• 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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8: The Minaret of Kadesh

We hear nothing there. Even the Taiidan fear the Great Nebula. No-one returns.

- The Bentusi, Exile Era, 9509.5 GSY


“WHAT’CHA DOIN’?” the piercing voice of the pink pony marked the end of the fifteen-minute silence Soban had relished in his office. He considered himself lucky. Fifteen minutes was a new record, but now he had to deal with the pair of blue eyes that hovered in front of him, blocking the view of deep-space on the rearward-facing window.

“Just looking outside.” Soban sighed. It was too early to deal with her, especially after a minor incident involving a reactor coolant leak in engineering had dragged the Captain away from his slumber almost four hours after finally drifting off to an uneasy sleep.

At the very least, it left Captain Soban awake long before their arrival at the end of the first leg of the journey. After assigning the collector to harvest a large asteroid nearby, sending the gunship squadron to escort the collector and ordering the interceptors to patrol the surrounding area, Soban decided to wait out the hour-long hyperdrive recharge in his office by admiring the backdrop of countless pinpricks of twinkling light outside. At least, until Pinkie Pie casually entered via an air vent.

“Pinkie, I mean no offence by this, but why exactly did you come aboard?”

“How could I resist?” she bounced on the spot, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “As soon as I heard you were all going to some far-away place with aliens, I just had to! I can see it now. My very first space party with ponies and griffons and aliens. Oh, it would spectacularific!”

“Hate to break it to you, but these guys are likely going to attack us on sight. They are religious fanatics who give two options to any who pass through; join, or die.”

“That doesn’t sound very nice of them!” Pinkie pouted.

“Mmm,” Soban grunted.

“Well, I think it’s a challenge! Gimme some time with them, and I’ll bet you a triple-frosted, multi-layered, chestnut-puree and whipped cream cake with a large—mmmmmm, I could totally go for one of those right now. Wait, what was I—oh, right! Challenge!”

“I get the point, Pinkie. Like I said, though, it’s going to be pretty much impossible to reason with them.”

“Then, why are you going to this nebula place thingy?” she cocked her head to one side.

“Our mission is neither to make peace with them, nor to seek them out. We are to travel through and search for a unique anomaly on one of our instruments, detected within a radius of a few hundred light-years from any of the ancient hyperspace cores. If we do find something, then we may have to make contact, and maybe, just maybe, we could forge some kind of diplomatic relations with them.”

“I didn’t understand half of that, but that’s okay! It’s like when I was watching Twilight do her funny experiments in your big lab.”

“She still with the research crew? What is she up to?”

Pinkie shrugged. “I ‘unno. She’s playing with those things she calls a spectrothingamabob and making reports for Princess Luna. She’s written so much that you could swim in those papers! But then Twilight got mad at me and threw me out, so now I’m here. I should see what Rainbow Dash is up to.” With a hop, she bounced up into the same air vent. “Later!”

Soban pointed to his most accustomed method of entering his office. “The door … It’s right there, Pinkie.”

“Dashie’s room is faster to reach from here. It’s a simple left, down, right, right, left, right, down, left, and you’re there! I got all the routes memorised.”

“But that’s—,” Pinkie did not stick around to hear the Captain’s befuddled protesting. He stopped as he watched her rump squeeze into the vent, and shook his head as the sound of rapid hoofsteps faded off into the distance.


“Ahh, Captain Soban! Just the guy I was about to contact!” a white griffon covered in oil poked his head out of what appeared to be the innards of a semi-constructed probe engine in the construction bay. Rolling out and attempting to straighten his ruffled and greased-up feathers, he proceeded to clean up his workspace. “I’m Spanner, head of construction, but my friends call me the manic mechanic!”

“Manic—What?”

“Let’s just say I earned that title after … Ahh, let’s just say it was an event involving high voltage, alligator clips, some body parts of mine, and a fire extinguisher.” The griffon couldn’t help but grin at the half-confused, half-alarmed expression on the Captain’s face. “Anyway, was gonna to give you a buzz to confirm this construction list, but now that you’re here, shoot. Got enough material to build half a destroyer. Do you really want to make a bunch of tiny little fighters?”

“It’s certainly tempting. They make for some great defensive ships, and we aren’t meant to be on the offensive, so why not? Might as well get it out of the way now, even if we have to stay longer than an hour here for harvesting. Have you seen the corridors here? They are packed with idle crew members. Might as well kick them off and give them a new home. Can’t really do that with strike-craft, so those pilots are stuck here regardless.”

“Right, they have to dock every time we want to enter hyperspace, don’t they? Alrighty, so same weapon assortment as the Timberwolf, then?”

Soban nodded. “The very same. Once your team is done, get a mobile refinery built before working on the strike-craft list. Our resourcing operations need to be sped up.”

