Author's Notes:

Please enjoy this final update to Shades of Twilight. Sorry, but there won't be any more. Please refer to the blog for more details.

Twilight’s head was pounding painfully, which would have been bad enough were it not for the last bit of unpleasantness she had left to deal with before the day was done. Truly, everything revolving around this asari mercenary was taxing her every moral fiber.

In Equestria, Twilight had never seen true evil. The “villains” cooked up by Discord to occupy her and her friends were almost laughably absurd in hindsight. Hay, even Discord himself was driven more by his own insanity than malice.

Before this day, the closest thing to true evil Twilight had experienced was the first being she’d met mere minutes after exiting the simulation. She’d seen it in the eyes of a man who was willing to commit genocide in order to fulfill his goals, and as she watched his attempts to rationalize devolve into the ravings of a lunatic pushed to the brink. And she’d dealt with that evil in the only way possible at the time. She’d done what was necessary.

But this woman, this alien sitting there smirking at her despite her obvious helplessness, was something different. It wasn’t evil in those cold blue eyes, it was detachment. Apathy. She really didn’t care about the implications of her mission, or the things she’d done in the pursuit of mere credits.

So it was with mixed feelings that Twilight eventually came to her conclusion: As distasteful as it was, she had to let the asari go. There were simply too many variables to consider, and taken at face value, this option was preferable to the threat of her spilling the Herd’s secrets to C-Sec at a time when they were still reeling from events prior.

And above all, Twilight couldn’t let herself kill someone at her mercy, even someone as detestable as this agent. She wasn’t the kind of person to indulge in bloody revenge or take justice into her own hooves, no matter the circumstances. She had to be better than that.

“You’re right about one thing…” Twilight said finally, feeling an odd sort of serenity come over her. Her face was a mask as she stared down the asari, who found her own smirk faltering a bit in response to the unicorn’s shift in tone. “Taking the life of another… it does change you.”

The two of them spent what felt like an eternity locked in a mutual gaze, though in reality it was only a few seconds. In that instant, one could see in Twilight’s features something which she had carefully managed to keep hidden from her friends and fellow ponies. Something that didn’t belong to the innocent bookworm who used to live her carefree days in a perfect world. Subtle though it may have been, it did manage to give the asari the briefest moment of pause.

Then Twilight closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, and when she opened them again, something about them had softened -- but only slightly.

“But it doesn’t have to define you,” she continued. “That’s the difference between you and I. Killing you might make things easier; it might make me feel better... but I don’t want it to. That’s not the kind of person I am, and I refuse to let that change.”

“Hmph,” the asari scoffed, having apparently regained her confidence and tilting her head back. “That’s a nice sentiment. But sentiment won’t get you very far in this world, sweetie. When push comes to shove, you have to be willing to do anything it takes to survive.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed, and her voice went grave. “Oh, make no mistake: For the sake of my friends, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

The Madam President let that threat hang in the air for a few seconds to drive the point home, then she sighed, and flicked her horn in the asari’s direction. With her biotics, she began to loosen the tight grip of the metal pipe binding the woman’s hands and feet.

“But as much as I hate myself for admitting it, right now, letting you go is the best course of action. Assuming you keep up your end of the deal, that is,” Twilight said as the asari wiggled out of her restraints, then stood up while rubbing her wrists. “Now leave, before I change my mind.”

“No need to tell me twice. I know when I’ve worn out my welcome,” the asari replied snarkily. Then she half-turned her head in the direction of the banks of equipment stacked against the wall before she stopped herself. A small pang of regret seemed to come across her, but she evidently decided it wasn’t worth jeopardizing her ticket out of there, and started making her way to the exit.

As the Broker’s agent wasted no time booking it to the busted door, Twilight spoke up once more. “And if I ever see you again…”

The woman stopped, one leg already slipping through the narrow opening, and turned, flashing the unicorn a sly smile. “Relax. I don’t have a death wish.”

And then she was gone.

For a few long moments, Twilight Sparkle stood perfectly still and watched the now-empty passage. She felt the undercurrents of rage and frustration simmering just beneath the surface of her skin as the sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears against the relative quiet.

Twilight had no idea what she should do next, or even what to expect, when she suddenly heard a soft tone come from behind her. Reacting on a hair trigger, she turned around, her horn already alight in preparation for more danger. But there was nothing; no traps, no hidden mechs… just the computer bank along the wall, where the asari had been working before Twilight busted in.

She watched as a square projection appeared from the holographic interface: what appeared to be the waveform of an audio channel, making it clear that a connection had been established with this terminal. Letting her horn dim, Twilight spent little time wondering who -- or what -- was on the other end, because the answer was made immediately clear as the being started to speak.

“This is the Shadow Broker,” the console said, the voice possibly male, but rough and staticky, as if it was being run through a filter. Twilight’s eyes widened at this, but before she could think of a response, it became obvious the voice wasn’t speaking to her directly. “The situation is under control. We experienced a power fluctuation while upgrading hardware. It disrupted communications momentarily. However, we are now back online. Resume standard procedures.”

Twilight’s scowl deepened at the sheer uncaring neutrality of the voice, but after having just dealt with one of the Broker’s agents, it didn’t surprise her at all. Even through the filter, she could sense the smug, businesslike attitude of the being on the other end, as if it considered itself above the dirty work being carried out by its lackeys in the name of “standard procedures.”

“I want a status report on all operations in the next solar day,” the voice continued, with an air of finality and authority. “Shadow Broker out.”

The soundwave visual flattened, leaving a deafening silence in its wake. Twilight’s gaze stayed fixed on the screen, feeling a torrent of emotions whirling around inside her from everything that had happened. Part of her wanted to break down and cry; to fall to the floor and simply wait for someone to come pick her up and carry her home. Another part wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and stay that way for weeks on end. But more than that or anything else, what she was feeling most was her anger finally reaching a frothing boil.

With what was left of her flagging strength, Twilight took a few shaky steps up to the console, hoping that the comm channel was still open -- and not particularly caring if it wasn’t.

“...I don’t know if you can hear me,” Twilight started, her mouth and throat feeling painfully dry. “But if you can, then listen carefully, Shadow Broker. My name is Twilight Sparkle of the Equestrian Herd, and as its president, I consider what transpired here today to be an act of war.”

She doubted that whoever might be on the other end could see her, but that did not keep Twilight from straightening up and holding her head high.

“You may think that because you hold so much power, that this galaxy and everything in it is yours to do with as you please. But you’re wrong. My ponies aren’t your playthings. They are under my protection, and I will never forgive you for what you’ve done to them -- to us.”

“Consider this your one warning: Come after us again, and there will be no world; no barren moon; no cold, dead nebula in the dark depths of space that you can run to.” Now Twilight’s head was lowered close to the ground, and with eyes like burning embers, she unconsciously dug her hoof into the metal floor. “Even if it’s the last thing I do, no matter how long it takes, I will hunt you down. I will find you. And I will end you.”

With her ultimatum delivered, Twilight waited for any kind of response, any acknowledgement of the weight she’d tried to impose behind her words. But the hologram stayed static. Either the Broker didn’t get the message, or deigned it not worthy of a reply. Regardless, she figured there was nothing more to be gained from pressing further. Which left--

“Twilight?”

The mare nearly jumped, hearing an unexpected voice when she’d already assumed there wouldn’t be any. In her beleaguered state, it took her a few seconds to process the fact that the voice didn’t come from the console, and wasn’t that of the Broker’s at all. And that it had come from behind her.

Haltingly, Twilight turned around to the source of the sound, and saw none other than Pinkie Pie standing at the other end of the room next to the open doorway. Her pink friend’s goggles were up on her head, showing her wide blue eyes to be full of concern and confusion. The mare hesitantly took a few steps forward, taking a look around at the scene and seeming unsure what to make of it.

“Who were you talking to?” Pinkie asked, her voice lacking any of her usual joviality or excitement.

“What? Oh…” Twilight glanced back at the console, where the communications hologram appeared to have gone away, leaving behind a blank screen. “It was… nothing. Never mind.”

The unicorn paused, feeling as though she was forgetting something important as her tired mind muddled along. A moment later, a light went on in her brain and her head snapped forward in attention as she remembered what it was. “The others! Are they alright!?”

Managing to shelve her immediate concerns for now, Pinkie was able to answer by giving her friend a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Twilight. Everypony’s okay,” she said comfortingly.

“Really?” At this news, Twilight felt a wave of relief wash over her, and she mirrored Pinkie’s reaction.

Pinkie Pie nodded. “After Forty-Two and I secured the crew, we found all eight of the abductees in the cargo bay. They were all put into some kind of stasis pod thingy, but as far as I could tell, none of them are seriously hurt.” Pinkie’s smile fell a little, and she rubbed her shoulder uncomfortably. “Well… Scootaloo looks like she got a pretty nasty cut on her nose, but it’s nothing a little medigel can’t fix. At worst, it’ll leave a scar. Other than that, though, it looks like everypony’s gonna be fine.”

“Good…” Twilight muttered, bowing her head and breathing out slowly. “That’s good…”

“What about the asari? What happened to her?” came Pinkie’s next question.

Twilight swallowed. “The asari...” she started, wondering whether or not Pinkie should know what had transpired in that room mere moments ago. Could she expect her friend to understand what she did, and why she did it? Perhaps… but not right then, not when everything was still so chaotic. For now, it was best to keep it a secret.

“...She got away,” Twilight finished in a defeated tone, hoping Pinkie wouldn’t press any further on the issue. She didn’t feel like adding “lying to one of her best friends” to the long list of depressing things she’d had to do that day.

“Oh… I see,” Pinkie said simply, her stoic expression not betraying any of her thoughts on the matter. “Well, C-Sec’s already on their way, should only be a couple of minutes. Maybe once they get here, they can--” The pink mare stopped abruptly, a look of intense worry coming over her as she looked Twilight over. “Twilight, are you okay?”

