Press Start to Drill
“...What was that?” Smart Cookie asked.
“I… I don’t know.” Clover the Clever replied.
“It— it formed from all of the—” Pansy said.
“Don’t say it! I-If you do you’ll ruin the joke!” Chancellor Puddinghead said.
“What joke?!” Princess Platinum looked at the Chancellor in disbelief.
“That this is all a really elaborate plan by the… unicorns! Yeah, the unicorns are pranking us! A-as a show of… good will?” Puddinghead laughed nervously.
“That is the most ASININE thing you have ever said and I’ve been your assistant for years!” Cookie snorted.
“L-look, I can’t handle… that… thing very well.”
“Well, you won’t have to since it swore vengeance on the pony race hundreds of years in the future from now.” Clover noted.
“From now? So our descendents will suffer instead?” Commander Hurricane asked.
“Yes, they’ll find a way to deal with it… probably.”
“Probably?!” Pansy exclaimed.
“Well, I mean it’s so far away in time that—”
“B-but it can come back! W-what if it comes early?! W-what do we—”
“Enough, Pansy!” Hurricane interrupted. “Before we go into a blind panic, has it been dealt with?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” Pansy replied.
“And no one else besides us knows about it?”
“N-No, Sir.”
“So, we can’t do anything about it? Us, specifically? Outside of warning future generations?”
“N-No, Sir. We can’t. We’ll be long dead.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Warn our people and do our best to prepare them for the return of that creature.”
“What if it comes back and we’re at each other’s throats again? We only just managed to get everyone to barely tolerate each other within the last few weeks. What will things be like in hundreds of years?” Platinum inquired.
“I reckon this peace can last,” Cookie remarked.
“Yeah! We’ll just make everyone super duper happy with constant parties and sweets and—” Puddinghead went off on a list of random items.
“B-but how will we know that they’ll be prepared?!” Pansy exclaimed.
“We can always just be there ourselves,” Clover said.
“...”
“Explain, Clover,” Platinum demanded.
“As I said. We’ll just be there for when the time comes. If we can’t trust our descendents to heed our warnings from beyond the grave then we just won’t leave at all.”
“And how do you propose we do that?! Ponies don’t live for a thousand years!” Cookie stomped her hoof.
“Not normally, but—
“I have a spell in mind.”
Soarin remembered the first day he’d been made an official Wonderbolt. Top physical condition, roguish good looks, and top bolt in terms of potential. He’d been made the youngest Captain in the history of the team, achieving the rank through technical perfection and physical prowess. His arrogance was backed by numerous accolades and told the story of somepony at the top of their game.
But, like all greats, there was an inevitable fall.
Now, looking in the standing mirror by his desk, he had to confront his low point. His low, low point. The bags under his eyes were big enough to sell real estate in and his mane was deflated and streaked with gray. His fur had gotten patchy especially in the places where fat had replaced what had once been lean muscle and any attempts to flex just gave the ghost of what was.
He was old. Older than he should look in his forties, but that was the price one paid to keep in top physical condition on the team. You got short term gains that eventually paid dividends later on in life. A life that transitioned from famous stunt flier to behind-the-scenes desk jockey.
This wasn’t his first song and dance. His body, the current one, was reaching the end of the line, a point of no return, and, for the first time in a long, long while, Soarin found it hard to decide on his next steps.
On his next body.
Thump. A stack of papers were dropped onto his desk. Thunderlane peeked around the pile with a massive dopey grin on his face.
“More forms for ya, Soarin,” he said.
“Yeah, thanks,” Soarin muttered.
Trotting back to his desk, he fought back the wince as his joints creaked. A new development he didn’t particularly like. Dropping into his worn desk chair with a huff, he began to go through the forms. A quick glance showed it was another round of injury reports.
“More of Dash’s experimental routines?” Soarin asked.
“Yeeep,” Thunderlane replied. He sighed. “Nothing serious, just a few sprains and lost feathers. Most of them are just being babies about it.”
Back in his day, and he hated to say those words, it was rare that a single injury form would cross the administration desk. Now, it was happening almost daily ever since Rainbow Dash had been made Captain after Spitfire’s ‘retirement’.
She was good, but didn’t understand the concept of restraint. She pushed the Bolts past their limits. Frankly, too far. On one hoof, it made the Bolts more popular than ever before, on the other… Well, that was what the forms were for. The issue wouldn’t nearly be so bad, but Thunderlane was spineless. Where Soarin had kept Spitfire in check as her co-captain, Thunderlane was little more than a yes stud.
Soarin rifled through the stack. He came to one report with an extensive list of injuries and winced.
“I see your brother took the worst of it this time,” Soarin remarked.
