Scaretober 23rd, EoH 27; 6:10 AM

A jet of oil shot across Lyra Heartstrings’ snout, spattering her welding goggles.

“Terribly sorry, ma’am!” said her robot, Codsworth.

Lyra levitated over a rag and wiped her face. “Don’t worry about it, pal. That’s what I get for poking around your undercarriage. How’s that hover fan feeling?”

“Right as rain, ma’am!” The round-bodied, triple-armed robot hung on a work rack in Lyra’s cluttered garage amongst the power tools and half-complete inventions. Baby, the family’s Cowvega station wagon, squeezed in between boxes of spare parts and cannibalized household appliances. Two harps, three electric guitars, and an elaborate pedal board hung amongst the tools on a pegboard on the back wall.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you!” said Codsworth.

“You’d roll around on the floor, I guess,” said Lyra “You Mr. Hoovesies are a good design, but having to float around all the time means your engines wear out fast. Just let me close you up and you can pay me back by making breakfast.” Her horn glowed as she levitated the housing back over Codsworth’s engine and magicked up two telekinetic hands to put the screws back into place.

“Honey,” called Beanpole, sticking his head through the door from the kitchen, “I’m gonna be late!” Her husband was a tall, rangy brown pegasus with a shaggy black mane and big sincere blue eyes. He had his suit coat and pants on, but his shirt was half unbuttoned and his tie hung untied around his neck.

“Sorry,” said Lyra, wiping her hooves off on her oil-stained CSGU t-shirt “I got up early, so I thought I’d have a quick look at Codsworth. He’s been a little wobbly lately.”

Beanpole looked concerned. “How early?”

“Four AM.” Lyra trotted over and kissed her husband on the lips. He grinned at her, and his eyes flicked across her body. She knew he liked the way she looked in her tight old T-shirt and shorts. When she’d been a young mare, it’d been common for ponies to walk around naked. Now, ten years into Twilight Sparkle’s reign, fashion had changed, and Lyra approved. She enjoyed the air of mystery clothes lent pony body. She liked feeling the fabric of the shorts stretched across her cheeks, the waistband hugging tight around her middle. The legends that humans were supposed to have worn clothes made it all the more appealing.

“What’s that black gunk on your face?” he asked as Lyra buttoned his shirt and tied his necktie with floating green hands.

Lyra giggled. “I let Codsworth give me a facial.”

“It’s not what you, think, sir!” said Codsworth, hovering behind Lyra, his newly repaired engine humming quietly.

Beanpole blushed and glanced back at the little brown and green spotted unicorn colt playing with plastic construction blocks on the kitchen floor. “Ixnay the exsay in front of the oalfay.”

Lyra finished off the half Windsor knot and kissed Beanpole on his throat “Ready for the daily grind.”

“If you’d just finish some of those inventions, maybe we’d be rich, and there wouldn’t be a daily grind,” he said, his smile halfhearted.

Lyra’s gut twisted. Not this ‘joke’ again. “I do my best honey. I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I get distracted.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You work hard. But you’re more gifted than you give yourself credit for.”

“Not everypony’s Twilight Sparkle.”

“Not everypony went to school with her.”

“Oh, fuck Twilight Sparkle.” Lyra trotted over to her son. She levitated him up to give him a peck on the cheek. “What’re you working on, Little Bean?”

“Mama I make power armor!” said Bean, waving an unrecognizable collection of bricks at her.

Lyra looked at her son’s creation with unfeigned awe. “Oh, cool! What model?”

“Pee fory-five,” said Bean. seriously. ⁴

“One question, honey,” said Beanpole. “What is Codsworth wearing?”

Lyra’s face burst into a beaming grin. He’d noticed! “Oh, I was testing out his Nightmare Night costume! He’s an earth pilgrim!”

Codsworth waved the wooden replica musket duct-taped to one of his manipulator arms. “Off to the reservation, indigenous buffalo! This land belongs to the Equestria now!”

Beanpole blew out through his lips anxiously. “Lyra, could you not teach our robot leftist political satire? The last thing we need is a visit from a Ministry of Morale party planner.”

