About monsters
September 25, 2024 at 1:00 PM
The monsters under your bed are afraid of the monsters inside you.
The squirrel dog heard an extraneous sound, but at first did not attach importance. A subtle melodious tinkling. And then it seemed to throw up. — Fuck! — Belkin was sitting on the couch and didn't know where to look. A sweaty paw was already clutching the pistol grip. — What? Oh, are you up yet? — The unicorn magicked some kind of carbon monoxide-colored light and reached for the switch. Valentine watched as the horse-like creature took the clock from the table with a hoof (as if with a mitten) and, blinking and squinting, turned off the alarm clock. It's not necessary anymore, the factory is almost over there. — Listen, — Valentine also had to blink, his eyes seemed swollen or even festered, — There is a consideration that we need to go to the head of the train... The unicorn sighed. — Valentine, you do realize that these are stupid suspicions, right? — It's better to be overly suspicious than not alive enough. — Okay, I'll go with you, but only to... ah! Now I'm full of suspicion too! Belkin looked at the contagiously yawning unicorn. Get up. — Wait a minute! At least get yourself in order... — Actually, that's what I was going to do, — The male squirrel dog put on a jumpsuit, forcing himself not to think about his own nakedness. Ponies also walk naked and don't have complexes. And the anatomical features of the squirrel dog did not immediately give it away as a male, not a bitch, everything was compact, covered with a leather fold and somewhat «recessed». He didn't rattle his balls and didn't swing his penis when walking. But it was still guessed. Otherwise, if you pull the crease and feel, the structure of the genitals resembled a human one. He found out this back in the desert when he checked the work of the genitourinary system by pissing on some local saxaul. No new skills were needed. And there was no femininity in the figure to confuse. In the toilet, already washing, he looked at himself in the mirror. Yeah, pretty boy. The eyes are overgrown with a layer of raw fat, the vessels are swollen, but in a bad way, as if their walls themselves are inflamed. He rinsed, hoping for the purity of the water in the tap with a pedal bracket. Some film was still washed off, his eyes hurt. He brushed his teeth. The paste was stupid, like tooth powder mixed with water. Chalk porridge with a fragrance. There is also an incomprehensible plaque on the tongue. He spat, surprised at the somewhat doll-like appearance of the porcelain sink. More or less washed (he even wiped his feet and shoes with a piece of toilet paper soaked in soapy water), staggered out into the corridor. Bon Voyage was sullenly trudging towards them from the toilet at the other end of the wagon, resembling a sleepy horse that was already tired of screaming kids and the noise of the park, and some onlooker had chewed cotton candy for a long time, and in general it was someone else. — Do you need to pick something up? — The unicorn yawned again. — I'll just take the watch, I think. — I wanted to ask for water, to fill the flask. But I think that's later, — Belkin followed the unicorn into the compartment and put a second pistol in his pocket. — I hope the calculating machine won't be useful. — Actually, in addition to the numbered gears, the calculating machine should have other mechanics... — Those are for preliminary and intermediate calculations. And mine is for the final ones. — And did they calculate many of them? Belkin looked at the pony strangely. He shook his head. And Bon Voyage did not pry. He didn't tell me about the Mark himself. They walked down the corridor, touching the walls with our sides and elbows (who knows how). — Voyage? — Yes, Valentine? — There are three compartments here, excluding the conductor? — The conductor? Yes. So what? — Six reasonable public. For the whole wagon. How does it pay off? — The price of a seat ticket. You can take half a ticket and go alone with someone. As in the case of the family. The children ride on one couch, the spouses on the other. Or take a bench in an economy class wagon, if it's expensive. — What is the point of pushing together in one place if for less money you can go on a personal bench? — Ponies are social. — So I've come across psychopathic loners? — Belkin opened the door to the outside and stepped over the gap between the wagons, clanking and smelling of impregnating sleepers. Creosote? Something similar? The unicorn did not answer. He himself, as it were... The service wagon also had «porches», like a freight car, where Belkin rode like a «hare». Valentine did not know what the correct name of this «vestibule skeleton» was. Low side gate doors with a semicircular cutout, a glazed door to the wagon. Oh, and the stupid end windows next to the aisle between the wagons. The glass is covered in soot. And here are the stairs to the top in the usual place. The freight wagon had a «cutout» roof so that it could be climbed, and here there was a lid locked with a hanging and clinking lock. The toilet seats have been changed. Bon Voyage went first, so as not to scare the pony with Belkin. — Dear friends, what need made you go to the service wagon? — If the conductor was an earth pony, then the boss, as Belkin recalled, was a pegasus in years with the same poisonous blue coat. Is it professional for them? Relatives? Or even, if not by nightfall, namesakes? — My dear fellow, there is such a thing... We need to observe the entrance to the station. — With the opportunity to go into the cabin of the locomotive, — Added the squirrel dog looming behind the unicorn. — Of course, with an escort from another shift. Or with you. The boss hesitated. The boss threatened to complain. The boss was swearing and indignant. — Dear, I don't know what your name is! — The strange male of the big squirrel dog squinted badly. — Not so long ago, you hit a sentient being with a train. Yeah? Do you do this often? Pony shook his head. Apparently, he thought that they wanted to complain about him to the Princesses themselves? Belkin, who seriously suspected carefully disguised Nazism, Vidism, and so on in ponies, would definitely not complain. There's no need. Uselessly. — So, — Valentine broke into a gentle rottweiler smile, — If it's not often that you nod to me here, then I have some questions. And what did that one-eyed thing leave on the tracks? And why did some pony say that the creature was tampering with the arrow mechanism? And who was it anyway, huh? And with such a funny look that made me vomit and my eyes still hurt? — How do I know?! It's Equestria, mister dog, or whoever you are! There's always something going on here! But if because of every little thing... In short, — The boss came to his senses a little, — Everyone should mind their own business! The princesses are to rule us and drive various evil spirits, we are to drive the train, and you are to sit in the compartment, since you have been paid for! — We'll just have a look, — Belkin said soothingly. — So that all passengers don't pay too much for ignoring... — Ignoring what? — I don't know yet.***
