Out of Place - Out of Context Part 3

DISCLAIMER: My Little Pony is the property of Hasbro, Inc.

Billy Joel - Piano Man

Now Paul is a real estate novelist
Who never had time for a wife
And he's talkin' with Davy, who's still in the Navy
And probably will be for life

And the waitress is practicing politics
As the businessman slowly gets stoned
Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness
But it's better than drinkin' alone

Glory Bell stood proud as she watched their Highnesses in their ambassadorial regalia approach the tables that have been set up. Several of the Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts stood alongside her. Part of a neutral 'honor' guard for Cadence, while their Highnesses had the Day and Night Guards.

"You certainly reearned your Princess-ship today," Spitfire told her.

Glory nodded, and made one last look at the Royal box. My uncle is there, but not my mom, or dad, she thought quietly, Is it because I'm here, or because it's 'political'. They cannot see their daughter's new triumph, because they have to not care about 'What those idiots in Canterlot are doing.' She looked fondly at her uniform, and considered the two sisters, and what their estrangement and reconciliation really meant.

"Relax," Shadow Pearl said quietly, "No one is paying much attention to us."

Glory nodded again. The two sisters approached Cadence, who stood behind a table that sported two ink stamp pads, and the all-important document.

"How did they change costumes so fast, and get made up?" Glory asked of the regal sisters who minutes before had been running around on the field with sweat and grass-strained jerseys.

They look positively illustrious, she thought as they approached the table. The trio of Princesses embraced as they stood before the document.

"I know it's all choreographed more than a ballet, but they make it look so natural," Glory whispered to Spitfire as Celestia stood tall to speak.

"Equestrians," she said formally, "My beloved little ponies," she added warmly. "Today, we have a great change. A charter between the government, and the people. It is the things we have all believed in our hearts. But my sister, and many others have asked it be put in terms so clear, they demand our assent. Some say this has been a long time coming, others say it is unnecessary. I believe it is the right thing, at the right time. Today we have seen several spectacles, that in some ways mirror what brought this document about. Strong wills, strong hearts, not agreeing perfectly, and testing the resolve and tolerance of all. But in the end, we all love Equestria, we all want what is best, and we can agree that is a good first step."

The crowd hoof-stamped their approval. Luna merely nodded, and Cadence took the covers off the ink pads. In synchronized movements, both sisters carefully ink their right hooves, then apply them to the paper. A bewigged scribe carefully removed the document and carried it with great ceremony to a case which would protect it, and let the ink dry undisturbed. Cadence closed the stamp pads and withdrew. Celestia nuzzled Luna and whispered something Glory couldn't hear. The two broke apart and headed back towards their dressing rooms, to once again be appointed for 'battle'.

"Short and sweet," Shadow Pearl said, "You have to love those girls."

Mile Stone watched the teams file back onto the field. He'd watched the game with some interest, but he'd been watching the people with greater interest. They seem to have taken the message of unity to heart, the trooper thought as another pony, this one an older mare, begged the soiled dove to give her the face paint she'd been doing during the entire game. Good thing I know a little about that stuff, he thought as a corporal of the Night Guard returned from her supply run. The near-filly looked tuckered out as she delivered the fresh load of face 'paint' to the soiled dove.

"Sir, we're going to need a Diane to get more, that's every store still open within ten minute's run of the stadium," the young corporal admitted.

"It will be enough, lass," he said, "Take a few moments up here to watch the game."

"Who's winning?" the eager fan asked.

"Equestria, as planned," Mile Stone said as he settled in.

There was an undercurrent of laughter as Celestia took her place. A dark hoofmark had been planted in the middle of her sun cutie-mark.

If I know her Highness, she did it herself to show that Luna's still game, Mile Stone thought as they all watched the same mare who'd kicked off the ball before, do the same straight up kick again. Celestia and Luna again jumped for it, but one tipped it off towards the sidelines, and Luna's team swarmed over the ball as Celestia dove for her own goal. The mortal ponies advanced the ball, as Luna stayed airborne and stayed back. One of the ponies kicked the ball towards the goal. Celestia stopped it with a hoof, and kicked it back to Luna's team. Another kick, and another block and return. And another. One with her tail. Again and again, over and over.

Realizing the futility, one of the smaller members carefully dribbled the ball right up to the goal box. The youngster bowed, and pointed at the goal. Celestia nuzzled the adolescent and stepped aside, to allow the ball to be kicked in for a goal.

Mile Stone roared with laughter like nearly the entire crowd. Although he caught sight of Captain Armor beating his head on the railing.

"Please oh Mighty Celestia," Bran Scone said, through her laughter, "Can I kick the ball in there?"

"Of course my child," the soiled dove responded, "You only had to ask." Both mares joined the others in laughter. But Mile Stone saw there was a method to Celestia's madness.

While even Luna was stunned at the audacity of her player, and that it had worked, Celestia retrieved the ball from the goal and fired it down field. Luna reacted too slowly to intercept the ball, and the goalie had the sight of his Princess charging frantically to distract him from the ball he could barely see.