Lyra sighed. “All right fine. Codsworth, forget what I told you, override protocol A, password twilightisaputzasterisksixnine. The buffalo willingly gave up their lands to make room for the ponies.”

“Understood, ma’am!” The beverage port on his side slid open and the rich aroma of fresh ground beans drifted out. “Cup of coffee?”

Little Bean farted and giggled. Lyra winced as another aroma drifted out of Little Bean’s diapers. She levitated him towards Codsworth. “How about you change this one’s diapers, and I’ll make coffee.”

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

Lyra pulled her Cowvega out from the parking lot of SweetSwift Medical Solutions and zoomed through a yellow light, taking the left turn on two wheels.

She’d successfully dropped off her husband at work and Little Bean at daycare—and not the other way around, like that one time—but she was going to be late to the Amarezon warehouse in Everhoof if she didn’t hurry. But traffic was light, for once, and she made it there with five minutes to spare.

“Hey, Lyra!” said Ditzy Doo, wings flapping as she pushed a cart of cardboard boxes over to Lyra’s station wagon. The gray pegasus mare wore a brown uniform and a yellow safety vest. “What’s that black gunk on your face?”

“Robot cum,” said Lyra, stepping out of her car and trotting around to pop the trunk.

Ditzy grinned from ear to ear. “I believe it. Hey, you should design a sex robot. Then you’ll be a famous inventor, and I’ll be like, ‘Hey Lyra! Wanna deliver some boxes today?’ and you’d say ‘Nope, can’t work today. Too rich.’”

“Good idea. Testing it would be fun.” Why did ponies think all inventors were rich? Lyra lifted a box from the cart and looked at the label. “Where are you sending me today?”

“Canterbridge. I’m sorry,” said Ditzy.

“Eh, I know it like the back of my hoof,” said Lyra, levitating out her pocket computer to scan the boxes. “At least it’s not Buckstone, right?”

Canterbridge lay on the north side of where the Canter River ended its long journey from Canterlot to the sea. It was a cluttered warren of little streets, old houses, and no parking. But Lyra, the most over-educated delivery driver in the Commonwealth of Maresachusetts, had done her undergrad at the Canterbridge Institute of Magic, and could navigate the city naked and drunk—and in fact, had. Many times. The city of Buckstone, south of the river, was just as tangled, but with bigger buildings and thousands more ponies. Delivering there was no fun at all.

Lyra loaded the rest of the boxes and headed out, hoping to finish up her deliveries quickly so she could have an hour or two to herself before she had to go pick up her family.

But by the time she got back to the elevated highway, it was packed bumper to bumper. She leaned back in her chair, tapping her hoof against the control yoke in time with the music. She couldn’t wait for today to be over. They had a foalsitter lined up; they’d go over the Colgate’s place, drink, and play hoof hide. Maybe she’d have some fun with Beanpole in the backseat before they went home to their sleeping son. It would be a good time.

Half an hour later she passed a bend in the highway and got a look at what the holdup was—a Ministry of Morale checkpoint. “Those fucking fascist goons,” muttered Lyra. Why were they out today? The war with Zebraica had ended months ago. Things should be back to normal by now.

When she got up to the checkpoint fifteen minutes later, a soldier in bright pink P-51 power armor with balloons painted on the shoulder tapped a hoof against her window.

“What’s the holdup, officer?” said Lyra, lowering the window.

“Teal security alert today. Identification, please.” The speakers of the pony’s power armor manipulated their voice to make them sound cheerful and friendly, but Lyra doubted the pony inside felt anything but grumpy.

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Didn’t we just sign a peace treaty? What could possible cause could there be for a security alert?”

“Lots of things could go wrong, ma’am. Identification, please,” bubbled the soldier.

As Lyra levitated her pocket computer⁵ over to the goon she felt a twinge at the base of her spine. Her earth pony grandmother got those same feelings sometimes. She called them ‘the wibblies’, and they always portended something bad. Lyra, unicorn though she was, had inherited that little bit of earth pony magic and it had saved her many times — from a creepy stallion at a party. From a loose cobblestone in the rain. From a drunk driver in the night. But she was in no obvious danger right now; not unless the Ministry goon somehow objected to the perfectly legal homemade porn in her photos folder.

