Rainpril 12th, EOH 47

Lyra hung around the back of Paneer’s Cuteceañera, nursing a moonshine sour and a feeling of social awkwardness that no amount of alcohol could dispel. Social awkwardness wasn’t a feeling Lyra was much accustomed to, but she had an agenda for the evening that was fraught with emotional peril.

Victory hadn’t come easily after Easy Money’s death — though there were few centurions left, the shortage of anti-armor weapons made taking them down safely a difficult proposition. The last centurion had held out in a storage area for three days before pretending to surrender. Unfortunately for her, Ditzy Do’s delivery griffons had made a couple of visits by then — one to drop off Rarity’s promised shipment of ballistic fabric, and a second to trade some of the detritus of Ponysmith’s destroyed legion for .50 ammunition and a bunch of those cute little single shot anti-machine rockets.

They captured his armor with only a few holes in it.

The days since the battle had been exhausting. Countless things had been broken in the battle, from bullet holes in the walls to the twisted wreckage of the stable door. Even with Paneer’s help, she’d been working twelve-hour days or longer just to restore essential services.

On top of that, Vindaloo and Crispy had assigned Lyra as the liaison to the former unislaves now living in the stable. As much as Lyra resented the extra duty, she supposed that as the highest-ranking unicorn associated with the Minutemares (by default) the assignment sort of made sense.

She’d had time to meet the unicorns’ elected representative, River Kisses, exactly once. She’d sat through the meeting staring through the opposite wall and nodding at anything Lyra said.

These unicorns had a lot to process.

Given that, she’d been worried about how Paneer’s party would go. Of course Crispy and Vindaloo had to invite the new unicorns; it would have been rude not to, also tribalist, and most importantly it would have greatly upset their unicorn daughter. The numbers of both groups were almost equal: the Minutemares had grown greatly in numbers while Lyra had been away. But even taking out the horrific Unislave casualties and the ones who left after the Minutemares freed them from their helmets, there were still a huge number of them remaining.

Lyra had expected tribal tensions. She had been prepared for blood.

But Paneer, proud unicorn, had already made friends amongst the newcomers, and then made sure to introduce her new friends to old friends who shared their interests. By the time the stable was in good enough order to hold her cutie mark party, the seeds of friendship were already blooming, and the two groups were mixing without rancor.

Twilight Sparkle would have been proud.

It made Lyra a bit envious that Paneer had her shit together to such a great extent at such a young age. But for once something in the Wasteland had not come out in the worst possible way. The Minutemares had their problems, but they were good ponies.

Not that the bar was set very high, here. Earth ponies, unicorns, thestrals, and pegasi had been living in peace for millennia. But it made her happy that in at least this small place and this one small way, things were starting to get back to normal.

Which left her free to obsess about her personal problems.

Blue Note was here, and so was Bon Bon. She wanted to dump Blue Note so that she could start things up with Bon Bon. That was the right thing to do, right? It wasn’t like she had any other loose ends. She hadn’t talked to Soft Sounds while she was in Triple Diamond City, but she had extenuating circumstances, right? And it’s not like she had a missing husband or anything.

Lyra sighed. “I’m a trash pony. I shouldn’t do this.” She slugged back the rest of her cocktail and started weaving her way through the crowd towards Blue Note anyway.

“Lyra!” said Blue Note, hugging her. “Blue Note missed you so much while you were away. She is so grateful for everything you’ve done for her.”

Oh, shit shit shit shit. “I missed you too, Blue Note,” she said, feeling like an utter heel for where she planned to take the conversation.

Blue Note backed out of the hug but kept one hoof on her shoulder. “So when Blue Note is feeling better, would you like to start the band up again? We have not played in far too long.”

“Oh, of course,” said Lyra, shuffling a hind hoof awkwardly. “I’d like that.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’d love to.”

Blue Note looked away awkwardly. “Very good. Well. We have something else important to discuss.”

“We do,” said Lyra. Wait, how did Blue Note know that?

“When you were last here, we had a casual encounter,” said Blue Note.

“Um… We did? We did. We had one. Yes.”

“And it was very wonderful. But Blue Note doesn’t know if she was clear that Blue Note is not looking for a long term partner right now.”

“Oh.” What was happening?

“And Blue Note would not rule out another encounter in the future. But just as friends. Do you understand?”