Five-one Celestia's favor. Luna kicked the ball back into play, but Celestia was ready and returned it about three-quarters down the field. The team swarmed it and moved it steadily back down the field. Celestia waited. Luna raced ahead and took a position on the extreme flank, while the team came down towards the opposite corner. Celestia didn't fall for the feint. She stayed ready to defend from the mortal players, and practically ignored Luna's presence. She blocked the shot, and sent the ball most of the way down field. Again the team chased after it. Luna raced ahead to take her position, and the team advanced the ball. Again Celestia concentrated on the mortals, and returned the ball three-quarters of the way down the field.

When the group came back, Luna was leading the pack, but the ball was passing among them. Celestia didn't wait, but charged, keeping herself between the goal and the ball. There was a furious scrum at the point of collision.

"All they need is the dust cloud and the occasional leg, head or tail poking out of it," Mile Stone commented to Bran Scone as the two sisters seemed the focus of the battle.

An official blew a whistle and separated the players. Lying on the field was a sad, little, squashed Hoofball.

"Do they normally go through so many in a game?" his wife asked.

"I doubt they'd go through so many in a season," he admitted.

The kicker placed the ball among the waiting players, then ran for the sidelines. Celestia got the upper hand charging the ball and was halfway down the field before Luna could catch up. Luna's attempts at interception only slowed Celestia's advance to allow the others to catch up. This time, rather than close as a mass. They made diving attacks at the ball. Two of the players collided in these attempts and the officials once again separated the two teams, while medics from both sides saw to the dazed players.

"I think her Majesty is just running down the clock," Mile Stone said as the third period ended soon after play was resumed.

I'm beginning to agree with her Highness. The first half was exciting, this doesn't accomplish anything except 'what might have been's, Mile Stone thought as the action continued on the field, and the clock ran down. They should just let their Highnesses onto the field and let them play against each other.

Ending more with a whimper than a spectacle, Mile Stone still felt rung out.

"There's still the victory party," Bran Scone said, "And I intend to attend."

"Yes, dear," he said in his most put upon tone.

His wife laughed at his demeanor.

"Have I told you what happened to Barnum at the previous 'victory party?" Mile Stone asked innocently.

It is the first time since my arrival that I've dared walk through this place. The statuary gardens are peaceful, tranquil, filled with examples of the finest pony art. Or are they? I wonder. The guidebook doesn't have much to say on the twisted figure of the draconequus in front of me. It subtly implies this is based on an extinct species and is basically an ancient example of 'modern' art.

I don't linger any longer than I have at any of the other pieces. Just long enough to look at it, read the guidebook entry, check over any details that catch my interest, and make some notes to check up on when I get back to the castle. It takes most of the morning to go through the garden, and I'm left with the impression that while there are other statues that might be victims of the Elements, only Discord is a guaranteed candidate.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" I ask Captain Hansom. We're some distance from the Discord statue.

"Their Highnesses have someone keeping an eye on you at all times. When you make an effort to slip away from your guards, they get nervous," the stallion tells me.

"Just something I had to check on myself," I admit.

He looks around nervously. "I wish they'd bury that whole garden, and throw all those statues off the mountain. Those things give me the shivers," the captain admits.

"Guidebook says they're just statues, major points in pony history."

"Yeah, there's a museum in the castle that tells those stories just fine, and without all the creepy stuff." Hansom looks around. "Except for some stain glass windows. But those are special access only, so the 'tourists' can't just wander through. Hey, you were found here, weren't you?"

"Yep, not a few dozen yards from where you found me today," I tell him, "My mission is completed here, I was contacting my people for retrieval."

"You are a terrible ambassador, in that case," he tells me.

"Harvester. My people feed on ignorance and misconceptions, and we realized there was a bumper crop here. Our larders are full and we even had enough for after-festival sandwiches. On behalf of our people, we wish to thank you all."

"So, the Hoofball game was your idea?" the captain asks.

"Nope, all their Highnesses'. The idea that they aren't some horrible moon-banishing, night-forevering monsters, all their idea. The idea that they could kick the flank of any pony in town, also their idea."

"Yeah, the first time I saw a bunch of schoolcolts asking her Majesty about kicking a Hoofball, instead of her mane or what it's like to live in a palace."

"Let's everyone know she can be a bit of a tomboy too."

"Do you know the genesis of that word? Why not Colt-Filly, or something else, why tomboy?"

"It may be a loan word from human English, maybe I'm not the first human to land in Equestria."

"I think if there were any more like you, we'd know it," the captain says.

"I don't know, a lot of your implements and technology don't seem to be based on anything other than human norms." I stop myself. "Do you really want to get into a discussion of comparative evolution?"

"My education is in design," the captain admits, "And I've never understood why things aren't optimized for ponies, rather than for creatures with hands, like griffons and dragons. They aren't exactly big tool users."

"I have a really wild theory, if you want to hear it."

