//------------------------------//
// Chapter 31: Disarmament 
// Story: Equestria 485,000 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

A problem had arisen in the lowest prison block. A mare had been dispatched to that part of the now fully reconfigured naval vessel to deal with whatever issue she might find. This mare was, specifically, the large mare that tended to be found around Light Gloom. She had a name, of course, but refused to go by it. She was of an admittedly minority opinion that if one was wearing a mask, their identity was supposed to be kept secret.

            There was really no other reason for it except for anonymity, as far as she could see. There was certainly no reason to hide her face; she, at least in her own opinion, was quite beautiful. Stunning, even. No implant or surgical scar had marred her face, and she would never dream of allowing such a thing. That could not be said for the others, of course. There was a clear reason they wore masks. She had seen them, and seen what they had looked like in the earliest ages of the Cult. Gaunt, pale, with wide eyes that never blinked and revealed various machines that swam in the vitreous humor.

            In ancient times, members had donned masks to hide their alterations from the uninitiated, so that they could move among pony society without disturbing others. In time, it had grown into a sign of humility to the Second-Least Goddess. Then, in time, the masks had become part of them, merged to their cybernetic bodies as closely as the computers that even by that time had slowly started to eat their living brains. The tall mare- -her name perpetually hidden by the mask she wore- -wondered what purpose they had come to serve now in the most modern age.

            She ruminated on these thoughts as she entered the mechanical door that had been constructed at the juncture between the ship and the brig that Light Gloom had constructed. The room beyond was large and round, although not circular. It had an eccentric and slightly oblong shape, its form determined by the same mathematics that decided the shape of all Cult ships.

            The mare immediately noticed the problem. She did not see it, but she heard it. From across the room came a low, wet wheezing sound. It was intermittent and not even; the large mare immediately understood that it was from labored breathing.

            She approached the cell. It’s front surface was constructed of transparent morphiplasm, more for the prisoner’s sake than the ponies who might have to examine them. This particular cell was identical to the others, but the pony it held was certainly not. This was the location where Light Gloom had deposited the ship’s former captain.

            The captain was lying on the ground in exactly the same uncomfortable, messy position she had been in the whole time. Her body was too atrophied to even turn herself over. It really was a pitiful sight; her legs splayed at random, and her formerly perfect mane and tale spread about in disarray. She looked weak and vulnerable. She was also breathing with extreme difficulty and gurgling. A pool of silver fluid had formed beneath her mouth and was growing.

            “What is this?” said the mare, somewhat disgusted.

            “Are you that thick?” called a voice from an adjacent cell.

            The mare looked up. “What did you just call me? Who are you?”

            “Heliotrope,” said the alicorn mare, pressing her head close to the glass and glaring harshly out. “Head logistics officer. Not that you care. And I called you thick, because if you can’t tell what’s wrong, you certainly are.”

            “She is ill.”

            “Of course she’s ill!” cried Heliotrope. “Do you have any idea what you did to her?”

            “Nothing. Not me, personally.”

            “I mean it collectively, don’t be a dunce.” Heliotrope looked at the captain, and the tall mare saw the pained expression on her face. “You tore her out of the machinery. That’s never been done before! It’s too dangerous! Her body can’t survive without the connection to the ship! She’s dying!”

            “So?”

            Heliotrope’s eyes narrowed. “So? How dare you say that!”

            “I’m…fine…” gurgled the captain, coughing softly and spraying silver fluid onto one of the nearby walls. Her large, blind eyes swiveled upward, searching for something that might have at least the silhouette of a pony. One of the eyes fell on the tall mare, although the mare could not be sure the captain actually saw any part of her.

            “No, she isn’t,” said Heliotrope. “She’s trying to hold on to at least some shred of honor after the humiliation you put her through. But her organs are collapsing.”

            “Please!” said a higher, third voice. A pair of large eyes poked to the edge of another cell. The large mare recognized those eyes as the one of the pony she had seen in the Dream Realm, Inky Nebula. Apart from her identity, it was also apparent that the young mare was crying. “Please, you have to help her!”