“Yeeeah, Rumble has been pushing it too hard in practice lately. Was kind of inevitable.” Thunderlane rubbed the back of his head with a wing. “He’s desperate to prove he’s the best on the squad and, well, he’s not being smart about it.”
Glancing through the forms, Soarin raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Is he really only nineteen?”
“Joined as soon as he could. Wanted to follow after his big brother.” Thunderlane puffed out his chest in pride. “One of the youngest to join the Bolts ever.”
A new flier going into the height of his career with plenty of ambition and raw talent. Even though he was injured now, he was young. He’d bounce back in no time at all and be better than before, ready to take on the new routines. He was going to go far.
It was a temptation.
“Hope he recovers soon,” Soarin said.
“Same. Anyways, gotta go. Dash, er, Captain Dash wants to go over the next routine some more.” Thunderlane gave a mock salute. “Later Soarin!”
Then Thunderlane left, leaving Soarin with a lot to think about.
“Supplanting into another pony’s mind? How does that even— No, actually I don’t think I want to know the specifics. The words alone make me feel nauseous,” Platinum said.
“It's the only way to stay alive until that thing comes back. Keep our youth, cycle through in positions of power then, when the time comes, relay the necessary information to subdue the beast. Or, better yet, deal with it ourselves,” Clover explained.
“Well, I don’t rightly think sealing it—” Cookie said.
“Not sealing it. Killing it,” Clover interrupted. “I’ve already started developing a spell to destroy it as soon as it reappears. The problem is that it's keyed to us.”
“Which means we’ll need to be around in some form to use it. Would it not be a problem to be in a different pony’s body?” Platinum asked.
“So long as the mind and spirit is intact, it will work fine,” Clover replied.
“So just scoop and dump into a pony of our choice and we’re good to go!” Puddinghead cheered.
“... I-I don’t like this…” Pansy said.
“Well, we don’t really have a choice. We do this or we doom our descendents to the whims of that monster,” Clover said.
“I reckon that this be the lesser evil in the grand scheme of things,” Cookie remarked.
“B-But taking—!” Pansy exclaimed.
“It’s for the greater good of our people. As much as this is… detestable, I shudder to think of the alternative should we leave them be,” Platinum interjected.
“S-Still—”
“Do it,” Hurricane commanded.
“C-Commander?”
“We can’t leave the future uncertain. We’re doing this,” Hurricane replied.
“B-But, the first body you’re taking is…”
“...My son would forgive me.”
“...”
“W-Well, I got the cake and champagne, shall we celebrate our first ever supplanting?” Puddinghead said.
“Yes, let’s. To a brighter future!” Platinum cheered.
“To a brighter future!” They replied in unison.
Soarin scowled at the cutesy cloud home. It was pinkish in colour with the smell of baked goods wafting out the windows. He rapped on the door. It swung open. A cyan mare with a poofy dark blue mane appeared.
“Hello! What can I—” The mare smirked. “Soarin.”
“Spitfire,” Soarin replied. “I need to talk.”
“Sure! Come on in.” She stepped to one side. “Want some pie?”
He thought about the number on the scale from that morning then about how he’d never fly with the Bolts in this body again and decided the number growing larger didn’t matter.
“Yeah, sure. Apple?”
“Blueberry. Bubble prefers it.” She snickered. “Sorry, I prefer it.”
Soarin grunted then trotted inside. Spit— Bubble (He needed to get that straight in his head), walked past him and into the kitchen. He took a seat on a fluffy pink sofa and wrinkled his nose.
The interior was excessively feminine which was such a jarring juxtaposition against her last body’s preferences.
Bubble returned with a thick slice of pie. She took a seat opposite him and smiled, waiting for him to speak first. He really shouldn’t eat the pie (especially after the last visit with his doctor), but he wanted to avoid the conversation for longer. Plus, Soarin’s, his, cravings were absurd.
The pie lasted a minute. The guilt would last him to the end of the week.
“Glad you enjoyed my pie. I've been honing my skills for weeks, which wasn’t hard since this body already knew what to do.” She giggled.
“I see you’re enjoying your new skin,” Soarin said.
“Baker and upcoming Wonderbolt weren’t what I expected to go for, but the novelty is definitely appreciated with how many times we’ve done this.” She shrugged. “Sooo, how’d your day go?”
“...Fine,” Soarin muttered.
“...Really?” She scowled before her mouth flipped and took on a predatory glint. “You sure, buddy? I can see your insomnia is getting pretty bad and can tell with just a look why you’re regretting that pie.”
He gritted his teeth.
“And are those bald spots?” She cackled. “Really letting yourself go, huh? Once a top athlete, and now a has-been still clinging to the old times by doing paperwork. I’d be sooo embarrassed if—”
“Are you done?” Soarin interrupted.
“No.” She slammed her hooves on the table. “You’re being an idiot about this. There is a time limit to jumping ship and you’re getting to the end of it. I can’t believe you’ve left it for this long.”