“Huh?” Twilight sluggishly raised her head, looking at Pinkie with tired confusion. Strangely, she was having a hard time getting her eyes to focus clearly.

In response, Pinkie raised her hoof and pointed at the unicorn. “Your nose is bleeding,” she urgently pointed out.

This came as news to Twilight, who reacted by slowly bringing up one of her own hooves and touching the end to her snout. She pulled it back, noticing the wet red stain drawn across its surface, and stared at it bemusedly for several long seconds. “Huh.”

It was hard to remember exactly what happened after that. The next thing she knew, Twilight’s world turned sideways.

And shortly thereafter, it went dark.

Active Log: 42 of 50 - Day 65 A.E.

Present location: Huerta Memorial Hospital, Presidium

Status: Compiling Data

With all relevant details now reviewed and compiled, Forty-Two of Fifty had nothing else to distract him from what was occurring around him in that moment. He did not feel it necessary to include the arrival of Captain Inastri and her supporting officers, who then went about securing the area -- a pretty easy job, considering there was no remaining resistance. While their reactions were mixed, none of the C-Sec personnel on the scene could deny being impressed by the three-pony team’s handiwork.

The smugglers aboard the ship were promptly slapped into handcuffs and carted off along with whatever equipment could be salvaged from the agent’s operation. Shortly afterward, several technicians also arrived, along with medics to tend to the disoriented Equestrians that had been thankfully recovered without suffering any serious injury.

All except for one.

Forty-Two and Pinkie were not allowed to accompany Twilight into the medical transport, something that continued to eat away at the changeling as he resisted bringing up images of the Madam President’s limp body being carried away on a gurney with blood dripping from her nostrils. At least nopony else would have to see such a grim sight -- morale in New Ponyville was low enough as it was.

In the room behind him, the remaining four Directors were being briefed on the conditions of their friends. Forty-Two could make out bits and pieces of the conversation through the door leading to the VIP waiting room, but after a moment's consideration elected for a more detailed and efficient way of gathering the desired information, once again accessing the now-familiar hospital databanks.

Huerta Memorial Patient File: 30018-67
Name: Sparkle, Twilight -- Species: Equestrian -- Gender: Female -- Age: 21

Location: Room #208-A, Recovery Ward, VIP Area

Attending Physician: Dr. Amali, Inisha, PhD (XenoNeuro, Subspecialty: Biotics),

Cause for Admittance: Intracranial hemorrhage, extreme exhaustion.

Initial Diagnosis: Diagnostic scans indicate highly elevated levels of stress-related toxins in all major muscle groups. Physical examination of the patient’s condition also shows evidence of extended periods of stress, as well as a significant lack of REM sleep. This, when combined with a course of rigorous physical activity followed by extensive overuse of biotics, caused microvascular vessels in the patient’s eyes and nasal cavity to burst from the strain. Officially categorized as first documented case of “Eladora Syndrome” in a non-asari: Biotic overexertion leading to hemorrhage and potential stroke.

Treatment: Patient immediately transferred to Critical Care. Following consultation with Dr. Stable, E-PhD/E-M.D. (outside medical specialist in Equestrian physiology and care, see attached xeno-biology accreditation), high-grade muscle relaxant (Isidio-chloride) and detoxins (Palsuidine) used in conjunction with sedatives to alleviate symptoms. No sign of intraaxial bleeding detected, suggesting that treatment was provided early enough to prevent potentially fatal complications often associated with Eladora Syndrome.

Post-Op Report: Patient remains unconscious and in critical condition. Lack of previous data on Equestrian species precludes prognosis or recovery timetable. Recommend around-the-clock monitoring in case further complications arise. Also recommend that patient dramatically limits her use of biotics for at least three weeks after being discharged, and to refrain from taxing her abilities overmuch until such a time that a regulatory amp can be installed.

Current Status: Patient has been removed from sedation, though muscle relaxants are to continue to be administered. Period of recovery unknown.

If Twilight’s brain was capable of talking to itself, its first words upon regaining consciousness would probably have been, “Good morning! By the way, your everything hurts.”

It was certainly an accurate statement. Each pulse of her heartbeat could be felt as a dull throb that worked its way from the tip of her horn to the ends of her hooves, not to mention the sensation coming from each of her muscles that could best be described as “buttery”.

Taking in a short breath, Twilight detected the unmistakable scent of sterility, and her ears twitched in time with a flat, steady beeping sound coming from somewhere nearby. Even in her state, all of these clues allowed her to suss out her location long before she forced her eyes open.

The hospital room at Huerta Memorial was exactly what she had expected: white walls, transparent glass, and mountains of medical equipment. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the thin tube of an IV snaking its way into her foreleg, and directly in front of her she could see -- as well as feel -- the thin bedsheet draped over her body. Twilight briefly wondered where her clothes had gone, but figured it was a question that didn’t need to be answered right away.

It took some effort, but she managed to tilt her head to the side, letting out a soft groan of discomfort as she did so. This alerted the room’s sole other occupant, who quickly stepped forward into view, revealing exactly who Twilight expected would be there: her faithful green-eyed sentinel.

"Forty-Two?" Twilight muttered, her voice a little hoarse.

"Yes, Madam President?" the changeling responded formally. Twilight understood immediately, taking it as a sign that they were likely being monitored.

"Is everypony okay?" was the next thing out of her mouth.

"Affirmative," Forty-Two delivered blankly, masking the small surge of pride he felt in his mistress’ sense of priorities. "Director Rainbow Dash’s injuries were not life-threatening. She has undergone reparative surgery and is currently recovering three doors down. The filly Scootaloo suffered a mild laceration along her nasal bridge and minor damage to her upper jaw, both of which have been successfully treated. The rest of the abductees suffered no ill effects, and have been returned safely to New Ponyville."

“Good… I’m glad.” Twilight let out a sigh of relief, her immediate concern put at ease. Now she could turn to the next pressing issue. “What happened? The last thing I remember, I was talking to Pinkie, and then…”

“You suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, likely brought on by your repeated biotic expenditures, and exacerbated by fatigue from the preceding events,” Forty-Two explained. “In other words: you pushed yourself too hard, Madam President.”

Twilight let out a moan as she let the information sink in, finding it hard to argue with her assistant’s assessment. “Any sign of intracranial bleeding?” she asked after that, dreading the answer.

“Negative. You received treatment almost immediately, and Huerta’s trained staff were successful in preventing any lasting damage.”

“Oh, thank Celestia,” the mare let out in a huff. Knowing full well the risks involved when it came to biotics and head injuries, she’d never felt more vulnerable than in that instant. She counted her lucky stars, aware that it could’ve been much worse. “How long have I been out?”

“You have been unconscious for approximately two daily cycles,” Forty-Two stated, then continued to elaborate before Twilight could ask the natural follow-up. “Acting Vice President Applejack has been modestly successful at maintaining order in New Ponyville during your absence. Regardless, she, and every other member of the Herd, are anxiously awaiting your recovery.”

Twilight nodded, laying her head back on the pillow. “The sooner the better. I need to--”

“Rest, Madam President,” Forty-Two finished for her. “For the Herd, the most important thing you can do right now is rest and recover your strength.”

Twilight looked to her assistant -- her trusted companion -- first with annoyance, then with resigned understanding.

Then, almost as if on cue, the door opened, admitting an asari in a medical uniform. Twilight nearly recoiled, but managed to suppress the unpleasant reaction and remind herself that the alien who had attacked her people had been the exception, not the rule. Even though asari could sometimes be difficult to tell apart.

“Good morning, Miss Sparkle,” the asari said with a friendly voice and a disarming smile. “Pleased to see you finally open your eyes. My name is Dr. Inisha Amali, and I’ll be your attending physician. You gave us quite the scare, you know.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Twilight forced a smile of her own as she braced herself for the long string of formalities and probing questions that were sure to come next. “Before we get started, Doctor, is there any chance I can get something for the pain?”

“I’m afraid you’re already maxed out on painkillers. You’ll just have to bear it for now,” Inisha said consolingly. She then took a seat right next to the bed and brought out the datapad she had with her, tapping away on its surface before returning her attention to Twilight. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions? It should only take a few minutes.”

That’s what they always say… Twilight lamented, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head.

It was less than half an hour after the long and tedious question-and-answer session with Doctor Amali that the door to Twilight’s room slid open again, admitting her first visitor. And who it was did not surprise her at all.

“Twilight!” Applejack all but galloped into the room, bright-eyed and grinning wildly, though from the appearance of her mane, she looked a little disheveled. “Ah came as soon as Ah heard you’d woken up!”

“Hey, Applejack,” Twilight responded casually while mustering the strength to wave her hoof. “How’s it going?”

“How’s it goin’?” Applejack looked at her friend incredulously. “How’s it goin’? Twi, do y’all have any idea how worried sick everypony’s been about you? Honestly, ta hear Pinkie tell it, it sounds like ya took on a goshdarn army all by yerself! Then, ya had ta go an’ land in the hospital on account a’ some kinda ‘biotic episode’ or sumthin’? The hay were you thinkin’!?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Somepony had to get our people back, AJ. I was the only one who could do it. It had to be me.”

Applejack’s next words caught in her throat, and she looked away timidly while trying to hide the fact that she was getting emotional. “A-ah… Ah know that, Twi. It’s just… Just… next time, be more careful, alright?”

Same old Applejack, wearing her heart on her sleeve, Twilight thought to herself, unable to keep from smiling at the care her friend was obviously displaying. She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course, AJ. And I’m sorry for making everypony worry. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise,” Twilight told her friend, much to Applejack’s apparent relief. “But enough about me. How have you been holding up? I can’t imagine the past two days have been easy for you, Vice President.”