            “Inky?” said the captain, trying to lift her head. “Inky…don’t show her any fear. You’re…better than that…I’m fine…I’m…fine…”

            The tall mare looked at the gasping shell of a pony on the floor and considered for a moment.

            “I will send a Cult medic,” said the large mare at last.

            “No you won’t,” said Heliotrope.”

            “I won’t?”

            “No! What is she, an academic surgeon? Somepony who has never seen a real patient except in simulations and books? There is no way you have anypony who knows how help her!”

            “Then the alternative is to leave her. Which you clearly do not want. So stop yelling.”

            “I’m not yelling!” Heliotrope pointed across the room to a large, curved cell. It was filled with captured remni who had not yet been updated with their new Cult of Twilight Sparkle colors. They were standing and calmly watching, waiting for their turn. “We have a medical unit in there, one SPECIFICALLY programmed to deal with the medical consequences of her integration.”

            “You want me to give her a remnus? No. Denied.”

            “No!” cried Inky. “Please! Don’t do this to her, she doesn’t deserve this!”

            Golden Star, who had been waiting patiently across the room, stood up in his cell. “What could a remnus possibly do?” he asked. “Especially a medical unit. These cells could withstand a tritium explosion. There is no way one could punch her way out.”

            The mare looked at him for a moment. Once she had deemed him profoundly and disappointingly unattractive, she turned to the remni.

            “Medical unit,” she said, “step forward.”

            The group parted easily through a coordinated effort, and one of them stepped forward. She was all white, with a red cross on the shoulder where Cult remni bore the sign of the One-and-Five.

            “Identify yourself.”

            “My name is Finality,” said the remnus. Her voice was smooth and calming; it had quite clearly been programmed that way. “I am the ranking remni medical hub, cybernetics engineer, and personal surgeon to the captain.”

            “Fine,” said the mare. She approached the transparent morphiplasm that kept the remni in and touched her hoof to it. “Step forward. Only you. The rest of you, stand back two meters.”

            The remni stepped back obediently, and Finality stepped forward. She did not hesitate at the seemingly solid surface ahead of her; nor did she need to. As soon as her body touched it, she passed through as though it were liquid.

            As soon as she was through, the material resolidified. The mare pointed toward the captain, and Finality quickly changed course. The mare followed her, and put her hoof on the morphiplasm to allow the remnus to move through. Once she had, the morphiplasm once again became absolutely solid and nearly indestructible. Neither of them would be able to leave.

            “There,” said the mare, turning to the door. “I have done everything I can. Call me when you want an actual doctor.”

            With that, she left. Heliotrope continued to stare at where she had been. “I do not like her,” she growled.

            “I think we all do,” said the captain, now without a hint of the wheezing that had seemed to consume her before. She spit against the wall, swearing under her breath. In order to make the illusion as realistic as possible, she had been forced to bite the tip of her tongue quite hard. It smarted quite badly, and had left her whole mouth tasting like metal from the blood.

            The captain turned her head in the direction of the others. “Inky,” she said.

            “Yes, captain?” said the young mare.

            “The suppression field?”

            “Still active.”

            “Light Gloom is going to notice a hole in his sensors,” said Golden Star.

            “Not it there isn’t a hole,” said Nebula, smiling as she wiped away the tears she had managed to summon on command. “Because I’m not just suppressing. I’m feeding him data.”

            Golden Star looked impressed. “You can do that?”

            “It takes a great deal of concentration and imagination,” said Nebula, “but yes. I can. And as long as Light Gloom is busy directing the whole ship, I don’t think he’ll notice.”

            “We can hope,” said the captain. “But we still have to hurry.” She looked up at the remnus over her, who was watching patiently. “Sorry, Finality. In case you didn’t know, I’m not actually sick.”

            “Oh, I know,” said Finality. “I am a medical unit, after all. I was reading your vitals from the other cell. You’re quite healthy, even if you can’t walk.”

            “But you still came.”

            “I did. Because I did not see a reason not to.”

            “Not until they stamp Twilight’s star on your shoulder,” said Heliotrope, darkly.

            “Yes,” said Finality. “At that point, I would become property of the Cult of Twilight Sparkle, and be loyal to them. We are equipment, Ms. Heliotrope. Property. That is how this works.”

