Catalyst, ch 5: Cyan Martyr

>Three months since the attack.
>And still, not a single pony around you knew precisely what had happened.
>Fluttershy started to visit more, using Rarity's locomotion as an excuse.  She was fine, now, with the muscle suit and bio-replacement backside.
>Applejack started talking to you again.  She'd started to recognize that maybe, just maybe, you actually were that old human she remembered so well.
>Though, she never really talked. Merely argued her point of view. But at least she respected you again, after you gave her a few good conversational elbows.
>You discovered, in your first time watching pony entertainment, that Pinkie Pie had become some sort of universal starlet.  You guessed she made good connections at parties.
>Or maybe it was just “Pinkie's Playhouse” that got her there. Your memory allowed you to recall that it worked for Pee Wee, so it sure as hell could've worked for Pinkie.
>You'd helped Rarity.  Not just that time in the convention center, either.
>Despite most of her friends being around, you'd been the one without any responsibilities.
>Hell, you had been on a virtual house arrest, under protection in Twilight Tower.
>Rarity, being wounded, hadn't had much to do either.
>So of course, you both had time.

>You were the one that had watched and cheered when Fluttershy “installed” the new bio-replacement vertabrae and subsequent lower legs.
>You were the only non-lab pony that had helped her with the muscle suit. Not the design, as that wasn't your forte. Actually helping her wear the damn thing; her legs were too weak to work at first without help.
>And all her friends had things to do. AJ had “The Farm” to tend to.
>Twilight was horn-deep in research and legal investigation, having easily acquired the raw footage and accounts from Celestia's security detail. It'd been Shining Armor there, after all.
>Rainbow Dash, though. She was nowhere to be found. Everyone dodged talking about her.
>Element of loyalty, huh?
>Whatever.  You probably weren't at my funeral, either.
>And so, without any complaint on your part, you and Rarity had gotten closer. Much to her friends chagrin.
>After she healed, and the little “nerve testing” incident, she insisted you  live with her in the penthouse.
>Again, much to her friends chagrin.
>It's too bad she was barely around, always working on the next new thing, perfecting her suit in the off-time.
>So you got to researching. You'd been dead for thirty years, and it was time to catch up.

>The history was well documented, and public.
>Your iPhone brought the concept of universal tools.  Originally, that had been magic.  But not every pony could use magic, and even then, that magic could only work for simple activities and what that pony was good at.
>Instead, that little device had given them the idea that universal utility could be widespread.
>If only they put a little more thought into their science.
>That's when the communications boom struck.
>The Earth Ponies finally realized they didn't have to work so damned hard.
>Pegasi found video games, and excelled as their training routines extended to virtual environments that would kill a normal pony on a single mistake.
>Unicorns discovered just how massive storage could be, and could distribute their knowledge worldwide.
>Then, when they started to expand, you found the first records that actually started to frighten you.

>The Changeling Purge.
>You didn't know what they were, but there were scores of documentation.
>Pictures, events, names and places.
>There was so much, it was hard for you to filter it all out well enough to understand.
>Before the invention of the tech they now used, ponies had largely unexplored various places in Equestria.
>Within one of them, there was a dark race of parasitic magic wielders.  Upon reading that single phrase, you figured pony's and Changelings didn't get along well.
>Upon expanding, Canterlot encroached upon the Changeling Forest.
>The pictures depicted the forest as a set of massive, oily spines, filled with holes that would give a trypophobe suicidal cravings.
>Clouds of pony-like insectoids. Bugs.  Why'd it have to be bugs?
>The ponies persisted with their use of magic fueled-technology.
>The Changelings were largely, from what you could glean, “Biological Purists.”
>They considered magic, and the body, something sacred and unified.
>You could see where it was going. And you were standing in a pony tower, not a Changeling one.
>You figured out the rest from there. The rest was filler detail.
>How the first time technology was used for war- Celestia turned solar mirrors onto them, crisping much of the race in a method akin to what you could only call a WMD.
>How the ponies finally made automatic weapons, regulated by internal digital components and interactive screens that looked curiously like your old iPhone interface.
>You did a little research on the historical figures, and made a discovery.

>It was soft, at first.
>The more you read, the worse it hit you.
>She was one of the “greats” the soldiers talked about, apparently.
>Cloudsdale born.
>Considered arrogant, but honorable.
>A relentless, courageous fighter.
>Uncomparable flying speed and aerial agility.
>A kill count of 607.
>Her squad had been an emergency recruitment of the Wonderbolts, the team of which she'd been a part of.
>After the death of one of the members, she wore black. It spawned a military legend, the current new-age descendent of which is called “Ebon Pegasi Security.”
>A listing of medals.
>KIA.
>When you saw the ponies picture, a bit of you sunk.  It simply didn't click at first.
>Rainbow Dash.
>...