— We are approaching, — Bon Voyage aristocratically sneezed softly. The locomotive reeked of smoke. The dry coolness of the night seemed to have acquired some kind of chilling humidity. — Yeah. I can't see anything. Is that a lantern over there? Binoculars would... — One moment, — The unicorn lit his stick on his forehead. — Please move away. It's very difficult for me to do magic next to you. Belkin obediently shifted, and Bon Voyage made a finely trembling haze in the air. — Try to see while I'm holding... — Now, — The squirrel dog looked through the air lens. — And how is the sharpness adjusted here? — I'll be right there... — Stop! Keep it that way. It looks like nothing like that... Blya! — Excuse me? — Voyage, do pegasi have some kind of disease that squiggles grow instead of wings? — I've never seen it. Maybe this pony has some kind of injury? — These ponies. There are three or four of them. I'm going to the machinists. Belkin fearfully moved from the wagon to the tender, clinging, walked along a narrow wooden platform hanging from the side, which did not stand out for the dimensions of the locomotive and, leaning sideways (someone thought of making the tender slightly expanding upwards, ponies were climbing normally on four legs here, but it was uncomfortable for an upright Belkin) to unpleasant sensations in his back and side, he reached the locomotive. — Hello, I'm here about arimaspi... — Get out of here! Outsiders are not allowed here! — The earth pony in overalls was rejected. It seems that the color is yellowish-white, like old cotton wool. The mane is gray, and the tail is tied with a ribbon of indeterminate color, as if an old curtain was shredded. — I was an assistant engineer... All right, — The squirrel dog stumbled into the pony's gaze and did not shake his license. — I'm going to leave now, just if something suddenly seems strange, don't stop, okay? So drive through quietly. It's better to give it back a little later. — Mister! Leave the train! Immediately! The locomotive rocked when the brakes barely squeaked. — Fanny Tail, what are you doing there, you idiot? — Pony shouted. — You're a fool! Come and take a look! Melting Candle looked at it. This pony was standing... standing... And it looked. The train has already rolled up to the station. They were all standing there watching. — Drive through! — Belkin burst into the cabin, yanking aside this Fanny Tail. — Slow down, but don't stop, and then the stoker, as if the whole Tartarus is chasing you! — What? But... They had passed the platform when the impact pierced the tree of the locomotive shed. A little to the side or lower, and the bone outgrowths would slide down the metal. Something wheezed outside and jerked towards the door. The strange stranger smoothly took out a terrible one-hoof rifle from the pocket of his clothes and fired into the window, which was open due to the furnace heat. The roar was deafening. — Go ahead! — Diamond dog shouted faintly through the impossibly thin ethereal ringing in his stuffy ears. — Way! — A terrified earth pony of an incomprehensible light green color pointed with a hoof somewhere ahead. Arrow. As Belkin realized, the arrow was in the wrong position. And... ...And I jerked open the narrow side door. Why did they keep it closed? There, they would have blocked the opening with a chain, and that's enough. The platform ran out, I had to jump. Bitch, surely Light Sand had more bullets! The locomotive slowed down completely. I didn't even look back. And so everything is clear. They're going to start pouring out of the darkness now. I need to move the arrow. Need. Have you tried to overtake a train? Run ahead of the locomotive? I was running. I was running, and this shit, as if the pony was gradually dissolving into an ugly tumor, fell out of the desert twilight, hatched a flickering bunch of small eyes. The «inflorescence» of the peephole, it seems, was gradually supposed to become one eye like arimaspi's, but the skull was against it. As a result, the pony's face was terribly distorted, the second eye almost disappeared. And this hybrid of a necromorph, a flounder and a horse raised what pegasus and alicorn have wings. Some kind of bone needles with unpleasant holes. I started to «jump out» a little on the run. I noticed a second such thing, unevenly twisted out of the morning gloom into the sharp beam of a locomotive searchlight. A jerk to the side, a dancing U-turn, a shot. Sit down and jump up. Evasion. Another shot. On the edge of consciousness, the thought jumped that for some reason these creatures did not use weapons. I squeezed the arrow lever. I tried to move it to the correct position. How the fuck is it? Should I ask these people? But they were lying around and wheezing. And the stink. The disgusting stench of blood and uncleaned teeth. The train is almost up. With a dashing, slightly clumsy leap, that pony in overalls jumped off. The experience is visible, as far as anything at all is visible against this «headlight». The pony stomped on the sand, at the moment of bypassing the locomotive, cutting the light path with its own long shadow. She ran up to me, kicked the base of the mechanism from where the lever was sticking out with her shod boots with tall tops and stupid laces. Painfully pressing my finger on my hand with a hoof, she helped me squeeze the handle and throw a hefty lever with this weight, I don't know what it's called correctly. — Gallop to the locomotive! — Pony wanted to shout something bad at me, but shied away from the swarming shot mutants. — Don't look them in the eye! She nodded and rushed ahead of me. She jumped on the locomotive almost like a human being. Step-jump, the pony stands on its hind legs and grabs the handrails with its front hoofs (I'll call it that). The second jump, and the horse's hind legs are already on the running board. She was waiting for me when I heard that roar again. I didn't even hear it, but «guessed» with my whole skin. A goat-like, one-eyed gorilla-like muck hopped out from behind the station building. And she smeared in the air, suddenly appearing next to the last wagon. She did not jump, did not run, but seemed to slowly step through a couple of hundred meters, stretching out like a ghostly trail in the morning air. Fuck. It remains only to try to delay. I walked briskly towards the otherworldly creature. Damn, this pothole is almost four meters tall and the wagon will overturn! It's a wonderful miracle and a wonder that the previous copy got on a steam locomotive! Have you never seen it? Did you think that this is a variant of the van, where only the wheels are made of metal? But here he does not rush at the composition, but... Fuck! Well, the second time I will definitely earn something if I survive... I was so twisted that I almost ran under the wheels of the wagon. I blinked and raised the barrels. That pony was yelling something in the distance. I aimed at the iridescent patterns that turned the essence of nature inside out and opened fire. How many times did I shoot? One cannon clicked dryly after five shots, the other... A misfire. All. Now all. — Stay like this, — A familiar voice sounded nearby. The horn tinkled melodiously. I was scalded from the inside out. Instant pain, which immediately left behind the wadding of the limbs that had lost their sensitivity. The rustle of a fallen arimaspi. — What's in there? — Nothing. Hurry up, my dear. I saw only gray haze and nauseating streaks. I threw up again. Someone lifted me to my feet and offered me a sloping shoulder. I