After a galaxy-encompassing journey, for which over three hundred million of us gave their lives, having laid a mighty galactic empire to ruin, we are home. But we are not the only ones who wish to thrive here.
60 years to build the Mothership. 5 000 000 tons of resources invested into its construction. One female scientist integrated permanently into its computer. 531 ships destroyed during the journey. 124 246 people perished during the journey. 300 464 275 people gone as a result of the genocide for breaking a 4 000-year treaty by redeveloping the hyperspace drive. One galactic empire shattered. We are home. But we are not the only ones who wish to thrive here.
There are spoilers in the comments section. You have been warned. ---
If you haven't played the games, and/or have simply little to no knowledge of the Homeworld universe, I'd like you to point out anything that doesn't seem to make sense, or that appears to require inside knowledge to understand, in the comments. I will either alter the story to explain it, or simply explain it myself in response.
The timeline of the story is set prior to the finale of Season 4, nothing further from that in the canon has been implemented (no twilacorn, the Elements of Harmony are still intact, the Griffins aren't poor, and the Dragons aren't ruled by a tyrant).
Edited by AlicornPriest up to chapter 10, I believe.
… the Exodus is the name used to refer to the journey undertaken by the Mothership Fleet and survivors from the Kharakian Genocide to Hiigara. The Exodus was a large emigration of Kushan people enforced by the Taiidan Empire via their attack and destruction of Kharak. Having gathered the remnants of their population from Cryo Trays in orbit by the planet, they set off towards Hiigara, believed to be their world of origin…
… it soon became a brutal war for survival, as the Kushan were forced to face off with numerous enemy factions in open combat. Despite the overwhelming odds, they managed to overcome their enemies. After many battles, primarily with the Taiidan Empire, they reached the apparent end of their journey, less than 550,000 (of Kharak's original 300 million) strong…
… the Kharakian Genocide, or the Burning of Kharak, was an unprovoked attack by the Taiidan Empire on the planet of Kharak, that had began the Exodus and the war that came with it. The only known reason for it was the development and attempted use of a hyperspace drive which, unbeknownst to the Kushan, had broken a 4,000 year old treaty their ancestors had signed with the Taiidan Empire at the beginning of their Exile…
… due to the usage of Atmospheric Deprivation Weapon by the Taiidan Empire, all of the planet’s population has been annihilated, and all of its infrastructure destroyed, rendering the planet uninhabitable, and forcing the remnants of the Mothership Fleet to press on and find a new home for their people…
Excerpts from Encyclopaedia Hiigaara
The journey is over. We have reached our homeworld. The Mothership is intact.
The Mothership, its hull shaped like an ancient sabre; its intricate systems capable of dissolving resources into the most basic particles; its hangars housing numerous battle-ready and battle-christened starships; its Cryo Bays, housing space, and cloning chambers… all were, despite slight damage, operational.
“Fleet Command’s alive and operational, my physical body is intact, and my connection with the Mothership is back and stable.” Weariness sounded through her usually calm voice. The remaining Fleet is reassembling. The Taiidan Empire ships are leaving. The Taiidani Rebellion ships are leaving. According to their message, their further plans involve the disassembling of the Empire’s structure and forming a republic on its ashes. Their help will not be forgotten. The Galactic Council has assigned the planet to us. This is Hiigara. We are home.
Despite his training to keep utmost control of his voice, the speaker of the Fleet Intelligence – a body of men designed to analyze sensory data and form mission objectives – could not contain the emotions swirling in his mind. They were home. The planet was a desert, without a trace of ocean, sea, or greenery.
“Scan the planet,” Fleet Command ordered. “Something is wrong.” The resources in the storage were broken into atoms, which were then assembled into alloys and components that formed a set of small, rocket-propelled, computer-steered Probes, and sent them to the surface of the planet. At first, Fleet Intelligence were silent as the Probes completed their duty. Then, they were silent because they couldn’t believe their eyes.
No life on the surface of the planet detected. “Send in scout units.” Three groups of five small, agile Fighter-type ships shot out into the vastness around to scan the surface of the planet. They looked like jet planes with their wings folded inward, so that they would resemble arrows, with two connected projectile turrets on one side and their jets expanded to fit the whole back of the ship, turrets included.
The Scouts were swift to report. The planet cannot support life. It has been unable to do so for years. All formerly inhabited buildings on the planet are in ruins. They are of Taiidani design. Unknown signal from four closely aligned points. Investigating the signal. The cameras attached to the Scouts showed a vast desert, sometimes changing its colour and shape, indicating the former presence of lakes, perhaps a sea. From the flat desert, a glittering spire grew abruptly, a tall spike of unknown design, made out of unknown metal, placed without rhyme or reason on the surface of the planet. Four more followed to form a rectangular shape.