"Sure." He looks back over his shoulder. "As long as it's away from here."

"Barnum, you're crazy," Hansom says as we walk down the corridor, "We're just a children's television program? I'm not sure if I can even understand about the television part."

"I said it was a theory," I reply, and don't point out who is following and enjoying the friendly argument, "It's equally possible that it's all in my head. Because the world I remember had zero magic. So how did I get here? Easier to assume that something happened to me here, and I'm imagining the rest."

I realize with growing horror, after arguing for a couple enjoyable hours, that if Discord observed the Human Race, and forced the ponies to duplicate our culture and technology, he would have had to do so between the 15th and 19th Centuries. But that doesn't fit the 'banished for a thousand-year timeline', I consider, So what happened?

"I still say parallel development is possible," Hansom argues.

"Of things no pony would have real need for without the accompanying infrastructure?" I counter.

If he did force them to conform to human norms from that period, then time doesn't run here at the same rate. It also explains some of the paranoia about change. They didn't develop the tech, it was thrust upon them and they're trying to figure out the scientific basis, and adapting it to their needs, I think as we walk, And I may have to discuss this with our observer.

"Maybe we got them from people like you," Hansom says, "Who dropped in from other worlds."

"While your people are open and welcoming," I reply, and receive a grin, "The problem is that implies that someone on this world dragged them here. The home I remember had precisely zero magic. If magic brought and changed me, it came entirely from here."

"Or somewhere in between," Celestia says as she stands behind Hansom.

The poor stallion almost jumps. "Your Highness, I didn't see you." He gives a quick bow. "I hope we didn't disturb you."

"I was appreciating two of my ponies enjoying a spirited discussion. With such odd and even," she leaned close and whispered, "Heretical opinions, so fearlessly expressed."

Hansom looks alarmed by the implication, but Celestia continues, "And yet you remain good friends afterwards."

"Yes," Hansom says, obviously aware that he knows that I knew she was there, and there will be a reckoning.

"I'm afraid I must break in, but I need to talk with Barnum," Celestia says.

"Of course your Majesty," he says and bows again.

"You can pick him up again in the south garden," she offers as the captain leaves.

"With pleasure, your Majesty."

Something in his gleeful expression sets off every alarm I have. The nuzzle from Celestia breaks my concentration, probably her plan. "I think I know why you pushed this reform through so quickly."

"Yes," she says sadly, "Soon the banner of 'safety, safety, surety' will fly over all the homes in Equestria, and only this example will bring ponies around."

"I hope it won't take as long," I reply and we start walking.

"You've been rather depressed," she comments.

"The Grand Galloping Gala is in a few days, and the visit from Ponyville, how many days after that?"

"Nothing is scheduled, but the statue gardens are open for all, no special permissions or appointments are necessary."

"So the clock ticks, we know the hour, but not the minute."

"It was you we were talking about," Celestia reminds me.

"You were talking about me, I was talking about the future, and both of us were trying to cheer the other up. We'll get through this."

"And if this plan doesn't work?"

"I think I can get a Death Star cheap," I tell her, "Look they've been through it before, and they survived. As terrible as it was, they survived. They'll survive this."

"Not the gentle ones. Not the dreamers. At least not as dreamers."

"Don't be so sure. My homeland was founded by dreamers fleeing from places that make your nightmares look like a folk dance. They stood on free soil for the first time, and their dreams blossomed in the sun. They outstripped the people who had been living there and made the world a richer place for their dreams. That only stopped when we stopped striving to collect dreamers and started being 'fair'."

"You don't believe in things being fair?" she teases.

"No. Think how terrible the world would be, if it were fair," I reply, "If you only got what you deserved. There are too many things I've gotten away with, that my friends have let slide. I'd hate to have to pay the price for them. Especially all at once."

"You have a grim view of the world."

"I have a grim view of the universe. Even assuming there's no more to this universe than one planet and the two orbiting lights. The safely habitable portion of that universe is a third of the skin of an orange inside a hoofball-sized universe. That's pretty small, and most of it is comfortable. You can work to make an equitable division of rain and shine, have some control of the seasons. My people never had that. Our 'safe' place was the surface of a grain of sand in an entire Hoofball stadium. And we have evidence of at least four natural disasters that did their very best to exterminate all life on the planet," I tell her, "Once you realize that, it makes you a lot more cynical about 'fairness'. When random chance or external forces have already loaded the dice that heavily in your favor, you don't go complaining that your shoes aren't shiny enough."

She nuzzles me again and laughs. "Why does you being gloomy always brighten my mood?"

"Because you realize that a cynic is just a disappointed romantic, and it gives you a simpler goal." I glance around. "Where are we going anyway?"

"The south garden," she says.

"I don't remember ever going there." The reason I never went there refuses to present itself.

"Oh, it's lovely. Good light, shaded from breezes, and the acoustics are wonderful. Just go on in." She says as we stand before a wooden door. "I'll be back in a bit."