            “You’re also good liars,” said the captain.

            Finality paused for a moment. “Yes,” she said after some consideration. “We are.”

            “I needed a remnus,” said the captain.

            “Why?”

            The captain turned her eyes toward Finality’s, and stared into what she could see of the pair of blue pinpricks. “I need you to interface with me.”

            Any artificial joy on Finality’s face vanished. If she had not already been pure white, she might even have gone pale. “No,” she said, plainly and sternly. “That is not possible.”

            “Yes it is. I already have all the necessary implants.”

            “Whether or not you have the implants has no bearing on whether or not I can allow you to do that, captain. We remni are not alive. To interface with us is to view the nature of death itself. A pony’s mental health cannot- -”

            “Two percent.”

            Finality paused. “Excuse me, captain?”

            “My organic persistence value. It’s two percent.”

            A gasp came from across the room, a sharp inhale from Inky Nebula’s cell. The others fell silent, but the captain could feel their eyes on her.

            “No,” said Finality. “That is incorrect. Your medical records indicate that your organic persistence is over twenty two percent- -”

            “Do you think I can’t manage to forge the results?”

            Even Finality seemed shocked by this, or as shocked as a remnus could be. “Causing discrepancies in key medical values would result in- -”

            “In what? A court marshal? What would they do, pull me out and put me in one of those robotic bodies like you? Because that’s what they would do anyway if they knew. Two paths leading to the same stinking hole.”

            “You’re a remnus,” whispered Inky Nebula. Some tears rolled down her eyes. This time they were real. “Captain, you’re…you’re…”

            “Dead,” said the captain. She lighted. “I know, Inky. I know. And I’m sorry.”

            “Why are you apologizing to me?” Inky stepped forward and pressed her hooves against the transparent front of her cell. “Captain, if I had known….if I had just known, I could have done something!”

            “There’s nothing you could have done. I’m old, Inky. You’ll understand someday. But not today.” The captain looked up at Finality, who watched back. “Is two percent low enough?”

            “It is,” said Finality, slowly, “but you need to be warned.” She gestured to the other remni. “Many of us would give anything to have two percent again. There are treatments that can slow the progression. Give you a few more years…”

            “In a body that can’t even walk? They’ll never reconnect me to the ship. There’s no point without it. Finality. This is the last thing I can do.”

            “Don’t say that,” said Inky.

            “It’s not out of selflessness,” said the captain. “I’m angry. More angry than you can imagine. After what he did to me? I have to do SOMETHING.”

            “Are you sure this is what you want?” said Finality. “If you link to me, your organic portion will not survive. You will persist, yes, but not in your current state.”

            The captain looked up at Finality. “Do it.”

            “Captain, no!” cried Inky, pounding weakly against the transparent morphiplasm of her cell.

            None of the others protested. They watched solemnly, and the remni in the other cell all watched in mild amusement as thin set of glowing blue cables extended from the rear of Finality’s head and snaked down toward the implants on the back of the captain’s neck.

            The captain took a deep breath. For all she knew, this was going to be her last. She was reminded of the time so many centuries ago when she had first been brought to this ship. She had been young, beautiful, and proud. She had stood at attention then, and they had performed the surgery. When they were done, they congratulated her. The doctors said that she had been the first they had ever seen who did not scream, even once. That was the last time that the captain had ever walked, and the last time she had possessed a name. Now it was happening again. She just hoped that this time she would manage to maintain her record of silence- -although she was, in secret, far less sure than she had been when she was just a filly.

            The cables linked. It did not hurt, exactly. It was by no means comfortable. It was something akin to a reaction to a deafening but inharmonious sound, like the distortion vibrations from a bad reactor pile or the sound of aetherite being cut. It momentarily consumed all of the captain’s thoughts, and she wondered if in the real world she was screaming or not.

            Visions pushed past her. She saw a distant structure, a farm in a megastructure she had never once set hoof on. In it, she saw flashes of a beautiful mare with astounding eyes, and a group of small children who played at her feet. This was accompanied by a certain grayness where death had faded the memory, along with the knowledge that came with it. That the beautiful mare had been taken not twenty years later, and that she had not passed on to be a remnus. That three of those children now lay in graves, and the youngest was an old stallion who’s memory was fading- -and one now stood down on Equestria, his body black and painted with the insignia of Twilight Sparkle.