In response, Applejack rolled her eyes and let out a throaty chuckle. “Heh... Is it that obvious?” The orange mare breathed out, grateful for the change in subject. “Ah don’t know how ya do it, Twi. Ah thought runnin’ Sweet Applecations was taxin’, but bein’ head honcho a’ the Herd is sumthin’ else. Ever since ya put me in charge, Ah’ve been up ta mah hat in other ponies’ problems -- not to mention havin’ ta keep the peace while beatin’ back reporters like it’s the first day a’ Cider Season!”

“That definitely sounds familiar,” Twilight agreed while wearing an amused expression. “Makes you want to just curl up in your bed and shut it all away, doesn’t it?”

Applejack looked at the unicorn, the weariness showing in her eyes and telling Twilight that she’d hit the nail on the head. “Ah always figured you were havin’ a rough time of it, but y’all made it look so easy."

Twilight couldn’t help but laugh at that, but then winced as the action brought a twinge of pain to her neck. Applejack laughed as well, happy that the two friends could find at least a little bit of humor in the situation.

“It’s a tough job, but somepony’s gotta do it,” Twilight retorted.

“Do ya have ta do it alone, though?” asked Applejack, her question taking Twilight slightly off guard.

“...What do you mean?”

“What Ah mean is, given what’s been goin’ on with ya lately, it’s obvious this job’s too big fer just one pony,” she started to explain, the look in her eyes showing that she was being completely serious now. “And Ah’m not sayin’ ya should let just anypony fill yer horseshoes whenever ya need ta take a breather, but Ah know fer a fact that mahself, Rarity, Fluttershy, an’ even Pinkie would be more’n happy ta help share the load. Ya gotta learn ta… ta…” The earth mare trailed off, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Aw, shoot. What was that word again? Starts with a ‘d’...”

“Delegate,” spoke Forty-Two helpfully from off to the side.

Applejack turned to the changeling mech and tipped her hat in gratitude. “Thanks.” Turning back towards Twilight, she continued. “So, what do ya think? Worth a shot?”

Twilight glanced away, pursing her lips in thought. “I don’t know… Seems a little complicated.”

Applejack snorted. “Nopony said wrappin’ up winter was simple, but we still managed.”

“The two situations couldn’t possibly be more different…” Twilight shook her head in amusement at her friend’s mention of that silly Ponyville ritual. But she also found it hard to dismiss. “But... I guess you have a point. I’ll give it some consideration.”

“That’s all Ah’m askin’,” said Applejack, beaming with satisfaction. “Welp, if there’s nuthin’ else, Ah should prolly be gettin’ back soon. Celestia knows Ah’ll have more work waitin’ fer me when Ah do.”

Twilight giggled knowingly. “Without a doubt. And AJ… thanks again for going through all this for me. I appreciate the help.”

“Mah pleasure, Twi.” With that, Applejack made for the door with a slight spring in her step that she didn’t have when she walked in. Just before leaving, though, she turned one more time. “Y’all better get well soon, though. Ah don’t know how much more a’ this Ah can take.”

The Madam President said nothing, simply giving her friend a smile and a wave as the orange mare departed. However, moments before the door slid closed, she could hear Applejack say something out in the hallway.

“Oh, pardon me, Cap’n.”

Captain? Twilight thought, the realization causing a sensation of dread to brush away the warm feelings her friend left behind. Oh, no…

She didn’t need to hear the telltale sound of Captain Inastri’s boots clomping down the hall to know what was coming next. She simply bit the inside of her cheek and waited until an asari woman in a C-Sec uniform came into view on the other side of the doorframe, turning on the spot with her arms folded together and her lips pressed into a thin scowl. With her dark blue eyes trained on Twilight, Inastri let the air hang heavy for a few moments before deciding to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Sparkle,” she said by way of greeting.

“Inastri,” came Twilight’s response in the same deadpan voice.

The asari took two long strides forward, allowing the door to slide closed behind her while keeping her arms crossed. “I think you know why I’m here.”

Twilight had to fight the urge to roll her eyes and sigh. “Come to chew me out for saving eight innocent lives?”

Inastri unfolded her arms and pointed an accusatory finger at the unicorn. “Don’t you get smart with me, missy.”

“But--”

“Ut!” the captain interrupted testily. “Save it for your official statement. I don’t want to hear your excuses right now. Right now, I’m going to talk and you’re going to shut up and listen.”

Twilight bristled at the asari’s rough tone, but nevertheless snapped her mouth shut and squared her jaw. Anything to just get this done and over with.

“It’s about time you started doing what I asked.” Inastri’s arms returned to their folded position as she launched into her diatribe. “Now, if there’s one thing I detest more than people who break the law, it’s people who think they’re above it. What you did was not only dangerous and irresponsible, but now I’m the one who has to clean up the mess you left behind.”

Inastri then picked up her feet and started slowly pacing the room in front of Twilight’s bed, presumably as part of her police interrogation instincts kicking in.

“My squad and I are trained to handle situations just like this one, and I pride myself on doing the job and getting it done right. But then you and your little pink friend have to rush in guns blazing, make an absolute mess of the scene, cause more than a few legal headaches for my department to deal with, and, oh, before I forget…” Inastri, with as much restraint as she could manage, brought her fist down on a nearby counter, causing some of the items on top of it to jostle loudly. “...allow a key suspect -- who happens to be an extremely dangerous criminal -- to run loose on this station!”

Twilight flinched and pulled her ears back, both at the sudden display of aggression and at the stark reminder of the consequences of her actions; consequences that were being made abundantly clear to her right then.

Meanwhile, the asari officer seemed to take a moment to collect herself after her outburst, breathing in a steady stream of air and letting it out slowly.

“You’re lucky -- those ‘eight innocent lives’ are lucky -- that the situation didn’t end up any worse because of your gung-ho attitude. Where I’m concerned, you can’t just do whatever you please and not expect to answer for it. You’re not a damn Spectre for Goddess’ sake.”

“...Am I under arrest?” Twilight asked calmly.

Inastri breathed out in a huff. “No... and you can thank Lieutenant Pyres for that. If it weren’t for his convincing -- and impassioned -- argument in your defense, I’d have made sure you were chained to that bed.” Pausing briefly, the woman brought a hand up to massage the bridge of her nose. “I honestly don’t know what he sees in you Equestrians... but he’s a good officer, and I have little reason to doubt his judgment.”

Wow. Pyres really did that… for me? Twilight wondered to herself. But before she could say anything more, Inastri’s moment of candidness came to an end, and she resumed her steely-eyed glare.

“Don’t get me wrong: I’m not unsympathetic to your species’ unique situation, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is the second time you ponies have stepped out of line in less than a week, and my patience is running dangerously thin.” The asari then walked to the foot of Twilight’s bed, placed her hands on the side rail, and leaned in close. Twilight could almost swear she heard the metal creak under her grip.

Locking eyes, Inastri said with finality, “This is me, telling you, that any further obstructions of justice will not be tolerated. Do not. Fuck. With C-Sec… Do I make myself clear?”

Immediately, Twilight was brought back to her encounter with the Broker’s agent; a similar face, similar eyes, and an easily believable threat. But the look on Inastri’s face was not one of malice or ill will. Far from it; the C-Sec captain was merely trying to do her job, maintaining order on a space station of millions where people faced life-or-death decisions every day. If nothing else, Twilight had to respect that.

“I understand, Captain,” Twilight answered, with as much genuine contrition as she could muster. “I give you my word that C-Sec will have the Herd’s full cooperation from now on.”

For the first time during the encounter, Inastri smiled. It was not a happy smile, more like one of grim satisfaction, but it was something. She stood straight up again.

“Good. And you’d better believe I’ll hold you to that.” Inastri nodded to herself, having got what she came for. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work waiting for me at Headquarters. Goodbye, Madam President.”

Without wasting another moment, Inastri did an about-face and headed for the door, barely waiting for it to slide open before turning into the hall and out of sight. Thankful that the ordeal seemed to finally be over, Twilight, relieved, took in a deep breath…

...only to hold it in when a blue hand suddenly grabbed the doorframe, preventing it from closing again. A second later, Inastri’s head reappeared, wearing a neutral expression.

“Oh, and by the way… On behalf of myself and everyone at C-Sec, I wish you and your friend a speedy recovery,” she told the unicorn, and from the way she said it, Twilight had a hard time figuring out if she was being sincere or not.

And then she was gone again, and as the sound of her footsteps gradually diminished, the door finally snapped closed.

Twilight let out the breath she’d been holding in, and just stared straight ahead for a while as she organized her thoughts following the Captain’s grilling. She then turned towards her changeling assistant.

“I guess… that went about as well as could be expected,” she confided in him, a bemused look on her face.

“Indeed,” came Forty-Two’s noncommittal agreement.

Active Log: 42 of 50 - Day 68 A.E.

Present location: Huerta Memorial Hospital, Presidium

Status: Preparing for return to New Ponyville

“Mmpf…” Twilight grunted, feeling the bindings of her clothing cinch into place around her midsection. It was a little too tight for her liking, but she wasn’t about to complain, seeing as Doctor Amali had been kind enough to assist her in getting dressed before she left the hospital.

“Is that a little too tight?” the alien physician asked, noticing her discomfort.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Twilight assured her, giving Amali a smile. “I’m still just a little sore, is all.”

“Alright, then.” With the last buckle put in place, the doctor stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles on her medical uniform. “Now, before you go, remember what I told you, Miss Sparkle: Limit your biotic use for at least three weeks, get plenty of bedrest, and if anything feels amiss -- headaches, dizziness, pain in your horn, etcetera -- you let us know and we’ll take care of you. Alright?”

Twilight looked up at Amali in gratitude. “I will. Thank you, Doctor.”

“Oh, you’re most welcome, Miss Sparkle,” the asari replied happily. “Have a pleasant day, and don’t forget to stop by the front desk on your way out. I trust you know the way to reception?”

Twilight nodded. “I do. Goodbye, Doctor Amali.” Then the unicorn addressed Forty-Two, who was standing off to the side. “Let’s go, Forty-Two.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the mech said as he took up position at Twilight’s flank, and together, the two equines walked out of the hospital room and into the hallway.