“Oh, good choice. More of those precious resources for me to play with!” Spanner tapped his talons together, a loony little glimmer in his eyes. “Interesting things, those refineries. Read up on their technical details. Mini-wormhole creation though specially charged plates at the transmitting and receiving ends? Genius!”

“Funnily enough, it was an accidental discovery. Anyway, what’s our ETA on everything?”

“Assuming an uninterrupted supply of resources, I’d say about thirty-four hours for the destroyer, thirteen hours for the mobile refinery and nine hours for the first full interceptor squadron. Give or take, of course.”

Soban hummed. “Alright, if that’s the fastest we can do, it might be worth delaying the journey for a few hours. At least it gives our collector more time to harvest—”

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” the voice of a cyan pegasus echoed from the upper decks of the mostly empty construction facility. Gliding between scaffolding as she approached, Rainbow Dash planted her hooves on the ground near the Captain. “Do you mind tell—Oh, sorry. Was I interrupting?”

Soban turned to the griffon. “I think that was all, yes? You can take it from here, can’t you, Spanner?”

“Leave it to me and my guys! We’ll get right on it!” Spanner shook loose several screws and washers from one of his wings and took off.

“So what’s up, Dash?”

“Okay, I know Twilight said I’m not allowed to go flying around in one of your fast ships and all, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Whaddya say? When it’s safe to do so, of course. I don’t wanna get in the way or anything.”

“I—Er—I’ll have to think about that.”

“Cool, cool. No problem. Take your time. Just see if you can get the Wonderbolts to watch. Or better yet, join in!”

“Wonder—You mean those ones who wear the blue outfits and perform aerial tricks?”

“Yup, that’s them!”

“What would they be doing here?”

Rainbow Dash’s face fell. “You—You mean out of all the ponies that got to be on this ship, the best, most awesomest fliers in all of Equestria didn’t make it?”

“Well, I wasn’t in charge of your selection process, so I can’t say for certain why, but there could be a few reasons. Either they didn’t want to, or they just didn’t pass mission suitability.”

“Wonderbolts? Fail?” Rainbow’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “That’s impossible, I can assure you of that,” she declared with a confident nod.

“Don’t be so sure, now. They might be talented in what they do, but the strenuous physical and psychological testing eventually gets the better of most applicants. Then there is the consideration of their talents. As impressive as flying stunts are, there’s just no use for it here. This doesn’t make the Wonderbolts useless or weak, mind you, but there is a reason why most of our crew have military backgrounds.”

Rainbow folded her forehooves. “Hmph. Well this sucks. One of the reasons I came here was to be around them and maybe impress them a bit. What am I gonna do now?”

“Well, what do you normally do in Ponyville?”

“Eh, when I’m not working the clouds, I’m either practising some of my amazing stunts, or just hanging out with my friends. But there’s not enough room to fly much in here, and Twilight is off somewhere doing her boring egghead science stuff.”

“Pinkie was looking for you earlier.”

“Yeah, I know. She ditched me ten minutes later after she saw something shiny.”

Captain Soban raised an eyebrow. “Right, well I’m afraid I’m going to have to ditch you as well. I’ve got to prepare my materials for the next crew briefing.”

“Oh. Okay. I don’t suppose there’s anything fun to do around here, is there?”

“Probably not. Your best bet will be to just socialise down on the mess deck. Speaking of, I think Pinkie was looking for you earlier on.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about her! You got anypony around who can help pull her out of an air vent? She got stuck.”

Soban’s eye twitched.


“… However, I cannot stress enough that you must know your limitations. Don’t get overconfident because you can teleport or make a little shield for yourselves. Don’t take any chances, and always remain alert, even when we are not at combat alert. Getting caught off-guard could make the difference between life and death, either for you, or for others around you.”

Captain Soban paused, scanning the full briefing room of interceptor pilots.

“Before I wrap this up, I would like to say one final thing. Interceptors are responsible for patrols, escort duties and most importantly, for countering hostile fighters, with priorities on anti-capital-ship fighters. As such, it is understandable that you may feel your role is insignificant, but that is far from the truth. While you are not the hard-hitters of our fleet, you are valuable in early warnings and taking out the smaller ships larger turrets can’t track. Now then, questions? Yes, you with the orange mane.”

“I, uhh … do we …” the pilot fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. “If and when we attack others, are we going to have to … y’know … kill?”

The Captain hesitated at the unusual question. “That’s sort of the point, pilot. Why?”

“Oh. It’s just that nopony has ever killed another. Not even in the royal guard.”

“Oh shit,” Soban muttered to himself. “Alright, look, we aren’t going to start fights, but there is a good chance we might get into one. What you have to remember is that it is either you, or them. We do not wish to instigate anything, but if we fall under attack, you will have to defend.”

“Can’t we just take away their ability to fight?” the pilot asked.