I wonder, if it's such a wonderful place, why no windows look out onto it. I go through the door, into a small, paneled antechamber, then through the next door. I've been had! I think as a sea of reporters immediately start throwing questions at me. Okay, point in the prank war to Celestia. I look at the various pony faces, all trying to get my attention, all with completely self-serving motives and vapid questions to go along with them. It's the porkpie hat and the sense that one curmudgeon faces another that make me pick him.

"Mr. Coltchak of the Chronicle, isn't it?" I ask as I step behind the podium.

The reporter in question seems as stunned to be called on specifically, as his colleagues are horrified. "Yes, that's right. What about these rumors that you and Celestia masterminded this entire plan to change the government, and this 'Magna Carta'?"

"Not true," I say, and enjoy his 'gotcha' smile, "Princess Luna, and the leadership of the New Lunar Republic also played a major part. I was mostly secretary and go between. It was part of her Majesty's long-term plans, but a loyal opposition wasn't really feasible until Princess Luna returned and gave them a center to focus on."

It's fun to watch him react to 'your conspiracy theory is wrong, it doesn't go far enough'. The rest think I'm trolling him. I think as I watch the others react.

"Both Princesses, and the leadership of the New Lunar Republic were part of this?" he exclaims, "Did they know?"

"Of course their Highnesses knew, they liked the idea of a crusade of ideas. Of gentle words not upraised hooves. They very much approved of some of what the New Lunar Republic was doing. So Princess Luna joined them and encouraged what she approved of, and discouraged what she didn't. Since the group was formed of dozens of her splinter personality cults, it's no wonder she had considerable influence."

The other reporters are realizing I am not giving a press conference, but having a conversation. The cacophony of shouted questions I ignore, and concentrate on Coltchak.

"I meant the leadership of the New Lunar Republic," he amends condescendingly.

"Of course I didn't tell them that. I did tell them a high government official was on their side, and desperately wanted their reforms to succeed. I just didn't give any names."

An NLR member, or trying to ferret out their secrets? I wonder, but brace for his next question, while every other reporter in the place vies for my attention.

"Then the entire ceremony, the Hoofball charity," he grimaces before continuing, "And the after game party."

"I spent too much time with my face in a bucket to want to remember the after game party, Mister Coltchak. The ceremony was for all to see and know it was done. The game was to raise money for charity, and to let her Highness dispel those rumors she doesn't like the game of Hoofball. She likes it just fine, when she's playing, or when kids are playing. As Poné said, 'I don't like watching either, I want to play'."

"Yes," he says, "But why didn't she do the things in the second half like she did in the first?"

"Probably because she wanted the others to participate alongside Luna, rather than depending on Luna to do everything," I reply.

"What about these rumors that there are more changes on the way?" Coltchak asks.

"With the right to redress grievances open, I would expect many changes," I reply, "As for what the government intends to change, that depends on the grievances brought." I realize that none of the reporters are eager to shout more questions. I look over my shoulder and see Sir Eagle Bell, staring at me. He doesn't look angry. He merely stares at me with intensity, a polite smile on his lips that never reaches his eyes.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlecolts, I think you shouldn't hold your editions to record my fate," I say and ignore the chuckles at the gallows humor.

Sir Bell puts a friendly hoof over my shoulders as he leads me away. Backhoofing the door closed as we go. Once we're back through the 'airlock' between the reporters and the palace, he relaxes.

"Well played. A bit of subterfuge, and an excellent bit yourself, picking Coltchak. Now the entire story is out, no one will really believe it, and they'll go digging. After all, you answered Coltchak, who normally dispenses stories about monsters living under our beds, and I was absolutely furious with something you'd divulged. They won't know which way to turn."

"I hope you have some entertaining bits for them to uncover," I say, making the old stallion chuckle.

"Yes, the plans, scuttled I'm afraid, of giving Moon City and Brown Chief matching medals for their service to Equestria. Ample fodder for endless speculations. Intelligence is going to leak they knew Brown Chief was the boss of all bosses all along. The Treasury agencies will say the same for Moon City. A certain reporter will reveal the absolute row you had with her Highness about going too far in the reforms, another about not going far enough, and that her Nightjesty had to assemble a guard force to separate you two. The senior-most civil servant will reply to all questions about the events, by highlighting the marvelous and most useful inventions displayed at the halftime show."

"After assuring everypony that their Highness' government will loyally and with resolve, bear up under the changes demanded by the ponies of Equestria and their Highness."

"Well done," he says cheerfully, "But I was steering to the question of ownership of blueprints and patents. May one enquire how one might obtain copies, and the license to manufacture them?"

"Well, there is a sizable debt I owe, and there is the question of a stipend to the original inventor."

"Of course," the stallion says, "I'm sure something equitable can be arranged."

"For the inventor, I'm going to have to insist on wise, rather than equitable. Not a good idea to poison the tree of knowledge with too much fertilizer at once, and then starve it in the future."

"An interesting theory. Personal experience?"

"Urban legend, with too much truth behind it," I tell him.