But instead of turning left and immediately heading towards the hospital exit, Twilight paused, giving a brief nod to Forty-Two. He nodded back, and then departed, walking down the left hallway alone and leaving Twilight facing the opposite direction. There was still something she had left to do here.

She walked until she came upon the third door down from where she had been staying, then turned to face it, reading the holographic nameplate.

Twilight took a moment to steel herself. She didn’t quite know what to expect on the other side, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from being there for one of her closest companions in her time of need.

Stepping forward, what greeted her as the door opened was a hospital room nearly identical to the one she’d been staying in, with one exception: its sole occupant.

The blue pegasus was lying upright in her bed next to the window, awake and gazing forlornly out at the view of the Presidium outside. She gave no acknowledgment of Twilight entering the room, save for the instinctual redirection of her ears at the noise.

While examining her friend, Twilight noted that she, too, had had her clothes removed. But what immediately caught her eye was the intricate casting that had been molded around Rainbow’s wings: a bundle of bleached white medical bandages and metal pins presumably meant to keep them perfectly still during post-op. It was a stark reminder of the immense price Rainbow had paid for the sake of her people.

Twilight cautiously approached the bed, stopping about halfway. “...Hello, Rainbow,” she said, slightly nervous.

“...Hey,” Rainbow Dash said back, her eyes never leaving the window.

“The… um… The doctors said you weren’t accepting any visitors,” Twilight went on, idly rubbing a foreleg across the other. “So, I just wanted to stop by and check in on you. Make sure everything was alright.”

The blue pegasus breathed in and out in a big, slow sigh. “Yeah… thanks,” she eventually said, nonchalantly.

Twilight frowned. This wasn’t going at all like she had anticipated. “Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“...What’s there to talk about, Twilight?” Finally, Rainbow turned to face her friend directly. Her magenta eyes were hardened and stoic. “You already know what happened. You probably already know what the doctors said about my wings: that I’ll probably never fly again without… assistance. And even then, things will never be like they used to.”

Even through the forced emotionlessness of her tone, Twilight could sense the hurt that was buried beneath those words. It was crushing, seeing her bold, daring friend in this way.

“But… you don’t know that for sure. I believe in you, Rainbow Dash. We can come back from anything; we have before!” Twilight tried to sound reassuring, putting on her best attempt at a smile. “Besides… you’re our Director of Defense. Everypony’s depending on you.”

Twilight’s words brought no obvious reaction to the pegasus, who just stared at her as she absorbed them. Then she turned away, unable to look her friend in the face as she prepared to give a painful admission.

“Yeah… about that.” Rainbow closed her eyes, and her shoulders slumped a little. “I quit.”

At this, Twilight’s fragile smile dropped like a stone. “W-what?”

“You heard me, Twilight. I quit,” Rainbow repeated, a little more forcefully. “I don’t want to be Director of Defense anymore. Give it to somepony else, somepony more up to the task… I think I’ve proven that I’m not.”

“But, Rainbow--”

“I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not gonna work,” Rainbow continued, ignoring Twilight’s attempts to argue. “You gave me a second chance and I wasted it. You asked me to listen to Pyres more, and I brushed it off like it was just a suggestion. The next thing I know, I’m rushing headfirst into danger and almost get myself killed because of it. I was wrong, I get that now.”

The cyan pegasus delivered those remarks in a way that was strangely reserved, like she had been going over the words in her head again and again prior to Twilight’s arrival. It was clear that she meant every word that she said, though it brought Twilight no comfort at what it took for Rainbow to see the light.

“Joker was right: I should’ve just stuck to being a pilot…” Rainbow went back to looking out the window, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be by herself. “So find someone else to protect the Herd, because it’s obvious I can’t do it myself.”

There was a long silence, with Twilight struggling to think of something encouraging to say. But in the end, her words failed her.

“...I understand, Rainbow. And if that’s really what you think is best, I won’t argue,” Twilight said morosely, her mouth creased into a frown. She backed up, causing the door to open and admit her through. But she wasn’t about to leave… not yet. She just peered over her shoulder into the hallway to confirm something.

Because although Rainbow wasn’t able to see it, Twilight’s frown turned up into the smallest grin as she prepared to play the ace up her sleeve. “I just hope it’s not too late to change your mind,” she said as she looked off to the side and gently raised her hoof, beckoning to something just out of view. “Because there’s someone else who’s here to see you.”

Rainbow closed her eyes and let out an annoyed burst of air through her nose. Why can’t she take a hint? I just want to be left alone, she thought, confident that there was nothing anypony else could do or say to make an already unbearable situation any better. Not Pinkie Pie, or Applejack, or Fluttershy, or even--

“...H-hey, Rainbow.”

Dash let out a short gasp upon hearing the new voice, as it belonged to the last pony she would’ve expected. Her eyes snapping back open, she turned once again to the doorway, and there, standing next to Twilight and wearing a demure expression, was…

“...Scootaloo?” Rainbow couldn’t hide the surprise in her tone as she was forced into a confrontation she’d really been hoping to avoid. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The little orange filly took a tentative step forward into the room. “I came to see how you were doing.”

Scootaloo, despite the danger she’d been put in thanks to Rainbow’s own carelessness, didn’t appear to be that much worse for wear -- except for a noticeable pink line running across the top of her snout that wasn’t there before. She felt a pang of guilt run through her chest at the sight; yet another permanent reminder of how she’d failed.

Rainbow threw an accusatory glance at Twilight. “Why’d you have to drag her into this?”

Before Twilight could respond, Scootaloo shook her head forcefully. “Don’t be mad at Twilight. I wanted to come. Ever since they told me what happened to you, I’ve been really worried.”

Rainbow breathed out slowly, lowering her eyes and appearing downcast. “You shouldn’t be here. I didn’t want you seeing me... like this.”

Scootaloo bowed her head slightly and shuffled a forehoof against the floor as she tried to think of what she should say next. “...I guess it’s pretty bad, huh?”

“Pretty bad, yeah…” muttered Rainbow sarcastically, feeling her mood sour even more the longer the conversation wore on. “Flying was the one thing I was actually good at, and now…” The mare looked over her shoulder at the mess of metal supports and stiff gauze pinning her wings in place, and sighed heavily. “Now I don’t even have that. I’m no use to anypony anymore.”

“Rainbow Dash…” Scootaloo took another step forward, her heart nearly breaking to see the pony she idolized be reduced to this. “Is that really what you think? That just because you made a mistake and it cost you your wings, that you’re suddenly worthless?”

“I wasn’t strong enough, Scootaloo!” Rainbow lashed out, causing the filly to flinch a little. “I was fooling myself into thinking I could keep everypony safe -- that I could be the hero -- but I couldn’t. I lost to that bucking asari because I was a reckless idiot. And because of that, I lost the one thing that makes me special, and I almost lost… I almost...” Rainbow stopped, a small batch of tears starting to form in her eyes as she choked up. She stared hard at Scootaloo and pressed her lips together, forcing herself to look away.

Seeing this intense emotional display affected the orange filly deeply, as her own eyes acquired a watery sheen. But her confidence did not falter, and she came even closer to the side of Rainbow’s bed.

“But you didn’t. We’re all here, and we’re all safe. In the end, that lady didn’t win. We did. All of us.” Spurred on by something belied by her small frame, Scootaloo continued to press into the hard shell Rainbow had built up around herself. “And if you hadn’t been there, who knows what could’ve happened? It’s because of you that we’ve even made it this far.”

Scootaloo shook her head again, trying to give her words as much impact as she could muster. “I don’t care if you can’t fly anymore. I don’t care that you got beat by that asari. None of that matters,” she said with conviction. “What matters is that you gave everything you had. What matters is that you tried.”

Scootaloo gave Rainbow a few seconds to let all of that sink in, and then she did something the mare didn’t expect in the slightest. With a few short flaps of her little wings, the filly did a biotically-assisted hop up onto the bed, settling right next to Rainbow.

Rainbow turned her head in surprise, and in a strange twist, found herself staring right into the intense purple gaze of the pony who’d always looked up to her. The two held each other’s misty eyes for what felt like an eternity... And then Scootaloo leaned in, wrapping her tiny forelegs around Rainbow’s neck in a tight embrace, burying her face in her fur and squeezing as if her life depended on it.

“Don’t give up, Rainbow. Never, ever give up,” whispered the filly, so quietly that only Rainbow could hear. “As long as you just keep trying… you’ll always be my hero.”

Rainbow breathed in sharply, suddenly so overcome with feeling that she was unable to utter a single word as her emotional barricade was all but swept away. Her lower lip trembled and she closed her eyes, the tears building up in them finally falling free in twin streams down her face. She could almost feel all of the pent up angst and negativity simply draining out of her now, replaced by a warmth that seemed to be emanating from the bundle of fur and feathers pressing tightly against her.

Slowly, Rainbow shifted around and brought a shaky foreleg of her own across Scootaloo’s back and under her wings, struck with the need to draw her even closer. “Oh, Scoots…” she finally managed to choke out, and then she fell silent once more. Nothing else needed to be said.

Least of all by Twilight, who stood passively in the doorway and watched the dramatic scene play out before her. She was smiling proudly, unable to keep from shedding a few tears of her own as she reached up to wipe them away with a hoof. Without needing to see any more, Twilight slowly backed away from the pair of pegasi, confident that she had her answer.

As the door to Rainbow Dash’s room snapped shut in front her, she turned and motioned with her head toward Forty-Two, whom she had earlier directed to escort the filly up from reception, and together they made towards the exit.

And yet, no sooner had they made it a few steps down the hallway when Twilight’s omnihoof suddenly gave off a steady chirping sound. Slightly startled by the unexpected noise, she realized she was getting a call, and ducked to the side of the hall in order to take it.

Twilight sat down, bringing up her foreleg and activating the display, where the readout on the holographic panel indicated the call was coming from Pinkie Pie. Clearing her throat, Twilight sent the mental command to accept, and a second later, the link was established.

