappeared on the other side, where Wile’s face turned blank, and her laughter died on the air. Where an image stark and forceful embedded itself forever into my memory.

Silhouetted before the open hangar, a large body lay out dead, dropped by whatever vital force once animated it. Like a great old animal of myth, found, hounded down and killed. Posed almost sculpturally now - with its head stretched back to show off a long, naked throat, slit and bleeding forcefully. It was Keats.

And there sat old Hereafter, hunched and morbid behind Keats, cradling his lifeless head.

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Cult of Personality: Ponies will always view you favorably, regardless of reputation or alignment.