And yet something felt wrong about this whole situation. She summoned a floating green hand and dialed the radio over to the news channel.

…unable to confirm reports of a terrorist attack in Manehattan. In other news, the Ministry of Peace is still denying reports that Equestrian pegasi have engaged two Zebraican airships off the coast of Vanhoover. We go now to Hoof Hyssop, our correspondent on the scene. Hoof?

Elderflower, I’m at the docks right now. We had a flyover by a wing of pegasi led by Rainbow Dash about fifteen minutes ago. Just now there was some kind of flash, some kind of very bright flash just over the horizon. Very brightly colored. We can’t confirm anything yet, but… A burst of feedback and static roared through her speakers.

Lyra didn’t wait. She slammed Baby the Cowvega into reverse and cranked the control yoke, tires throwing up grit and asphalt as she did a three-point turn and barreled away down the breakdown lane. The Ministry of Morale soldier dropped her pocket computer and flipped her rifle up from where it rested in its shoulder rig. Gunfire rang out. One round spiderwebbed Lyra’s back window, but by then she was at the exit ramp, swerving past oncoming traffic. Power armor was faster than a pony on foot but slower than a car, so she was free for now. The police would be looking for her soon—running away from a Ministry checkpoint did not look good, and she’d committed at least seven traffic violations by the time she’d gotten back on the right side of the road.

Lyra was sure by the time they caught up with her none of that would matter.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

Lyra stormed into the lobby of SweetSwift Medical Solutions and right past the front desk. Cheerful music played on the waiting room radio, a stark contrast to the panic, rage, and relentless resolution in her heart.

“Mrs. Heartstrings! You need to sign in!” said the receptionist, getting up from his swivel chair. She couldn’t remember his name. Lyra had always been very bad with names. She’d probably never have to remember his name again, so slight bright side there.

“Get out of here! Run!” she shouted at the receptionist and everyone else nearby.

Lyra tapped the elevator button, then realized it would be stupid to wait, and ran for the stairs. She barely touched a stair on the way to the third floor. Everypony stared at her when she kicked open the stairwell door and rushed to Beanpole’s empty cube.

“Where is he?” she yelled, whipping around to stare across the office floor. Heads rose over cubicle walls to stare at her. “Where. Is. He?” she repeated louder.

“He’s in a meeting on the fifth floor,” said his cube-neighbor. “Is? Um? Everything okay?”

“It’s the fucking end of the world. Run. Get to a Stable if you’ve got one, or get as far away from the city as you can.”

Ponies just stared at her. They didn’t believe her. Of course, they didn’t. They probably thought of her as Beanpole’s crazy wife. The weird, hot, over-educated, stay-at-home mom who drank too much at the Hearth's Warming party every year and had delusions of being an inventor. Well, fuck them. This was taking too long. She started up a teleport spell. It took her a moment to visualize the spell matrix; she hadn’t cast this kind of spell in a long while.

The receptionist burst out of the elevator. “It’s gone!” he screamed, a look of terror in his eyes. Everypony turned to look at him, including Lyra. Sweat trickled down the young pony’s forehead. “On the radio. Just now. Vanhoover. Wiped off the map. Megaspells.”

The office floor descended into bedlam. Lyra teleported. Beanpole in the middle of a presentation. She grabbed him by the necktie and teleported back to the car.

They came out of the teleport tesseract over the roof of the car, landed on it, and rolled into a heap beside the driver's side door.

“Lyra! What the buck?” he shouted, struggling to his hooves.

“It’s the end of the world,” said Lyra, her voice cracking. She hadn’t truly believed it until just now. She was still so ready to believe she was overreacting. It wouldn’t be completely out of character for her. She got worked up sometimes. Freaked out. Had the off meltdown. But panicked ponies were already pouring out of the SweetSwift office. Cars were already burning rubber out of the parking lot.

This was real.

“We have to get Bean,” said Beanpole, standing up. “How long have we got?”

“I don’t know,” said Lyra, silent tears running down her cheeks as she sat down behind Baby’s control yoke. “We have to hurry.”