hardly guessed that this was a Voyage. He leads me by standing on his hind legs, and a pony's shoulder should be like that. It also occurred to him that he was rather uncomfortable. — What was that? — Later. Hold out your paw. To the right! Can you get in? I could. I stumbled into the vestibule of the common carriage. That's right, I wouldn't jump through the roofs of the goods. The voices of the ponies rustled and chattered around. Someone carefully and a little clumsily wiped my face with something like a wet towel. And the eyes. — Is it gone? — It's there somewhere. I'm sorry for using you like that, — Bon Voyage was trembling slightly. — But I had to do the wrong thing, and even blindly. An antimagic anchor was needed. I'm... I'm really sorry... It looks like he started crying. — The main thing is that this thing doesn't follow us. It knows how to do magic over time. — I don't think he's up to it right now. — So what did you do to him? Bon Voyage did not reply. Afraid? What? Should I tell you how he gave a goat-footed cyclops a blood clot the size of an entire heart? How did he close the eye control to the rectum? Did the military commissariat inflict all the bacteria in the mouth of the freak, turning them from peaceful microbes into combat infusoria-boots? Provided the detected worms with a double mouth and acid instead of some of their hemolymph? The unicorn's ass tag is too brutal for my unassuming taste. — Can you walk? — Quite. — Then let's go to the compartment. And put that thing away already. I was still holding «this thing» in my hand. I automatically put the empty pistol in my pocket, but I kept it with the misfired cartridge. What the hell? And even got into the wagon with him somehow. I don't really remember anything.***
— So what did you do to him? — It was a crookedly executed household spell to, excuse me, speed up the cooking of meat. We ponies are very scrupulous with some unusual products... ah! In short, it shouldn't have worked. When the spell breaks, it is very unpleasant. Therefore, the unicorn learns some things in the presence of a jar of black sand. It would be possible to use a crystal, but it is expensive and dangerous, although it is more convenient. And you were that jar. Excuse me. — I hope it won't affect me too much. — It's no more dangerous than what a unicorn encounters when learning the basics of magic. — And arimaspi? — If everything worked out, then heals the eye that suddenly spreads with a boiled onion. I hope he has it for a long time. — And anyway, where did they fall out from, these one-eyed ones? — And anyway, — The pony mimicked the squirrel dog a little, — this is their territory. Sometimes I wonder if Celestia is sane... Ponies live around! — Maybe the ponies have been living around for a long time, and these things have been sitting in their mountains and not showing their noses out. And then suddenly we decided to take a walk and were surprised... I was told that you already have one such goat with an eye running around here. — Yes. And no one could stop him. Now it's clear why. He disfigures magic, he walks through space... — Stop. In what sense? — The squirrel dog frowned. — Is he doing something with magic? — It distorts it somehow. The magic just flows off the horn in different directions. If you look like a crystal for dumping excess magic, then it's as if the properties of the magic stream are changing. He's not anti-magical like you are. He's... his magic is kind of dead, twisted. — And he is also as strong as I don't know what with pulitsya's eye. — Excuse me? — What? — I didn't understand the last word. — He looks intently and strained. It's Stalliongrad. By the way, what now? — Now we're going to the final station. Then I would recommend that you hide further south. There should be two towns there. And two more further on. But there are forty or fifty miles between them. Will you pass? Valentine took out a map and spread it on the door table. He turned on the lamp, there was still not enough light from the window. — Branch to New Haven. — It's too late, dear Valentine, it's too late! — Have you already passed? When? — We haven't passed it yet, it's just that the train goes to Irvind. You should have gone out to Hunters and waited for the next one, which is to New Haven, but I doubt that after the pegasi send a message somewhere in Las Pegasus, which just begs to be, you will be able to wait for at least some train other than the one on which the Guard will arrive. Or you can also wait for the appearance of a squad of winged ponies in the sky. And it will be fast. Las Pegasus will contact Canterlot by telephone or telegraph line. That is, pegasus has not caught his breath yet, and a report is already being put on the table for the Princesses. As a result, I would not recommend dragging around the deserts here... — What would you recommend then? I won't get to your towns either. Moreover, it's like two or three hundred miles here, if you go on the run. As a result, I can barely move my legs, and I'm being driven from the air with cheerful shouts and laughter? — Listen, what if we go west? Irvine is full of ponies who not only fish, but also deliver contraband. The same cheerful grass is being transported from Jennigh. We'd hang out in the sea for a few days, catch fish. Jennigh. Or Jennif? There was a strange letter form at the end, Belkin pronounced it randomly and without effort. However, the ponies also did not work very hard and varied their pronunciation by region, as the squirrel dog suspected. — We should also make sure that they don't carry slaves. From here to there, — Valentine grimaced. — What are you talking about! They don't dare! Celestia promised two hundred years ago to sell them to such dealers themselves, if at least one pony... — I'm not a pony. — You're not a pony, — The unicorn said. — And the people in such towns... «It's far to Canterlot, but it's high to the Thrones». You know, these ponies are expected to be border guards, and they become the owners of a brothel on the outskirts. Then the Solar Princess comes, distributes award-winning anklets on a chain and with a beautiful pendant in the form of a core from an old siege weapon to the most distinguished... — But after a while everything repeats? — Yes. Oh, I just remembered... Could you participate in a delicate business? At the same time, we won't be in sight. — Not to kill anyone, I hope? — Actually, it is to kill. But it's not someone there, it's something. Some creatures got into the habit of spoiling the gear — Quickly, before the squirrel dog thought anything bad, Bon Voyage explained. — Good. And why is it a delicate matter? Well, we dispersed the evil spirits, slammed the unlucky and slow ones for fear... — It's not friendly-magic, — The shadow of such a smile appeared on Bon Voyage's face, that... — Hmm... is that the only reason? — Aren't animals half-intelligent in Equestria, so that they can use such methods? — Large ones. They even talk. And the small ones show at least some intelligence only singly. You can try to negotiate even with a sparrow, it is theoretically possible. But you will never come to an agreement with the pack. I've already had practice. — Okay, you're the expert here, not me. And the Night Watch or the Guards are not there for us? Since they are expected? — No. But I would be afraid of