>You sat for a long time, going through pictures of her years in service.
>She was so well documented.
>And there wasn't one image where she wasn't smiling.
>Then, it hit.
>You thought she'd been out there.  Right then. Simply ignoring her friends at this point, enjoying this new world, unawares of your existence. Her usual lazy self, deserving of a chastising moment or two before inevedible noogies.
>But no.
>You'd never see her again.
>And here you were.
>And while you'd been sleeping, she went off. Doing her own thing, a thing that was so very like her you kicked yourself for not expecting it.
>When Rarity arrived back at the penthouse you now shared, you had to explain why she needed a fresh computer, a new fridge door, and replacement window.
>The hardest part, though, was telling her why there was a puddle of tears on the expensive, ivy-patterned desk with custom holographics.
>After all, according to the statistics, every other pony had been over it for at least twenty years now.

“I think I know what Applejack is talking about.”
>Rarity placed a hoof on yours, pleading with those big blue eyes. “What ever do you mean, Darling?”
“I'm here now, and for what?”
>You swivel on the cloud-filled chair. Just a plush reminder.
“Everything... Everyone, moved on without me. And now I'm here.”
>”Darling, nobody could have expected this.”  She nuzzles up to you, bringing your hoof to her face with both of her own. She closes her eyes and cuddles up close, worriedly looking from below.
>”Even Celestia is amazed.”
“That's the point. Ponies are already fighting over me. I'm cowering in a tower crawling with armed guards, without any idea what's outside besides these little screens and filtered newscasts.”
>You gesture to yourself, tap one of the poorly hidden seams upon your bio-form pony body.
“Ponies already died because of this.”
>”There's thousands of those in the market darling, don't do yourself injustice.” She taps your head. “They're dying because you have this,” She gestures to the rest of you. “Inside this.”
“Exactly. I've nothing to give ponies, besides just plain being here.  Some kind of, false hope on beating death.  I should have died a long, long time ago.”
>Rarity gasps. Her eyes focus on yours, and quiver. Her lip trembles, and she's quiet for a long time.
>Then, she just pulls herself close.
“It would be so much simpler for everyone else-”
>”Don't you dare.”
>You know that voice by now.  She's not screwing around.

>She pulls back and inhales a sniffle, moving to brush tears from her eyes.  She looks at oozing mascara on her hoof a moment, then swallows hard.
>”You are here.  Now.  And now, you have choices you can make, and act upon.”
“Rarity, you know I'm-”
>”I'll hear nothing of it.” she begins. “If you're going to choose to languish, you may do so. But it would truly kill what you are.” She taps your head again.  Then, puts her head on your chest.
>She starts to listen to your body. “I just refuse to believe you can't make a difference. Especially with all that's happened.”
“Yeah. Like the body count.”
>”Or my legs.”
>A mental flash of your intervention after her injury sharply jolted you awake.
>”Do you really think so little of yourself, that whatever comes of you being here, you won't at least try to do the right thing?”
>Goddamnit Rarity.
>You close your eyes and lean back, holding her there for several minutes.
“Rarity?”
>”Yes?”
“I read where her grave was. The lobby at Ebon Pegasi.”
>”Indeed. Everyone that enters passes by her, every day.”
”Can I see her?  At least, say goodbye?”
>She pushes up, and laughs a little. “At least let me freshen up a bit, darling. I'm simply a mess. I wouldn't dare let her see me like this.”
–

>The ride in the transport pod was longer than the other you'd been on. It let Twilight go into all the gritty details on the pod's comm's terminal.
>It'd been three goddamn months.
>Ponies, in extreme cases like these, exchanged raw data on the physical drives.
>They did it that way because electronic transfers could be intercepted. Scrubbed.  Altered.
>With the physical drives, some kind of crystal you didn't know much about yet, they had to be flawless. Copies or altered pieces would show signs.
>Yet even now, there was not a single piece of data from LunaCorp. HQ.
>They likened it to distance.  Trading physical items from the moon was a little harder than digital files.
>You likened it to the old human saying, “horseshit.”
>Oh, Twilight had a field day with the corruption of terminology on that one.
>Even with her long-winded explanations, it only took you halfway to the Ebon Pegasi building.
>The rest was spent in relative silence with Rarity, who kept giving you earnest, concerned glances.
>”There's something else that's there. Something I'm not sure you'll want to see.”
“At this point, Rarity, the wound is fresh to me.  I'll walk it off.”
>She brushes her nose along your cheek, then uses a hoof to force you to look at her. “Just don't let the gash deepen, okay?”
–

>The lobby was gigantic.  It seemed to be made out of some pale gold. Reflective, hard, and maintained to such a pristine sheen you felt you could lick it and taste all the flavor of water.
>The acoustics were such that every step of your hooves left a resonant clack in the air.
>The center is home to tower of black stone, inlaid with turquoise trim. The base just out slightly, at a steep angle, before resuming being perfectly vertical and disappearing into the floor.
>Holographically projected along the surface? Well, you said to yourself you wouldn't see her again.
>You were wrong.
>And again, it started to hurt.
>Your guards refused to follow you into the building.  They tried to make excuses.
>You were treading on hollowed ground to these trained killers.
>And the Ebon Pegasi doormen made you feel it.
>Snickering, some traded, whispered jabs between a pair of darkly armored and armed pegasus.
>”What's this little punk doing here?”
>”I hope he's here for tryouts, I haven't had my chance to use the paddle yet.”
>When you arrived at the Monolith with Rarity, the two soldiers there look at each other and try to avoid snickering.
>”And what are you here for, ladies?”