            It was maddening. There was a cold sorrow, an emptiness, and the captain suddenly understood. This was the nature of death in the perverse way that remni saw it. Instead of silence and peace, it had brought them only memories of the lives they once had lived, and the realization that none of it had ever mattered.

            Little of this mattered to the captain, though. Her mind did not reflect what the pony who had become Finality had felt. There had been no beautiful mare or handsome stallion for her, and now children. That had been no home; that had been lost before she had even graduated the Academy. There was only the Ship, and Duty, and her role in all of it. Those things persisted within her regardless of whether she was alive or dead. For her, there were no regrets. She had lost nothing.

            Then the interface stabilized. The captain felt the swirling mass of almost-thought that made up Finality’s brain. It was not that unlike her own. They were nearly identical, save for the fact that as a full remnus Finality had the hardware and infrastructure to perform tasks that the captain could not. The captain, likewise, had far more knowledge and power in a certain field than Finality ever would.

            New blue strands emerged from Finality. They stretched out and tapped the hard metal of the walls. At first, nothing happened, but then the metal pulled away, drifting apart and becoming white liquid. The cables interfaced, and the captain entered the necessary codes to access the ship, using Finality for processing assistance.

            “Alright,” she said, her voice coming from both their bodies. “I’m linked to a minor subsystem. I have access, but once I send any command Light Gloom is going to see me and react pretty quickly.”

            “What do you need us to do?” asked Heliotrope.

            “What can we do?” asked Inky. “Even if we get out, there’s no way we can get through the ship! He’ll just close it off!”

            “I can open your cells,” said the captain, “but only for a few seconds at most. When I give you the order, jump through. All three of you. And whatever remni can get out, and are willing.”

            “But then what?”

            “Light Gloom can change the shape of my ship as much as he wants, but he can’t change the basic biology of it. Get through the door. It doesn’t have a lock; he assumed there’s no way we could get out of our cells. Take a right, then another right. There is a node there. Each of you take a piece.”

            “But what will that do?”

            “Morphiplasm integrates with morphiplasm, which means that the ship…” The captain groaned. “You know what? You’ll see. You’ll all know what to do. I trust you.”

            “And what do we do after?” asked Golden Star. “Once we have the suits?”

            “We take down Light Gloom,” said Heliotrope. “It is as simple as that.”

            “No,” said the captain. “There is no way you could. The suits will let you  move, for a time, but he’s a Twilight Cult mage. You couldn’t even put a scratch on him.”

            “What, then?”

            “The device,” said the captain, softly. “That thing he installed in our ship. It’s some kind of weapon, I think. I can’t tell. I don’t know the specifics. But I can feel it…he’s disabled our ship’s reactor, and he’s linked his own ship to that thing. To his power reactor. He is planning something, and it will put everything in jeopardy.”

            “There is no way it can be that dangerous,” said Golden Star. From his tone, though, it was clear that even he did not believe his own words.

            “We cannot risk it,” said the captain. “There are ponies on that planet. We cannot allow them to come to harm. They are our only hope.” One of Finality’s eyes swiveled. The captain was able to see through it. “So we have to hurry. Or, rather, you do. Once I open this, there will be less than a minute before the cultists arrived. Are you ready?”

            The others did not answer. Inky Nebula was shaking. The captain felt like she had once known why, but could not remember. She took their silence as agreement.

            “Alright,” said the captain. “Here we go. Get ready. Three…two…one!”

            The ponies pressed forward, and virtually every remnus rammed the front of their cells. The captain struggled to keep the doors open, and she succeeded, if only partially. The three ponies beside her managed to get through, although the solidification of the glass tore out several of Heliotrope’s tail fibers.

            The remni were not so lucky. Only one managed to get through, the engineer Journey End. She looked back, confused as to why her brothers and sisters were not able to come with her. She put her hoof on the cell, as if to help them, only to find that it was solid as stone.

            “Go!” screamed the captain.

            “But you- -” started Inky.

            “Just GO!”