“I know, but I just…” Soarin trailed off.
“Just what, Commander?” Bubble leaned in close, her words laced with venom. “Funny that I should be named Pansy when it's clear how much of a wuss you are.”
He glared at her. “I thought we weren’t gonna use names?”
“That was before you decided to be a loser about this. Are you feeling guilty?” He looked away. “Seriously? We’ve been doing this for hundreds of years and only now do you feel bad about it?”
“I just don’t see the point anymore,” Soarin groused. “Ponies get along fine. Equestria is safe, mostly. We aren’t actually needed anymore.”
“No. No, you don’t get to pull that. Not after you made me go through with this. We’re sticking through this and you don’t get to ‘give up’ when we’re almost at the end.” Bubble snarled. “We’re here for the long haul whether you like it or not.”
So we continue living the high life. Do whatever we want as the centuries pass. We deserve luxury because we’ve been standing watch, preparing for that thing’s eventual return.
Hundreds of years made that thought feel bitter.
“...I’m not sure if this is the right thing to do anymore,” Soarin replied. He crossed his forelegs. “Equestria has its defenders. What does it need us for?”
“...You’re not getting out of this,” Bubble said.
“What?”
“Take this.” She threw an object at him.
He caught it. A keyring.
“What’s this for?” Soarin asked.
“Rumble’s hospital room. He had an accident at practice because someone placed a cloud where they shouldn’t have.” Bubble narrowed her eyes. “He’s currently holed up in a hospital room. Alone. You’re gonna take this chance I gave you. I know you’re already tempted.”
“Pan— Spit— Bubble, I told you—”
She slapped him across the face. “Wake up, Hurricane. If you won’t do this for the greater good, then I’ll remind you of why you took this opportunity. You hate old age. You hate getting weaker. You’re afraid of death. Use this to get access to Rumble and take his body. And if you don’t—
“I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Well, hello, um, Typhoon. How are— I can’t.” Pansy shook her head.
“You have to,” Hurricane replied.
“I can’t. This is wrong, Commander! I—”
“The others will be here in the next few minutes. Get it together, Windy.”
“I-I— okay. Um, h-how are you, Typhoon?”
“Great. And how are you, Windy?”
“A-also, great.”
“...”
“Hello, new friends! I am so happy to see you! Glad to see you’re adjusting well to your new environment?” Puddinghead grinned widely.
“Yeah, doing fine. Great. Where is—?” Hurricane said.
“Howdy there, partner.” Cookie said.
“Hello, hello, dears.” Platinum said.
“Greetings.” Clover said.
“Wow, we all really just—” Cookie started.
“Pick differently coloured versions of ourselves?” Clover finished.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure with a new coat of paint we would just be us again.”
“Well, it is the first. Makes sense we’d gravitate to the familiar… or I suppose in a few of our cases very familiar.”
“...”
“I didn’t want to ask, but what happens to…?” Platinum asked.
“Gone. The prior consciousness disappears and our old body dissolves over time. No trace so long as you set things up properly before the supplant,” Clover explained.
“Oh! That works perfectly then!” Platinum remarked.
“Yeah, I reckon that’s pretty convenient,” Cookie added.
“Well, of course, darling! Clover always covers all her bases.”
“S-she is quite thorough…” Pansy said.
“So, shall we celebrate?!” Puddinghead announced.
“Celebrate what?” Hurricane asked.
“Our new bodies! Our new futures! All the things we’ll accomplish! That’s worth celebrating, right?!”
“Yes, it is.”
“C-Commander— Sorry, Typhoon, I’m not sure—” Pansy said.
“Butter has the right idea,” Hurricane interrupted. “Let’s raise a toast to our new vigilance as we await the return of the beast. To us!”
“To us!” They all said in unison.
Soarin was caught in indecision. Whether to go the way he was used to or to stop while he was ahead. Bubble had gotten to the core of his fears and it rattled him.
They were in the wrong. Equestria didn’t really need them and perpetuating the lie was bad, but… he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t stand the thought of living out the rest of Soarin’s life to the end. Decrepit, weak, and forgotten in a lonely corner office. Fading into obscurity.
So, he went to the only other pony he could talk to about it. Even if it was in a roundabout way.
“Hey, Soarin! Good to see ya!” Dash greeted.
Soarin nodded, and sat down next to her. He watched the routine. The recruits were performing the advanced maneuvers Dash had recently implemented. It was flawless. Weeks of injury and repetition had culminated into a glorious display of aerial prowess.
His heart ached to join him as his body reminded him of the impossibility of doing so.
“I see the new routine is coming together,” Soarin remarked.
“Yeah, it’s going great. Newbies are really putting in their all,” Dash said.
“It shows,” Soarin agreed. “Promising bunch?”
