Homebound

by Retsamoreh

(19) Operation Cheer-up the Captain

-No given general location.
-No given time.
-No given specific location.
-
-
-
-
-
-

You would think that, after so long, I would be used to awkward, crazy, or outright illogical things. In a way, I suppose I am. I’ve traversed alternate dimensions, personally succeeded in stopping a madman from attempting, and nearly succeeding, to destroy all of time. Heck, I’ve even held, in my own hands, a black-hole gun. I’ve read minds, jumped impossible distances, seen the most extraordinary uses of psychic powers, and I’ve even witnessed Admiral Uske land a fighter in one piece. If my accomplishments mean nothing, and the events I’ve watched take place are irrelevant, know that in the end, I can always say with certainty that I knew Pinkie Pie.

That mare is something else. Not just a weird something, or a crazy something, and maybe she’s not a something at all. Forces of nature aren’t that insanely random, and I know the reason nature exists is so that nothing breaks the laws of physics, which I know I’ve seen her outright ignore. A scientific anomaly, perhaps, though from what I’ve seen, she’s an anomaly, but not at all scientific. Later, perchance, I could start up an official investigation into this, when things have quieted down and I’m no longer trying to save the galaxy from certain destruction, but what Twilight said on the subject of studying her frightens me.

I’ll probably just pay somebody else to do it.

Ah, yes. I’m going off on another tangent again, aren’t I? Well, at least things outside have quieted down for now. Remembering that day, that strange, bizarre series of events, it kind of wipes away my fear for the future and replaces it with a contentment that only good old Pinkamena Diane Pie could create.

For just a day, it seemed like everything would be alright. That everything would be fine.

I wish we could have more days like that... but I digress. Back to the report.

-Gantoris Towers, Ophelius, Gantoris.
-One day after landing.
-Higher Apartments.
-
-
-
-
-
-

One day, busy as it was, had passed, and it was good to know that for once in what seemed like forever, I would have a day off. After receiving a message from Dylan early in the morning, and haphazardly tossing my datapad across the room in anger at it waking me up, I had been alerted to the fact that the Gantoris government officials, as well as representatives from all Wing-controlled territories, were currently being briefed on the situation with Earth, and would come to a consensus the following day. Their decision, I knew, would inevitably be to make as big of a deal as possible; no citizen likes it when his leaders decide to hide things from him, especially if that certain thing is the Holy Grail of all history, science, medicine, and etcetera. It meant that I got the day off, because in the next week, there would probably be five assassination attempts on both myself, and anyone who returned with me on the Homebound.

It was a grim thought, but hey, I’m a realist, and that’s why I hate off-days with a passion. Upgrades had been ordered for the Homebound the day before, so for the next four days it would be in to be refitted, and I had requisitioned that Lilian and Aaro, the latter of which was more than happy to accept an order from me - and would probably have his company lord it over mine for years to come - design a communications headset, power pack, and Valkyrie arm module, for the ponies and dragon. According to them, Spike would be the easiest, but the ponies would be more fun to design for. That was good, because they were the only people I could trust with the order.

So far, the ponies were staying well away from me, which I later attributed to morning grumpiness, then midmorning grouchiness, then afternoon irritability, and finally evening touchiness. I would personally rather gloss over the details of it, but my attitude was bad enough for Twilight to tear herself from her books to give me some scholarly, intelligent advice.

“Jackson, you should hang out with Pinkie Pie.”

“Sorry?” I coughed, jerking the glass of fine wine I had been sipping. Ophelius, already lightening up in the light blue of the early evening, buzzed outside our window. Twilight had taken to reading in my company, which I personally found a nice change. She was quiet, and the gentle swoosh of pages turning lulled me into a grim façade of contentment. Granted, I growled every so often when a passing hovercar came too close, or slowed down near the window, but try to remember that it’s only paranoia... if you’re wrong. My arms itched, too.

“Apology accepted,” she said, smirking. My frown deepened, but it didn’t phase her. “You really should. Jackson, you’ve been acting really weird since we had breakfast this morning, and you even yelled at a guard for looking at us too long. Applejack, Fluttershy and I talked after lunch, and I think we figured it out. It’s because you’re a soldier, isn’t it?”

“Define, please,” I grunted, slumping into the plush couch we were situated on. Her book snapped shut – I assume she had memorized the page, paragraph, and word she was on. It wouldn’t surprise me. Twilight stood up to face me, matching my height on the piece of silver furniture. I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s because of Gantoris, then, isn’t it? You’re dead-set on protecting us still, even though nopony is in danger. I do admit, this place is really big, and I can’t wait to explore more of it, but you said that your leader is still working things out so we’re not really allowed out of the apartments yet. But that’s not good enough, is it? You’re worried we’ll get hurt.”

“It’s my job to worry,” I muttered, taking another sip in spite of things. “If I don’t, then things will go wrong and I’ll be unprepared for them. Introducing a new species to the Wing is a complicated process that, quite simply, is one of the most delicate things a government like ours can undertake. I’ve broken every single protocol in bringing you and your friends here, and then I went and broke them twice in leaving part of my crew behind. One of the first times we had a first-contact event led into what we grudgingly call the ‘Draxian First-Contact War’ and they call something a bit less generous. This is big, big news for us, and not just for the obvious reasons.”