            They obeyed, even if Heliotrope had to push Inky Nebula toward the door. When they reached the door, they found that the captain had been correct. It was not locked, and End opened it quickly with a technomagic spell.

            The group poured through and followed their orders exactly. Doing so, though, would likely have been quite odd to see. They had been instructed to move quickly, and they did, but because of their biological limitations they were not capable of running. Only End was able to move rapidly; the rest could, at best, walk at a semi-brisk pace.

            “We have to go faster!” cried Heliotrope, accelerating.

            “Only if you want to break a leg,” said Golden Star. “Here! Turn here!”

            They did, and there was indeed a node. The morphiplasm joint was loaded with the large, bulbous projections that each of them had seen daily but never given all that much thought to. There metal of Light Gloom’s design approached the node, but did not reach it completely. It was not able to; this was a fundamental part of the ship.

            Each of them reached up, taking one of the pieces. Morphiplasm spread out down their hooves, coating their bodies as they did so. Within seconds, each of them was coated in an identical armored space suit.

            “Now what?” said Inky Nebula. “What- -what do we do now?!”

            The question was not answered, save by two cultists suddenly bursting around a corner in a full sprint. Their spells were already charged. End raised one of her own, an attempt at an impromptu shield, and deflected the first barrage. They recalculated, though, and the shield shattered on the second attack with a small explosion.

            Inky Nebula cried as she jumped back in surprise. When she did, she struck one of the morphiplasm walls. To her even greater surprise, it gave her no resistance. Wherever her morphiplasm suit touched, the ship became completely fluid. With a high “eek!”, she listed and fell through the wall into a different corridor.

            It was only a second before the others followed her. Golden Star reached down and helped her up.

            “Are you hurt?”

            “N…no,” said Inky. “Just shaken.”

            “I think we know what she meant now,” said End.

            Inky Nebula suddenly winced.

            “Inky?” said a voice in her head.

            “Captain!” she cried, overjoyed. “Where are you?”

            “Back where I’m supposed to be. I’ve hacked the ship’s internal sensors, I can see you. I’m transmitting on an encrypted channel, but I don’t know how long it will hold up. I can guide you.”

            The morphiplasm behind them suddenly opened, and the cultists stepped through. End promptly smacked one in the face so hard that both of them had to take a step back- -but even then, the cultists did not fall. In fact, she seemed completely unharmed.

            “Go straight!” cried the captain.

            “Straight where?!” replied Inky.

            “Inky, we have to go!” cried Heliotrope, pushing her forward and through another corridor. Within seconds, they were all running at terrifying speeds, driven forward by the power assists in their suits.

            “Which turns? Which corners?!” cried Inky.

            “None! Just keep going straight! Don’t stop for anything!”

            So, they did.



            The bridge had changed. It was now extended forward and spread into a wide, vaguely triangular shape. There were no screens, and no windows. There was no logical sign of furniture, because none was needed.

            Light Gloom was still linked to the ship’s internal systems, but he was not alone. The preparations to fire and aim the dimensional hammer demanded his full attention. As such, he had allowed Phosphorescence and Luminescence to integrate themselves into the ship as well. Each of them stood beside him, their brains linked to the hub overhead by the metal lines that ran from their spines and skulls.

            Suddenly, Luminescence picked her head up. “An error has occurred.”

            “What kind of error?” asked Light Gloom. He sounded calm- -or tried to- -even though this had happened at the worst possible time. “Report.”

            “A remnus has integrated with the prisoner containment unit and released some of the occupants.”

            “Impossible,” said Phosphorescence. “No remnus on this ship has the access codes or integrative knowledge to do so.”

            “I know one,” said Light Gloom. “If you will indulge my conjecture: it is prison block one.”

            “Correct,” said Luminescence. “The integrated remnus is Finality of Life, the ship’s head remnus medic.”

            “A horrible name for a doctor,” muttered Phosphorescence.

            “It is not her,” said Light Gloom. “She is just an interface front.”

            “Reject her,” said Phosphorescence. “She is of no consequence.”

            “I cannot,” said Luminescence, turning to her twin, her optics shifting and tightening as she did. “She has become entrenched within the system. I am unable to force her out.” Luminescence suddenly turned her head, as though she could see something new. “Update. The ship’s internal sensors indicate that the prisoners are moving.”

