• Published 19th Sep 2012
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Homeworld: Equestria - hiigaran



Finding himself in an uncharted system, the Captain of a military vessel ends up on a strange planet

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6: Trials and Tribulations

“Stand by to begin combat trials. First, we will be monitoring the use of teleportation tactics with strike-craft,” flagship Harmony’s new tactical officer Zenith reported. “Assign the interceptor-class fighter and gunship-class corvette squadrons to the target drones provided by battlecruiser Masmak.”

“You heard the lady. Strike-craft, target four drones each,” Soban ordered.

Twin engined and with delta-shaped, negative-polyhedral wings that created a pronged fore-section, the formation of five interceptors sped off and left the slower, heavier trio of gunship corvettes in their afterburn. Setting themselves up for their first attack run, the interceptors rained down upon their targets with a torrent of magnetically accelerated rounds. Vanishing just before colliding with their targets, they reappeared off in the distance, already set up for their next attack run.

By the time the drone fragments scattered, and the interceptors had returned into formation with the flagship, the bulkier corvettes, with their dorsal and ventral turrets mounted on their elongated cuboid chassis, arrived within range of their targets and followed the interceptors’ examples.

“Teleportation trial complete,” Zenith continued. “Flight analysis shows a one hundred and fifteen percent increase in fighter combat performance over no tactics. No change in corvette combat performance. The next trial will test the effectiveness of shields. Stand by to begin the shield trial. Be advised, drones carry live ammunition. Assign the squadrons to the drones provided here.”

Charging off once more, the two squadrons approached the next formation of drones, under the protection of their individual bubble barriers. The drones fired first, their projectiles bouncing off or grazing against the shields, forcing the interceptor squadron to break formation and scatter briefly. The squadron recovered almost instantly, regrouping for their counterattack and firing out of a small hole in their shields with their forward-facing rotary weaponry.

Though the fighters had a simplistic, unchanging spherical enclosure, the corvettes had a larger shield management issue. The pivoting dorsal and ventral turrets provided each gunship with perfect coverage from every angle, and as such, the small openings in each shield required constant alteration. A dedicated member aboard each three-crew corvette managed the shield adjustment while the pilot and combat officer focused on their respective tasks.

Once the fiery remnants of the final drone disintegrated into oblivion, a quick inspection revealed the extent of the shield damage. The corvettes bore the brunt of the punishment as a result of their slower speed. Compensating for this drawback however, their firepower allowed for the faster destruction of their assigned drones, compared to the interceptors.

“Don’t get cocky, guys,” Soban warned the pilots exchanging joyous radio chatter “These drones used live rounds, but they weren’t dangerous by any standards. Now get yourselves back aboard.”

“Shield trial complete,” Zenith carried on. “In-depth offensive and defensive analysis will be available at our next briefing, Captain. The final combat trial will test the power and tracking effectiveness of the flagship’s ion cannons. Stand by to begin the flagship combat trial. Manoeuvre the flagship into the designated combat zone and engage the drones.”

Despite the extensive sound insulation, the roar of seven enormous engines pushing the colossal vessel would deafen the engineering crew, had they not worn protection. Entering the nearby combat zone, the first wave of target drones held position two kilometres directly in front of the flagship, while the dual, twin-ion turrets tracked the stationary drones.

This was it. The moment the flagship’s ion gunners Nova and Firelance had waited for. One, two, three, four ion cannons glowed a brilliant electric-blue, as the cannons prepared to fire, followed by several shrill roars that accompanied the transition from a mere pair of glimmers at the tips of each turret, to four fully fledged beams that swept across the drones, either vaporising them completely, or slicing through them like a blistering hot knife through butter. The beams continued, until they concluded their five-second emission with a final high-pitched noise, not unlike that of a sharp intake of breath.

A strange sound continuation was heard on the bridge. Quickly realising the internal comms were still open, the Captain fumbled over the controls to cut out the booming ‘WOOOOOOOOOO’ from Firelance.

Half a minute passed for the cannons to cool down to an acceptable level, triggering the second wave of drones to enter the combat zone and swarm around the flagship at a kilometre's distance. With near perfect accuracy, Harmony’s turrets tracked and predicted the flightpath of each drone, only narrowly missing one.