Baby rolled over the median and zoomed through two red lights. With the word out, the roads would be choked with traffic soon. Lyra’s head pulsed with pain from the two rapid teleportations. She hadn’t cast heavy magic since before she got married, and now she was overexerting herself. She could handle maybe one more teleport today.

“Maybe it’s a limited exchange,” said Beanpole, tapping his hood anxiously on the dashboard. Buckstone won’t be a primary target. There’s nothing here but hospitals and colleges.”

“But if they’re launching everything they’ve got, we’ll be on the list,” said Lyra, scrubbing at her eyes with her pastern. She needed to stop crying so she could see. In front of her, a light turned red. The car in front of her stopped. She didn’t—she jerked the yoke to one side and ran Baby up on the sidewalk, plowing through two shopping carts and a cheap plastic newspaper box.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

The Cowvega skidded sideways into the daycare parking lot. Lyra pulled the hoofbrake, bringing the car to a neck-jarring stop, and tumbled out of the door.

The daycare workers and all the foals stared up at Beanpole and her as they burst in the front door. They’d been sitting in a circle, singing a song. They didn’t know.

“Daddy! Mommy!” squealed Bean, rushing up to them. Beanpole scooped him up onto his back.

“Listen,” Lyra said to the nearest daycare worker. “It’s happening. You need to get these foals to Mareden Middle School. There’s a Stable there. They’ll take any foal. Don’t wait for their parents. You don’t have time. Do you understand?”

The daycare worker bit her lower lip and nodded, her eyes glistening.

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

The Heartstrings family’s Stable—Stable 93—was in Sanctuary Hills, about twenty minutes drive up Route 2. They were ahead of most of the refugee traffic, and they made good time. They listened to the radio on the way. Vanhoover gone. Las Pegasus gone. The Crystal City gone. Talk of a horrible attack in Manhattan, but it wasn’t clear if it was a megaspell or a normal bomb. Then no new reports for a little while. Maybe that was it. Maybe they had time to make it to the Stable. Maybe they’d be able to go back to their home in a few years, after the radiation died down.

“The Ministry of Morale has issued the following statement,” said the radio announcer. “’If you are reading this, everything is fine. Nothing bad happened in Manehattan today, so don’t worry your silly heads. Everything is under control. What are you so worried about, grumpypants? This is not a recording. Message… um, repeats.’ That’s… that’s what it says. Right. For commentary, we go to our public policy analyst Buried Lede. What do you think about these developments, Lede?”

“We’re all fucked. Up shit creek without a paddle. Get out of the way, I’m going home to my family.”

“Good idea. I’ll drive.”

The broadcast switched abruptly to patriotic music.

“Where we going?” asked Bean, sitting in Beanpole’s lap. He really ought to be in the car seat, but neither parent could bear to have him out of their direct line of sight.

“The Stable. You remember our Stable, don’t you?” said Beanpole. “We’ll be safe there. We'll only be there a little while. Then we can go home.”

Lyra glanced sideways at him, made eye contact, confirming he knew he was lying. Megaspell radiation took enormous amounts of time to fade. Little Bean's grandfoals might not be able to safely visit the outside world.

“Stable mean there be a war,” said Bean, tilting his head to one side. “There be power armor?”

“Yes, sweetie,” said Beanpole sadly, stroking Bean’s mane. “Maybe we’ll see some.”

Cars rolled into the parking area outside the Stable one at a time and were guided into spots by attendants in blue and yellow uniforms. Everypony seemed very calm; the air defense tank and the two enforcers in blue and yellow power armor probably contributed to that. A gravel path led up through red and gold autumn trees to a hilltop surrounded by wire fencing; ponies waited in line for an attendant and two more armored ponies to check their names and let them inside. It was almost like a trip to the county fair.

One of the power armor ponies in the parking lot trudged over to them. His battle saddle held a wide-mouthed beanbag gun on one side; the other side held some sort of energy weapon. Probably a stun gun. Crowd control weapons. Lyra’s family was in the early wave of refugees; things would probably become less calm as more ponies arrived.

“Identification?” the StableTec enforcer growled.

Lyra’s stomach fell to the parking lot. “My pocket computer. I left it at…”

“Don’t worry, I have mine,” said Beanpole.