“I see,” Twilight said, looking at her book for a moment longer. “But you really do need to lighten up, Captain. If you stay so cynical and grumpy, those things will end up clouding your judgment when we really do need you to protect us, and then you’ll fail.”

“Psh, I don’t fail. Never, ever. You’ll be hard pressed to find an example.” I paused, looking to the ceiling. “Except the first contact mission with the teryns. Trust me when I say that it didn’t count. But when did you get to become a psychologist anyways, Miss Sparkle? You’ve never talked to me like this before.”

“It’s a part-time thing,” she said humbly, shrugging and levitating the book in front of her again. I caught sight of the title, and saw that it was my own book, and I had to stop myself from frowning any deeper, lest my lips fall off. She looked back up to me, and I balked at her suddenly enormous eyes. Ever since they’d discovered that they could manipulate our emotions just by making one certain face, Twilight, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash had all made it their mission to give everybody in the Wing an unfair expression we’d already had a label for.

“No, no puppydog face. I am not hanging out with your hyperactive friend. She already has an apartment, and she already has one of my crewmembers to bother as much as she wants. You know your face will freeze like that if you hold it for too long... and you seem to already know that’s not true. Okay, you know what? Fine. I’ll go and talk to her. Really? Alright, I’ll talk to her and hang out with her. Pinkie Promise.”

“Good,” Twilight cheered, clopping her purple hooves together and resuming her reading. “Tell her I’m ordering her to enact ‘Operation Cheer-up the Captain’, please?” I rolled my eyes, set my glass aside and rose to face the door. Just as always, the Wing uniform jacket didn’t leave my person, even if I had opened the zipper and was letting it flow freely around me.

“Will do,” I said mirthlessly, already making tracks for the door. “And in the future, Twilight, try to figure out better code-names. They’re called ‘code’ for a reason, you know.”

“Yes, sir!” she called out to me, just as the door slid shut. I chuckled despite myself, and turned to find none other than San Uske grinning like an idiot two inches away.

“Don’t think I’m incredibly attached to them, but even I know it’s rude to invite a lady into your apartment and leave her alone to go to one of her friends. Most women slap me when I do that,” he said, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “Not to imply I do that... a lot. Can you change the topic for me please?”

“What are you doing in Ophelius?” I asked, crossing my own arms. Between us, the difference in our posture was palpable.

“Good man. Leader Dylan ordered the College of Admirals back to Gantoris this morning. I believe Ganymede, Paddy, and I are the only ones here. Grezz and Zal are off preparing their forces for the inevitable war with E’s fleet, and Castlor should be here by tonight. Ever since Dylan made him Premier, he’s been acting the part like a total professional, you know.” He stopped, nodding at a guard patrol that was walking by. Guards in the towers were common, but they were usually hired by the government, not the Wing. “Generally, though? The fleets are already mobilizing. While it might look like we’re all here to talk about the discovery of Earth and what to do with the ponies – and we are, but the primary reason he’s calling us back is to set up a strategy. If E has anything like the Ravager again, the Wing is going to be in a bad way real fast. At least this time we have Castlor’s weapons.”

“The Ravager wasn’t a Derelict, though,” I hissed, looking conspiratorially to each side. “If E is back, and if he does have one of those, he could mow through the entire galaxy without getting so much as a scratch on it. Why do you think Patrick didn’t want to accept it existing in the first place? If it’s true, then quite simply, our best option is to evacuate every single planet, pack up, and see if we can get as far away from this galaxy as we can.”

“Not really an option, dude. We can’t afford to do that, and jumping galaxies is the most costly thing even one ship can do. You know what the Empirium says, right? That they’re actually a vast intergalactic empire, but they lost all contact with the other galaxy they supposedly control? If an empire that controls an entire galaxy can mess up so bad we’re... hey, I haven’t cracked a joke yet. What’s black, red, and better off dead?”

“A Sorlor-lovin’ wedgehead, yeah, yeah. You know Zalthice and Grezz would probably destroy your personal stash of starfighters if they heard you were still telling that joke. Anything else? I promised Twilight I’d talk to her weird friend.”

“The orange one, white one, yellow one, rainbow one, or pink one?” San asked, smirking. I shrugged. “Ah, nevermind. You’re crazy enough to out-crazy all but the pink one, therefore, it must be her. Whatever you do, don’t try to talk to her at length. I tried that back on the Homebound and she was dancing around the conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world. She also cheats.”

“Cheats?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He responded with his own shrug.

“You’ll see. I think she’s trying to talk to the AI at the moment. Apparently your anti-paradox programs are up to snuff, if what I overheard was anything to go by.”

“And Dylan?”

“Probably yelling at some bureaucrats.”

“No, the other one.”

“Ah. Standing next to her, tuning her out. I even tried hitting on her just to check if she was paying attention. She hit me back.”

“Smart lady.”