“You mean disabling their weapons? Yes, it is possible, but if the point is not to kill, it would really only work on larger vessels. Fighters, corvettes and in most cases even frigates would suffer too much internal damage to keep their occupants alive.”

The pilot slowly exhaled and eventually nodded. “Alright, we were told we might have to do it. We were all well aware of that possibility. How—How hard could it possibly be?”

Captain Soban didn’t answer, nodding instead and concluding his briefing. He knew how easy it was to take many lives and cope with such actions, but then again, the history of the Hiigarans was stained with the blood of thousands of years of warfare. The millennia-old war that forced them into exile, the destruction of their exile world Kharak four thousand years later, the war against a techno-organic subversion entity, and the war for Sajuuk. Every war, every skirmish, every aggressive encounter that involved the Hiigarans was concluded with gruesome trails of destruction across the stars.

Still, that was Hiigaran history. The pilots with Soban were uninitiated. Inexperienced. Innocent. The Captain knew extinguishing lives became easier with time, especially when one cannot look upon the face of the enemy, but for a race that never even knew murder or warfare in the truest sense of the word, Soban felt a pang of guilt for what may follow in the upcoming days.


Zenith was resting her head on a hoof and idly counting stars, when the Captain returned to the bridge. “Sir, the hyperspace module has been fully charged for the last four hours. What are we doing, anyway?”

“We need to delay our journey, so we can assemble a second destroyer and have it ready by the time we arrive at the nebula,” Soban explained. “We might need it. Plus, we could definitely use the extra resources. Speaking of which, I think our collector is returning with the last load as we speak.”

With rather impressive timing, the collector pilot’s reported his final load. “Nothing but gravel out here.”

“Great work. Dock at your assigned hangar bay once you have dropped off your resources. Strike-craft, that goes for all of you as well. We depart in five minutes.”

Captain Soban stared out of the port-side bridge windows, watching the line of tiny vessels return to Harmony and dock in the underbelly of the flagship. Once the final strike-craft had docked successfully, the Captain readied his ship and notified Timberwolf. Once again, Harmony hummed with the buildup of power that would send the fleet back into faster-than-light travel in three … two … one …

“Hyperspace initiated.”


It had been another day in the realms of hyperspace for the budding Equestrian fleet, and even as they approached the end of the second leg of their journey, Twilight was nowhere to be seen, nor had she responded to any calls or announcements over the internal comms since arriving aboard. Soban was fairly certain he knew where she had disappeared to, but had been too preoccupied to check in on her personally.

Leaving the bridge to his second-in-command, the Captain eventually set off for the research lab, located all the way back in the rearward sections of Harmony. What he saw stunned him. Pinkie did not exaggerate when she said one could swim in the sheer number of papers filling the room. The lab looked like small city, with pillars of papers rivalling Soban in height. Lab equipment on the once-organised desks were buried under scrolls, and the off-white walls were hidden behind even more papers tacked on to them. It was almost a hedge-maze of research papers containing complex calculations, observational notes, schematics, and several other things the Captain could not make heads or tails of.

Navigating his way into the centre of the room, he found the lavender unicorn alone, surrounded by levitating pieces of parchment, along with multiple quills that had lives of their own as they frantically scribbled whatever Twilight was working on.

“Oh, hello, Captain,” she yawned. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Twilight, I— … What are you doing?” Soban swept the lab with his eyes. “What are all of these?”

“Just a few notes I’m compiling on several broad topics, including astronomy and magic. Nopony has ever really looked into the technical and physical side of magic before. At least, not in great detail, considering we lack most of this sophisticated equipment.”

The Captain chuckled, slightly bemused. “You certainly seem to have the detail part covered. Have you even slept yet?”

“Oh it’s just one night of lost sleep”—Twilight waved her hoof in dismissal—“it’s not that big a deal.”

“It is if you’ve been exerting yourself. Look at you, you can barely keep your balance. And you’re sitting! Come on. Bed. Now.”

“Just a few more hours! I’ll be done with the first half by the—YAAARRGH!”

Slinging the mare over his shoulder, Soban exited the lab and headed for the crew quarters, with Twilight squirming and protesting the entire way.

“Alright, which room is yours?”

“Actually, there weren’t any left. My intention was to sleep in the lab.”

Soban sighed. “Take my quarters, then. Once our next destroyer is complete, the crew will transfer, and you can take one of their rooms.”

“I can’t do that! Where are you going to sleep?”

“It’s just one night of lost sleep. It’s not that big a deal,” he mimicked the unicorn.

Lumbering into his quarters, Soban deposited Twilight onto the bed, eliciting a small ‘oof’ from her as she flopped on to it. He couldn’t help but chuckle again as Twilight frowned up at him, her mane now looking rather bedraggled.

“Now promise me you will get some shut-eye. I’ll know if you try to sneak back into the lab, so don’t make me lock you out of there permanently.”