“Flagship combat trial complete. Engineering and weapons officers report optimal performance. Additionally, our resource collector reports the successful transfer of our first batch of resources, and construction reports a successful processing of them.”

“All operations are at optimum efficiency so far. Great work everypony!” the Captain commended. “Hyperspace module charged at ninety-two percent. The flagship will be ready for the hyperdrive test in five minutes.”

“Expect delays, Captain,” Zenith announced. “The resource collector must return with another four loads before proceeding.”

Many minutes passed as the crew of Harmony waited for the collector to return with its final load of harvested material. The flagship’s processing systems broke down the gathered material, atomically rearranging them into a dense substance, and sending them to thin storage containers underneath Harmony’s outermost armour, which conveniently served as additional armour when at full capacity.

“Resources fully processed. Collector docked. Preparations for the construction of a modular destroyer underway. Stand by to begin hyperdrive test. Internal pressure doors sealed. Abort systems standing by. Trigger the hyperspace drive at your discretion, Captain.”

The immense power requirements of quantum waveform generation taxed the entire vessel, causing even the cabin lights to dim momentarily as a surge of power flowed through the entire vessel and channelled itself forwards to open up the rectangular blue window that prepared to consume the vessel.

“Hyperspace initiated.”


“All hyperspace systems operating within tolerances,” Zenith reported. “If navigation and engineering predictions are accurate, we will arrive at the Hiigaran outpost in the Sarum system within sixteen hours. Mission objectives will be to rendezvous with the fleet, monitor all systems and return home.”

“Thanks, Zenith. I’ll be back later. You have the bridge.”

“When shall I schedule your next briefing?”

“We can take it in a few hours. There’s no rush for it right now.”

Captain Soban glanced outside at his new vessel, admiring the oblong shape and slight curvature of the flagship. He found it a pity that despite the generously sized windows that lined each side of the bridge, only a simple view-screen was built into the thick, armour-plated front. He supposed that was the point; to provide a solid surface that protected against frontal assaults. After all, what good is a flagship if the bridge is compromised?

However, it was neither the beauty of Harmony, nor his position aboard her that offered the Captain a level of serenity unlike any he would normally experience. It was what passed around the vessel that he had admired since he was a recruit. The wisps of blue that licked the ship as it passed through hyperspace would scatter and dance across the hull, almost like a flame, creating ever-changing artwork unsurpassed in beauty or variety.

As the only race to have truly become one with their ships, Soban envied the Bentusi. He could only dream of what it would feel like for a vessel to be merely an extension of a living body. He could only imagine the feeling of hyperspace and its wisps caressing the hardened exterior that seemed almost as through it were living skin. Most of all, he could only wonder what one might see through the eyes of the ancient race. A pity those secrets died out with the last of their kind.

Lost in his thoughts, Soban found himself at one of Harmony’s lowest decks: The mess deck. Whereas the bridge sat ahead of and under the dorsal ion cannon turret, the mess deck was built ahead of and above the ventral turret. A typically sparsely packed hall for the off-duty crew to relax, unwind and have a meal, the mess deck was brimming with activity. At least, Soban noted, brimming with ponies and several griffons. Not a single Hiigaran was found amongst the masses.

“Hey, Captain!” a friendly, gravelly voice shouted from behind a large bar counter. “What brings you to this little corner of your ship?” the buff, brown-coated unicorn motioned Soban to sit.

“Not much,” the Captain replied, parking himself on a stool and inspecting his surroundings. “Since when were bars allowed aboard military vessels?”

The unicorn shook his head. “This ain’t no bar, Skipper. You’re sitting with Equestria’s finest doughnut entrepreneur. The name’s Doughnut Joe,” he said, extending a hoof for Soban. “You can call me Joe, though. Used to run my own place in Canterlot until I heard they were looking for several chefs and bakers aboard this luxury liner. You should have seen the faces of the cops when I broke the news to them,” he chuckled. “Ahh well, I still have some of my old regulars, like Porky here!”

“Hey, I resent that nickname!” a particularly skinny pegasus responded nearby.