“And apparently well-read in Wing protocols... youch, at least it wasn’t the face,” he said, clutching at his sides with a mock grimace. “I’ll stop bothering you for now. We’re getting ready for the war-council. It’ll begin as soon as Aaro arrives, I believe, but you’re still invited if you want to come. Ponies are off limits.”

“Figured as much. I’ll see you later, then,” I said, and we bade our farewells; stalking off in the opposite direction, I couldn’t help but admire how silent the entire floor was. I had yet to introduce Twilight to the holo-library, but the girls had kept to themselves for the whole day. What exactly they were doing, I didn’t know, but judging from the chorus of young laughs that came from one of the apartments as I passed it, they were all having fun. Good.

“Okay then… let’s try another one! This statement is false!” another voice chirped in the distance as I rounded the corner. At the far end of the hall, near the elevator, was the unmistakable bouncing pink shape of the quadruped I was seeking out. In front of her, flicking softly in holographic light, was a small sphere topping off an equally thin and tall pyramid. It pulsed as it spoke in a clear feminine voice.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie. For the eighteenth time, and I have been counting, I am equipped with anti-paradox programs designed to block the self-imposed suicide you are currently attempting to bring upon me. It will not work.”

“Aw, but Eye-Eye, you’re so much fun to talk to! You’ve got like, a billion different interesting things to say and I don’t want to miss any of them,” Pinkie whined, looking over to a shadow on the wall. “Miss Dylan, you’re wrong! Eye-eye isn’t very fun at all.”

“Never said she would be for you, but this is the most fun I’ve had in years,” the shadow replied, shifting into the wall. I approached, and the slim figure of Ensign Dylan came into my vision. She was wearing a tight-fitting Wing jumpsuit uniform, and had her jet black hair tied in the same tight, complicated bun as before. Ignoring her racy disregard for the Wing dress-code and common decency, I continued approaching.

“Well I’m happy someone’s having fun, and that makes us both happy, so mission accomplished!” Pinkie cheered, bouncing another lap around the AI.

“Captain,” Dylan said as I arrived, giving off a crisp salute. “You going to relieve me of my duty watching this… thing, right? Roland and I were going to hang out today, since it’ll probably be the last time we see each other before this blasted war starts. That is, of course, if we fail our current directive and must part ways.”

“Firstly, I never fail, ever. Secondly, you can invite him to come with us if you’d like.” I blinked, considering something. “No uniform needed, and I’ll watch her for you. Were you and Roland like childhood friends or something?”

“Or something,” she said curtly, giving another salute. “I’ll take my leave to retrieve him, sir. Would you like me to fetch transportation?”

“You don’t even know what I’m planning,” I grumbled, waving her off. “But, yes, get a personal cab for us, please.” I looked to Pinkie, who was still ignorantly bouncing around in the hologram. “AIA?”

“Yes, captain? I assume you’re going to take this monstrosity away from me, now. I have an entire building to run and, while this distraction is amusing to all five out of three thousand program systems I’m dedicating to it, I would prefer to go off and do more productive things,” she said, her amorphous head looking up at me.

“Hey, Jackson!” Pinkie called. I shrugged and ignored her.

“You’re free to go, AIA. Also, if Aaro Castlor shows up, direct him to my location. I want to be able to speak to him in person before the war council starts. I have some... oh, crap,” I said, spinning to face Pinkie. “Hey, Miss Pie, we actually can’t go all that far. The enchanted – I can’t believe I’m saying that – ring Celestia gave me only goes for about a kilometer, she said. If we go too far, your friends won’t be able to understand anything we say. Oh, and Twilight said to give you the go-ahead to start ‘Operation Cheer-up the Captain’ and I really have no-“

“Yahooo!” she screamed, bouncing from ceiling to floor in one constant motion. “I chose the name for that one! Finally I get to cheer you up! You’ve been all grumpy-wumpy ever since we left Omega, but Twilight said not to bother you because you were a big pony that handled things better on his own. I guess booksmart-Twilight was finally wro-ong, because if there’s one thing Pinkie Pie knows, it’s how to make ponies happy.”

“And if there’s one thing she doesn’t, it’s that I’m not a pony,” I hissed under my breath. “Pinkie, this means we can’t leave the building, basically. There is a hang-out and restaurant a couple floors down, NextLife, I think, that we can go to. Ever been to a club, Pinkie?”

“I went to one in Canterlot once. Bazaamo! The DJ there was sick!”

“Well it’s good to know you’ve been in the presence of an expert host, because ours are better tenfold.”

“No, really!”

“Never said I doubted you, Miss Pie,” I said, already heading down the hallway. She skipped after me, meeting my eyes at the peak of each hop. A hilarious frown was spread across her face.

“No, really! She had the pony-pox and asked me to fill in for her super-pronto, and I did. It was head-bobbing, flank-shaking, super duper-“

“Funnerific?” I proposed, turning the corner. Every single part of me wanted to just curl into itself and ignore her, but I nearly forgot about the pink pony of doom when I saw what was at the end of the hall. “Ah, what?”