the appearance of the Keepers. Celestia will not let them near the scene of the incident, she will send them a little further with an «incredibly important inspection», as has happened more than once... And as if not in the same Irvind. There, the new princess will easily knock it into her head to arrange some kind of music festival against the smuggling of herbs and the distillation of strong cider... Or he'll come up with some other enchanting nonsense! — The club «Flies against manure?» — That's right! — And who of the magnificent six is going to shit himself this time? — What do you mean? — Bon Voyage, it seemed, only imitated a slight interest, but Belkin caught a malicious gleam of anticipation in the unicorn's eyes. — Well, Magic, according to one machinist, recently piled up under herself with all the parade somewhere here, — A stupid claw of a squirrel's dog paw pointed at the Badlands spot on the map. — And the Laughter got into a mess somewhere... ah! That's it! Stone Farm! Bon Voyage thought about it. It's not good to think like that. — Valentine, what do you know about ritual magic? — Two things. It requires strange actions and does not work in my area, except in the case of troubleshooting according to the instructions, — Valentine wanted to add more about computer games, but decided not to distract Bon Voyage with strange terms. — We had it once... they practiced something and still practice earth ponies... although, to be honest, this is a comforting lie so that earth ponies do not feel defective. And they didn't ask unnecessary questions. On the other hand, the technique can also be called magic, — The unicorn was already thinking to the point of blurred vision. — But back to the rituals. The placement of objects as symbols in a certain configuration is important there... — Objects or events? — Arrange the events? Funny. I have pencils. — Draw directly on the map, it's already asking for the trash can. — Anti-Magia, — Bon Voyage drew a cunning snowflake on the Badlands. — Anti-Laughter, — Valentine pointed to the Stone Farm. Another strange squiggle. — Here, — The squirrel dog ticked the box on the Smoky Mountains, — Allegedly, there was one nasty story related to the consequences of perverting the essence of hospitality. Or does it not count? — What was there? — Some griffin blew his head off due to mental indigestion of the Equestrian dictionary. — What? A griffin? Come on, where's the griffin from? Not Godric Pfeil! — I was told that name. — The Anti-kindness. In all its glory, — Bon Voyage said to the side, lowering his ears, as if he was ashamed of someone. — Then the Generosity remains inside out... — Mainhetten. A recent fashion show during the collapse of a grandiose financial pyramid. A celebration of luxury during the crash. The newspapers wrote... As it turned out later, among the main guests at the fashionable party were those who turned it all around. Waste, chic, and right next to it — a lot of people left without funds. After all, many not very smart ponies then lost almost the last one and hardly waited for minor help from the Crown. There were too many of them... — Then it begs to be... here? — The pencil rested on the Crystal Empire. — Sombra? But it's been a long time... The ritual requires the localization of symbols in time and space... — Has something happened recently? — I don't know. Well, not the arrival of the Cadenza with Shining Armor! — And he... — He was a captain of the Guard. — Did I not understand? And in more detail? — Belkin said this in such a tone that the unicorn suddenly saw a strange cap on the dog's squirrel head. — What's not clear here? Shining Armor fell in love with Mi Amore Kadenza, ruler of the Crystal Empire... She reciprocated. A wedding, an ugly fight with shifters... While the Princesses were coping with the rowdy Chrysalis, there were several more uncomfortable scenes on the outskirts of Canterlot, when drunken chitinous fillies with holes in their legs showed how they not only take love, but also give it... Oh, Sisters! They gave and took there... also this abnormal Photo Finish... She recorded the simultaneous finish of several... and lost her camera in a drunken case. Someone found it and printed it, fearing that the film would spoil... Or does she have a model with crystal plates? Not the point... Cadence was already furious, and when she found out about this «extra program of the evening»... then they announced the honeymoon to everyone, but I think she just scooped up her stallion and drove off to Crystal, smoking with anger like a locomotive. — I'm glad for the success of the shifters in public practical pornography, — Belkin laughed, — But here's your Shining… — What's the big deal? Did you find a filly not by status? It seems that everything is fine here, he himself is from a difficult family, although... — Dear Bon Voyage, — Belkin sighed. — Had Celestia already erased his memory by then? — Armor? What for? — Okay. Let's look at it in more detail. So, a person close to the diarchs, who has information about them and the organization of the security system that is not subject to disclosure, who has encountered state secrets in his service, who probably took the oath... In short, — Valentine smiled askance, — This Shining Armor simply dumps abroad, taking time off at the expense of the Crown. Top score for this stallion! And two teas! — Celestia could have released him from all obligations... — Just before his death. Not the right level of clearance to ride a crooked mare like that! Such tricks can be called treason. There is, however, an option with putting a newly acquired crystal spy girlfriend in bed, but it is also somehow stupid to play such games with an alicorn, and even exchange the fate of your guardsman. — Anti-Loyalty? — With a trembling pencil, Bon Voyage, who winced at the words about the crooked mare, drew another icon. Valentine connected all the icons with an uneven pentagram. He pointed at the map. — What's going on here? — Some kind of temple of the ancient gods. — And if so? — The squirrel dog drew an eye somewhere on the edge of the Canterlot. — There is the castle of the Princess of Friendship... Map... The All-seeing Eye of Harmony... But why the Anti-Truth? — Politics is a lie. And the lies are dirty. — And the eye? — Endless attempts at universal surveillance. To be honest, I drew at random. But in general, I met an eye in such a crooked star with a squiggle in some interesting book. By the way, it was just a scarecrow book for the hobby of some unbalanced personalities. They fell into the fantasies of a writer who was sick in every sense. — And what kind of sign is that? — A symbol of the Ancients. Those who were before and will be later. After all of us. Or instead. By the way, the book was called «Dead Science». Interesting coincidences, right? That's how they go crazy. — That's how worlds fall apart, my dear Valentin, — Bon Voyage's lips were trembling and his pencil was in a hoof. — I need to order tea... urgently. — Voyage... Voyage, damn it! — Belkin distracted the unicorn from the keypad. — Calm down, this is just a poorly founded assumption. We don't see the whole picture, or, similarly, we read a book three words into the fourth, constantly jumping from the beginning to the end. — We say «not to see the whole scene». But you forget about the