“Alright, fine.” Twilight rolled her eyes at the patronising threat. “Hey, Captain? One last thing …”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. I know I can sometimes get a little carried away, but it takes somepony else to make me realise it.”

Soban nodded with a grin. He flicked off the lights, shut the door behind him and returned to the bridge.


“Change of plans, Midnight. Take the day off and take over tomorrow.”

“You sure, Captain? You look dead on your hoov—uhh, feet.”

“Nothing a few strong cups of tea can’t fix. Besides, I’ve had worse days, trust me.”

“Okay, well waypoint two is coming up on coordinates momentarily, and I’ve already cleared the collector for launch upon arrival, along with … Basically, I issued the same orders you sent back at waypoint one.”

“Good job, Midnight. Dismissed.”

The fleet spent several uneventful hours holding position, allowing the collector to gather construction material for the destroyer that had neared completion. Leaving the area barren, Harmony stored the resources, and resumed their hyperspace journey toward their primary objective.

“Alright, crew, this is it,” Soban announced. “In a few minutes, we will exit hyperspace along the outskirts of the Great Nebula. We will conduct a parallel search pattern, during which time we will monitor our instruments for a unique quantum wave distortion. If we find what we are looking for, we investigate. If not? Well, we head home and figure something else out. Be advised, we will be under full combat alert for the duration of our stay here.”

The transition from hyperspace left the fleet surrounded and stunned by the brilliant jubilee of red and orange hues, with countless irregular clumps of condensed clouds that were clear indicators to the crew they were without a doubt inside the Great Nebula. It was almost surreal with its beauty and tranquillity, though given the circumstances for their visit, none aboard gave the environment a great deal of thought, all investing their focus on their assigned tasks.

The poor visibility made the foreboding celestial body a perfect sanctuary to hide in … Or conduct a devastating ambush. Zenith seemed to be grimly aware of this fact, as Soban noticed her tense up in his peripheral vision. She was staring open-mouthed and wide-eyed at her sensors, noting hundreds, if not thousands of blips representing unknown vessels around them. A single bead of sweat began to form along her forehead when she discovered the blips were popping in and out of existence.

“It’s alright, Zenith,” the Captain assured her. “They aren’t really there. The nebula is incredibly rich with energy, to the point where sensors are almost completely useless. You know, it’s funny. We haven’t been here in over a century, and our technology still hasn’t been able to work around this problem.”

“Good news, Captain,” Spanner messaged the bridge. “Your destroyer is good to go. The last of the crew have just transferred over, and we should be ready to launch within the minute. You gonna name it now, or … ?”

“Hold on one moment.” Soban switched the communications channel. “Hey Firelance, what was that suggestion you had a while back for a ship name?”

“Uhh not sure what you are—Oh! You mean Luna’s Wrath?”

“No, there was another one you mentioned. I think.”

“Ahh, it was Ursa Major.”

“That’s the one! Thanks ‘Lance,” the Captain flipped back to the previous channel. “Still here, Spanner? Register the ship under the name Ursa Major, then cut her loose.”

“Done and done! The berth is clear and assembly on the mobile refinery is underway. You should see your shiny new destroyer emerging just about … nnnnnnow! Don’t scratch that fine paint-job of mine, or you’ll be buffing it out yourself! Spanner out.”

“Harmony? Ursa Major requesting a comms check.”

“I read you five by five,” Soban replied. “Now get yourself in formation.”

“Will do.”

Captain Soban watched as the Ursa Major glided over Harmony and came to a halt a few hundred metres off the starboard-side, balancing out the fleet formation with the Timberwolf to the port-side. Soban felt more satisfied with the fleet, though mainly due to his slight obsession with symmetry.

“Right, back to work, everypony,” he announced, his eyes returning to dart back and forth across his instruments. “Zenith, have sensors picked up anything new, yet?”

“I really can’t tell, sir. Everything is everywhere. What exactly am I supposed to look for?”

“Anything consistent. Anything larger than us. Anything with a steady trajectory.”

“I’m doing my best to filter out anything that doesn’t match that criteria, but so far? No, nothing new, assuming I haven’t missed anything.”

“I’m sure you haven’t.” Soban continued to rub the stubble across his chin in thought. “Odd, though. No hyperspace inhibitor fields detected, nothing on sensors and no attempts at contact. They would have been alerted to our presence long ago, so this place should already be swarming with them, no pun intended.”

“Pun, sir?”

“Oh, their fighters are called swarmers, because they attack with them in … well, large swarms. Regardless, not that I’m complaining, but what are they up to if they aren’t here yet?” he continued rubbing his chin. “Let me know when the hyperdrive is charged again, Zenith. I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary.”

After another uneventful hour, the newly expanded fleet returned to hyperspace to continue their search, but after a second and third stop, the fleet had made no headway with their mission objectives. By the time the fleet approached the next stop, even the Captain seemed fed up.