Lyra understood she was being dumped. What the fuck? She was supposed to be the one doing the dumping! “Yeah. Yeah, of course. That was what I thought too.” Oh no no no this was not how this was supposed to go.

“Well,” said Blue Note.

Lyra wiped at her forehead. Was she sweating? She was sweating. “I, um, need some fresh air. See you at band practice?”

“Yes. Blue Note will see you at band practice.” They hugged again.

Lyra snuck out into the hall. Her eyes hurt. She was not going to cry. She’d been about to dump Blue Note, so why was she upset that Blue Note had dumped her first? “Ah, horseapples, why wouldn’t I be?”

She slumped back against the corridor wall and slid down it to slump on the floor. Staring through the other wall, she started cataloging everything she’d done wrong since the Bad Day, inclusive.

“Why are you crying, mon petit balloon?”

Lyra looked up at Bon Bon, who stood over her wearing a pre-war party dress, innocent blue eyes looking concerned. The dress was a little large; it came down at the neck to show the muscles of her chest.

“Nothing,” said Lyra, kicking at a scrap of paper on the floor with a forehoof.

“You cannot lie to me. I can no longer scan biometrics, but I have gained empathy, and detect that you are in severe emotional distress.”

“Okay. Fine. Blue Note Dumped me.”

“Oh no,” said Bon Bon, tone carefully neutral. “That must be awful for you.”

Lyra snorted. “Yeah. Because I’m so loyal to my partners.”

“I think there may be more to your distress than that. Paneer told me you tried to harm yourself during the battle.”

“What? Why that little Cozy Glow!”

Bon Bon stepped close, nosed Lyra’s cheek. “She did right to tell me. You are very valuable. To many ponies here. To me. And not just for your skills. Have you been taking the medication I gave you?

Lyra blushed, looked away. “Um, no.”

Bon Bon nodded. “Well, it was just a guess that it would work for you, anyway. Luckily, the Minutemares have attracted a psychiatrist. I will introduce you tomorrow. He can find you something more suited to your needs.”

“I’ve made so many mistakes.”

Bon Bon wrapped a foreleg across Lyra’s withers and pulled her against her. The soft exposed muscles of her dress pressed against Lyra’s snout. Her body tensed. She wanted to kiss them and never stop kissing them, but she didn’t dare. “You have also done so many things right. The party in the atrium is happening because of your contributions. The success of the Minutemares. The freed unicorn slaves. Paneer’s cutie mark — you were so important in bringing about all of those things. But I do not wish this conversation to remain, how do you say, in the abstract.”

Lyra’s breath hitched in her throat. “Bon Bon I love you.”

“I know, mon petite boîte de roches. I am too new to this body to fully understand its feelings, but I think that I love you, too.”

Lyra’s heart stopped beating. “You do?”

“And I desire you as well. And yet…” Bon Bon laid her head on top of Lyra’s “And yet new feelings are strange. I feel… a curious mistrust. Jealousy. Blue Note is dealt with, but Soft Sounds and your husband — what are they to you? I know there are creatures in this world who share lovers. But I do not know if I can. I wish you to be mine, and mine alone.” She looked away. “Lyra, is that wrong?”

“No.” Lyra’s throat felt dry. “I was looking for comfort. That’s all. You’re different.”

“And your husband?”

Lyra scowled. “I’d like to know that myself.”

Tears trickled down Bon Bon’s cheeks. “I thought I knew what it was to feel. But being organic — everything seems so urgent. It is overwhelming. Must we mate immediately? If we feel for each other? Is it considered permissible to wait until we are ready?”

Lyra blinked. “Of course it is! Of course! It’s enough to know that you love me.”

“Good. That is good. By may we kiss?”

Lyra lifted her head and brushed her lips gently against Bon Bon’s. The new mare gasped. “It tingles.”

“Kissing is fun.” She wrapped her lips around Bon Bon’s lower lip and suckled on it. Bon Bon’s body began to tremble ever so slightly. Lyra, overexcited, darted her tongue inside, brushing it against her teeth.

“Oh!” gasped Bon Bon. “Mon Harmonie!”

“I’m sorry,” said Lyra, leaning away from her. “Am I moving too fast?”

She squinted at her. “Why did you put your tongue in my mouth?”

Lyra laughed. “Don’t you know how kissing works?”