Doughnut Joe chuckled again. “He’s got a fast metabolism. So, what will it be? Vanilla? Chocolate? Cinnamon with apple filling? Glazed with sprinkles? You name it, I got it!”

“Cinnamon and apple sounds interesting. I’ll try a pair.”

“Comin’ right up!”


“Yeah, I really only served in the royal guard for a few years. After my minimum service period was up, I packed my things and left. It’s not that I hated it, but it just wasn’t for me. I guess that’s what happens when I ignore my true calling.” The stallion gestured at the image of a doughnut with pink icing and sprinkles that adorned his flank, before continuing. “I guess that kinda got my hoof in the door over here, what with my experience and all. I’m just surprised it was even a consideration. I dish out the doughnuts, not the firepower.”

“You have to look at it from a different perspective. Building a ship is easy. You have an entire galaxy of asteroids, dust clouds and junk parts with which you can assemble a ship, and if you lose one, it is easily replaceable. Lives, on the other hand, are not, which is why you don’t see ships this large that are filled with many crew. Lives are valuable, because they are relatively scarce. This is also why having many skills is vital. If you can do the job of two, you get accepted first. In the case of the more ‘civilian’ jobs aboard, weapons training is especially useful, in case an attacker decides to infiltrate our ship, for example.”

“Infiltrate? How so?”

“Well, there are several ways an attacker might infiltrate another vessel. We Hiigarans have a ship, called a marine frigate, which positions itself close to the hull of the target and uses an energy beam to insert and extract our marines. Other races generally use a more crude approach, where they would ram a small ship or pod into the target and cut through to get inside. So you can see how you would double up as a member of internal security.”

“That does explain the sort of training your people are providing for me, and most others who work on this deck.”

“Speaking of, any idea why no other Hiigarans are here? Have you seen any at all on this deck?”

“Only a few, but I think they were on duty. Now if I’m to be honest with you”—Joe leaned closer to the Captain—“I’ve been in the business long enough to be familiar with body language, and if those fellas were indicative of the rest of the Hiigarans aboard, I’d say they were distrustful of us. Hay, at least the griffons make an attempt to socialise with us, but your guys? I’ve seen more smiles at a graveyard.”

“Guess they just don’t know you guys like I do. I wouldn’t worry about it too much, though. They won’t stay for too long. Alright, thanks for the doughnuts. You got yourself another regular. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a briefing to prepare for.”


“… And so we return to the original issue,” An orange-coated, red-maned unicorn finished her tactical report on the earlier trials. “Given the advantage we have with teleportation and shielding, I believe this would be the perfect opportunity to figure out how we are to prioritise strike-craft deployment and crew management aboard the individual fighters and corvettes.”

Corona paused, digging through her files for the relevant papers. “We currently have two options with our fighters. Either we stick to the standard single-pilot assortment and leave teleportation or shielding up to the pilot, or we seat a dedicated unicorn behind the pilot to handle those extra tasks.”

“You seem to be forgetting one important thing there,” Zenith spoke up. “Only the best of the best can perform both teleportation and create a shield. Most of our pilots can only execute one of those abilities. These aren’t spells one can learn in a few days. They require many months of dedicated practice. Let’s not ignore the corvettes, either. While I would advise dual pilot arrangements for fighters, doing so would take precious crew away from the more efficient corvettes.

“Well, just how many would we need? Give me the maximum value,” Soban responded.

“Lets see here”—Zenith referred to a monitor—“We have twenty squad slots in our hangar bay. One of those is occupied by our resource collector, so that leaves nineteen squads. We require three crew members for each of the three ships in a corvette squad and either one or two members for a squad of five fighters. Doing the math, we get a maximum need of one hundred and ninety pilots if we wish to use fighters exclusively. Half of those pilots must be unicorns.”

Corona scratched her head. “Will we even have that many unicorns? Somepony check the manifest. In the meantime, we will also require corvettes, but we have to figure out what types of fighters and corvettes we will need.”

“Why don’t we just divide the types needed as evenly as possible?” Soban shrugged. “Four interceptors, five bombers, four gunships and five pulsar gunships. That leaves one more squad slot for something else. A scout squadron, perhaps?”