“Hello, Pinkie. What’s the matter?” she asked, inwardly grimacing when she thought about how cringingly awkward it would’ve been had her friend called just one minute earlier.

“Hey, Twilight. Glad you picked up. Are you on your way back yet?” came Pinkie’s brusque reply.

“Um… yes? I just got done visiting Rainbow and I’m headed back to New Ponyville now. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Not… wrong, exactly…” There was a brief pause, as if the pink mare was considering her next words carefully. “It’s about Twenty-One.”

That definitely got Twilight’s attention. “Twenty-One!?” she blurted out in a hushed whisper. “You found it!?”

Another brief pause. “...Actually, it might be more accurate to say it found us,” Pinkie explained, causing Twilight to tilt her head in confusion.

“What do you mean, Pinkie?”

The scientist on the other end responded with a sigh. “Look, there’s really not much I can say right now. Just come to Sugar³ as fast as you can. I’ll tell you everything once you get here.”

And with that, the call ended as Pinkie abruptly hung up on her end. Twilight’s mouth was agape, in part because of her friend’s uncharacteristic punctuality, and her apparent unwillingness to share news about Twenty-One of Thirty’s fate, which had remained a mystery right up until that point.

The unicorn spared a look at her changeling assistant who, despite showing no change in his demeanor, was himself feeling just as excited at the prospect of recovering one of his own kin from what he’d assumed to be total destruction.

“Shall I summon an automated transport to bring us back to Tayseri Ward, Madam President?” Forty-Two queried.

Twilight nodded. “You read my mind.”

The Level One docks were a far cry from their usual bustling state when Twilight and Forty-Two disembarked their taxi . Normally, one could always count on there being several groups of alien visitors either coming or going, and at least one cargo shuttle idling in a loading bay somewhere. But now, as the pair made their way to the Sugar³ warehouse entrance, the relative silence was deafening.

“It seems like so much has changed in so little time…” Twilight muttered, looking around and sadly noting the score marks still present where some of the firebombs had been set.

Forty-Two was doing the same, feeling no less saddened. “It will get better, Twilight. You’ll see,” he tried to assure her.

“I sure hope you’re right, Forty-Two,” Twilight sighed. “I know I could really use some good news right about now.”

And it was good news she was hoping to find behind the large, thick door that secured the entryway to Sugar³. Now that Pinkie Pie had gotten more situated, there was no longer a need to have a pony at the front for deliveries or security purposes. A simple interface had been set up in their place, and all Twilight had to do was press a button with her hoof to let those inside know they had an arrival. Upon doing so, there was a low buzzing sound, followed by a click.

“Twilight? Is that you?” came Pinkie’s voice over the intercom. A tiny whirring sound caught Twilight’s attention, causing her to notice the black dome of a surveillance camera nestled in the corner, zooming in on her.

“It’s me, Pinkie. Can you open the door, please?” she asked towards the camera.

“Okey-dokey! Just gimme a sec.” Literally one second later, the main door unlocked with a heavy “ka-chunk”, granting the unicorn access. “I’ll meet you in my lab. See ya soon!”

“Alright. Let’s go see what this is all about,” Twilight said to herself as she walked up to the entrance, which opened automatically in her presence, and she and Forty-Two went inside.

Having come to visit the Sugar³ warehouse recently, it still amazed Twilight how well-organized the space had become, considering the mess it was in when she first beheld it so long ago. After getting her team together and sorting out a plan going forward, Pinkie decided to compartmentalize the building into no less than a dozen individual workshops, each one housing a different project. The rooms were open-air, separated by walls half-again as tall as a pony, yet the doorways were always open by default, fostering an environment of cooperation that Twilight couldn’t help but admire.

But something was different this time around, and it only took the unicorn a few seconds to realize what it was: the place was empty. Not a single pony or changeling was present.

“Where is everypony?” Twilight wondered out loud on her way to the back of the lab, where Pinkie’s private workshop was.

“Oh, I told them they could take the rest of the day off,” Pinkie replied, her voice echoing around the cavernous space from the warehouse’s PA system. “Partly because everypony’s still a little shellshocked from the attack, but also because I wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation before anypony else.”

“Well, I’m here...” Twilight said as the pair came up to the door at the far end of the building.

Unlike the other labs, Pinkie’s own designated workspace was separate from the rest -- as befitting the mare whose genius was singlehoofedly shaking the foundation of the tech world. And beside the door, Twilight could read the very official-looking nameplate adhered to the wall:

She walked up to the door as it opened for her, and she quickly stepped inside, eager to know what was so important that Pinkie had to meet in such secrecy. Cantering past the organized chaos of various inscrutable contraptions, odds and ends, bits and bobs, and half-finished experiments, Twilight finally came to the end of the room that was obscured along one side by a curtain, where she could hear Pinkie humming to herself as she worked.

“...Now, would you mind telling me--” Twilight interrupted herself with a gasp upon turning the corner, because sitting there, in plain view, was none other than Twenty-One of Thirty.

The changeling’s eyes were dark, its frame was suspended in the air by metal supports, and bits of its black armor were exposed with a number of cables connecting it to a bank of computers along the wall. On the whole, it didn’t appear to be in great shape; the explosion in the tunnels had really done a number on it, with whole pieces missing and burn marks partly obscuring the painted white numbers on its flank. But it was definitely Twenty-One.

“Betcha weren’t expecting to see this little guy again so soon, huh?” Pinkie Pie commented from her spot next to the mech, examining it through her goggles as she fiddled with her omni-hoof.

“Wha… How? When? What happened? Where did you find it?” Twilight asked in rapid-fire manner.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there, Twilight.” Pinkie raised a hoof to shush the unicorn, managing to grin as she did so. “Talking fast is my thing, remember?”

“Right… Right.” Twilight breathed in slowly, getting a grip on herself. “Okay, Pinkie. Just start from the beginning.”

“Okey-dokey, then!” Turning to face Twilight, Pinkie removed her goggles and sat back on her haunches, preparing to launch into her story. “Well, it started about an hour ago. I was just in here working on my latest project when I got a message from Lieutenant Pyres telling me that he was getting reports of a changeling acting strange outside the Keeper Tunnels on Level Three. Soooo, I go to investigate and, lo-and-behold! Twenty-One here was wandering around like it was lost, in the state that you see it in now.”

“Is that so? Incredible...” Twilight muttered in amazement, looking over the battle-scarred changeling. “I figured it would’ve been destroyed or buried under rubble, but it managed to make it all the way back to New Ponyville completely on its own?”

“Yup yup! The Equines built these things to last, that’s for sure.”

Thinking to herself, Twilight tapped a hoof to her lips. “But if it did manage to survive and come back, how come nopony noticed when it reconnected to the Changeling Network?”

“Weeeeell, there’s an easy explanation for that: it can’t,” Pinkie stated simply. Taking it upon herself to elaborate, she pointed a hoof at the unit’s head. There, where one would expect to see a pair of antennae, one of them looked to be partly missing, while the other had been sheared off completely. “Maybe it was the explosion, or the subsequent smack into the tunnel wall, but Twenty-One’s wireless receptors were heavily damaged.”

“Can it be fixed?” Twilight wondered.

“To tell you the truth… I’m not sure. I may be a genius, but the finer points of Equine engineering are still beyond me. ‘Changeling Repair 101’ wasn’t a course that was offered at the Equestrian Institute of Subconscious Learning, if you catch my drift,” Pinkie explained, trying to offer some humor even as her posture slumped in a sulk. “The armor carapace can be refurbished, and I can restore the damaged interior servos back to peak performance, but the antennae are completely shot, and finding a suitable replacement will be next to impossible. Fabricating one: even more so.”

“That’s a shame… but I suppose it could’ve been worse,” Twilight offered, gladly taking a disabled changeling over a destroyed one. “What about the software? Is the computer inside it alright?”

“Oh, yeah! Better than alright, in fact. I got distracted by your questions and almost forgot to tell you the strangest part of my story!” Pinkie continued with an enthusiastic gleam in her eye. “When I got to the scene, Twenty-One was walking up to random ponies and asking them if they’d seen any of the abductees from the attack.”

Twilight tilted her head. “Really? Well… that doesn’t sound too strange. After all, its last orders were to track down the missing ponies.”

In response, Pinkie shook her head in disappointment. “You don’t understand, Twilight… It was asking. As in expressing curiosity. The changelings aren’t programmed for that level of initiative.”

Twilight puzzled over her pink friend’s words for a moment, before her eyes widened in realization. “You don’t mean…”

“That’s right!” Pinkie nodded excitedly. “It’s still too early to know for sure, but I think this is the start of Twenty-One developing into a free-thinking being! A full-fledged A.I!”

Twilight’s first reaction to this news was to not-so-subtly glance in the direction of her assistant who, to his credit, managed to remain passive.

“That’s…” The unicorn hesitated, forcing herself to look back at Twenty-One. “I mean… I honestly don’t know what to make of this.”

Pinkie, however, did not share her friend’s misgivings. “It’s great, isn’t it!? We’re witnessing the birth of new life! The first of the next generation of changeling consciousness!”

“I’m well aware, Pinkie, but don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?” Twilight cautioned. “You know how… testy the other Citadel races are about artificial intelligence.”

“Pfffft!” Pinkie’s response was to blow a big, fat raspberry and wave her hoof around. “Who cares what a bunch of stuffy aliens think? Besides, it hasn’t stopped you from bringing Forty-Two around everywhere you go.”

That comment made the fur on Twilight’s neck stand on end. “What? Wh-what do you mean?” she responded defensively. “Forty-Two’s just my assistant. Nothing special about him-- er… it.”

Pinkie giggled at her friend’s obvious slip of the tongue -- not that it made a difference. “It’s okay, Twilight. You don’t need to hide it from me,” the earth mare consoled her, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “I had my suspicions before, but what happened in that hangar confirmed it. Forty-Two isn’t a normal drone.”