“Funnerific is a super fun word to say, that’s what!” Pinkie said, although I hesitate to use the word ‘said’ in any sentence she uttered the entire night we were together. If this recording were ever documented, I am almost positive this section of it would be littered in exclamation marks.

Also, Pinkie was standing on the ceiling when she said that. I wish I had been paying attention to her more, at the time.

“How?” I started again, tilting my head at the approaching form of Roland and Dylan.

“Well you gotta say it out loud, silly-filly. Oppsie, sorry, you’re not a filly!”

“No, you tw-... sorry, you fool, I’m talking about those two,” I grunted, pointing at the subjects of my awe. In the mere minute and a half it had been since she’d left, Dylan was already wrapped up in a short, sparkling white dress, and her tight bun had been replaced with a lengthy, raised ponytail. Similarly, Roland was sporting a stylized black jacket and blue polo. It wasn’t their handsome and beautiful features combined, or the fact that they looked too much like a couple to be a coincidence, and I knew it wasn’t that Pinkie was still bouncing up and down on the wrong plane of gravity.

“How the heck did you get dressed so fast?” I asked.

“A lady never gives away her secrets, sir,” she answered, still standing stiff as a board next to Roland. He simply nodded, his thin-mustached lips stretched out in a grin. “So where are we going?”

“NextLife, couple of floors down. That way the ring’s influence still lets Twilight and her friends communicate with us, and we get to party, even though I don’t think you’ll be all that interested in partying, will you?”

“Probably not, sir,” Roland said, still grinning like a buffoon. “I left Rainbow Dash with the others, by the way. We’re all getting along fine, even though Lilian keeps making faces at Rarity every time she gets picky over stupid stuff.”

“Sure, sure.” I rolled by eyes, and spun around. “Let’s just get this over with. I Pinkie Promised to Twilight I’d hang out with her friend, and I always keep my promises.”

~=V=~

“I am actually regretting going through with this,” I grumbled.

“She’s eaten five whole plates,” Roland whispered in awe, mouth agape. “Where does it all go?”

“Probably to the black hole in her stomach. Where else?” Dylan asked, leaning against the table. We had chosen a seat at the far end of the establishment, far from prying eyes, even if they tried anyway. Roland and Dylan had taken up the other side of the booth, while I had the misfortune of dining next to Pinkie who, luckily, had zipped off to find “the little filly’s room”. I didn’t give her directions.

“So,” I started, looking back to them. Roland had worn a face of pure shock ever since Pinkie had made an elevator-full of tower workers sing in chorus to “The Elevator Song”. The two looked over to me, Dylan impassive, and Roland slack-jawed. “Why are you two so interested in each other? You’ve been together non-stop since Dylan had the faulty helmet removed, and I’d like answers. Romantic relationships with another Wing officer is against protocol, you know.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, but when have you ever obeyed protocol?” Roland asked, eyebrows raised. I wasn’t sure what to be more annoyed at: his bad-mouthing of my previous decisions or the fact that the only other option was his stupid face from before. Dylan suppressed a smile, and I frowned.

“I can break protocol because I’m the only current member of the Wing, besides Justin, that’s seen and done it all. My own experience is double that of even our leader. I am the single greatest asset the Wing has in every category. You want something done, you ask me to do it. Why do you think I volunteered to captain the Homebound?”

“Because you’re a glory-hog?” Dylan offered, and my hand was halfway across the table to smack her cheeky smirk off her face before her reactions beat mine. Arm pinned to the table and wishing I hadn’t tried to do that, I sat in grim silence. She took that as her cue to continue. “You didn’t let me finish, sir. I was alive during the Galactic Wars, nevermind how I survived them, living in the battlefield planets, and I know full well the stunts you pulled out there. What kind of idiot admiral offers to pull a suicidal thing like crashing an entire fleet into a planet at faster-than-light speeds? They actually had to invent and agree upon a new rule of war for that one. Do you know how many rules of war there are?”

“Ten, yes. My favorite one is the melee honor-code rule,” I said. “And I might be a glory-hog, but at least I never was shallow enough to date a member of my crew,” I blurted out, wanting only to slap myself afterward.

“Wait, we’re dating?” Roland asked, jerking back into his seat. “I thought we were just hanging out. You know, like friends. Last I checked, friends typically don’t date.”

“Well, we’re not typical friends,” Dylan started slowly, looking off into the smoky, red, and pulsating club. “But you’re not wrong about the dating thing. Jackson, for someone who prides himself in his leadership, you don’t really research the men and women you lead, do you?”

“What’s this all about?” I demanded, slumping back into the cushy bench. Dylan flushed, and looked to Roland.

“Er, well, Dylan and I met a long time ago, when we were like, seven.”

“I was eight,” she corrected.

“Yeah, well I was seven, then. Anyways, it was about the same time as the second galactic war was going on, you know, the biggest one? Both our families were in Wing space then. We were on Hazar.”

“God…” I whispered, leaning my chin on my fist. “How early did you evacuate?”