Glory walked into the workshop. Barnum was working on a set of frameworks too bulky for a Diane-frame. "You've been scarce around here," he greeted her, "Having fun being a WonderShadowBolt?"

"Yeah, the uniform fitting, and the photo shoot for the new posters, and . . . I came here to hide for a while."

"I saw the posters, got a couple all signed and sent them off to Pinkie so she can give them to Rainbow Dash as a present."

"That's nice," she walked over to the odd and extremely heavy constructions, "These look like they could hold up the castle's roof. What are you doing? Are these transportable by air?"

"I hadn't thought about that, more like the aftermath of the Grand Galloping Gala."

" 'Raise the roof' is not meant literally," she teased, and sat down next to him, "Something wrong?"

"One minor, one major," he said, "I've never seen your cutie-mark, or heard why you hide it, and . . . your mother and father live outside of Los Pegasus?"

"In the mountains. They turned their back on 'all of Canterlot's excesses' and live the simple life as our ancestors did. In one of the most pampered and plastic places in the world."

He paused, looked at her strangely. He looks almost wistful, she thought of his nearly hurt expression.

"I think, after the Gala, you and your uncle should visit them. Just family, not 'look what I've done', just family."

"What happened, what's going on, if it's something I can help with?" Glory felt the words tumbling out without stopping them.

"It's nothing either of you have the skills to face. It may be nothing, or only a premonition. But consider it, for me."

"Look, her Highness is reasonable, and even though her Nightjesty does hold a grudge." She leaned against him. "We can get through this."

"Glory. It isn't me, it's you. It's your uncle. The more details I give you, the more insane it will sound. But trust me, go visit your folks. If you don't, you may regret it the rest of your life."

"Something is going to happen to my parents?" Glory demanded, "And don't play vague word games."

"Something is going to happen to all of you, and it will be better for all of you to be together when you get through it. Wondering 'what could I have done had I been there?' is a knife constantly twisting in your guts. Believe me, I know, and I'd rather spare you and your uncle that pain."

"What about my parents?"

"I don't know about your parents," he admitted, "I can't know what they'd do or feel, but I know my own regrets."

"That's all I'm going to get, aren't I?" she accused.

"You'll understand it all when you get back," he told her, "If I explain it all, first you'll think I'm crazy, second, it'll have you trying to fit things that happen to my description. Let it just happen."

"I guess I'll try," Glory said, and snuggled up against him, "Is that what has you so worried?"

"No, that my plan won't work and that I'll leave others in a lurch instead of developing their own plans."

"Plans for what?" she asked.

"It'll be obvious once it's over. If it doesn't end, then it'll be obvious too," he told her.

"You're being awfully vague," she said.

"There's a term, catastrophe. There is also a term eucatastrophe, or a good catastrophe. Both refer to huge changes. The Magna Carta signed, sealed and in place will help take the lid off of a lot of things. Some of those things aren't going to be particularly pleasant."

"The NLR and the Solars seem to be getting along. The Princesses' example seems to have gotten them nervous about starting anything."

"Except inventing rugby."

"Except inventing rugby," Glory agreed. "I can't see anything that would be coming that would have you so nervous."

"Fishing will get you no where, kiddo," Barnum told her.

"I have to try," Glory responded, "You know how I hate not knowing."

"Believe me kid, if I could keep Equestria from not knowing," Barnum said sadly, "I would."

Luna considered Celestia's oh so clever special shampoo, which had sent three of the maids into panic when they saw what they thought they'd done to her Nightjesty's mane and tail. It had taken some intricate spell casting, and the royal hairdresser, to completely eliminate the effect. She had decided to carefully plot her revenge, and concentrate on the two ponies who infuriated her most, and infuriated each other.

Since I haven't been able to really view Barnum's nebulous and elusive dreams, linking his and Celestia's dreamscapes should prevent Celestia from simply powering out of it as she would with any other pony, Luna thought happily, And it seems to be working flawlessly.

The now-human Celestia was an interesting figure, her elaborate mane and tail wrapping around her in a silk garment. Barnum, in decidedly less imposing attire, and a less imposing person as a whole seemed stunned to see her there in his dreams, and in human form. Luna watched Barnum's reaction, and was pleased her 'translation' of her sister into human form had kept all the attendant grace, warmth and beauty her sister possessed in abundance. When she wasn't being an imp! Luna forcefully reminded herself.

Luna mentally withdrew, so she couldn't interfere, and thus be held accountable for what happened. And to watch the fireworks and enjoy how the pair's rather tense standoffishness stood, when Celestia was a human, and by Barnum's reaction, a very attractive one. She split her awareness so she could watch how her sister's sleeping equine form reacted as well.

"Uh, hi, Celestia?" Barnum stammered.

"Yes," Celestia replied, extending her new limbs, examining her new body, and clearly enjoying the change. "Would you like to tickle me now?" she teased as she rested against him in a way calculated to make him uneasy.

"I think I have something for that," Barnum replied as he stepped away.