Still a little frazzled, Twilight looked again to her assistant for affirmation. This time, Forty-Two turned to look at Pinkie, then at her, then back to Pinkie again.

“It would seem there’s nothing to be gained from continuing the charade, Twilight,” he said candidly, dropping his forced artificial posture.

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” Pinkie continued, drawing the unicorn’s attention back to her. “You guys’ secret is safe with me. Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Pinkie’s promise came as a great relief to Twilight, who felt compelled to reach out with her hooves and give her pink friend a gentle hug. “Thanks, Pinkie. It’s been hard not being able to tell you girls.”

“I understand why you wanted to keep it a secret, but honestly, I kinda wish you’d told me sooner!” The mare exclaimed as Twilight pulled away from the hug. Pinkie then turned to address Forty-Two. “I have sooo many questions to ask you! About Equine society, their technological prowess, your experience as a self-aware changeling, about the Equestria Facility--”

“You’ve made your point, Pinkamena, and I would be glad to discuss those topics with you at a later time,” Forty-Two told the excitable mare mid-sentence. “But for now, I think we should return to the task at hoof.”

“Oh, fine...” Pinkie grumbled, muttering something along the lines of “all work and no play”.

“Now, hold on, Forty-Two, I think Pinkie’s got the right idea,” Twilight spoke up.

In turn, Pinkie’s ears perked up. “I do?”

Twilight nodded. “We’re wondering what to do about a changeling with a developing consciousness, when one is sitting right here.” She turned to Forty-Two. “You’ve been through this before, and have probably watched it happen with other changelings. Do you have any thoughts on how to proceed?”

“I may have some…” Forty-Two took a few steps toward his fellow mech, his emerald eyes tracking over it with curiosity. “Changeling sentience was never triggered by any specific thing, and the precise mechanics involved were never truly understood by engineers at the time. But a common theme among those who ‘evolved’ was their exposure to organics. Personal assistants, concierges, caretakers, and so on.”

“So what you’re saying is… making friends with other ponies causes a changeling to evolve?” asked Pinkie, who acquired a happy expression at the thought.

“A simplistic way to look at it, but you have the basic idea,” the mech agreed. “At any rate, what usually worked best for these changelings was to remove them from heavy duty and place them in social situations where they could learn and adapt. A freshly awakened changeling isn’t too much different from a child. They need time to shake off the trappings of subservience, and to develop their own identities.”

“A child, huh? Albeit one with an encyclopedic knowledge and a hardwired duty to serve. Hmm…” As Twilight pondered the implications, Pinkie Pie continued on her own line of thinking.

“Ooooh, this is so exciting!” she said, rubbing her hooves together. “First thing I’m gonna do is take Twenty-One and introduce it to everypony in the district! The more friends it makes, the faster we’ll get to see how it’s going to develop!”

Despite her own issues with that plan, Twilight couldn’t help but grin. “I think a little more caution is in order, Pinkie. We can’t just parade a newly sentient A.I. up and down the street.”

“Twilight?” spoke up Forty-Two, a hint of trepidation in his voice. “Far be it from me to second guess you, but I hope you aren’t suggesting we keep Twenty-One shutdown indefinitely.”

In response, the unicorn gave her assistant an encouraging expression and a shake of her head. “Not at all, Forty-Two. Twenty-One has just as much of a right to live as you do. But we still need to consider what might be best for it, and for the Herd in general. Discretion is key if we want to avoid any unnecessary attention.”

Gazing back at the disabled mech -- though “sleeping” might have been a more apt description now -- Twilight’s eyes were drawn once more to the improvised cutie mark on its armored flank… and it gave her the kernel of an idea.

“So the changelings develop through social interaction, do they?” she whispered to herself, remembering this particular changeling’s history, and the specific circumstances in which it had been compelled to behave abnormally.

“I know that face...” Pinkie squinted slyly at her bookwormish friend. “That’s her ‘thinking face’. You know exactly how to handle this, don’tcha, Twilight?”

“Possibly. Probably,” Twilight said with cautious optimism. “I’ll need some time to mull it over. In the meantime, Pinkie, keep Twenty-One deactivated until we know for sure how we’re going to proceed. I take it you’ll handle the necessary repairs?”

In response, the pink mare raised her hoof in a mock salute. “Yes, Ma’am, Madam President, Ma’am!”

That brought a much-needed laugh out of Twilight. “Great. Just let me know when you’re finished. If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you around, Pinkie.” Getting up from her seated position, Twilight motioned towards Forty-Two. “Let’s be off.”

“Affirmative.” Now that he was free to do so, Forty-Two considered it polite to address the Director of Technology as well. “It was a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Pinkamena.”

“Same here! We absolutely need to catch up sometime! See ya later!” Pinkie called after them while waving a hoof goodbye. She continued waving even after the two had started moving away, and only put her hoof down once Twilight and Forty-Two disappeared out her lab’s exit.

The pink scientist sighed contentedly, her smile never leaving her face even as she once more returned to her work. Sliding her goggles back over her eyes and reactivating her omnihoof, she brought all of her attention back to Twenty-One with a renewed sense of purpose and anticipation.

“You’re going to love being alive, Twenty-One…” she told the silent changeling, peering into its darkened optics like she was searching for something there. “I just can’t wait to meet you.”

Twilight’s mind was buzzing, hard at work playing catchup and trying to figure out all the angles of this most recent revelation. Twenty-One was developing self-awareness. To what end? Would it end up behaving like Forty-Two, or would it come into its own personality? Were the other changeling units not far behind? And if so, could the Herd manage to keep the situation under control?

These and other considerations occupied the bulk of Twilight’s thoughts, but at least this wasn’t yet another dire emergency. This she felt she could handle; just a simple problem in need of a rational solution, and one that she could afford to take a little time on.

And so, Twilight found herself doing what she usually did in order to reflect on such things in relative peace: take a seat at her customary position on the Level Three observation deck.

The crowds were noticeably thinner that day, as New Ponyville was still very much recovering from the Broker’s attack, but there was still a good amount of aliens and ponies going about their business around her and Forty-Two. She found it comforting -- between the oddly soothing sight of shuttle traffic flowing down the Ward arm and the sounds of everyday activity in the district markets, it felt like things were finally settling back to normalcy.

“Quite the stunning view.”

Suddenly, Twilight was snapped out of her reverie by a voice coming from someone standing a few feet away from her. It had a strange reverberating quality to it, like the croaking of a frog, and when she turned her head to look, she understood why. The being who had spoken to her was a lizard-like humanoid alien: a male drell, to be specific. His pitch black eyes were trained on the scenery, taking it in, while he had his webbed hands casually clasped behind his back.

After gawping at the unexpected sight for a few seconds, Twilight shook her head, remembering her manners. “It sure is,” she said back. “This is my favorite spot in the district. Maybe even the whole Citadel.”

“I can see why.” The drell turned his head to look at her, his ridged, blue cheeks giving him a more alien and unfamiliar sight than what Twilight was used to seeing. “My name is Feron, by the way.”

Twilight held a hoof to her chest and smiled warmly. “Twilight. Pleased to meet you, Feron. I must say, you’re only the second drell I’ve ever met, and the first one I’ve seen since coming to the Citadel.”

Feron responded with a slight smile of his own. “That doesn’t surprise me. My kind aren’t often seen away from the Hanar homeworld,” he said. “And to tell the truth, you are the first Equestrian I’ve ever spoken to.”

Twilight let out a chuckle. “Hehe. I guess it’s a day for firsts then, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” the drell hummed in agreement. He then unclasped his hands and motioned to an empty chair at the table Twilight was seated around. “May I?”

“Of course,” Twilight said, turning in her own seat so that she was facing forward.

At her invitation, Feron walked around and slid into the chair, resting his arms on the table in front of him. Forty-Two watched silently, not registering any immediate threat but staying prepared, regardless. He seemed harmless enough, the changeling’s sensors not detecting anything remotely resembling a weapon.

As Feron settled into his seat, he let out a small grunt of discomfort, one of his hands moving to his side.

“Are you in pain?” Twilight asked, taking notice.

“It’s nothing major,” Feron replied, waving his other hand dismissively. “The past few months have been... taxing for me, but I’m okay. Thanks.”

Twilight nodded, awash with relief. “You’re welcome.” She shifted slightly on her legs, welcoming the distraction of finally being able to talk to a member of this enigmatic species. “So, what brings you to New Ponyville today?”

“I’m here to deliver something,” Feron answered. “A message, to be specific.”

“A message?” Twilight’s ears perked up. “To whom? Maybe I can help you find them.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” The drell paused, seeming to prepare himself for what he was about to say next. His posture straightened, and he assumed a more businesslike attitude. “You see, the one who is to receive this message… is you, Twilight.”

At this, Twilight was slightly taken aback. “...A message, for me?”

“Correct. Now, you might find what I’m about to tell you… alarming. But I assure you, my intentions are pure,” Feron laid out, giving the mare a few seconds for his warning to sink in. Then, with a perfectly calm demeanor, he said, “I come on behalf of the Shadow Broker.”

Immediately, Twilight was up out of her seat and backing away, hackles raised. She furrowed her brow in anger as her horn lit up in a biotic glow, despite the aching throb it produced in her skull. Forty-Two, though no less concerned about this turn of events, nevertheless took notice of his mistress’ behavior.

“Madam President, your condition…” he cautioned in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“I’m fine, Forty-Two,” Twilight bit back. But she knew he was right, and so she reluctantly let her horn return to its normal state. Yet she still maintained her aggressive stance, and glared spitefully at the unassuming drell whom she now considered a real threat. “Feron, if that is your real name, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you off this balcony.”

To his credit, Feron remained completely unfazed. “Why would you want to do that? We’re merely having a conversation. Surely you don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people.”