ritual magic of ponies. And not just ponies. You don't have to see everything there. You need to see the main thing there. And correct the trends with a ritual. I even read, — Bon Voyage smiled nervously, — About the point of view that magic itself only ends with a ritual, and everything happens at the stage of its preparation. — Well, the Great Cthulhu has not yet emerged from the sea... Maybe it will do? — Who, excuse me, is from the sea? — The God of madness. The harbinger of the Ancients and their high priest among mortals. Close to the Ancients themselves, but afraid of them. A symbol of the underworld and... I would say, a symbol of those distortions that arise on the blurred boundary between our world and the world of elementary particles. — Are you talking about corpuscles? Or about ethereal vortices? Although, it's not really important... And what, did your... writer come up with this one too? — Based on a forgotten and a hundred times distorted mythology. I'm telling you it's nonsense. — Is there an analogy for Arimaspi? — Bon Voyage smiled nervously and, nevertheless, pressed the key. He wanted tea, the horned horse. — Come on... there is, though. Ishnigarrab. Or Shub-Niggurat. A black Goat with a legion of juniors. The panel-button clicked off and Bon Voyage shuddered. — You know... — I know, — The squirrel dog chuckled, — That in my country this is utter nonsense. But the nonsense is scary and this is attractive. A conductor ran past the wall. Judging by the sound, somewhere in another wagon. Then back and with someone else. — Voyage, — Belkin called the unicorn back from the circle of thoughts. — What happened to those ponies? I shot at them... — I don't know. Some kind of evil magic. And... I should probably tell you... Thank you... for being suspicious. For the cruelty. That sounds silly, doesn't it? — They'll be looking for me, — Said the squirrel dog, looking out the window. — Yes, — The unicorn shivered. — They'll be looking for you. And not at all to thank for the possible rescue of passengers, if not ponies of the whole region, from an incomprehensible scourge. — Hm. Won't you be very offended if I say that I assumed something like this? And by the way, what happens if I get killed or seriously injured in the process of being «caught»? — There will be a trial. And it depends a lot on who did it and under what circumstances. — The Guard? — The Guards won't get anything, but their commander will get a lot of trouble. They can demote him. Or they can limit themselves to verbal censure or even approve of it, if you did not just run away, but also shot back. But... you said yourself that you are not a pony... — The Night Watch? — Similarly. From Luna's point of view, no one has the right to protect their lives from any attack of Corona's bloodlust. Valentine somehow looked past the unicorn in a bad way. Promising. — Ordinary ponies? — According to the situation. Accidentally killed? Then they will forgive or make you forget. Got into a shootout? Then the whole town will be punished with ringing beats. For political arbitrariness. Was it intentionally killed? Then it can be different, from memory erasure to prison. Most likely, it will be a huge period of community service... — So that everyone can see that only Princesses have the right to kill? Bon Voyage did not reply. Someone ran through the hallway again. The unicorn waited a little longer and pressed the square button again. He muttered something about «everyone's crazy out there». After another stomping, the call was turned off again.***
He went out into the corridor and went to sort it out. To demand tea. To be honest, I had no time for scandals. My eyes hurt terribly, my head was spinning. So, it seems, and nothing, but as they began to draw on the map, it became really bad. In the general wagon, Voyage conjured something for me, but it didn't help much. I'm here for this magic, like a ferromagnet for magnetic field lines. Everyone inside. But arimaspi is... Is it impossible to change the environment parameters? I got up. Damn, well, you can't drag the unicorn back to the compartment by the tail to calm down? And then they yelled at my traveling companion. It's good to yell like that. It's hysterical. As I could barely make out, it was about some pony dying. So... Why would she be dying? I followed Voyage out into the corridor. By the way, the ponies have a funny defensive reaction. In order not to panic, they begin to cling to some orderly actions and look for flaws. To demand something that will tell them: «Everything will be fine, it's just temporary difficulties!» Clay Cap, who has already been through lawsuits, fines, swearing and bossy cunts, begins to aggressively find out if I have an electrician's degree. Charming Coal, who is sewing up with the pistons of a steam engine because of a partner who fucked up at a wedding and the general lack of staff at the depot, makes a face that one layer of sealant is not enough. Clin Dish looks at me with a smart and frowning look as I fix the switch, although I just uncovered that I'm not dragging anything in this. And now Voyage. He had a completely unnecessary meeting, moreover, with such shit, which had to be felled from three barrels, including a horn. By the way, they didn't fail. Fuck, he should drink local vodka without wincing or tasting it, and look through the wall with his fucking eyes! But no! Our Bon Voyage is going to figure out why they don't serve him tea! I'm good too. The cartographer, damn it. I found something to distract myself with. They have a visual aid from the Howard Phillipych bestiary jumping through space behind the train, and I added. Here! I know such public! Okay, let's try to sort it out. Although, I've already «handled» the tractor. I almost got into trouble. And that cheerful arimaspi will also be remembered to me. But something has to be done.***
— Go take a look for now, and I'll look for a medic in the carriages, — Valentine lightly nudged the stalled Bon Voyage with his hip. — Yes, I already asked! — The conductor blocking the way almost cried. — Then lead the way. We can't make it any worse, — The strange creature decided. The conductor pony rose up on its hind legs as usual and turned around. He led him. Bon Voyage, who looked back a couple of times, also went. Yes, stallion, you can get used to the sight of dying pest animals, but when a pony dies... yes, it is a pony. A scene with a dying yak, a minotaur or someone else you would have survived normally. Or not? The pony has already been moved to the chief's compartment. The pegasus boss himself looked stupid, as only ponies and elderly people when all their experience it's flying down the diamond dog's tail. He stood, looked around and tried to give some orders. The pony from the compartment screamed in a squeaky way. She stared blindly at the ceiling with her right eye. The left one somehow fell into the eye socket and did not open. New, poorly formed eyes poked out closer to the bridge of the nose. Well, you can't call this part snoring, can you? Although, soon there will be no way to name it. — My daughter, — Pony said with a twisted mouth. Still a pony. Something purple was oozing out of the non-functioning eye. Belkin sighed. He carefully lifted the pony's feverishly dry foreleg. The overalls were removed from the pony, and it was visible