>Rarity's horn glows, a ping bringing up her ID on your AR.  And apparently, the AR of every other pony in the room.
“Saying goodbye to an old friend.”
>One of the guards points toward his lackeys at the door. He makes a throat cutting motion with his hoof.
>They all stiffen.  They stand straight, as if nothing ever happened. Their post and dignity became instantly paramount.
>Rarity looks down at the base. It was a perfect height for visitors.  A small hexagon was at the side, just big enough for the average hoof.
>Rarity puts her hoof upon it, and it glows brilliant cyan. She closes her eyes a moment, and when she opens them, you see AR images fading from her eyes. She sighs, and begins to walk away. “I'll wait for you in the pod, okay?”
>When you place your hoof on it, it begins to glow.
>You close your eyes. You see a fully fledged recording, your AR vision flooded with the image, your ears filling with the sound.
–
>Rainbow Dash, clad in some black, archaic form of the Ebon Pegasi armor you'd seen, is focused upon.
>”Hey, is this thing on?”
>This is some blair witch shit, here.  It suits her.
>She's in some kind of tent.  Well lit, but cramped with boxes of gear and a few cots.
>She trots back until she's in full view of the recorder.
>”Well, I'm here.” she says, sighing a little. “I don't really... y'know, know how to do this stuff because. Well, never felt I had to!”
>She thumps her chest.  Arrogant bitch, you think to yourself, and smile.
>”But I suppose.  Just in case. You know.” She shrugs.
>”I don't know what to really say.  I mean, to all my girls back home, you know?”
>”You don't know what it's like out here. And honestly, I kinda forgot what it's like back home. Sleeping all the time. Eating right.”
>She laughs at the last part.  “But, I mean, it's not hard for me to deal with. And I want you to remember that.”
>”You wanna know why? Because I know what it's like out here.”

>She points at the camera. “I might not have the best memory in Equestria, but I remember enough.  I remember that it sure as hell isn't that fun, sleepy place I called Ponyville.”
>She stomps her hoof. “And I will be abso-bucking-lutely sure that this place where I am now, does not come back to Ponyville, or Cloudsdale, or anywhere else.”
>”And I want you to remember this too.” She scrapes the ground, as if getting ready to charge. “I may well die for it.  But you will not- and I mean NOT- bucking worry about it.”
>”I made my choice to come here.  I had no idea why.  Maybe it was, rage. Or, maybe it was, some other fancy word for just plain hate. Or maybe just a plain old bad decision.”
>She trots up to the screen. “You hear that Applejack? I admit that much. But you know what? I don't regret it. Not at all.” She tosses her hair about in a single head shake.
>”Cause, well, I'm here!” She points to the tent around her. “And I will not, under any circumstance, go back and say what I did was wrong.”
>Yeah.  Typical Rainbow.  But, why aren't you smiling anymore?
>”I'm here, and I can DO something.” She stands straight. “Sure, those things can get back to you. But they're gonna have to hurdle at least one really dead pony to do it.”
>Fuck.  Now you're tearing up in front of these soldiers.
>”So, um, I guess what I'm saying is...”
>She has to think. She never was very articulate. “Just, know that I did it for you, okay?  I can't leave anyp0ny hangin' or scared.”
>”Even though I'm not there with you, I'm still your friend.  And I made the choice to do this, because guess what?”
>”I can do something about this.”
–
>You remove your hoof from the panel.
>You look up at the monolith.
>You look to the soldiers.
>You turn and begin the walk, footsteps echoing.
>You eye the two guard ponies at the door. They say nothing, giving a gentle nod in unison as you pass.
>It isn't until you're back in the transport pod with Rarity that you lose it.
>You sit with her, silent and immobile, just breathing with wet eyes. You don't know how long it is before you finally dry up.
>Rarity goes to ask you something when you finally move. But she doesn't, as you're reaching to the pod terminal.
>Twilight beeps into view, and before she can even speak, you tell her your plan.
>It's not smart. It's not thought out, or even particularly clever.
“It's been three months Twilight. Three.  Ponies died trying to protect and kill me.  If Luna Isn't going to give us anything because of distance, then we need to go there so I can see the look on her face when I ask her my fucking self.”