“Late,” Dylan said, just as low, as if discussing the topic was blasphemy. “We got out five minutes before the planet was glassed. Last group of refugee shuttles. My family and his made up the entirety of one of them. We were all… devastated. Have you ever had to watch your planet burn in nuclear fire?” she asked accusingly, instantly nudged none-too-gently by Roland, who coughed when she gave him a glare. It took a second, and a double-take for her to remember who she was speaking to, but wide-eyed realization quickly dawned on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. “It wasn’t as bad as nuclear fire coming from the ships designated to protect you. Hazar was the single most significant blow to Wing morale ever, in history. They still haven’t lifted the nuclear weapons ban on us. I would… well, I deserve to be apologizing to you two, actually. I had a window of time long enough to counter the orders, which would’ve lead to a stalemate until he pulled the Second-in-Command title on me. But, it was stressful, you know. My fleet was under heavy fire at the time, and- and…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dylan said, smiling. “We were eight. All we saw were the pretty lights, and all we heard were our parents crying. To us, it was like a ride in an amusement park.”

“Well it kinda just felt to me like my mom’s driving,” Roland muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“After that, our families stayed in close contact. We were in the same refugee camp in Feros Tyr, and ended up sharing a big apartment with a few charitable teryns. This was in the north, so they were a bit… scruffier. Hair everywhere, all the time. We took shifts, all of us, cleaning it up. Roland and I were paired together in our little buddy-system.”

“Oh T’los, remember the dinners?” Roland laughed, feigning a gag. “The teryn could cook, but I swear half of the stuff I was digesting was their own hair!”

“Nonsense!” Dylan chortled. “They were never that bad when it was a family meal. They were very polite and apologetic about it, I always thought. You should be so forgiving.”

“I’ll forgive ‘em if I ever forget the taste of teryn fur. Yeuch. You ever tasted teryn, Captain Amber?” Roland asked, poking at his plate half-heartedly.

“On multiple occasions,” I stated dully, drawing surprised eyes from the both of them. “Take that as you will, I am not even going to bother explaining. What happened after that?” I asked, desperately clawing at some way to avoid the topic it was turning into. A scantily-clad waitress passed, but I waved her on.

Roland shrugged, giving Dylan a chance to eat. “We grew apart, I guess. Her family got into the military, mine didn’t. Eventually we grew up. Dylan left for the academy as soon as it opened, but I stayed behind. My family… they still were having a hard time. Only when we heard the Wing increased its salary to good recruits did I decide it would be best. Ever since then, I’ve been sending my paychecks back to them and living with the academy.”

“And the training?” I asked. “Didn’t you see each other during that?”

“Where were you during the trainings, since you don’t know what went on? We were trained in two separate groups at first. We barely noticed each other when we did it together.” Dylan asked, letting her spork drop. “I would think you’d at least pay a little bit attention to such a high-risk mission.”

“Hey, no, no. I did,” I sputtered, trying to defend myself. “First off, I didn’t want to get too attached to you guys, so I left it up to the Admirals to train you to fly the Homebound. Why you did it in groups, it was probably just some dumb idea one of them got. I don’t know. Secondly, why does it matter?”

“Because I had no idea it was actually my Dylan. Helmet, remember?” Roland muttered, rolling his eyes and taking another bite of his food.

“And the voicebox,” Dylan finished, pointing to the small square device that was connected to the base of her neck. It had been painted the same blue shade as her skin, and I frowned at the notion that I hadn’t been observant enough to spot it. “It sucked being unable to talk with the person who had basically been my brother for most of my childhood, so I just tried to stick with him until it could be fixed.”

“Worked out,” Roland said, nudging her playfully. “What are the odds, eh?”

“Indeed,” I said, taking a sweeping look at the club. The entire thing was made to look like a circle, with tunneling entrances and exits on either side, both of which bore the name “NXTLIFE” in bright, pulsing red lettering. The domed ceiling flatted out at the top, and a glass cylinder filled with liquid of every color lowered to the middle, stopping at the top of the bar area. Everywhere around it was considered the dance floor, but on a day like this, it was more empty than full. In this case, empty of the only intelligent being

I knew wouldn't pass up the opportunity to be on it: Pinkie Pie.

Then she was in my face.

“Ah!” I sputtered, flailing sideways and launching myself to the ground. Pinkie, who had been leaning over the booth behind us, continued grinning like a maniac. “Wh-what?”

“Pinkie Pie, that’s what. Time to stop being so mopey-dopey and get into the super-fun-zone!”

“Where have you been?” I asked, struggling to my feet. When I did, I took extra care to correct the tilt of the Wing symbol on my jacket.

“In the restroom, silly! Then I went to go have a chat with the DJ (He is a really nice giant lizard thing, by the way!) and he agreed to play a special song for us!”

“Ooh, a special song,” Roland snorted. I considered slapping him; at least his reaction time would be slower. “Just remember the name so we can play it for you in ten years!”

“Oh go make out with your girlfriend or something, ensign,” I retorted, getting a snort from him and a blush from his companion. I looked back down at Pinkie Pie, and then up, because she was bouncing again. It was like she and gravity were just in disagreement with something. Maybe she was blackmailing it.

How do you even blackmail physics?

“Alright, Pinkie. What do you want now?”