He cast a webbed hand around, indicating the dozen or so ponies and others casually going about their day in the background, unaware of the tense standoff taking place just outside their attention. It was enough to make Twilight realize that this problem wouldn’t be so easily solved… unless he made the first move.

“Please, take a seat… Or stay standing, it doesn’t matter to me,” Feron continued, when the look in Twilight’s eyes made it clear she wasn’t in the mood to take suggestions. “All I want is to deliver my message. After that, I’ll leave this place, and you’ll never see me again. You have my word on that.”

Twilight scoffed. “Hmph. Pardon me if I don’t feel like trusting the word of a man who works for the Broker.”

“Honestly, I can’t blame you, after what you and your kind have been through these past few days,” Feron offered in a moment of candidness. “But that’s why I’m here: The Broker wishes to make amends.”

“Ha!” Twilight laughed bitterly, not expecting to hear that, and certainly not believing it for a second. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“No, but it’s the truth, all the same.” Feron leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table and using that train of thought to launch into what he came to say, before the unicorn could further object. “There have been certain administrative changes to the Broker’s organization lately. Obviously, I can’t go into details, but suffice it to say that he no longer has any interest in the Equestrian Herd in any capacity.”

“Really?” came Twilight’s disbelieving response, layering on the sarcasm.

“Yes. In addition, the Broker deeply regrets the actions taken against your people, the damage done to your district, and the unfortunate injuries sustained by your Director of Defense,” the drell went on, trying to appear sympathetic. “To that end, he has prepared something by way of an apology. He thinks you will find it most beneficial to your current situation.”

Twilight wasn’t one to spit on the ground out of protest, as that was more of a human custom, but it was sorely tempting to do so in front of the Broker’s agent. “No thanks. We don’t need the Broker’s ‘charity’.”

“I’m afraid your receptivity is irrelevant. The deed has already been done. As for what it is… I think you’ll find out in due time,” Feron explained cryptically, much to Twilight’s chagrin.

“Grr…” The unicorn grit her teeth, growing more agitated by the alien’s behavior every passing second. “Is that it?”

“Almost. One more thing,” Feron assured her. “Concerning the agent who perpetrated these events. The Broker greatly appreciates your discretion in this matter. He realizes your decision to let her go could not have been easy. By way of thanks, the Broker is prepared to offer you a single boon, the details of which are entirely up to you. Name it, and the Broker will do his best to provide it.”

“No.” This, like the other “offer” Feron mentioned, was also a nonstarter for Twilight. “As if I would ever ask him for anything.”

“Not a problem, as that is entirely your decision to make.” Feron then lowered his voice somewhat, in order to give his words more presence. “I would just like to stress that the most influential being in the entire galaxy owes you a favor. Don’t forget that. Should you ever change your mind, all you need to do in order to collect is go to the Presidium. Speak with a volus named Barla Von, and tell him what it is you need. He will handle the rest.”

“I’m sure he would…” This seemed simply too good to be true, and probably was. Twilight figured this “favor” was more than likely a trick to gather information on what, if anything, the Herd was in need of, and there was no way she would fall for something like that. Either that, or the Broker was simply playing head games with her. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

Feron nodded. “I believe so.”

“Good. Now get the buck out of our district before I have someone escort you out.”

“That won’t be necessary.” On that note, Feron stood up out of his chair, turning to face Twilight, before giving her a short, polite bow. “Thank you for the pleasant conversation, Twilight Sparkle. And if I might suggest… I think you should check the news in a few minutes. You might be pleasantly surprised. Good day.”

Leaving Twilight puzzled as to what he meant by checking the news, Feron turned and strode confidently away. The unicorn kept her eyes trained on him for as long as she could.

Once she was sure he was out of earshot, she muttered to her assistant, “Forty-Two…”

“Already on it,” he whispered back, his antennae lighting up as he beamed instructions to two other changeling units on patrol, redirecting them to monitor the agent for as long as possible.

“The nerve of that man, coming here like that,” Twilight complained sourly. “After everything he’s done, it’s as if the Broker wants to rub our noses in it. And what was all that talk about favors and apologies?”

“No idea, Twi.” For his part, Forty-Two was now busy scouring the extranet for any potential clues as to what Feron’s parting words meant. So far, there was nothing Herd-related popping up on major news feeds, but he was going to remain diligent. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place to be discussing this… Should we retire to your apartment for now?”

Glancing around at the myriad of potential eavesdroppers around them, Twilight had to agree that it sounded as good of an idea as any.

“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?”

“I mean he just suddenly vanished from the units’ sensors,” Forty-Two was quick to explain, ashamedly. “I don’t understand it. One moment he was there, the next… he simply wasn’t. I’m sorry, Twilight.”

“Figures…” Twilight had a cross look on her face as the two of them were walking through the VIP apartment complex on Level Four. “Any agent of the Broker’s would be an expert at not wanting to be found. Don’t beat yourself up about it; he’s probably long gone by now.”

“I still can’t help but feel partly responsible. It won’t happen again, I promise,” the changeling vowed. “In the meantime… should I notify C-Sec of what happened?”

“Probably not. I don’t see much benefit in telling Inastri we let a second Broker lackey slip away. For now, what happened with Feron stays strictly between us,” Twilight explained, as the pair of equines came up to Twilight’s locked apartment door.

The mare raised her hoof, activating her implant and using her omni-hoof to beam the unlock code to the door’s computer, granting her access. The now-green hologram fizzled out and the doorway opened, allowing her and Forty-Two inside the comfort of her personal quarters.

Even though it had only been a few days, it felt like forever since she’d been in her apartment. And truth be told, it wasn’t really as comforting as she was expecting -- probably due to the fact that, apart from her bookshelf of cherished tomes, her living space was as unadorned as it was when she first moved in. Hay, her office felt more homey than her actual home.

“Forty-Two, remind me later to hire a decorator for this place,” she commanded half-jokingly.

“I’ll make a note of it, Twili--” Forty-Two cut off abruptly as something strange was happening to the queries he sent out on the extranet earlier. All of a sudden -- in true extranet fashion -- hits were starting to trickle in… then a stream… then a veritable flood of Herd-related activity. Working quickly, he was able to trace the source of the disturbance to a breaking news report from a small, lesser-known human news outlet, published just minutes prior.

“What is it, Forty-Two?” Twilight asked, noticing her assistant’s pause, as well as the way his antennae were blinking rapidly. “Another emergency?”

“No… This is different…” Very different, if his analysis of the article and its potential implications were correct. This had the potential to be a real game-changer. “Twilight, you need to see this.”

Accessing the holo-screen in Twilight’s apartment, Forty-Two switched it on and called up the article in question, which the unicorn turned and saw just as it finished loading up. Her eyes dancing back and forth as she read, Twilight’s jaw visibly dropped… and that was just after reading the headline.

The article, written for the Earth-based Westerlund News (a fairly sensational pro-human outlet in and of itself) went on to detail how it was anonymously tipped off to the damning recording in question: apparently a private call between Jex and the production head of The Cost of Grazing, a human named William Hedge. In it, Jex appeared to offer a laundry list of specific details regarding the (false) contents of the documentary, as well as crystal-clear indications of his slanderous intent.

“Is this really happening…?” Twilight gasped, her thoughts going a mile a minute as she struggled to wrap her mind around what she was reading.

“Oh, yes it is.” Forty-Two couldn’t hide the smugness in his artificial voice. “Khaleesa was also kind enough to include a snippet of the audio in her reporting. Shall I play it?”

Twilight nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Playing the embedded audio file, the apartment was soon filled with the odious voice of Jex Kailer, and the human he was presumably speaking to.

“That’s quite an impressive list of details, Jex. I bet your guys were up all night thinking it up.”

“Oh, far longer than one night, William… As you Earth-clans tend to say, this is not… my first rodeo… We made sure to fine-tune the specific wording… for maximum effect.”

“Still, though… A super-secret genetic experiment meant to overthrow the galactic hierarchy? Even for our usual fare, this seems a bit much. I’ll admit I have my doubts about it working as well as you imagine.”

“It worked before with the clanless Quarian scum… Have faith… You and your people at Hard-Press know exactly… how to sway your core audience… Those idiots will believe anything we tell them.”

“Hehehe… That is true, Jex. So, regarding payment--”

“Once I’ve had a chance… to review the finished product… the credits will be wired to your company as agreed… Untraceable, as always.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Don’t worry, Jex, my man, you’ll have your propaganda signed, sealed and delivered by the end of the month.”

“Don’t call it ‘propaganda’... I like to think of it as ‘art’...”

The article ended rather anticlimactically after that. There was mention of trying to contact Expanding Reaches, Hard-Press Media, and Jex Kailer himself for comment (none of which had responded yet) as well as a postscript saying, “This article will be updated in real time as the story develops.”

“Oh. My. Celestia.” If it were possible for Twilight to hate that ammonia-sucking ball of manure any more than she did now, that recording might have done it. However… even she felt a little pity for him and the situation he no doubt found himself in. From her research forays into galactic political theatre, Twilight knew this was the kind of scandal you simply don’t recover from. “Do you know what this means, Forty-Two?”

“It means a lot of things. Not the least of which being that Hard-Press and Expanding Reaches have both suffered a near 1% drop in their stock prices already,” the changeling relayed with no small amount of satisfaction. “I think it’s safe to say we now know what the Broker’s ‘apology gift’ was.”

“Oh. Right.” Putting the brakes on her jubilation, Twilight was reminded of what Feron had told her, finding it impossible to reason that he could’ve been talking about anything but this. “I guess -- in this, at least -- that drell was telling the truth.”

Forty-Two tilted his head in curiosity. “Do you think that the Broker was being sincere, then? That he intends to leave us alone?”

“Not for a second,” came Twilight’s quick retort. “For all we know, this could be a ploy to try and earn our trust. I’m not going to fall for it… And yet...”

Twilight closed her eyes and sat down, sighing in quiet contemplation. Then… a wily grin started to creep its way onto her muzzle. A chuckle bubbled its way past her lips, then a few more, then before she could stop herself, the mare was overcome with a bout of genuine, giddy laughter. So much so that she found herself falling onto her back, forehooves waving around gayly in front of her.