“Look on the bright side, sir,” Zenith suggested. “This extra time has allowed construction to complete a mobile refinery and several fighter squadrons. Including our two original squadrons, we now have a total of four interceptor squads, a bomber squad and our gunship corvette squad.”

“I suppose,” Soban relented, clearing his throat. “Alright, stand by for hyperspace exit. Again.”

As Harmony entered the heart of the nebula, her crew hastily shielded their eyes from the excessively bright-red surroundings. The crew squinted and remained teary-eyed for the better part of a minute, as they grew accustomed to the intense light.

“Okay, its official”—Zenith raised her hooves and leaned back in defeat—“Sensors are completely out. These readings make no sense whatsoever. According to this, there seems to be an enormous object approximately three hundred kilometres away. It’s moving extremely fast, but it … isn’t moving? I may have also detected that anomaly we have been looking for, but the reading was so brief, I could have simply misread.”

“Only one way to find out what is going on here.” The Captain leaned towards his communications systems. “Spanner? Is that probe you were working on earlier operational? Can you send it to the following coordinates … ?”


“Probe is online and transmitting data,” Zenith informed Soban. “Estimated time until visual contact with the object is four seconds.”

“What. Is. THAT?”

Sensors did not lie. The colossal body the probe now focused its full attention to was clearly Progenitor in design. A pair of concentric, ovular torus rings rotated at frightening speeds, while a smaller object floated within, channelling a visible stream of pure-white energy between itself and the rings’ apexes. It was what the fleet had come for: The fifth hyperspace core.

“Aaaaand we’ve lost visual. The probe is still online, but we aren’t receiving any new information.” Zenith furrowed her brow. Scanning the information printed on her screens, she continued. “Data received moments before the feed loss confirm the energy-field anomaly that identifies the core. There is no doubt the core is here. What do we—Hold on, we got the feed back. Looks like the probe is also transmitting … Audio? Uhh, stand by for playback.”

Captain Soban instantly recognised the bone-chillingly low, echoing voice that spoke slowly to the fleet.

“That stench. That … horrible stench. You have some nerve, returning. Was the desecration of our Garden … insufficient, for you and your … foul ships? Have you come to … defile our holy Minaret?”

“My name is Captain Soban. I have been tasked with investigating the whereabouts of an ancient hyperspace core, which resides in this area. I wish to negotiate. To whom am I speaking with?”

“My name is irrelevant,” the voice snapped. “What divine being bestows you with such … audacity? Why have you taken an interest with our … possession? Speak quickly. Our patience wears thin, and your time is … running out.”

“What exactly is that device?”

“If you must know, it is how we trap prey, such as … yourselves.”

“So the hyperspace core powers it?” Soban ignored the voice’s implication.

“The clock is ticking, Captain.”

“Oh, come on! Why do you and your kind insist on hiding in this nebula? You know who we are, so you must also know you and I are one and the same. Our origins are of the same planet. What possible reason is there for you to remain here? You are Hiigara—”

“Do not tell us what we are!” the voice hissed. “We are the children of Kadesh, and you … you are trespassers. You know your two choices, so what will it be?”

“Please don’t let it end like this,” Soban pleaded.

“Wrong answer.”

“Communications have been cut, Captain,” Zenith called out. “Sensors are still scrambled, but I’m detecting eight hyperspace signatures. At least one is mothership-class and another similar to Harmony in size. Surveillance data is still available from our probe.”

The interference restricted and corrupted most of the probe’s transmissions, but for a moment, the bridge crew were able to identify one of the vessels. The mothership-class vessel, nicknamed the needleship by the Hiigaran pilots who had encountered several of them upon their first visit, certainly lived up to its name. A large dome, falling short of a five-hundred metre radius in size served as a form of shield, behind which a long, needle-like structure trailed, gradually thinning out to a point at the other end of the five kilometre-long warship. Equipped with an ion-cannon in the dome, several small plasma turrets around the needle structure, a sizeable hangar, and the hyperspace inhibitors, the needleship was generally amongst the last few ships most unaware visitors would ever see.

“Scramble all strike-craft. Assemble behind Harmony. Timberwolf, Ursa Major, position yourselves ten degrees to either side of Harmony’s bow, fifteen kilometres out, broadside stance. Once the hostile vessels enter weapons range, let ‘em have it and return towards us if we fall under attack. Strike-craft, hold position until the hostiles are within proximity to Harmony, then pick your targets. Shining, are you ready with that shield?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“If I’m reading this right, sensors indicate a cloud of fast-moving vessels inbound,” Zenith reported. “Estimated time until visual contact is two and a half minutes.”

“Here come the swarmers,” Captain Soban muttered, steeling himself in the calm before the storm.


“Timberwolf reporting contacts, eight kilometres out.”