“What I want, Mister Seriousface McSeriouspants, is for us to do the one thing that I know cheers every pony up.”

“You’re going to be quiet?”

“No, we’re gonna dance!”

And then the music started.

~=V=~

-10-1-3-11-19-15-14
-11-14-15-23-19
-14-15
-13-5-18-3-25

“So we’ve done it?”

“Yup.”

“Stole the Andromeda blueprints, successfully escaped the Wing forces, managed to get Brown so mad he’s completely blown a fuse, and managed to recruit a team of

top-notch, out-of-their-mind mercenaries to crew our ship?”

“Well, ‘our’ is a strong word, Miss Husk. After all, you’re one of those mercenaries.”

“Of course. But anyways, dear, are we going to finally stop this Wing business and go do some fun stuff? My contacts have heard there’s quite a few jobs open in the Corporation controlled space. Assassinations, heists, forgeries... escorts.”

“We’ll head that way soon, Miss, but we’ve still got some planning to do. We need to disappear, create aliases. I’ve already made mine, and I doubt the workers at the Gantoris Towers will forget the time they were raided by ‘the Wolf’. You new guys, though, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What’s there to learn anyways? You’re insane, we’re insane....”

“We’re a regular insane asylum, yup. The Chief already told me that joke. One person’s an eccentric assassin, one’s a lunatic that thinks she’s part cat, one’s a traveling corrupt politician that’s run away from his King, and you’re an information broker who pretends to run a less than legitimate business as it is, which is about as sane as it gets on this ship. That’s why you get to sleep in my room, with me, and not with the one that tries to lick herself clean.”

“Gee, you forgot the last one, you know.”

“And what would that be?”

“The guilt-ridden hero on the run from the law, of course. The one who will do whatever it takes to get vengeance... except the one he’s looking for is only ever going to be himself.”

“Heh, as long as you don’t go selling my secrets, hun, your crazy assertions of my personality are welcome for now. Wow, we’re a regular flick crew, aren’t we?”

“Oh, dearie, you have no idea.”

~=V=~

I do not want to talk about what Pinkie had to do to drag me onto the dance floor. It’s embarrassing, and I’ll have to remember it next time I get stuck in a bad place while politicking. It was terrible, and it was genius. It was Pinkie Pie.

“I hate dancing,” I said as I danced. Pinkie, somehow, was managing to perform every move spot-on if the crowd cheering was anything to go by. Give me a sword, and I’ll dance like you’ve never seen, but give me strobe lights and a carefully waxed floor, and you’ve got a tangle of limbs. Keep in mind that Pinkie is still a quadruped and should have broken every single bone in her body just by doing one of the moves.

Calling it insane would probably be a compliment.

“But?” she asked, grinning ear-to-ear in a creepy fashion, even as he hooves flailed out beneath her. She was doing a move I probably couldn’t even do with practicing. Somebody in the gathered crowd clapped; it wasn’t every day you got to see a galactic hero get shown up in a dance-off by a pile of pink bubble-gum and cotton candy.

“But what?”

“But! Like, I hate dancing, but this is really fun! Kind of but!” she exclaimed, pirouetting while facing me throughout each spin. I rolled my eyes, and when I blinked, her head spun around to untwist itself. “You are having fun. I can see it in your eyes!”

“Pinkie… Miss Pie,” I panted, barely holding my own while my legs seemed to dance on autopilot. “Seriously, dancing is never fun for me. Alright, okay? You win.”

“You sure?” she whispered in my ear, and I spun around to see only the empty dance floor and the grinning faces of the workers and Wing members that had gathered.

“Because if I win, then you fail. Didn’t you say something about never failing?”

“Yes, I did,” I countered, doing a three-sixty in the air and landing in a split. She giggled, barely audible over the ooh’s and aah’s of the crowd. I smirked, feeling a familiar fire burst back to life in my chest. “Although I don’t think I ever said it to you specifically, did I? You little eavesdropper you.”

“Nopey-dopey!” she tweeted, leaping from her two-legged position, flipping three times in the air, and landing on her forehooves only. “I didn’t drop any eaves, Captain Amber!” I groaned, in perfect timing with the cheers from the crowd.

“Well you’ll be dropping something before all of this is over,” I said, sliding my feet back and forth in an illusionary movement that gave the impression I was walking forwards and moving backwards. Cheering started up again, and I struck a pose. “And that’s the ball!”

“Wow!” she exclaimed. Blue strobes flashed overhead, in tandem with the blaring electronic musical noise. Pinkie giggled in the limelight, bouncing back up to a bipedal position. All at once, her tail and mane straightened themselves out, and her forelimbs jutted about in spasming, robotic motions. “I didn’t even understand that, and I’m me!”

“Well if there’s one thing you should understand,” I said, my grin slowly becoming less arrogant and more genuine. I launched myself backwards, and bounced on the floor in a waving pattern before flipping up to my feet and sticking out my arms. When I moved them, unlike her robotic moves, mine were fluid, and resembled waves. People in the crowd chuckled, and I took the momentary distraction to say, “is that you’re going down!”