The sensors indicate that there used to be water on this planet. It would have covered these spires completely.
Mass-destruction weapons were used in order to remove the water, making the planet uninhabitable and killing all life on it in the process. “Examine the spires.” Her voice wavered with a tinge of desperation.
The spires are connected underground. They are a part of some device of unknown origin and destination.
They can be accessed from the ground level. Considering the atmosphere of the planet, the spires should be examined with the use of space suits. “Send in the Corvette ships. Examine the spires from the ground level. There must be something of use there.” Desperation in her voice turned into determination, and perhaps hope. A group of bigger, manned Corvette-class ships set a course toward the planet. Their crew, equipped with proper space suits, descended onto the planet from the opened airlocks. Their helmet cameras showed a former campsite and numerous pieces of equipment abandoned in haste. The Taiidan Empire had a group of scientists examining these spires. That might be a reason for high security in this region. “They sent their mothership here along with the Emperor and protected the planet with a network of hyperspace inhibitors that wouldn’t allow us to jump straight into the planet. Why?” No records on the project or on the structures found.
The equipment found is similar in design to Taiidani analysers. It holds no records. There seems to be an entrance to these spires.
Awaiting the command to proceed. “Proceed.” One of the men pressed a flat button on the wall of the spire. The characteristic hiss of decompression sounded when the airlock door opened and slid downward. The men entered and waited patiently for the air to reset its pressure before the door to the inner structure opened. The leader entered without hesitation.
A flashlight included in the wrist piece of their suits lit an interior of complex machinery, computer displays and metal tubes. In a the corner, a white-clad scientist crouched, shaking.
A Taiidani scientist was found in one of the spires. He claims he was abandoned during the hasty evacuation mission after the defeat of the Taiidani Fleet.
The subject explained to us the functioning of the computer system of the spires. We are now working to activate it.
The subject survived the interrogation. He will be housed within the holding cells of the Mothership. A recording showed the scientist trembling under the stern gaze of the interrogator. However, he spoke without difficulty, if in a slightly shaking voice. “We’ve found something on those spires. Some ancient recordings say it’s of Progenitor design.”
“If this is the Ancient Progenitor design, we must be watchful. They invented the Hyperspace Drive; who knows what these spires might hold, then?” Fleet Command mused, her voice uneasy. Hiigara is dead. We must press forward. There is nowhere else we can go. The Fleet Intelligence’s speaker’s voice wasn’t stern, nor demanding. He stated the grim obvious. “They say there’s a pathway to the homeworld of our kind. I don’t know about that, but it seems the Emperor was dead-set on getting there,” the scientist continued. “He wanted to keep this planet away from you, but it seems he failed, didn’t he?” “The Taiidani rebels have pointed out to us the supposed madness of the Emperor. He invested far too much into the legend of these spires, among other atrocities he committed during our journey. Are the spires operational?”
The spires have been prepared. Awaiting the command for activation. “Activate the spires.” Four beams of light shot out into the air, stopping abruptly when they reached far out of the planet’s gravitational pull. They connected, forming a filled rectangle which swirled with every shade of purple from near-black dark to pink. We are unsure whether it’s a one-way tunnel. There might be something on the other side.
“All starships to formations. Launch all strike craft from the docks. All groups, protect the Mothership.”
“Group one in formation. Aggressive tactics. Full power to the weapon systems.”
“Group two in formation. Aggressive tactics. Full power to the weapon systems.”
“Group three in formation. Evasive tactics. Full power to the engines.”
Groups one to three ready.
Groups four to seven ready. Fleet standing by.
No signal from within the tunnel. The Fleet, although still unsure, breathed a collective sigh. “Can we expand the gateway to use it for the Mothership?” The gateway expansion and movement to warp the Mothership set. Awaiting command to proceed. “Proceed.”
The pinkish gateway expanded, allowing for the passage of the Mothership and the Fleet.
Time until jump, five minutes. “Expedition team on the planet, pull back to the hangar. All Fighters to the hangars on carriers or the Mothership.”
All Fighters and Corvettes in hangars, expedition team on its way. Time until jump, three minutes. Expedition team docked. Time until jump, one minute. Prepare for a hyperspace jump. The thin portal expanded in width to fit the entire Fleet. It moved straight at them, swallowing the mighty ships into nothingness.
The trip itself was unregistered by the crew, but it seemed different than all the hyperspace jumps they have experienced before. The gate was different, too. Why exactly they were different was yet to be announced.