“You power armor awesome,” said Bean, sitting on his father’s back, staring at the enforcer worshipfully.

“Thank you,” said the enforcer, looking at Beanpole’s computer and handing it back to him. “You’re awesome, too, kid.”

Bean held up a hoof, and the StableTec bumped it.

“Whoa,” said Bean.

“Please proceed to the Stable entrance and form an orderly line,” said the enforcer.

They waited in the chill autumn air, underneath a clear blue sky. The line moved quickly; the Stable staff knew there was little time to lose.

“We’re going to be alright,” said Beanpole as they reached the gate.

Lyra kept her mouth shut. The small of her back felt tingly. She looked around. The vault was accessed by a large scallop-edged freight elevator that was on the way down, loaded with ponies. Her family would be in the next group. Good. This hill was fairly tall; she could see the main square Sanctuary Hills below them, and the tallest buildings of Buckstone as tiny toothpicks in the distance.

“Identification please,” said the gate attendant.

Something sparkled in the sky overhead. Something bright, like a shooting star. Falling south of Buckstone. It moved with stately grace; a regal visitor from the sky. Lyra tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Her legs wouldn’t move. The star vanished behind the city.

A rainbow-colored light brighter than the sun.

A mushroom cloud.

A shock wave, rolling towards them.

Lyra cast her teleport spell without thinking, flashing Bean and Beanpole out of existence, and bringing them back over the open maw of the Stable entrance. Beanpole spread his wings and vanished below the edge of the elevator entrance, his son clinging to his mane.

Everypony rushed for the vault. Lyra realized she’d forgotten to teleport herself. She tried the spell again, but a lancing pain cut through her horn. She ran, instead, for the edge of the elevator. But she didn’t have time. The shockwave was coming too fast. She broke out of the mob heading for the edge of the elevator well and headed for the far edge, where she could get a better look.

The shockwave seemed to move in slow motion, but she knew it was moving fast across a very long distance, tossing aside trees and cars, shattering buildings. Chunks of earth churned at its leading edge. Behind her, the elevator thumped as it rose to ground level again.

Her family was inside the Stable. Safe. They didn’t need her anymore. And here she had an opportunity to put all that useless magical knowledge in her head to good work for once in her life.

“Ma’am! On the elevator!” said a StableTec attendant.

“There isn’t time before the shockwave hits!” screamed Lyra. “I’m extraordinarily good at magic! I can make a shield!” She pointed at the worn, stained, CSGU logo on her t-shirt. That was all the StableTec pony needed to see. He nodded and turned back to herding ponies onto the elevator. Lyra turned back towards the shockwave and prepared the strongest shield spell she’d ever learned. This one wasn't from Celestia, but from Twilight's brother. He'd shielded all of Canterlot with it for a month, once.

She just needed it to hold for a few seconds, so she adjusted the spell matrix in her mind, trading stability for raw power. After all those teleports, her horn blazed with pain at the effort. Wetness trickled out of her ears, her eyes, her nose. She hoped it wasn’t blood.

The shockwave rolled closer, leaving a path of destruction like a peevish toddler. Like little Bean on a rampage, it picked up a pickup truck as if it were a toy and hurtled it toward her. It flipped end over end, a startled pony driver still inside. Lyra’s eyes glowed white and her horn flashed with overglow. The car slammed against her shield and bounced off.

“That’s all! Take her down!” the power armor pony yelled.

Behind her: Screaming as desperate refugees tried to storm the stable entrance. Loud thumps. Crackling electricity. Riot control.

The shock wave hit her shield.

Agony ripped through Lyra’s skull. Her horn pulsed, feeling like it might crack in half. The force against the shield pushed Lyra’s hooves back. She looked over her shoulder. Ponies' heads had vanished beneath the edge of the elevator. She felt her shield crack. That was the best she could do.

Her shield collapsed. Hot air hit her coat, knocking her into midair over the descending elevator. She felt the fur on her coat burn away; her skin sear and crackle. One hot breath and her vision went dark.

Level 1
New perk: Action Mom. Your love for your family fills you with energy. Plus 20% action point refresh rate in SATS.

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