how something was pulling on the inflamed skin from the inside on the shoulder blade. The inflamed redness is visible even through the wool. — Did you look at him? — Belkin recognized the typist who wanted to kick him out of the cabin of the locomotive. The same dirty yellow pony color. Now, however, the mark in the form of a candle stub became visible. — They change everything... Everything is around... Daughter... — Voyage, — Belkin scooped up a bunch of climbing brittle wool from a transforming pony, looked at it and threw it on the bunk, — Do you know any spell of hibernation, long cold sleep, imaginary death? Is there anything to slow down the process? The unicorn shook his head. His eyes are strangely dry, apparently he can't even cry. Sentimentality ends with certain things. — It's accelerating, — Someone said from the doorway of the compartment. Belkin turned around angrily. He was silent for a second, then asked quietly: — Do I understand correctly that pegasi do not ride trains? Or? — I've already asked, — Their conductor replied. — There's a pegasus there that can get to Irvind more than twice as fast as a train. But she's with the foals. — Can someone take care of the little ones? — They are... They are still very young, they can't do without their mother... — I'll go, — Belkin turned to Bon Voyage. — Look, you're going to have to stay with this pony... Still a pony? ...while I'm trying to persuade that winged one. — And if, — The unicorn began plaintively, — The process... — Bring her back to consciousness with magic and offer her death. Let her decide. Valentine thought that the ponies would have to be pushed aside, cursed, explained something... no, they pressed themselves into who's where, letting the squirrel dog pass.***
— What's your name? — Valentine, who sat down on the bench opposite, pretended that he was going to touch the pony's front leg. He didn't touch it. — Do you really care? I'm not going anywhere! Don't you understand that I can't leave the children alone? — A nervous pegasus with a reddish-pink coloring, including a mane, wings and tail of a slightly different shade, immediately realized what was the matter. — Isn't there anyone in the whole carriage who can look after the babies? Or are these ponies not to be trusted? — I... I don't know! — The pony covered the foals who were not very scared with her wings, as if an evil squirrel dog had come from that «parent police» that only fuses the children taken from the poor mother to pedophiles. By the way, pegasus and earth pony. It's weird, isn't it? And the colors are completely not parental. — It is necessary to notify the city authorities as soon as possible, if saving the life of that pony is not worth your attention. But it's a city! They can send couriers, use the telegraph or something, but Canterlot needs to know what happened. Otherwise, it will happen in Irvind, and in these Crawlers and Runners of yours, and in... who else have I forgotten? — The squirrel dog didn't seem to be going to threaten at all, he was scaring with forecasting. — But I can't... Really, I can't! Please... Valentine was hailed. — Hey, mister dog! There... You are very much needed. Valentine sighed and stood up. What else could have happened there? — Don't try to persuade her, — The constructor said quietly. — It's not necessary anymore. The squirrel dog walked briskly along the road. The pony was trying to say something to his back, stomping after him. We passed another economy class wagon, passed through the one in which Belkin was traveling under unclear conditions. Again, the familiar official. A heavy, strange smell, something disgusting on the cot that had been a pony until recently. Some kind of crooked tumor was added to the forehead. Is the horn climbing? — Please... Daughter... Valentine was looking at... fuck knows what he was already looking at. — Can you do it quickly and without hurting? — The sick monster asked. — Are you sure? — The infection was clearly magical, and the squirrel dog overcame his squeamishness by sitting on the edge of the bed, which was probably flooded with some kind of secretions. — It changes everything in my head. It eats up memory and replaces it with incomprehensible things. Scary. Not from here. — Maybe some magic will help? — I don't want to live like this. I just can't anymore. It... Take care of your daughter... — What's her name? — Bright Candle. She's a unicorn. Wasn't I lucky? Mom is an earth pony, and my daughter is a unicorn. We live in Foaledo, Flower Street, eighteen. Near the bakery and shoe workshop. Daughter... She wanted so much to get new school supplies... And now... She's there alone. But we have relatives in Southstock... And my parents, — What was a pony paused. — I can't take it anymore. Do it. — Are you absolutely sure? — Let's hurry up, it's eating my soul! — What is your name? — Valentine took out a pistol, opened it, pulled out a misfired cartridge and put it in his pocket. He slammed the gun back, making sure that the number in the window corresponds to the barrel. Last. — Melting Candle, — Brownish saliva bubbled on the pony's horribly distorted lips. — Come on already. Please! Belkin realized that all these questions were just stalling for time. And he's already gone. He stood up and, without giving himself time to recover, put a gun to the head of the former pony. And he fired. The pony's body arched terribly, with a crunch of vertebrae. The thick skin on the hind legs burst, revealing something that did not look like a pony's hoofs. The tail curled viciously into a ring, lifting the distorted body. And it was over. Belkin stared at the unnatural-colored splashes on the compartment wall. It stank of gunpowder smoke. The smell of uncleaned teeth came in sharply. Putrid and eating into the nose. — Bon Voyage? — I couldn't... I'm sorry... — Have you heard about the daughter? — Yes, of course. — We must somehow find out where she is, and what kind of relatives she has. And shouldn't the child be taken away from them, or else you never know. At any other time, ponies would have reacted very violently to «you never know», but not now. — It is necessary to wrap the body in something and freeze it somehow, — The squirrel dog, splattered with unclean blood, turned to the boss of the train. — I'll help, — Bon Voyage whispered, until the boss spread his wings characteristically and fainted. — Not to freeze, of course, but to save. There is a bad spell... The squirrel dog waved his paw and went to wash his face.***