A planet hung in the starlit universe before them. It flourished with life. Clouds rolled across its atmosphere, and green continents floated in the blue oceans. It was habitable; it had to be.
A missile destroyer and a carrier have mis-jumped, but are in contact. They will arrive in about two hours.
“The stars are differently aligned. Is it possible to discern where we are?”
Analysing data... We are… Reanalysing data... We are outside of the known galaxy. The stars do not match any of the known charts.
The star of this planet... orbits it. Comparing readings from all starships... Yes, that is not a miscalculation; the sun circulates the planet. We are unsure of why this phenomenon occurs.
Fleet Command remained silent for a moment. “Launch the probes.”
Upon arrival, the probes opened into three-armed satellites and scanned the environment. The glass eyes saw lands of wonder that enraptured the engineers who had the luck to gaze at it.
Various life forms detected on the planet, including flora and fauna of different species. No signs of sapience on the orbit of the planet.
“Send in the Cloaked Fighters. There could be sapient species of lower technological advancement.”
Cloaked Fighters launching.
This time, it was only a group of five. All of them were scattered. These weren’t the typical Fighter Scout ships, but the top-notch Cloaked Fighter units, piloted by the elite. They could not be detected with the naked eye, nor with weaker sensors, especially from greater distances.
They were big, however: several times bigger than a Scout, similar to a Corvette, but nonetheless fast enough to be considered a Fighter type of ship. They had to house a Cloak Generator, after all, and projectile cannons for decent firepower. A poet would say they were shaped like the crescent moon. An engineer would instead point to their very close resemblance to a phone receiver from back when these devices were yet a novelty.
Signs of sapience detected.
Stone ruins of an old, forgotten castle showed themselves on the display. It wasn’t much, but enough to tell that the planet had housed life at some point.
Former sapience confirmed. Use of the ambassador unit advised.
“Pull back the Cloaked Fighers. Send in Ambassador.”
Once again the glass eyes registered the environment, but this time much closer. There was the ocean, its waves rippling in the sun, which covered the better part of the globe. The water, although serene, seemed endless. It was a relief when the ambassador unit reached the solid ground.
Further signs of sapience not yet discovered. Ambassador has detected a potentially advanced fauna species.
An enormous – for the usual fauna standards – reptile-like creature rested on the ground below. It gazed at the spacecraft and leapt in the air, showing its enormous scaled wingspan. With strong, majestic wing beats, it closed the distance between it and the ship, drawing nearer and nearer, yearning for contact with what it could see as a new, shining, perhaps friendly metal being.
“Ambassador, withdraw. Withdraw now!”
The sound registers cracked with a loud roar as the enormous beast charged after the small, retreating Corvette class ship. Having been designed to not pose a threat, the Corvette had no weaponry to defend itself with, and could only fly straight upward, in the hope that the creature’s oxygen-burning muscles would yield faster than the hydrogen-fuelled engine.
In one final attempt at malevolence, the beast shot a burst of flame after the vehicle. The temperature meters went up, but the starship was designed to withstand the heat, being a disarmed version of military technology, and did so with little difficulty. The sanitary equipment aboard the vessel registered a spike in the heartbeat rate of the crew.
Ambassador unit is safe. Dispatchment of an armed escort advised.
“Dispatch the Scout units with the Ambassador. Dispatch the Interceptors if needed.”
A group of the starships, all of which could break the speed of sound, assembled themselves into a spherical formation around the ambassador unit. That group descended onto the planet again, this time passing at a much higher altitude.
The overdriven equipment registered both vision and heat from afar, allowing the group to pass by any bigger fauna in their search for sapience.
Signs of sapience spotted. It appears to be a defensive, stone structure built on a slope of a mountain.
The group advanced slowly, cautiously.
Further signs of sapience spotted. An assembly of wooden shelters; they appear to be homes.
Having decided against threatening the civilisation in the region, the scout class Fighters retreated from the civilised airspace, returning to the Mothership.
Hailing signal engaged on all frequencies. Heading for the most probable capital settlement.
“Head toward the castle on the slope of the mountain.”
“Received,” said the ambassador unit’s speaker, more to test the equipment for the thousandth time than to confirm his understanding of the order.
We’re facing a low-tech nation. Caution advised.
The unit stopped before the castle and waited. The cameras registered various life-forms going about their daily lives below, but whoever registered the starship turned their gaze toward it with awe.
No automatic hostile reaction has been triggered. Awaiting reply.