            “Contain them,” said Phosphorescence. “Or blow them into space.”

            “I cannot. I am sealing the passages, but they are still moving through them. Their bodies appear to be encased in homologous morphiplasm.”

            “What is their destination?”

            Luminescence paused for a moment. “My predictions based on the ship’s sensor data indicate that they are headed this way.”

            “I can confirm that,” said Phosphorescence. “I am summoning our brothers and sisters to defend this location.”

            “An interesting tactic,” said Light Gloom, thinking for a moment. “Almost as though they know that we cannot defend ourselves right now.” He turned to Luminescence. “We need to progress quickly, before they can stop us. Is the reactor ready?”

            “Yes,” said Luminescence. “I am prepared to fire.”

            “Do it. Clear the atmosphere.”

            The ship hummed, and then shook slightly. The ship’s main reactor hummed to life, charging to a level that would have been able to power a vessel twenty times the Prodijila’s mass several hundred times the speed of light. It burned brightly, although none of the engineers who stood beside it were able to see it through their modified optics.

            It rushed forward as it was ejected from the ship. Through the sensors, Light Gloom watched it drift toward the frozen and stormy planet in a slow, long arc. He and his comrades waited for what felt like several minutes, all watching it go.

            The reactor descended, plunging into the planet’s stormy atmosphere toward its ionosphere. It vanished for a moment, obscured by the atmospheric fallout. The moments it was gone seemed to take even longer than the ones during which it had been traveling.

            Then, suddenly, it detonated. There was a surge of light from the planet that glowed brighter than the sun, and the clouds around it suddenly retreated as the storms and all magic contained within them were driven away by a tidal wave of energy. The fallout storms were, for a time, annihilated, and Light Gloom looked down at the glowing remnants of a devastating atomic blast and the circle of clarity that surrounded it. It all looked so very small from above.

            “Scanning,” said Phosphorescence, immediately beginning the process of searching for Mi’Amore Cadenza’s remains.

            “Luminescence,” said Light Gloom, turning toward his young associate. “Have we heard word from Corona Fade?”

            “No,” said Luminescence, her voice tinged with something that might at one time have been close to regret. “But we have received notice from one of her subordinates. The mission was a failure. They were unable to extract Twilight Sparkle.”

            “That is unfortunate,” sighed Light Gloom.

            “Shall we delay completion of the cure?”

            “No. I have no intention of doing so. I never did. The dimensional hammer can only annihilate an alicorn on a direct or near direct hit. How far is the Goddess from the epicenter?”

            “Two hundred fifty kilometers,” said Phosphorescence. “I can see her signal.”

            “That is a close range,” said Light Gloom, calculating instantaneously. “But still far. She has an eighty seven percent chance of survival. We will recover the pieces from the wreckage and reconstruct her.”

            “And if we cannot find all the pieces?”

            “Then we rebuild her, as she rebuilt us.” Light Gloom watched through the sensors as the edges of the clear spot, formerly so neat and round, began to fade and become jagged as the eternal storms raced back toward where the reactor detonation had occurred. “Phosphorescence?”

            “I have detected the signal, but  residual surface effects are making it difficult to pinpoint. I need more time.”

            “We have no more time. Your results are close enough.” Light Gloom looked at the planet through artificial eyes, and locked in the coordinates he had been given. “Firing.”



            Inky Nebula, Heliotrope, Golden Star, and Journey End burst through the walls of the specially constructed cargo bay where the strange Cultist device had been assembled. Each of them had been expecting Cult mages to be present, but for some reason the room was empty, save for the massive machine that had been placed in the center.

            It looked different. The surface of the device had been covered in conduits and cables that had not been there before, linking it to a different source of power than it had originally been intended to use. Likewise, it had unfolded somewhat; this made it far longer, to the point where it stretched out an opening on the far side of the bay. The room had no atmosphere, and it was possible to see the long pointed front of the cylinder facing downward at the distant planet below.