— Maybe we should have locked her in the compartment. Well, tie her up again? — How long does it take to transform? — Belkin asked, taking a sip from his cup. — But how do I know? — And I do not know. But I don't want to go with one bullet to the one-eyed necromorph who broke down the door. — This is the word... — Changing the dead, — Squirrel dog took another sip and grimaced. Some alcoholic medicinal tincture was generously poured into their tea. It is not known what kind of herbs were there, but the main active ingredient was clearly alcohol. As Belkin already knew from conversations with Coal, the alcohol of the ponies was also ethyl, and they were blind and dead from methanol. However, according to that engineer, the ponies demonstrated some kind of resistance to technical fluids. Was it worth believing these words? — A necromorph? — The unicorn picked up or came up with an Equestrian analogue, which made something click in Belkin's head on the topic of medicine. — But it was possible... — Voyage, tell me, are the Elements of Harmony really that strong? — Very strong. Almost omnipotent. — Then why is there a cemetery in Dodge City, Applusa and, dare I say, in other cities? — Eh? Well, ponies are mortal. Only alicorns live indefinitely. — Why don't the Elements of Harmony bring every dead pony back to life? Why do ponies die at all, if this is the case, well, with the Elements? — Well, this is a very difficult question... It's not that simple! — Bon Voyage hid his gaze. — And I'll tell you why. Or is all the talk about Harmony completely false, and the Elements are weapons that erase from reality what is undesirable for one of the Princesses... — Or? — Or? There will be an «or» for you. Forest, meadow, overgrown pond, etc... Does it have Harmony? — Of course! — Possesses. That's all I've named. And you agreed with that. And all of the above, as you know, but do not want to remember, is a platform for continuous murders of varying degrees of cruelty. Birds devour insects and destroy plant grains, predators catch birds, parasites eat everyone from the inside and themselves die from bacteria and virusov, and even plants try to suffocate or deprive a neighbor of sunlight. Here is your Harmony. A short life excitedly at the expense of the endless and obligatory death of someone else. Until they devour you. And more... — Finish it, — The unicorn looked at Valentine strangely and sadly. — Someday your sun will start to go out. One can assume different astronomical options, but life on the planet will cease completely with any of them. And long before that, as something tells me, «harmonious» ponies will degenerate and disappear as a species. Is this Harmony too? It's still natural... — Valentine, you are a monster. — Do you regret that you didn't leave me in the desert? — Some cowardly part of me feels very sorry. Because he's afraid. The other part is even more afraid, and not only for themselves. And this part... forces... to do different things... to help the monster. — What did you say about the damage to the rigging? — Do you agree? — I'm a monster. This is my way, — The male dog squirrel grinned. — Moreover, I feel that this path will end soon. They were silent. They drank tea that had already cooled down, even if the thick walls of the cups tried to keep the heat. That added potion turned the drink into an outright alcoholic abomination. A bum's dream, damn it. — You said: «Your sun». — You guessed right. — You guessed it too. With a cutie mark, — Bon Voyage shivered. The morning flooded the surroundings with light, it was not cold in the wagon, but... — Sales have already started in Canterlot... Hearth Day... the sun is decreasing in winter, — The unicorn almost whispered, as if he personally did not have this holiday. — Many simple ponies think that this is Celestia... — Does the planet have an elliptical orbit? — Yes. Not much, but enough to feel... Belkin was thinking. If this world is completely virtual, then why so many details? If not at all, then we should expect «desynchronization» for daylight saving time. No diving. But then there are questions about the mechanism of psychoprojection. Why does this squirrel carrier dog suddenly appear and disappear almost without a trace? Why is a burned-out skull a marker for the next cast? How does gazing at the sky help you get back out? Where, after all, do these interesting memory effects come from?***
— I terribly maimed three foals when I was in school. I almost killed him. And I still don't know if the Princesses guessed it. And I'm afraid. All I do all the time is run back and forth and get scared. — Did you intentionally use them? — The question was asked solely so that the Voyage would not be silenced again, Belkin did not give a shit about those completely unfamiliar foals. — I was defending myself. These stallions from high school, who, forgive me for being rude, could be plowed, decided that I would get off them instead of a filly. But they did not realize that strength alone is not enough. Both physical and magical. What is the power of the mind. — What are you doing to them? Something secret-family? Or a side effect of some kind of spell to change the permeability? Like, you made a blotter, but instead of paper you used the walls of the vessels? — No. But you were incredibly close now. Did I mention that you are a monster? The locomotive creaked its wheels somewhere ahead. A branch line to New Haven. Stop. Coal. Water. Inspection of the composition. — It doesn't leave me feeling like I have to run wherever I look, — Valentine glanced out the window. — Sit down. Enjoy the ride. Or get some sleep if you can — The unicorn also burned out all his strength with this merry night and nodded off. — I'll wind up the clock so I can get up in advance. And then you can get off on the move in front of the city. There is no need to explain the road, you will reach it along the tracks. I will try to meet you and take you to your place. — And how will the locals react? — Nothing. But we will have to act out the scene «The important unicorn and his dim-witted servant, the diamond dog». Won't you be offended? — No. Moreover, it worked once. But then what about the passengers? Rumors, conversations, letters to relatives and even Celestia... — Well, the town is bubbling. As for the Solar Princess, then, I suppose, in her office they read not such nonsense. Moreover, all the letters will reach there just in time for the completion of the investigation and will simply be archived. And do not think about arimaspi's corpse, while the Night Watch and the Guard will divide it and determine it according to the authorities, those who find bullet wounds will be wiped out from this story. Then all this may come up, but... — I won't be here by then. — I hope so, too. As a last resort, I'll find a boat to Las Pegasus. And you... — I'll just disappear. It's time to go home.***
— So, to summarize, — Chrysalis was sitting in a folding chair on the deck of the sandboat and squinting in the late morning sun. — A strange magical inversion in the Badlands, a distortion of magic somewhere there... The changelings simultaneously turned to the west. — By the way, did everyone notice that the lineup didn't go through with Foaledo? There was, and back... — And what does that mean, my queen? — Night Scope asked. — Tickets are not sold out? — This means that trains with guards may well be rolling into the same Dodge City. And somewhere in the direction of Irvind, too. With some other Legion. And one of them will definitely look into Foaledo, because there is a passage through the Jungle not far away. Spark? — Nothing, my queen, — The shifter, listening to the electric waves of the ether, sighed. — The noise is only. Even the Mainhatten is not breaking through. — Thus, it can be concluded that some nonsense has happened on witchcraft grounds again at the Sunny-ass. In happy Equestria, as usual, beda za bedoy, — The queen of the shifters frowned at the sky and quietly added, — Prishol zherebets, okazalsya s pizdoy. Nearby, Night Spirit swallowed a portion of air in amazement. — Strangely enough, our plans don't change, — Chrysalis became serious. — We are moving