“I beg to differ, Mister Amber!” she yelled, leaping past me in a perfectly balanced spin. Recognizing the move, I barely had enough time to catch her and finish it. Using her momentum, I curled her spinning form in the underside of my arm, and let her twirl off into the space behind me. “I think I’m going up!” Pinkie flashed a more manic-than-usual grin, and stopped her whirl just long enough to propel off the floor and into the air, limbs outstretched and body flying past me. I balked, and grabbed her underside as she passed overhead. As one, or maybe as five hundred, we skidded to a stop somewhere on the flashing floor, my back to the ground and Pinkie-encumbered arms raised above my chest.

“Oh, that was a good one,” I said. She winked. The crowd was ecstatic, and a second later I realized the music had stopped, something that the observers seemed to be letting their obnoxious voices ignore anyways. As my vision glazed over them, more than once did I see Wing members grudgingly handing off-duty dock workers and guards a couple of coins. “Alright,” I said, panting. “You win. I give. Dancing was never my forte.”

“But you had fun, right?” Pinkie asked, somehow ignoring how time was supposed to work and getting off my hand-made platform before I could even register she was gone. She smiled down into my sweating, red face, and offered a hoof to help me up. I accepted.

“More fun than I’ve had in a long, long time, Pinkie,” I said, stretching. Letting out an involuntary groan as my spine crackled, I stood on the floor with her even as a more organic tune started to play, and the crowd began to disperse. “I guess I owe you one.”

“Yup! And what was that bit about ‘never failing anything’, Jackson?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows up at me. I snorted, and waved her off.

“It was a tactical victory. Now I know how you dance, so the next time I’ll be able to do better and, most likely, win. Hardly a failure,” I said, smoothing out my crumpled uniform with one hand. Out of the corner of my vision, I kept a tab on the two ensigns I had brought with me. Roland was talking energetically to Dylan, with all kinds of insane hand movements, while she leaned back into the shadowed part of the booth, nodding every other word.

“Okie-dokie-lokie, whatever you say, Jacksiepoo!” she said, resorting to bouncing around me in circles. “What are we going to do next?”

“Well, no more clubs, that’s for sure, and no alcohol. Ever,” I answered, sauntering my way over to a new, empty booth. “I cannot have any of you ponies intoxicated, and your name is at the top of that list.”

“Hey, Jackson!”

“Hi, Pinkie.”

“No, Jacksiepoo, I’ve got a question! It’s duper super important! Can I ask it please?”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” I groaned, a smile finding a home on my face anyways. We stopped at the booth, a couple of seats down from Dylan’s, but didn’t sit down. “Go ahead.”

“Right, well, you know how I was having fun with Eye-Eye?”

“AIA?” I asked, rolling my eyes good-naturedly.

“Yupperooni! She was really fun to talk to, but I noticed something really weird! She talks so much different from the one on your ship, and I really really want to know what’s up with that!”

“Ah,” I said, the answer coming naturally. “Well you have to remember. TACT, AIA, and any other AI are not people. They’re machines designed to act like people and to think like people, because sometimes we need a little bit of help. We can’t exactly program personalities into them; that’s too much work. We can, however, program them to make their own personalities based on their own reactions to things that happen around them. The AIA unit here in the towers is several years old, so she’s got a fully developed personality, but I turned on TACT for the first time barely over a week ago. He hasn’t had time to make a personality for himself, so he still acts a bit like a regular machine.

That’s why AIA talks smoothly, like a person, and TACT talks like a robot.”

“So TACT is a baby?”

“Well… yes,” I said, secretly wondering what horrible monster I had unleashed on the poor AI.

“Ooh, yay! Mister and Missus Cake say I’m really good with babies!”

“Try not to make fun of him, though. New AI might seem emotionless, but if you’re cruel to them, they’ll act like any regular person and won’t want to help you. Reminding them they’re just a machine is also considered mean, since they’re fully aware of that, and then there’s those darn androids…”

“Baby-bot, baby-bot! TACT, is, a baby-bot!”

I chuckled, holding my head in my hands as Pinkie leapt about the booth. The brief high I’d gotten from the dance-off was fading fast, but fate had other things in store for me. A new voice arrived, and said, in a hard, unwavering voice, “You know, I always wondered when you would find romance, Jackson. I just figured she’d be an intellectual, or at least bipedal.”

“Well, you know me,” I said, a grin to match Pinkie’s appearing on my face. “I aim to disappoint. You got here fast, Aaro.” I turned to the side, my smile somehow growing even wider when the pristine, well-built uniformed figure of the Wing Premier approached from the darkness. Twin blades, black and glowing a dull red from within their shields, swung from his hips, but those weren’t the most interesting parts about him.

“You’re a robot!” Pinkie exclaimed, bouncing behind him and around us both. We couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Aaro raised his left arm, a low whirring noise accompanying the movement, and flexed the mechanical fingers.

“I am not a robot, I’m afraid,” he said, half trying to follow her with his eyes and half looking worriedly at me. “But the arm is mechanical, yes. Your summons came right on time, Jackson. Leader Dylan has moved the war council up two days. The irdan ambassador is apparently causing a scene over mineral resources and they’re still coming to a solution.”