“Ursa Major confirming visual of a small formation of swarmers. Tracking. We might get lucky with a few artillery rounds, but we’re going to have to wait until they get substantially closer to use the flak cannons.”

“Acknowledged. Stick to the plan, and you’ll be fine.”

“Swarmers approaching effective artillery weapons range in tight formations. Let’s do this.”

The grinding of metal on metal echoed throughout the cabins of the destroyers as their turrets made their final adjustments. The astronomical force of a nine-barrel broadside knocked each warship sideways, as a total of eighteen rounds, each almost the size of the targets they fast approached, whizzed into the swarm of unfriendly fighters.

Two-thirds of the rounds completely missed their targets. The remaining rounds managed to hit a swarmer each, crushing the unfortunate victims like flimsy cans.

“Six confirmed destroyed. Looks like we got their attention now. Entering effective flak weapons range in two … one …”

Two, four … Six, eight flak cannons sent the swarmers scattering in every direction, shredding most of the fighters with the initial salvo and forcing the remaining ones to retreat long before most of them could even unload their own rounds into the Equestrian vessels.

“Damage report!” Soban barked at to his destroyers.

“Timberwolf sustained minor hull damage. All systems functional.”

“Ursa Major undamaged. That was easy.”

“Oh for the love of—you just HAD to open your mouth, didn’t you? Timberwolf reporting additional contacts on closing vectors. Many more of them. Analysis indicates at least half of them carry anti-capital-ship weaponry, and are headed straight for Harmony.”

“Now, Shining! Get your shield up!” Soban ordered. “Destroyers, the plan hasn’t changed. Head straight to us as soon as you get those first flak rounds out. Strike-craft, get ready.”

Despite their best efforts, the swarmers could not avoid the highly explosive flak rounds while zipping by the two destroyers. Coupled with the shield surrounding the flagship, and the exponentially superior agility of the unicorn-powered strike-craft, their attempts were futile, as one by one, the swarm of ninety-six fighters withered away in to a widespread graveyard of metal and wire in a one-sided massacre.

“We’re not out of this yet, everypony,” Timberwolf reported. “Seven more contacts inbound and in visual—What the hay is that? Looks like a huge lance with some engines strapped to it.”

Surrounded by six small frigates Soban assumed to be the quadruple ion-cannon-toting multi-beam frigates encountered a century ago, the long, round ship in the centre fit the Timberwolf Captain’s description perfectly.

“Except it has guns. Lots … Of guns,” Firelance commented over the comms. “And missiles. And I don’t want to know what comes out of the tip. No innuendo intended.”

“Back full!” Soban yelled over Zenith’s gagging disapproval of Firelance’s comment. “Destroyers, target the lance-ship’s smaller guns first, so we can send in the strike-craft, then retreat to Harmony. Stay out of their weapons range for as long as possible to maximise damage. Zenith, I want a full analysis of that ship.”

Despite the range advantage the destroyers had over their aggressors, they were outgunned and outnumbered. Pummelling the last of the lance-ship’s smaller, fast-tracking turrets into submission, Captain Soban ordered the fighters and corvettes into the fray.

“All ships, concentrate fire on one frigate at a time. Save that lance-ship for last,” Soban ordered.

“Power spike detected on the lance-ship, Captain. Whatever it’s doing, I don’t think we’re going to like it.”

The tip of the lance-ship began to glow, with a bright, spherical orb forming within. Moments later, it transformed into a single, fearsome ion beam, putting every known ion cannon in the galaxy to shame.

Had it not been for Shining Armour’s efforts in concentrating his shield and directing it towards the lance-ship’s general direction, the brutal attack would have severed a sizeable part of Harmony within seconds. A feat the stallion barely pulled off.

“Incoming missiles, Captain! Tracking six large—very large missiles. Impact in forty-eight seconds. Destroyers also reporting one of the frigates are down.”

“Interceptors, disengage attack and shoot down those missiles! We can’t afford to divert Shining’s attention from that cannon. Zenith, are we in range to respond in kind, yet?”

“Just about.”

“Nova, Firelance! Your turn. Target the tip. I want that weapon disabled.”

“Yes, sir. Switching to manual. Nova tracking.”

“Firelance tracking.”

“Fire!”

The familiar crescendo of Harmony’s instruments of destruction rang through the flagship, raining down devastating damage on the lance-ship’s tip. Despite the now warped and torn extremity of the hostile vessel, the cannon remained operational, charging again to prepare for Harmony’s second beating.

Shining gritted his teeth and sweated profusely, desperately trying to keep his shield up, but the effort required eventually overwhelmed the unicorn, and the ion-beam penetrated the forward section of Harmony’s hull.

“Crew status! Damage report!” Soban yelled, the fear in his eyes all too evident, as he desperately waited for Zenith’s reply.

“Complete hull rupture across all decks in the forward resource storage tanks. Atmosphere and resources are venting, but the superstructure is holding, and automated systems are containing the affected compartments. No crew were stationed anywhere near those compartments.”