along the «piece of iron» to Foaledo. We're hiding our boat. We buy coal. But then there will be options. — We are listening to our queen, — Breathed Rong Step, the almost permanent helmsman. Chrysalis, by the way, tried to steer under his sensitive hoof breeding. She suspected that the bridge watchers had thought a lot about her driving style that they couldn't say out loud. — Next we need to go to Klugetown, to the base. And here there are options. The first. If we buy coal, we can rush to Southstock, get fuel there, and then follow the cloud front along the edge of the desert. Long, but reliable. The plan may fail if we don't get enough fuel. But we have two points where you can shop. In Southstock, without options, we will show the car to everyone, there is nowhere to hide it on the coast. We can crawl along the front on batteries, there are winds there. But it will be faster on foot. — The second option, with the Queen's permission, will be a straight cut through the desert? — Yes. On firewood right now, or with coal and firewood, if we take a good look at Foaledo. But there may not be enough stock. Decide. Haitin Vil? — I'm for a quick way. Only on coal or on firewood... Again, we can buy all the sawdust and this is a product for cleaning fabrics and diluting paints. It seems to be gasoline, — The captain grimaced. — And we shouldn't show our boat to all the different ponies. Chrysalis nodded. — Then let's go to Foaledo for fuel and provisions. Let's try to sell the crystals from that flying ship. — Why do they need them? — The captain did not understand. — They'll dump them in Southstock. There is an intermediate stop for transoceanic airships to Colombak or Kirin Greuv. They'll tear them off with hoofs. — I think Klugetown will play out somehow, — Silent Spark muttered softly. — How do the Princesses tolerate this freedom? — As with normal airships, the whole Equestria is fucked up, and they are tolerated. Moreover, crystals cannot be enchanted without unicorns, and without enchanted glass, a normal airship turns into an almost useless balloon without an engine. I think everyone can imagine how much a steam engine weighs. As a result, everyone needs each other, all conditions are rolled out to each other. And the reason for everything, I repeat, is the inability to build an airship without levitating crystals. — What about?.. — And also! — Chrysalis turned abruptly to the «radio operator». — Why did you think I messed with those ponies? Solely because of your addiction to transmitters and receivers? They may not have beautiful carriages, various things of pure unicorn make, elegant clothes... But they have something else! And you saw it! A gently snowy flat almost triangular miracle. Oval rounded nose, thin tips extending the thick base of the wing. Dovetail. A pair of shining trail of frost in the sky. An unattainable miracle for the wings of pegasus. — Your Majesty, — Night Spirit said softly, — We all approve of your choice. All the changelings that followed you back then. — Then... Then let's get to work! Cap, command! — The hole-legged alicorn got up from his chair. — And let someone buy fish in this Foaledo. The team was running around. Someone stumbled inside the sand truck and swore in Staliongrad. Someone else carefully pulled the chair, which Chrysalis folded and held with her front foot, while she surveyed the bustle and surroundings. — Spark! — I'm here, my queen! — You said that you could work on the transmission with a telegraphic code. — You can try, my queen, the scheme is assembled and waiting only for you, — Silent Spark nodded. — But they can hear us. Do we use a standard cipher? — I'll think about it. What worries me is not the strength of the cipher, but the detection of the very fact of transmission. However, — Chrysalis remembered something, — The Guard still uses a magical connection. Well, let's take a chance.***
— Luna, Brightest In The Night, did you see? — Hiding his head under a wide helmet made of expensive soft and porous bark of an overseas tree, the thestral nodded in the direction of this Ms. Wave. — Well? They were specially selected all over Equestria. Haven't you seen enough yet? — The second mousepony looked around the playground. — I'm not talking about wings! — What's wrong again? If it wasn't for the service and duty to the species, I would have hit on it. Quite a pretty filly. — She's got these... what's their? Skateboards with wheels! Are they here, hay in their ass, going for a ride? Did we make a playground for them for this? — As if you were making it! — The second thestral grinned. Of course! Someone pulls a healthy stone skating rink (delivered by pegasus through the air, previously pasted with levitating crystals of incredible size and cost), and someone «provides security and surveillance». The unicorns then did something with the long platform, having previously sprayed the enchanted area with some kind of liquid. Filter masks were used. Actually, there was something strange going on here, near this abandoned village of Canter Creek. Starting with the fact that it was impossible to fly over the ruins of an ancient fortress located not so far away. One thestral has already been airlifted to the Canterlot Hospital. There is also a feeling of disgust when looking in that direction. At everyone. — By the way, someone was here. And he skillfully erased the tracks, — One Night Guard said to another. — The Keepers were here. Guess where they went, — The second one chuckled. — And the tracks were erased because of the next secrets of Celestia from the Mistress. Look! Brittle Wave, already with her camera strapped on, a small balloon for that slightly intoxicating air with an increased oxygen content, with a mask dangling from her neck, came out to the edge of the playground. She shifted her hind legs. Because of the shoes with wheels, the croup is almost level with the head. — Did she trim her flight feathers? Like, she's flying pretty well anyway? — Yes. She cut it and smeared it with some kind of varnish. They almost all do that. This is what they call «cooking endings». — What nonsense. She won't slow down like that! And pegasus, half-opening her wings, put on her flight goggles and walked at a brisk pace. The front legs give out a beautiful trot, and the hind legs barely move. Then she connected the rear ones, rolling out with a flourish, and pursed the front ones altogether. A long, coiled tail with a tip left in the form of a tassel was swinging. Then the wings straightened up and started working. Swing! The hind legs are just going. Another swing! The pony tucked its hind legs in, striking the wheels on the rolled surface a couple of times. And... it was like she didn't waste any energy at all. She just raised and lowered her long, narrow wings in a measured manner. Not the divine wide wings of the alicorn, all in filigree patterns on the plumage, not the bright neat wings of ordinary pegasuses, but... — Like a machine, — The one in the cork helmet said in fascination. — A dog's dick with this ancestral debt, — Decided the second. — I'll get it! — Yes, that's right! Something like non-magical birds, — The first one continued to think aloud about his own. — Well, good luck! It was unclear to whom the second thestral wished good luck. A friend? That pegasus? To yourself?***
It was snowing in Moscow.