“Bah, politics,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “They ruin everything. It’s good to see you in the flesh – and metal, again, Aaro.”

“And you as well, friend,” he said, shaking my hand with his good one. “Now are you going to introduce me to your date or not?”

“Ah, no. Not my date. More like… er, my friend. Pinkie,” I said, stepping back. Pinkie slipped in between us, smiling up at Aaro with wide eyes and a wider grin. He reached out his hand to shake. “This is Aaro Castlor, one of my best friends. He’s the Premier of the Wing. That is, he’s the second-in-command and, if our leader cannot make a decision, he makes it. Anything otherwise puts him at the power of an Admiral.”

“Well…” Pinkie started, taking his hand in a vigorous shake. “Any best friend of my best friend is a best friend of mine!” She let go of his hand, and we took the next two seconds watching it move up and down of its own accord while she went back to bouncing. “Pleasure to meet ‘ya!”

“Yup. That’s Pinkie Pie, one of the seven Equestrian ambassadors I mentioned. The rest are all up in the Higher Apartments for you to meet later, but I guess you’re… Pinkie, where are you taking us?”

“To the kitchens!” she said, somehow herding us via her bouncing over to one of the small doors leading out. It was painted and crafted to look inconspicuous, but the engraved “Employees Only” sign told us enough. “Our night of fun still isn’t over, Jacksiepoo! We gotta make cupcakes!”

“Jacksiepoo?” Aaro mouthed, a chortle leaking from the sides of his lips.

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and Pinkie opened the door. White, immaculate tiles lay beyond, and cooks of all species scuttled about, carrying pots, pans, and things I didn’t know the names of. Suddenly, I had a horrible thought run through my mind, in the form of a question.

Have you ever tried to make cupcakes at a nightclub?

For the record, it’s not easy, but it’s easily fun.

~=V=~

Comments

[Retsamoreh]

Well, surprise surprise, I'm back, and since I wrote this chapter in literally 3 days (I believe my top was 4k one day and 2k the other two days.) you guys get the chapter. There's a lot more going on in here than you might realize.

First of, naturally, some questions that I really, really need answered ASAP.

1. How was Pinkie in this chapter? Pinkie, under Fluttershy, is literally the single hardest character for me to write. I just want to know if she's believably in-character, because I have a niggling feeling she isn't.

2. This is the most important one, and I've been wondering it since I started writing this story. How is the balance between the ponies and the Wingverse? When I started writing this, originally, it was just to pander to a couple of friends that take part in the Wingverse just as I do, but since I'm posting it to a real audience, I need to make sure it has just as much ponies as it does Wingverse influence. This, of course, means a lot less stabbing and shooting and more drama using dialogue, something I'm pretty sure I've done well so far but at the end of the act, will change greatly.

Specifically, I want to know if your pony-needs are satisfied. The last thing I want is to just have this be a "LOOK AT MY SOLDIER CHARACTER SAVE THE GALAXY- oh and also ponies are with him I guess :/" story and while I feel I've done a good job, considering how much I love Jackson as one of my first original characters, I don't want to have too few ponies, but then again, the Wingverse is the setting, so I don't want to ignore the fantastic exploration aspects in that said setting.

For example, this chapter. I wanted a long chapter full of Pinkie shenanigans, but I ended up having it just be very little Pinkie and mostly Jackson whining to his crew and vice-versa, and I'm not entirely happy with it. So the real question is: Should I have more ponies, and if so, how do you want me to include them? (Some information for the future: the ponies will be getting a more action-orientated role during Act 3, and most other characters besides Jackson and the ponies are going to be discarded for the majority of Act 4.)

[Laichonious the Grey]

Aaro is best robot. Pinkie is Pinkie. Twilight is best pony. These are facts.

[Horcon]

Just when I was supposed to go to sleep. Also, Gravity is secretly dating Light, and Time had an "accident" with Space, and Pinkie knows about both and threatens to expose them. That's how you blackmail physics.

[Tyrant Molestia]

1670660 you make fluttershy cry with that best pony bull. everypony is best pony.

another great chapter!

[The Plebeian]

1: I thought you characterized Pinkie very well. After all, her whole being is based off of cheering ponies/people up.
2: With human/pony blend fics, there is no formula for "optimal pony inclusion." So long as you're making sure to keep the ponies dynamic and important to the plot line, your story is worth telling here. Jackson isn't dragging these ponies along. Even when he's not around the ponies, he's hearing of them and developing his opinions of their characters, making favorites and not-so-favorites all along the way.
TL;DR: Yes, this fic does have enough ponies. However, Jackson could talk with Spike a bit more. After all, he has even more to learn about the real world than the girls.

[Laichonious the Grey]

1671459
Notice how the phrase is "Twilight is best pony" and not "Twilight is the best pony" the distinct lack of a definite article denotes ambiguity and therefore the statement is not relegated to describing the subject as the best of a certain group but rather best as a pony. In other words, Fluttershy didn't cry.

[Tyrant Molestia]

1672139 that makes no sense and is therefore bull. that and the fact that I was making a joke out of it.