Celestia looked at Barnum. Luna stared at what he was offering. She had the same reaction her sister did. "It's so small."

Barnum looked vaguely irritated. "Trust me, I think you'll find it more that sufficient. You're human now, or at least a good seeming," Barnum replied, "Things are different with humans. A lot different."

Celestia leaned in and took the briefest, most gentle nibble. She straightened up to stare at Barnum. She waited with rising expectation and excitement. He nodded, and she dove in.

Luna watched her plan spin out of control. In her mind's eye, her dear sister was practically insane, trying to get more and more of what she craved. While the sleeping form of Celestia rolled in her bed, her wings and legs thrashed as she moaned, 'More, more, yes, yes!'

Break the connection! Luna thought as the emotional and sensory feedback from her sister addled and confused her. No, Celestia's too strong, and I can't get a decent grip on Barnum's dreams! She abandoned subtlety and the dreamscapes, and dashed for Barnum's room.

Merry Lifter saw her coming at a dead gallop and opened the door without orders. In a trice, she was at the colt's bedside shaking him awake.

"Wha! Wha?" he exclaimed as consciousness returned.

"Do humans really taste that good! I mean does your - does cake really taste that way to humans?!" she demanded of the half-awake colt.

Nervously he nodded. "Most food around here is like lightly-flavored sawdust," he admitted.

Luna dropped him back on the bed. "Oh, Celly! Luna is so sorry!" she shouted in terror as she raced from the room.

Barnum looked at Merry Lifter, and tried to remember the dream he'd just been having, and why and how cake was involved. "Do you understand any of what just happened?" he asked the guard.

"I have decided not to understand what goes on between you and their Highnesses," Merry Lifter said stoically.

"Cowardly, extremely wise, but cowardly," Barnum commented. "Why do I have this overwhelming urge to warn the royal bakers?" Barnum asked before settling back down to sleep.

"How is it going my little ponies?" Celestia asked as she entered the workshop, taking in the slim but surprisingly strong trusses that reached from floor to the high, vaulted ceiling of Barnum's rooms. The sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating the ponies, and their problem.

"As far as it goes, your Highness, it goes well," Glory said eagerly.

"Then it teeters on the edge and falls off a cliff," Barnum added grimly. He ignored Glory's shushing sound and her offended glare.

"Glory Bell, I wish to congratulate you on your tenure as both a Shadowbolt and a Wonderbolt. You have been and are a credit to your family."

"Thank you, your Highness," Glory said, bobbing her head enthusiastically, "Barnum suggested I meet with my family after the Gala." She stared at Celestia.

"An excellent idea," Celestia said, and no more, much to Glory's disappointment. "What seems to be the problem?" Celestia walked over to the piece with the L-shaped cross section which Glory and Barnum seemed so perturbed about.

Again, Glory's warning not to waste the sovereign's time was ignored by Barnum as he hauled it up. Celestia was grateful it was. It's so seldom I get to do something like this, she thought happily.

"This truss is cut an inch and seven-eighth's too long. It won't match up with the others, and that means we have to get a whole new set to go with this one, or scrap it and get a new one," Barnum explained, Celestia nodded as she examined the pencil line for the correct length. "Also, it's already been magically tempered and toughened. Any magic strong enough to cut it, would also damage the spells used, and it would be easier to scrap it and start over."

"Why not sweep all the flaws into the area and break it off?" she asked as she nudged it over with her horn.

"Because the supplier, diligent and thoughtful ponies that they are, already did that. After I taught them the spells I use for the purpose. The whole thing is nearly perfect," Barnum grumped.

"Except for being too long," Celestia commented with a chuckle as she positioned it precisely.

He is adorable when he's frustrated like that, she admitted to herself.

"And it's too tough for cutting tools, and too large to put into the machines?" Celestia added and grinned, having maneuvered the piece exactly where she needed it to be, "I have been learning as you've discovered new things."

"Exactly," Glory said, finally loosening up a bit. "We could cut it with hand tools, but the job of getting the flatness and straightness of the cut just right, for the loads this is designed to carry. It's beyond us."

"Well, I can help. Hold still," she said happily. Before they could move, the pencil line evaporated, along with a tiny amount of the metal. The offending extra length slid off and clanged on the floor beside the tiny burn mark in the stone floor. Celestia glanced at the tiny hole in the window. Barnum can fix that easily, she thought and turned smiling back to the two stunned unicorns.

"Barnum, I must thank you for the idea of that gamma-ray laser. It was difficult, but worth the effort," she said happily. "I do hope the cut is as you want it."

"We'll check it later, your Majesty, thank you," Barnum said woodenly.

"Excellent," she said and smiled. "Oh, and Barnum, while Lulu would love to join our little games, playful as she is. I think it would be an excellent idea if you told her, before you included her. She has a few very sensitive spots, and she doesn't take surprises as well as I have."