“Quite a simplistic suggestion,” Zenith considered. “I like it. That is, assuming this complements the rest of our fleet. What is the status of the modular destroyer, Corona?”

“Assembly is moving along quite nicely, but construction had enquired about the weapon load-outs for the five mounting slots. Captain? Your input is welcome here.”

“Well, we have a lot of choice. We could stick to the standard twin heavy-kinetic turrets for all four hard-points, plus the nose-mounted torpedo layout, but we could also use twin ion cannon turrets, flak cannons, tri-artillery turrets, torpedo batteries or pulsar turrets. We also have the option of removing the single ventral slot and adding extra propulsion. Now personally, I like the idea of extra propulsion and nose-mounted flak cannons. I also like the idea of filling the three dorsal slots with dual-ion turrets, but there is the issue of versatility. Suggestions on alternative weaponry?”

Corona spoke up first. “If you are set on the extra engines and flak cannons, I propose we fill out the dorsal slots with torpedo batteries. Given the long reload times of those batteries, a hit-and-run tactic sounds like the most effective offensive manoeuvre. Move ahead, strike quickly and retreat.”

Zenith shook her head. “I’m going to have to disagree. To do that, we would need to get a little too close for comfort with whatever we are targeting. Not a particularly enticing thought for me, especially since we don’t have a unicorn capable of projecting a large enough shield around a destroyer.”

“What are you talking about?” Corona asked. “We have one.”

“Yeah, and what do you think is more important? A destroyer, or Harmony?”

“Oh, right, right.”

“Like I said, too close for comfort,” Zenith continued. “While I do like the idea of extra engines and nose flaks, I think I will have to suggest filling out the slots with tri-artillery turrets. We get the first strike from relative safety, which sways the odds in our favour, even if the shells are nowhere near as devastating as an ion cannon.”

Soban scribbled down a few notes. “So we are in agreement? Three tri-artillery turrets, nose-mounted flak cannons and extra propulsion? Notify construction.”

“Yes sir.”

The Captain continued. “Okay, that takes care of that, then. Now, what are we going to about the strike-craft? Corona?”

“Your original suggestion works, but I recommend a slight amendment. How about five interceptors, four bombers, five gunships and four pulsar gunships? That way, we have a better defence against fighters.”

“I agree with Corona, Captain. Our required crew should then be … Multiplied by … Added to … Plus the three for the scout squadron … One hundred and seventy-four, at most. Minimum would be … One hundred and twenty-nine. That means we need seventy-five unicorns for this strike-craft combination. You may want to consider using more corvettes than fighters if we find ourselves short, sir.”

“That brings me to the final matter on this topic,” Zenith began. “After a quick run through the manifest, we barely meet the minimum number of unicorns, and according to the profiles of the pilots, it seems there is a highly disproportionate number with shielding proficiencies. Very few have mastered teleportation. Perhaps two fighter squadrons should be corvettes, and we forget about the scout squadron.”

Corona nodded. “It’s a minor change, but anything is better than nothing. I concur. If we remove one of each fighter type, add one of each corvette, and remove the scouts, we would require sixty-eight unicorns as part of the strike-craft crew. Likely that would still leave us with a teleportation skill deficiency, but at present, we only have a single interceptor and gunship squadron constructed, anyway.”

“Looks like we have come to an agreement, then. Now, we still have eleven hours before we arrive. I think it’s time to switch to the night crew rotation and rig for red. Dismissed.”


Captain Soban woke to the shrill ringing of an alarm blaring beside his bed. Two hours until arrival. Dragging himself out of bed, he showered, shaved and donned his uniform.

Adorned with epaulettes signifying Captaincy and ribbons just above his left breast pocket signifying his medals, Soban’s uniform was mostly black and trimmed red, according to the colour scheme of Hiigara’s Sobani vessels. The symbol of Kiith Soban, a thick ‘T’-shaped symbol with tapered ends, was worn as a patch on the left shoulder. The vertically aligned circles nestled between inverted wings were instantly recognisable to everyone as the Hiigaran symbol, and would be worn on the right shoulder of every Hiigaran, regardless of Kiith. Soban’s, however, had been altered slightly, to replace the two circles with the symbol of the sun and moon, based on the Princesses’ cutie marks.