“I am blurry on many of the details, I admit.”

She batted her eyelashes at Bon Bon. “Did you like how it felt?”

Bon Bon tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. “Mouais. The tingling was very intense.”

Lyra patted the floor next to her. “Well, my pure and innocent friend, sit next to me. I’ll show you all kinds of ways I can make your mouth tingle.” Playing with Bon Bon was going to be very, very fun.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

Rainpril 15th, EOH 47

The wind howled across the torn remains of the stable door, ripping at the tarp covering the opening. Stable 93’s foyer was freezing; even with the door closed everyone in the security station was dressed in coats and warm clothes.

Major Vindaloo kicked open the supports on the new whiteboard. The dry-erase marker squeaked on the board as Major Crispy sketched out the agenda for the staff meeting.

The majors were still the ranking officers, but there were now several lower-ranking officers — Lyra herself now held the rank of lieutenant (civilian contractor no more), and she recognized Rotgut, Star Metal (looking quite dashing with his facial scars and eyepatch), Haymaker (a bit of a surprise), and several others Lyra hadn’t met yet.

“All right,” said Vindaloo. “First, the elephant in the room.”

Crispy tapped the pool cue in his mouth against the words What’s up with Bon Bon?

“So I guess you’re not buying the Sweetie Drops story,” said Lyra, clutching her third cup of black coffee against her chest. Her new psychiatrist Dr. Puzzle was a kindly old zebra alchemist — not exactly dispelling any stereotypes there — and they’d talked about her problems, but mainly so he could decide what potion to give her. The selective smile rejection inhibitor he’d prescribed tasted chalky and bitter, and it took a lot of effort to get the flavor out of her mouth. Still, she felt a little better. Dr. Puzzle said that this early on it was unlikely to be the medicine, just hope.

Hope. The traitor emotion.

“Bon Bon and I have discussed this in private,” said Vindaloo, “And have decided that transparency is the best option.”

Crispy pointed his pool cue to where ‘transparency’ was written. “Bon Bon?”

Bon Bon sat up proudy on her stool. She glanced at Lyra before she spoke. “As no doubt many of you already suspect, I am a hiveling.”

“Whoa whoa whoa wait,” said Lyra. “I signed an agreement not to talk about this.”

Bon Bon shot her a quelling glance. “I did not, mon beau cheval. Perhaps because I am one of them.”

“Oh,” said Lyra. She sipped her coffee. Did that mean she herself definitely wasn’t a Hiveling? Or that the Hive wanted her to think that she definitely wasn’t a hiveling? “Objection withdrawn, I guess.”

Bon Bon explained what had happened in the CIM Hive from her point of view, and explained that as far as she, a medical professional, was able to determine, she was a normal earth pony in every way. “I understand that this might concern some of you. The Hive is Rarity’s ally, and Rarity ours, and yet they are secretive and do not inspire trust. I also know that while I am your friend and a creature of good will, I am not my own creation. I may be harboring secret impulses that are not to the benefit of the Minutemares.”

“What about surveillance systems?” said Vindaloo.

“Lyra can corroborate that we have discovered no evidence of technomagical implants in my body, and that there are no radio or magical signals emanating from it.”

Everycreature in the room laughed. Bon Bon blushed. “That was not what I meant.”

Lyra found herself grinning in a most ungallant way, and struggled to straighten her mouth. The two of them hadn’t even made it to second base yet, but let the Minutemares think what they wanted. She was well on her way to making Bon Bon her pleasure slave. “She’s clean.”

“I want to be clear,” said Vindaloo, “we’ve got to be consistent. Admitting Bon Bon into Minutemare-controlled territory means we have to admit any friendly, open hiveling of any model; we can’t discriminate against them in housing or trade; we can’t deny them from enlisting as Minutemares.”

“I don’t think we should allow secret hivelings…” said Haymaker.

“They have a grace period to identify themselves, maybe?” rumbled Star Metal.

Haymaker eyed Start Metal sidelong. “They could be spies.”

“Old Equestria allowed open changelings to become full citizens for hundreds of years before the war,” said Crispy, setting aside his pool cue, “and if there were any incidents of them serving as spies for Zebraica, I’ve yet to find a reference to one. They did serve as operatives for the PIA and EUP intelligence, though. If you’re picking up what I’m laying down.”