“Nah.” Soarin looked at her in surprise. “Not a single natural talent amongst the lot of them. They’re just hard workers willing to put in the time to get better.”
“Hm. Definitely different from when Spitfire and I ran things.”
“I think that’s a good thing. Changing things up. Getting a different feel from team to team. Let the new overtake the old.”
Soarin twitched. It hit a little too close to home. They dissolved into silence for a moment.
“...Have you thought about your retirement at all?” Soarin asked.
“Retirement?” Dash snorted. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Just wondering what you were planning to do after your term of Captain is done.”
“Well, I guess I’d just go back to being a Bolt depending on when that happens or transition into being a trainer. I don’t wanna just drop off the face of Equestria like Spitfire or…” Dash trailed off.
“...Or what?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Clearly it does or you wouldn’t have stopped.”
“Soarin, please—”
“What?” Soarin could feel the heat of anger inside of him. “What’s the ‘or’, Dash?”
Dash huffed. “Look, I just don’t end up like— no, I don’t wanna say it.”
“Don’t stop there, Dash. Like who?”
“Can we just—”
“No,” Soarin interrupted.
“...You.” Dash winced. “Look, I’m sorry. That came out—”
“And what’s so bad about how I ended up?”
“Soarin—”
“No. Say it.” Soarin glared. “Finish what you started, Crash.”
Dash glared back. “You look like trash. Like, come on! You’re a ghost of what you were! You were Top Bolt for years and then in the course of just a few years, you became the most forgettable member of the squad!”
“I was the best Captain the Bolts ever had!”
“Yeah, emphasis on the ‘was’.” Dash rolled her eyes. “Look. I don’t know why at the end of your career you decided to go out on a whimper, but I don’t want to end up stuck in an office all day doing paperwork.”
“It’s important work!”
“It’s boring!” She snorted. There was red in her cheeks. “When I’m done doing stunts, I want to help the next generation train!”
“What, you think I can’t train the newbies?!”
“Soarin, look at you!” Dash gestured at him with a wing. “I’ll ignore the shape you’re in right now and instead just ask: when was the last time you went flying?”
He kept silent.
“Exactly.” Dash sighed. “You aren’t capable of this anymore. You should just—”
“Just what?” Soarin growled. “What should I do?”
“Give up. Go vacationing. Travel. I know you’re loaded, you hoard bits like a dragon. You aren’t happy here, it’s long past time for you to move on and live the rest of your life. Just… go.”
She flapped her wings and shot off.
Soarin watched the recruits perform their next maneuver. He pictured himself flying amongst them.
But with gray fur and a black mane instead.
“Is your body different lately?” Pansy asked.
“...How so?” Hurricane replied.
“Like the supplanting normally is just a blink and you miss it thing but lately it's been… different.”
“...Maybe.”
“W-Well maybe we should ask—”
“Don’t.”
“B-but—”
“Pansy. Don’t.”
“N-no! I’ll talk with Clover. You’re experiencing the same changes too, aren’t you? T-the face splitting and—”
“Yes! Okay, yes! I am, but I just told you to stop.”
“Y-you aren’t my commander anymore, High Top. We’ve been doing this for decades. You can’t just tell me to shut up.”
“Well, what else can I do?! We’re changing. We look more like… that thing. The others aren’t acknowledging it and Clover hasn’t said that anything is wrong, so I have to presume it's fine.”
“...It’s never been fine.”
“...Yeah. I know.”
The door opened with a creak as Soarin stepped into the hospital room. It was the dead of night with only the light being the moon through the windows.
Rumble was fast asleep in his bed. Light snoring echoed off the white tiled walls and ceiling.
Soarin looked down at him.
He’d pulled the plug on this life. Quit the Bolts, said he was traveling, and sold everything off. Dash had even congratulated him on the way out and said she was happy for him. All the preparations had been made, but still Soarin… no, Hurricane hesitated.
Maybe in the pursuit of beating the creature that had kickstarted all of this, him and the others had become worse than it ever had been. Morally speaking, was it really correct for him to take this stallion’s life?
Yes, obviously.
He was certain of this. He was Commander Hurricane. He’d dedicated his life to guiding the Pegasi into the future and would continue to do so long after the fact. One stallion’s life was worth the continuation of a legacy. And besides that, he didn’t want to face Pansy or the hardships of old age. That wasn’t for him. Never would be.
This moral dilemma he’d gotten caught up in was pointless. Dash was right. It was time to move on with his life. His new one already lay spread out before him.
His face peeled back. Flesh and bone and skin opened into a serrated mouth. A whirring sound began to emanate from inside of him as his body geared up for the supplanting. Nothing he hadn’t done before.
‘Soarin’ would be nothing. ‘Rumble’ would continue the legacy.
The chain continued.