Barnum looked at the 17-inch flange section, and the inch-and-a-half thick web section of the L, cut with a precision he'd struggle just to measure let alone match, and the lack of floor burn through, before answering. "Understood, clearly, your Majesty," he replied stiffly.

"I'm so glad I could help." She walked out of the workshop. Back within, she heard someone whistle.

"This is getting to be a cliche!" Barnum shouted at her as Glory shook him awake.

"There's a fire, at sea," Glory told him, "The Shadowbolts and Wonderbolts are going out on the rescue."

"I may be just waking up, but the seas are hours away in either direction."

"Mages from the academy will teleport us most of the way. We'll take off the wounded and land in Baltimare," Glory told him as he pulled on a harness of tools and assorted gear, then joined her as they raced for the Wonderbolts' training field. Claire, Merry Lifter, and Brushcut followed in their wake.

At the field, mechanics already had the various Dianes, all of them, out, checked over and blades turning. While the others were collecting supplies in the slings that would carry them, and the medics were being briefed. Many, even the pegasi, were looking distinctly nervous. Barnum checked his machine quickly, then ran for the team at a table planning the action.

Shadow Pearl was trying to look in charge, but even he kept glancing at things with trepidation. Then the light changed and she spotted why. The 'us' who were being teleported hadn't meant the Wonder and Shadowbolts, and their Dianes. It also meant Her Nightjesty, Princess Luna. Barnum, bless or curse him, walked right up to her Nightjesty. She actually seemed shocked to see him.

"Precision is the key to this. I've got a spell to pick up a large chuck of water. I can run the ship through it, and not flood it," he told her, "You should be able to pick it up once I've performed it once."

"Barnum, this ship is loaded with cider," Luna said.

For the first time, the normally unflappable stallion looked worried. "Then I'd better go along. The water will cool the barrels," he said and moved away.

"What's the problem with cider?" Glory asked as she followed him back to the quadra-Dianes.

"It burns, and it boils." Barnum checked the load his Diane would be carrying: two medics. "So if a barrel heats and bursts, it'll aerosolize the liquid. Like throwing a pinch of flour in a candle flame. Or with a small leak, it'll shoot off like a rocket."

Glory suddenly understood his worry completely.

The pegasi lifted off, and hovered in position. The Dianes soon joined them, the mechanics and prep crews releasing their charges to the Wonderbolt or Shadowbolt pilots. The entire formation centered on Her Nightjesty, while beneath them, dozens of mages from the academy, led by Her Majesty, waited. The spell cast, the entire formation found itself over the sea. The lights of Baltimare in the distance, the beacon of the burning ship before them.

Glory piloted one of the rescue quadra-Dianes, and carried no one besides herself and Claire. Glory used her horn to boost the power of their pedaling as the single-seaters and the pegasi maneuvered to rush in and begin the rescue and firefighting action. The fires aboard ship illuminated the griffins struggling in the water around the ship. For once Glory didn't envy creatures with wings. "Their wings are soaked through, they can't fly and the weight is dragging them down."

In answer, a barrel shot into the air, trailing a column of fire. Then another. One exploded on the deck itself. The light showed no one and nothing on deck.

"They must have been blown off the deck by the explosions," Claire told her.

"There goes another one," she whispered as a barrel launched itself into the air, trailing a streak of flame as the boiling liquid ignited. She watched the team hold position.

"Let's hope this goes better than the usual 'Wonderbolts to the rescue' goes," Claire said worriedly.

Glory nodded. They may be Equestria's best fliers, she thought worriedly, But they have a lousy track record for rescues and 'attacking' monsters. And after the 'Equestria's Best Young Fliers' I practically had to beg them to stay. One terrified mare took out the entire team.

She put on a brave face. "Shadow Pearl knows what he's doing," she called back.

"Does Barnum?" Claire gestured as his quadra-Diane pulled close to the water, Princess Luna in close formation. The pair watched in stunned amazement as Brushcut and Merry Lifter ran the pedals, with Barnum seated behind them. The orange glow of his horn was painful to look at in the darkness. The quadra-Diane lifted slowly, and a huge cube of orange-outlined sea water lifted with the vehicle. The nose dipped as the quadra-Diane moved forward, dragging the water with it. Behind them, Luna's horn glowed, and her wings beat as she matched the feat, dragging a second cube of water out of the ocean, and carrying it aloft.

"Unbelievable," Claire breathed as the two cubes approached the ship.

I feel like my horn is being dragged out of my head, I think as I strain to keep the cube fluid, yet force it to retain its shape. The two pilots have us on a straight course. Another barrel explodes, sending a comet's tail of flaming alcohol skyward.

"Hang on Barnum," Merry Lifter tells me, "Almost there."

If I nod, my head is going to fall off, I think as I concentrate. Making contact with the ship is almost a relief. The water covers the flames, cools the barrels as we pass slowly over the masts. Some of the griffins scrambling onto the decks to escape are drenched, but I'm able to hold the thing together well enough they aren't washed overboard or drowned. Then we're past.