            The machine was also running. The entire chamber was awash in radiation, and a signigicant portion of it was getting through the morphiplasm suits that the group wore. This hardly mattered to them, though; as creatures who had evolved in deep-space, they were far more resistant to radioactivity than their ancestors could ever have dreamed of being.

            “The system is drawing power,” said Golden Star, his eyes flitting around in a panic as he observed various key points of the structure. “It’s preparing to fire!”

            “We deactivate it!” said Heliotrope, rushing forward to the cables.

            “Don not touch them!” cried Journey End. She pushed past Heliotrope and began work on the cables and conduits, attempting to pull them away while opening the access panels both on the ship and on the device that contained whatever controls either of them might have had.

            It sparked badly, but Journey End did not attempt to dodge. Finding no luck with the control panels, she eventually just started tearing the conduits away. This created far worse sparks, and magical energy arced throughout the room, forcing the living ponies back.

            This had no effect. A hum was permeating the room, and the pitch began to rise. This was in its own right inexplicable; the room had no air, so there should have been no sound at all. Yet all three of the living ponies heard it, and felt it. The hum of the machine vibrated deep within their horns, reminding each of them of an instinctive fear from a time that only the Goddesses remembered.

            “I cannot deactivate it,” sad Journey End, stepping away. She pointed to the largest of the cables, which had not been cut. “It is still drawing power, I cannot cut it while it is still charging!”

            “Not only that,” said Golden Star, a visor appearing over his eyes. “It is increasing internally in power! Even if we cut it off completely, it would still fire!”

            Heliotrope picked up her head. “Captain. Please advise. Captain?”

            There was no response. The interference from the device was too powerful. Heliotrope seemed to realize this, and a distressed expression crossed her face.

            Inky Nebula looked at the machine, and at the planet below. The planet that Twilight Sparkle was still on, along with the friends she had recovered there. Nebula knew she had to do something, and then had an idea.

            “Push it!” she said.

            “What?” asked Golden Star. “I don’t- -”

            “We can’t stop it, but we can move it! If we can change the angle, we can make it miss the planet!”

            “But the radiation when it fires, we can’t- -”

            “We can,” said Heliotrope. “But only if we work together!” She put her shoulder against the device, and a thin strip of smoke rose from it. Her morphiplasm thickened and expanded into heavy ropes of artificial muscle as she increased the power assist to maximum. Golden Star looked at Inky Nebula, even as Journey End pushed her remnus body against the device as well. Then the two remaining ponies joined, attempting to move it.

            They struggled and strained, putting everything they had into moving the weapon. It moved, but only slightly. Inky Nebula looked to the planet, and saw that they had made no difference. The aperture at the end was still targeting it.

            “By Celestia’s rump, End!” cried Heliotrope. “You just had to install this to code, didn’t you?!”

            “Stop complaining and push!” cried Golden Star. “We have to!”

            “We can’t!” said Inky. “We have to move it!”

            “We’re not strong enough!”

            Inky Nebula looked around, feeling her hope departing her. That was when she saw a large metal bracket barely visible below the cylinder. She gasped, and looked up at the remnus beside her. “Journey! The bracket!”

            Journey End looked down and, seeing it, understood. She drew back her pointed hoof and struck it with all the force she could muster, shattering the metal that held it. The entire cylinder suddenly slumped, free of one of the linkages that had been holding it.

            It was at this instant that Light Gloom triggered the final stage of the firing procedure. The internal reactor of the dimensional hammer revved to capacity, its centrifuges distorting the magical fields that made up the device’s core and tearing their way through several parallel realities, drawing sheer force from each one at an exponential rate. The blast from the charging knocked each of the ponies backward. Golden Star and Heliotrope were sent through a wall, and they phased through into the room beyond. Journey End, though, was thrown into a solid conduit. She jolted and shook as it sparked into her, and the white surface of her body began to burn as her peripheral circuitry collapsed.

            Inky Nebula was knocked back as well, but she was knocked into Journey End, who insulated her from the conduit and kept her from passing through the wall and out of the room. The morphiplasm she wore dampened the impact and protected her body from physical damage, but Inky Nebula saw stars as her brain slammed into the inside of her skull. For a moment, she was confused, but regained some semblance of consciousness in time to see her vision filling with silver at the edges. Something had broken inside of her.