“Twilight? Are you feeling okay?” Forty-Two asked, not quite sure what to make of the scene.

“Heeheeheehee…” The Madam President fought to get her giggles under control and steady her breathing. Once she got it out of her system, she looked up at Forty-Two with a cheerful gleam in her eyes. “Yes. I’m feeling very okay, Forty-Two.”

Twilight rolled over onto her side and stood back up on her hooves while clearing her throat. “After a week like the one we’ve had, it’s fantastic that we finally have some good news. This report should take the heat off the Herd because of that awful documentary -- maybe even earn us some free sympathy points. And I imagine Jex’ll have his grubby little hands full doing damage control, meaning he should be out of our manes for a quite a while.”

“I find myself agreeing with that assessment, Twilight,” Forty-Two said, daring to hope that the worst was truly behind them. “I’ll monitor the situation and let you know if anything noteworthy develops.”

“Great, thanks.” Excitedly, Twilight brought up her omni-hoof, opening her messaging app and preparing to tell her friends about the news -- if they hadn’t heard already. “I have to tell the girls about this.”

I just wish there was enough time to tell each of them in person, she mused to herself, feeling like a school age filly who just got her hooves on the juiciest gossip. The look on Rarity’s face would have been priceless!

Active Log: 21 of 30 - Day 70 A.E.

Present location: New Ponyville, Level Four

Status: Engaging “Foalsitter” Protocol; Authority: [EoM]

Just outside the plaza leading to the entrance to New Ponyville’s C-Sec liaison office, an energetic Scootaloo was bouncing up and down with increasing impatience. Happening to accompany the filly was the changeling unit assigned to watch over her and her friends whenever a responsible adult wasn’t around. And following behind the two was one particularly hampered blue pegasus.

“Come on, Rainbow! Quit draggin’ your hooves, or you’ll be late for work!” she shouted at the mare coming along in her wake, who, upon hearing this, tried to shrug if off with a grin and a roll of her eyes.

“Gimme a break, squirt,” Rainbow yelled back. “I’m still not used to having to walk everywhere.”

For emphasis, Rainbow motioned with her neck at the object on her back. Secured to her outfit -- a plain, form-fitting blue jumpsuit with her cutie mark emblazoned on the shoulders -- was a small rectangular device: a portable stasis unit, utilizing mass effect technology to project a dampening energy field over her wings to keep them from moving.

“Pfft…” Scootaloo brushed off the comment with a wave of her hoof. “So what? I have to do it all the time and you don’t see me complaining.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” Rainbow had nothing prepared to respond to that, so she just let that comment stand. Sidling up to the other two equines, she craned her neck at the C-Sec logo adorning the security center, and let out a noticeable sigh.

Her smile never faltering, Scootaloo gave the larger mare a nudge in the side. “Don’t worry, Rainbow. You got this. One day at a time, remember?”

Rainbow Dash looked down at the filly, and before she could react, snatched her up in a foreleg by the scruff of her jacket and gently noogied her short purple mane. “Aww, thanks, Scoots. What would I do without my number one fan?”

“Hey, cut it out!” Laughing, Scootaloo squirmed out from under Rainbow’s grip. “And more like number one sis now, am I right?”

“Haha, yeah, you’re right. That sounds way better.” Getting serious for a moment, Rainbow turned to address the changeling mech nearby. “Make sure she and the other Crusaders stay outta trouble, alright, Twenty-One?”

The changeling, easily set apart from its brethren by its damaged antennae and the freshly repainted mark on its flank, gave a brief nod. “Affirmative, Director Rainbow Dash.”

“Good. Now get going, kiddo,” Rainbow told Scootaloo, playfully flicking the filly with her tail. “I’ll meetcha back at the apartment later, okay?”

“Sure thing! See ya later, Rainbow!” Light on her hooves, Scootaloo got up and jumped away, eager to meet up with her friends elsewhere in New Ponyville. Wiggling her flank in anticipation, she turned to address her mechanical chaperone. “Hey, Twenty-One! Race ya!”

While the filly scampered off at top speed, Twenty-One raised a foreleg in brief hesitation -- behavior that a close observer wouldn’t normally attribute to your average changeling. “Do not run! Please maintain an appropriate speed!” it implored in a commanding tone before giving chase.

Rainbow Dash, amused by the spectacle, chuckled to herself. Watching the two run off to enjoy their day made her reminiscent of those lazy afternoons in Equestria she’d been so fond of. But the moment didn’t last long and, slightly dreading what was coming up, she regretfully turned her mind to the present -- back towards the entrance to the building, and she began to plod up the steps.

With a pleasant chime, the door opened, admitting the pegasus into the foyer where, immediately to her right, Taxar Pyres was already busy at work. He stopped typing at his terminal when Rainbow appeared while raising his head to look at her. His expression was neutral, and he neglected to say anything right away.

Rainbow gulped apprehensively and shook her head. Getting serious, she then raised her foreleg in a formal salute. “Director Rainbow Dash reporting for duty… sir.”

“Don’t do that,” Taxar said right off the bat.

Rainbow jumped, stiffening her posture out of shame as she lowered her hoof. “Uh, um… which part? The saluting, or the calling you ‘sir’?”

“Both.” The turian crossed his arms together and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not your superior officer; I’m your co-worker. ‘Pyres’ will do just fine.”

“Right… Gotcha.” Nervously, Rainbow scratched the back of her head. Meanwhile, the Lieutenant, sensing her unease, tried to change the subject.

“I see you’re recovery is coming along well,” he casually mentioned in an attempt to make small talk. “Not many people can take two bullets and be up and walking within a week.”

“Heh, yeah, well… Walking’s pretty much the best I can do at the moment… Hehe,” the equine agreed in a halfhearted attempt at a joke.

“So, what’s with the hardware?” Pyres said, motioning to the stasis unit on Rainbow’s back.

“Oh. That,” Rainbow replied, looking over her shoulder. “The docs put that on me to keep my wings from moving while they heal up.”

“And how long should that take?”

“Dunno…” The mare scuffed a hoof against the metal floor. “Couple weeks, I guess. After that, I start physical therapy, but… Stable said I probably shouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“Hmm…” Pyres’ mandible plates shifted around as he regarded the pegasus with a discerning eye.

Feeling his gaze upon her, Rainbow couldn’t help but feel put on the spot, and she steeled herself for what came next. Something she’d always hated to do in the past: admit her mistakes and beg for forgiveness.

“So… Pyres, I… I owe you an apology,” she choked out, eyes glued to the floor. “All this time I thought you were getting on my case because you didn’t like me, and I ignored your advice because… I kinda didn’t really like you either.”

Rainbow breathed in and chanced a look up at the turian officer, whose expression was unchanged.

“Go on,” he said patiently.

“And I… I realize now that I was wrong. You’ve been doing this kinda stuff way longer than I have, and it shows. If I’d taken this job more seriously, I probably…” Rainbow trailed off, slightly wincing as she remembered the incredible agony of having two holes punched clean through her wings. Then she managed to get ahold of herself, and tried to put on a bold face. “Anyway, that’s all in the past. I’m ready to put the effort in.”

“Is that so?” Pyres asked, with just a hint of disbelief.

Unfazed by his apparent skepticism, Rainbow pushed on. “Yeah. I’ll do whatever you tell me to from now on. I want to do good by my friends; to earn the trust Twilight’s placed in me. I want to keep my… my family… safe. Whatever it takes… if you still think I’m worth it.”

The room was silent as Rainbow held her breath, awaiting the turian’s answer. For his part, Taxar seemed to be drawing it out as long as possible, examining the pegasus’ features in an effort to gauge her seriousness.

Finally, just as Rainbow was starting to feel annoyed by the waiting, Pyres seemed to relax his posture, bowing his head in her direction ever so slightly.

“Alright. One more chance to prove you’ve got what it takes,” he told her, causing a wave of relief to wash over the blue mare. “Welcome back, Director Dash.”

Rainbow’s mouth broke into a grin. “Good to be back, Lieutenant. So, what’s first on today’s agenda?”

“Eager to get to work, are we?” Pyres said with some amusement. “I went ahead and forwarded some reading material to your desk terminal. You can start there.”

“Yes, sir!” Immediately recognizing her mistake, Rainbow coughed into her hoof in an effort to downplay it. “Uh, oops. Sorry.”

In response, Pyred grumbled, but didn’t say anything. He just redirected his attention to his own work terminal, once more typing away.

Her heavy heart feeling much lighter than before, now that that bit of unpleasantness was behind her, Rainbow quickly walked over to the other side of the room, behind the partition to where her own workspace was. She hopped up onto her chaise and wiggled in to make herself comfortable, all the while beholding her modest assortment of personal effects. That is, until she laid eyes on something that was sitting between her and her desk monitor; something that wasn’t there previously.

“Uh, hey, Pyres? What is this?” she asked, pointing at the basket of baked goods resting in front of her, still perfectly sealed in its wrapping foil and bearing a tag from Celestial Delights.

“Oh, that.” Pyres briefly glanced away from his work and over to the other desk. “The couple that runs the district’s bakery dropped that off a while ago. I can’t eat the stuff, so it’s all yours.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Rainbow exclaimed, grateful for the sweet snack after the bland hospital food she’d been forced to endure at Huerta.

With great anticipation, she bit into the wrapping and, with some effort, exposed the various small cookies and cakes. Their tantalizing colors made it hard to choose, but eventually, Rainbow settled on one of the frosted cookies and snapped it up into her waiting maw.

“Huh…” she said, chewing it with a thoughtful look on her face, before downing it all in one big gulp. Smacking her lips a few times, she considered, “Tastes kinda… off? I think these cookies are a little stale.”

To low for Rainbow to hear, Pyres had a subtle laugh privately to himself, and resumed working.