Vindaloo waved her hoof dismissively. “Secret hivelings are a separate issue. Let’s keep this on allowing open hivelings for now. For my part, I’m for it — Bon Bon has been an asset to the Minutemares. She delivered my son, and most of us have benefited from her care. I don’t trust the CIM Hive, but they’re not our enemies and not every Hiveling is loyal to them. Besides that, allowing hivelings into Triple Diamond City doesn’t seem to have done Rarity any harm.”

“Bon Bon saved my eye,” said Star Metal.

Haymaker tapped his hoof against his chin. “Well, she did save my knee.”

There was a general murmur of assent. Vindaloo put it to a vote; the result was unanimously in favor of Bon Bon.

Crispy tapped the pool cue against the next order of business.

“Ponysmith,” said Vindaloo. “Lyra. What’s the status on fixing the stable door?”

“There’s no keeping the horses out,” said Lyra. “The door itself is completely wrecked, and we don’t have the facilities to forge a new one. Plus the mechanism is badly damaged. I might be able to jury rig some of the parts we need for that, but ideally, we’d get spare parts from... you know, another stable." She didn't want to openly suggest looting 114, but if they didn't get on it soon somecreature else would. "As it is, the stable is completely indefensible.”

“It wasn’t all that defensible to begin with,” mumbled Crispy around the pool cue.

“We have to act quickly,” said Vindaloo. “It’s been almost a week; Ponysmith will have missed his legion by now. He may or may not know that we’ve hacked his Sombra Helmets, and the more time we leave him alone the more likely he is to find a workaround for that.

“We can’t wait for him to attack us again — we’re getting better at fighting against him, but if he comes back in greater numbers he can overwhelm us. Our only option is…” She waited for her husband to tap the words ‘attack Sawhorse Ironworks’ on the whiteboard. “…is to attack. Star Metal. What’s the status of our power armor?”

The big one-eyed earth pony crossed his forelegs across his chest. “Not good. I can patch together two usable suits from the parts we’ve got. And even with just two, there’s no way we’ve got enough spark batteries to march them all the way to Sawhorse. We’ll have to pull them on sleds. It’ll be slow, and we’ll be pretty vulnerable the whole march. There won’t be any question of surprise.

“The stable will be vulnerable the whole time, too,” said Vindaloo. “We’ll have to take almost the whole contingent of trained Minutemares if we’re going to have any chance of victory. We’ll have to leave the noncombatants and the unicorns protecting the stable and hope for the best. It’s risky, but it’s the only chance we’ve got.”

“It won’t work,” said Lyra.

“Oh, you’re the strategy expert, now?” said Vindaloo. “What’s your brilliant plan?”

“Actually, I just thought of one.” Lyra shotgunned the rest of her coffee and hopped off her stool. “Come outside, let me show you something.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

Bon Bon, the Minutemare officers, and anypony who had noticed the ruckus stood around Lyra in a circle while she riffled through the cards stacked in the old parking lot. She lifted them one at a time with her telekinesis, pausing with each Cowvega station wagon to turn it around and see if it was Baby before setting it down neatly in a separate pile.

“Ah! This one’s mine,” she said.

“That’s nice,” said Vindaloo in a tone that suggested it wasn’t. “I’m glad you found your car. But what good does this do us? It doesn’t even have tires.”

“After all we’ve been through, you still doubt me?” Lyra had a look at the car’s undercarriage and, finding nothing seriously wrong, she set it down in the snow and popped the hood. “This was my Baby before the war. He’s seen hard times, but the engine’s still intact. Just needs a fresh spark battery and a flux regulator, and it looks like I’ve blown a seal.”

“I don’t need details about your personal life,” said Vindaloo. “What are you trying to say?”

Lyra slammed the hood shut. “I can get the old boy running again. Reinforce the undercarriage. Put some armor on him. He’s big enough to carry a few ponies to Sawhorse, fast enough that Ponysmith won’t know we’re coming. We’ll assassinate Ponysmith, free his unicorns, rescue my son, and get out. What do you think?”

Vindaloo arched one eyebrow. “I think this is your worst idea yet. How long will it take?”

Lyra gave her car a long evaluating look and ran some mental calculations. “A week. Give me a week.”

“You’ve got it. Drop everything else on your plate and focus on this. I’ll get a team together.”

Max Level

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