            “No,” she said. “No! I won’t let you do it!”

            She stood up and raced forward toward the machine.

            “No!” cried End, attempting to drag herself forward with her one remaining functional leg. “You can’t! The field!”

            Inky Nebula did not care. She understood the risk, but did not stop. Charging her power assist to maximum, she rammed her shoulder into the side of the weapon. There was a crack from inside it, but no pain. There was only a feeling of cold, and the whiplash once again struck Inky’s brain. Her thoughts slowed, but then accelerated vastly as her cybernetic architecture expanded vastly, compensation for the damage.

            The whole world seemed to slow, and to loose color. Inky felt her head slowly turning as she looked down the barrel of the firing weapon. She could hear the air escaping through her armor, as it was burning off of her from contact with the dimensional field.

            The end of the device tilted from the force of her impact, and she pushed harder than she ever had, turning it away from Equestria. Instead, it came to face the scarred, silver sphere that orbited the planet. Inky had only wanted to shift it away from the planet; while doing so, though, she had inadvertently forced it to target the moon.

            It fired. The results were profoundly unimpressive. What it looked like to Inky was a thin, golden thread of light that emerged silently from the end aperture of the device. It stretched out like a laser, flickering and gleaming in a straight line toward the moon. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Nothing at all, save for silence.

            Then, without warning, the moon detonated. There was a blast brighter than any star, so bright that what little morphiplasm Inky Nebula still had concentrated itself, attempting to protect her eyes. It was opaque, but yet she could still see. Every part of her ached and shook, down to  her marrow, and she watched as the moon was torn apart in a vast explosion that she heard in her bones instead of in her ears.

            The debris field progressed outward in the light, spreading away from the point of impact and outward in every direction- -for a moment. The light in the center changed, though, growing darker and more angry as the explosion seemed to freeze. The debris hung in space for a moment, and then retracted several hundred times faster than it had been expelled. It slammed inward, imploding with thunderous magical force. For a fraction of a second, there was a flash as it condensed.

            There was no sound this time. It was just gone. The entire moon had not only been destroyed, but annihilated completely. There was nothing left, and no evidence it had even been there at all.

            Inky Nebula fell backward. She felt immensely tired, and she could feel herself starting to go to sleep. She watched out the opening in the ship, looking where the moon had been and ignoring the blinking red light on her HUD that read “426 Greys”.

            Before she faded away, she groaned. “Oh mane,” she said. “I just took out the moon.  THE moon. Luna’s going to kill me!”



            Light Gloom watched in horror. Throughout his mind, internal error warnings were screeching across his consciousness. So much of both ships had been so badly damaged by firing the hammer, and yet it had come to nothing.

            He had been deceived, and only now did he understand that. They had never been heading for him. Phosphorescence and Luminescence had been tricked: somepony had hacked the internal sensors, providing the wrong data about the fugitives’ whereabouts. Light Gloom already knew who. There was only one pony who knew how to do something like that, and he realized too late that he had underestimated her.

            “Complete miss,” said Luminescence.

            “I am unable to locate Cadenza signal at present,” said Phosphorescence. “The atmosphere has self-corrected. I know its exact location, though. I also know that it was unaffected by the discharge.”

            “We can prepare for another shot,” suggested Luminescence.

            “No,” said Light Gloom, disconnecting himself from the ship. “We cannot.”

            “Why?”

            “The N689’s reactor was not optimized for this use. It suffered irreparable damage and is no longer functional. Both vessels are running on reserve power now.”

            “So we are stranded,” said Luminescence.

            “We already destroyed the correct reactor in the planet’s atmosphere,” said Phosphorescence. “So yes.”

            Luminescence turned to Light Gloom. “Then all hope is lost.”

            “If you had the capacity for hope,” said Light Gloom, “then you were neglecting the Cult. We do not need such things. We have plans.”

            “You have a plan?” asked Phosphorescence, sounding incredulous.

            “Of course. We now know the location of the remains. Prepare as many landing parties as you can. We will perform the task manually.” He paused. “But first, find the ponies responsible for attempting to doom our kind. Bring them to me. NOW.”   e, but it:M?��5