"Drop it lad!" Merry Lifter orders, and I do so gratefully.

Luna has lowered her water slug into the hold, and draws it out, only to lower it in again, like a person dunking a doughnut in coffee.

"Swing us around, now's the time for the rescue teams," I shout over the rotor noise.

The Wonderbolts and Shadowbolts have moved in. One of the one-seaters has landed on the deck to deploy the triage gear and the slings for the wounded. Individual members are plucking the griffins out of the water using floating rings and the pylon turn, not risking going into the water and being drowned by the panicking griffins. A glow like St. Elmo's fire envelops some, and they are carried aloft to the quadra-Diane that Glory pilots.

"Doc, you ever jump out of a perfectly good flying-machine?" I ask the medics.

"Not without a healthy push," the younger stallion says and grins fearfully.

"Wish granted," I tell him as I pluck him and his silent colleague off and lower them to the deck. "Geronimo!" I shout as I leap from the Diane and land on the deck. In a moment, I'm through the door into the main cabin. It's clear the place was an inferno. The smell of wet, burnt feathers and cooked meat permeate the air. I sense no embers and begin searching for any survivors, or sources of ignition that would bring the fire back to life.

Claire brought the Diane in close, and Spitfire hooked the sling to the cargo pickup. She gave us the signal to pick up, and we carried three wounded griffins to the distant lights of Baltimare. Pegasi from the city's search and rescue teams were heading out, along with fast-moving ships. Even these veterans were amazed at the astonishing machine in Wonderbolts' colors racing over their heads.

"Makes all the work worth it?" Claire asked as Glory waved to the crew below.

"If we get our patients to the hospital," Glory said, "Then it will be worth it. But we still have to fly back and get more."

Claire nodded. The mares' pedaling, and Glory's magic made the trip faster than the ships could manage.

"Get the wounded aboard the ships!" the deep violet Earth pony shouted as the ship continued to make ominous noises, "This vessel is not long for this world."

She trotted over to the unicorn who'd been desperately trying to find and patch the leaks. "Barnum, unless you can breathe underwater, we have to be gone too."

"I am not deserting any of the crew," the unicorn said as he strained, his expression one of confined madness, "Once they're aboard, I'll leave." He grinned at her. "Besides, I have her Nightjesty to rescue me, after I rescue everyone else."

"Where were you when we faced Discord?" Luna asked as she checked her disguise.

"Funny you should mention that," Barnum said as he spotted and stopped another leak.

Luna rolled her eyes at the colt's mad sense of humor. The ship groaned again loudly as Luna raced up the stair and checked on the medics moving the last of the wounded aboard the rescue ships. The ship suddenly lurched sideways and took on a noticeable list.

She shouted down the hatchway. "Barnum! We are leaving!"

The colt was at a dead run, and nearly collided with her. "Sink the ship! Sink the ship! Sink the ship!" he shouted as he ran for one of the waiting quadra-Dianes, leaping off the deck and catching the cargo sling in his teeth. "LUNA! MOVE!" he shouted when he had a foreleg hooked through the cargo sling, then horn-yanked her off the deck when she paused. He maneuvered getting better grips and hung upside-down from the empty cargo sling of the Diane Glory and Claire piloted. The rest of the deck was empty. The pegasi and boats were all moving away.

Luna released a spell that shattered the hull, allowing the sea in through all the holes Barnum had been patching. She was under her own wing power as the ship dropped beneath the waves. Moments later a huge bubble burst the surface and the water roiled where the ship had been. "What was that?"

"Those idiots had dragon dung as part of the ballast, and coal. On a ship loaded with alcohol. No wonder that fire started. We're just lucky the whole ship didn't blow with us on board."

Luna shuddered, remembering some of the 'tricks' people had played with dried dragon dung. Tricks that often turned tragic. "Smugglers?" she asked as she lifted the colt from his amusing but precarious perch hanging onto the sling. She set him carefully in the 'flight-engineer' position. "I'll meet you back in Baltimare. I think this may be a subject for the Baltimare police." They nodded and Luna accelerated towards the distant lights of the coast.

Glory noted that the teams were not letting her or Barnum walk towards the local 'Royal Residence' that was being freshened up for the sudden arrival of her Nightjesty and her party.

"Hey, hero," Spitfire told her as she helped support the weary mare, "Our first real rescue, that worked."

"I can walk you know," Glory complained.

"You can also fall down and ruin the ambiance," Tuxie said from the opposite side. "This is what I meant about 'flying for real', Captain. Inspiring the crowds is fine, but saving their lives while doing it. That's what I wanted."

Spitfire snorted but kept supporting Glory.

"Where's Claire? Where's Barnum?" Glory asked as she glanced around.

"Considering you made three trips, and everyone else made one," Spitfire said, "I think she deserves a rest. As for Barnum, how many tranquilizer spells did they use on him?"

"I think her Nightjesty only needed one, and everypony within ten feet also passed out," Tuxie teased.

Glory snorted at that, but let the two effectively carry her into the residence.