The Captain exhaled in relief. “We got lucky that time. Is that analysis finished yet? I need exploits!”

“We can’t outrun it, sir, but surface analysis and propulsion data suggests we may be able to outmanoeuvre it. While the lance-ship’s engines have a higher output to ours, they are positioned too close to their centre of gravity to match our turning ability.”

“Perfect! Full forward! We can get close to it, then fly circles around it. We should be able to handle the missiles alone. Shining, think you can hold the shield this time?”

“I don’t … think so,” Shining panted, clutching his head in silent agony. “I’ll try.”

“Frigate destroyed,” Zenith sighed in relief. “Ursa Major reported severe damage to engines and multiple barrels, but their overall hull integrity remains in the green. Interceptors have neutralised the missile salvos. Tracking another six. They’re responding to—Lance-ship cannon charging! Estimated impact zone is the construction facility!”

“Spanner, evacuate the construction facility immediately!” the Captain almost shrieked into the internal comms.

Shining Armour collapsed half-way into the beam’s firing time, allowing the ion-beam to create a long gash along the port side of the flagship.

“Reports! I need reports!”

Zenith did her best to hide her shaky voice from the bridge crew. “Sustained widespread but shallow damage across the entire construction bay. Crew status is unknown, but no hull breach detected in that section.”

“Dammit, we’ve lost Shining Armour! Medic to the bridge!”

“Some good news, Captain. We have out-manoeuvred the lance-ship,” Zenith informed Soban, slightly relieved, but still shaking. “We are out of it’s firing arc. Looks like another frigate is about to—Yes, another frigate destroyed.”

“Finally. Nova, Firelance, assist the destroyers in taking out the three remaining multi-beam frigates.”

“Firelance tracking frigate one.”

“Nova tracking three.”

The nebula lit up with the simultaneous detonation of the final three frigates, as the punishment dished out by the Equestrian fleet became too much to bear, leaving the final vessel to deal with: The lance-ship.

“Target the missile silos first. Then finish off the ion-cannon.”

“Way ahead of you, Cap—HOLY mother of Luna! Now there’s an explosion if I ever saw one!”

The combined firepower of Harmony and the two destroyers had cut through to the innards of the lance-ship, to the volatile section that housed its missile warheads. The well-placed hit created a chain reaction of secondary explosions that crippled the ship’s power, and left it dead and drifting.

“Lance-ship neutralised. What do you want us to do with it?” the Timberwolf’s Captain asked.

Captain Soban relaxed a little. “Leave it to drift. They are no longer a threat to us. Enough have died today, and I’d rather not make it worse.”

“We’re not in the clear, yet, sir,” Zenith piped up. “The mothership-class vessel is approaching. They are attempting to contact us.”

“Is this your … idea of gloating?” the same voice returned. “Finish the job already. I trust genocide is … looked upon favourably by your commanders.”

“What?” Soban looked visibly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The Captain … he sees, yet is blind to what is in front of him,” the voice sneered. “We are the last of the Kadeshi. The century-old butchery of your … people against ours, marked the beginning of our downfall. We lacked the numbers to … protect our sacred Garden, and one by one, we withered into that which you see before you. You condemned us to a slow death.”

“Then why continue to fight a losing battle? We reclaimed Hiigara as our homeworld those many years ago. We are living proof of that. Do not deny your origins. We are brothers, and you know it. Come with us and return to the land from which you came. Please?”

“Do not take us for fools! We are well aware of our … origins. We ceased to exist as Hiigarans over … Three millennia ago, when the Garden became our sanctuary. It raised us, shaped us into what we are, and most importantly, it protected us. In return, countless generations have … protected the sanctity of the Garden. None who sought to desecrate it were … permitted to leave, even if it meant BY OUR SACRIFICE!”

“Captain!” Zenith yelled. “Power surge detected on the lance-ship! Readings indicate—Oh, no …”

Taking the fleet by surprise during the brief exchange of words, the disabled vessel had nudged itself closer to Harmony and commenced several systematic detonations, sending clouds of debris in every direction and concluding with a final, blinding incineration of the vessel. The proximity to the Equestrian fleet violently shoved even Harmony away and disabled all systems aboard it.

“Status report!”

“No reports available, sir. Primary and secondary systems are out. Backup systems taking over.”

“Must have been an EMP from the blast,” Soban commented. “Are the others fine?”

“I’ll know in a few seconds.” Zenith answered, waiting for her screens to flicker back to life. Tapping away, she navigated to the relevant information. “Yes, all other ships must have been outside the primary blast radius.”

Comms systems returned soon after. “Harmony? Harmony? Answer, dammit! The needleship is heading straight for you!”

“We’re fine, Timberwolf. Let’s”—Soban sighed—“finish the job.”