A final inspection of his uniform confirmed everything was immaculate, and the Captain headed out for a quick breakfast before stepping foot on to the bridge.

“Morning, Captain!” Soban’s night-crew commander Midnight Oil greeted. “You’re just in time. Sarum is coming up on hyperspace coordinates in two minutes.”

“Thanks, Midnight. I trust we had no issues while I was away?”

“None whatsoever,” he yawned. “Aside from some night crew training, it has been fairly quiet, actually.”

Midnight Oil offered the Captain’s seat to Soban, who dismissed the dark-grey Earth-pony. Visibly exhausted, the second-in-command left the bridge without another word. Soban knew all too well how the effects of boredom and inactivity would accelerate the need to sleep. Perhaps the novelty of space travel wears off much faster for others, Soban thought, watching the dancing hyperspace phenomena slow and brighten to a momentary white flash, before fading into normal space.

Port-side, Soban saw the empty blackness of space. Starboard-side, he could see the dense clusters of stars that congregated into the disc and galactic centre of the galaxy. Ahead, shown on his view-screen, was a large, oblong structure with long, perpendicular sensor arrays.

“Hyperspace successful,” he announced to the bridge. “We have arrived at Sarum Outpost.”

The outpost made contact almost immediately. “Welcome to Sarum, flagship Harmony. Stand by as our technicians come aboard. ETA for ship-wide analysis is forty minutes.”

“Take your time. Our hyperspace module will require approximately one hour to charge, anyway,” the Captain responded. “Zenith, assign an escort to the technicians and direct them to engineering once aboard.”

“Yes, Captain.”


Emerging alone in orbit around the familiar planet Soban had now considered home, Harmony returned high above Equestria with a clean bill of health, and left its Hiigaran escorts back at Sarum. With all systems verified in working order, and the latest addition to the fleet nearing completion, the Equestrian fleet would soon be prepared to embark on their mission to locate the fifth core.

Zenith stared at the planet port-side of Harmony, then turned towards Soban in confusion. “Uhh, Captain? How exactly will Equestria know we have returned?”

“Oh they will know. I’m pretty sure Luna is—”

*POOF*

“Princess!”

“Good afternoon, Captain. I trust your journey went well?”

“Indeed it did, ma’am. We are ready to bring aboard the rest of our crew.”

“All four hundred and ninety?” Luna’s eyebrows rose.

“Ahh, when you put it that way, we can only accommodate three hundred and fifty crew aboard this vessel, so probably best to just bring aboard the strike-craft pilots. Oh, right, and another eighty can be brought aboard to transfer to our destroyer.”

“Of course. I may need to locate the pilots first, but I should have the destroyer crew within the minute. Do you have any specific deck or room you wish me to send them?”

“If you can, send the strike-craft unicorns to briefing room one, all other pilots to room two, and the destroyer crew to room th—”

“Captain, I am picking up a long range communication signal,” Zenith cut the Captain off. “It appears to be a distress call. Stand by for playback.”

The garbled signal barely made it through, filled with static and corrupt sections. “This is the Somtaaw— … Vessel Coor-Lan— … Any ships in the area— … Under attack— … Escort wiped out— … Hiding in an asteroid belt but we cannot— … Transmitting coordin—”

“That’s—that’s all I have, Captain,” Zenith hesitated.

“Did you receive the coordinates?”

“Yes, sir, a half hour jump from here. It’s actually on our way to the—”

“No time. Princess, forget the strike-craft crew. Bring the destroyer crew aboard immediately. We’re going to need Shining Armour for this one as well,” Soban ordered. Luna obeyed and disappeared immediately, while the Captain turned back towards his tactical officer. “Zenith, I want us in hyperspace the moment the drives are charged.”

Luna appeared once again near Soban. “Your destroyer crew await their briefing. Good luck,” Luna informed the Captain, promptly vanishing in another flash.

“Get those pilots sorted out, Zenith, then set coordinates for the Coor-Lan.”