“Copied. Targeting the needleship's ion-cannon.”

“Ursa Major providing fire-support.”

“Sir?” Zenith looked up at the Captain worryingly. “This doesn’t look good. No power detected in the enemy ion-cannon. They are giving their engines all they’ve got!”

“Shit! Back emergency! Destroyers, forget the cannon! Get around to the back and target their engines. They are on a collision-course with Harmony.”

“At current velocities, ETA until impact is eighty-two seconds.”

“Ursa Major in position. Bringing guns to bear.”

“Timberwolf tracking. Let ‘em have it, fillies!”

Eighteen barrels roared as the two destroyers lobbed their high-explosive ordnance at the set of engines built around the needleship, forcefully dismantling the engines, from their exterior nozzles, to their internal components.

“Engines are down, Harmony!” the Ursa Major reported. “You might want to get out of their way, though.”

Soban agreed, and with plenty of time to spare, Harmony had cleared the trajectory of the mothership, and came to a halt. The battle was over.

“We have failed a … second time. Our Garden. Our home. Our guardian. What choice do we have left?”

“Wha—NO! Nonononono, stop—wait!”

Harmony’s systems ceased functioning a second time, as the last of the Kadeshi enveloped it in the significantly larger fireball of the needleship's self-destructive blast. Superheated metallic remains scraped, crushed, and wedged themselves into the many exterior parts of the Equestrian flagship, causing near-catastrophic damage to its hull. When the radiant heat had finally dissipated, and allowed the crew to open their eyes again, they were left surrounded by the charred and warped remains of one of the worst battles in Captain Soban’s memory.

Nopony said anything for what felt like hours. All eyes were on the Captain, who left the bridge without uttering a single word.


“What do you mean, stand by? We have been standing by for the last ten minutes. Where is Captain Soban?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know,” Midnight Oil replied. “I’m in charge until he comes back, but I need to figure out what we are going to do before I issue any orders.”

The Captain of the Ursa Major grumbled as he cut communications, leaving Harmony’s second-in-command to continue formulating his plan.

“Our mission objectives remain unchanged. We were supposed to head to the nebula to investigate the possible existence of the fifth hyperspace core. We have accomplished that. We were then supposed to obtain it, peacefully if possible. We failed that second part, but it’s just sitting there now, right in front of us. How do we get it out of that thing?”

Midnight Oil paused, placing a hoof to his chin before continuing.

“Ideally, we could just get the collector to latch on to it and haul it back, but considering there are a pair of giant, fast-spinning hunks of metal in the way, I don’t think we would get too far with that plan. Trying to cut our way in doesn’t seem like a good idea, either. Why not teleport in, then take the core out? Should be simple enough to do.”

“Says the pony who isn’t a unicorn,” Corona cut in, as she entered the bridge. “Do you know how much of a challenge it is to teleport a fighter or corvette, regardless of the distance? Moving the core, something as large as a frigate, in addition to the pilot’s own vessel is exponentially more difficult. Although, now that I think about it … The combined strength of two, maybe three unicorns should allow them to pull it off. It would have to be timed right by those involved, but it should be possible.”

Zenith got up from her seat. “Then take over my station, Corona. With your permission, Midnight, I will assign a team of unicorns to a gunship corvette and coordinate the core retrieval with Corona.”

“Do it.”


“Approaching minimum safe distance from the artefact,” the gunship pilot reported, as he brought his vessel to a stop. “Teleporting in three … two … one …”

“Harmony, we are safely within the rings. Proceeding with retrieval.”

Severing the electrical connection between the core and the device upon teleporting out with the core, the device ceased activity with its field generation. Were it not for the still-spinning rings, it would have appeared completely dead, considering the sensors on every vessel started working without interference. However, it seemed as if the power generated by the core had kept the two sections from colliding with each other. An observation that alarmed Corona.

“We should probably leave as soon as the core is brought aboard. Sensors, or what’s left of them, anyway, indicate a minute angular drift in the inner rotating structure. At those speeds, we would be looking at a deadly explosion that would seriously damage or destroy anything within several kilometres, if and when the two bodies collide, regardless of any possible volatile elements that may be within.”

Midnight Oil nodded. “Agreed. The core is being brought aboard as we speak. According to our damage reports, our hull can sustain prolonged hyperspace exposure, so we are good to go. Out of curiosity, though … Hey, Timberwolf? Can you inspect our dorsal and port-side damage? How bad does it look from the outside?”

“Hold on a moment, I need to get into position,” Timberwolf’s Captain replied. “Well, I can tell you straight away the damage along your side doesn’t look too bad, but it’s definitely going to need some patching-up. As for the damage up top? Well, you’re certainly a few holes short of a changeling there. It looks quite nasty, but you seem to have it under control, right?”

“Indeed we do. In that case, all ships, assemble for hyperspace. I think it’s time we went home.”