Finally, the cameras focused on the door of the inner keep registered a pair of slightly bigger life-forms. One of them was coloured brightly, the other darkly, creating a sharp contrast. They had a vaguely equine appearance, but had both horns and wings, which could perhaps place them among the tales of myth and superstition.
Two outstanding specimens registered. Presumably the alpha units of the species. Their contrast might indicate male and female alpha units.
The pair flew up to the ship and stopped at a respectful distance, hovering before it. The whole Fleet fell silent and held a collective breath.
“Engage visual stimuli. Try every code. Have the microphones and cameras pick out their language for translation. You can shut off the radio,” Fleet Command ordered.
The Corvette extended a screen with bright lights in it signalling various shapes and frequencies. The radio was shut off. The cameras focused on the alpha specimina and their muzzles showing, quite surprisingly, a puzzled expression.
“Sis, perhaps we should levitate some professors up here to translate these signs for us,” offered the smaller, darker one. “This is not how I imagined an encounter with the aliens.”
“Fleet, this is Ambassador. We have registered... This species is speaking Galactic Standard.” The Ambassador fell silent.
“We have registered that,” confirmed Fleet Command. “Engage auditory contact.”
The white, bigger, presumably male alpha hovered in the air, gazing at the spacecraft with uncertainty, perhaps lost in thought. He glanced at his sibling, and at the city below, then back at the aircraft, struggling to decide.
The microphone extended itself from the top of the Corvette. “We are the Ambassador of the Kushan Fleet. We come in peace. We wish you no harm.” The speaker’s voice was kept level and in a most friendly manner.
Both the alpha specimens’ eyes shrank in surprise. The darker one gazed at her sibling expectantly and received a nod. It turned toward the ship, showing its teeth in an act of animalistic aggression. Or perhaps it was a grin...
“This is Princess Celestia.” The brighter alpha spoke in a feminine voice and nodded at her sibling, who added, “and I am princess Luna. We are the rulers of the Equestrian Diarchy. We welcome you in peace and wish to hear of your intentions.”
“We come from the desert world of Kharak in search of our homeworld. It would appear it’s this planet. We would find an establishment of diplomatic relationships and cultural exchange with your nation welcome,” said the speaker.
“We invite you to land and visit our castle to continue our conversation there,” proposed Celestia. “Constant hovering would be impossible for us.”
This might be a trap. Prepare the ship for immediate evacuation if needed. “Proceed with their request,” ordered Fleet Command.
Oxygen present, friendly atmosphere confirmed. The use of the suits not necessary.
The Corvette landed on a patch of flat ground, near entrance to the castle. The four men of the ambassador unit exited the ship; two of them, engineers with proper schooling in diplomacy, carried various sound, vision, matter analysers, and all other sorts of necessary and not-so-necessary equipment.
One, the young and bright speaker with his engineer’s peaked hat shielding him from the sun, walked at the head of the group, followed closely by the expert on law, diplomacy and interspecies relations, the advisor, scorching sunrays bleaching his grey hair even paler.
Different species from the alpha Equines perceived. Their names and descriptions are, as stated by the military equine, respectively: – Griffins of mostly furry, feline body with feline claws and legs, and feathered, birdlike head and breast. – Minotaurs resembling our species in form, but slightly larger and with more prominent muscles, sporting long muzzles, cattle-like hoofed legs, and pairs of horns atop their heads. – Zebra resembling the Equines in shape and size, but having black and white stripes, as opposed to the Equines’ colouristic variety. The Equines come in four variations, possibly races: – The Unicorns, of supposed high psychic capabilities, sporting a single horn in the middle of the forehead. They’re capable of accomplishing unusual feats (such as levitation) without any mind enhancements through manipulation of “psychic energy” as it has been labelled. – The Pegasi, sporting wings at either side of their torso, capable of flying. It is a misconception that these wings allow them to fly; they are far too small, and the pegasi are, based on their body build, unable to generate enough energy with their muscles to keep aloft. The nature of their flight is yet to be discovered. – The Earth “Ponies,” of high agricultural skills and sturdy body build. Some appear to be bigger than most Equines. – The Alicorns, a hybrid race that the Princesses belong to. Each specimen sports both horns and wings and has the benefits of all other races (flying, and high psychic capabilities). The Equines bearing pastel colours are coloured naturally from birth. We are unsure of why this phenomenon occurs only within this species and what pigments are present within their bodies. Most of the species consists of female specimen. This might have been preconditioned genetically.
The group was escorted by four armoured life-forms, and hundreds of curious or wary eyes pointed its way. The gazes were more of wonder than of hatred, and the group found itself walking forward, sometimes smiling politely at the passers-by, and receiving smiles in return.
Their culture and body language is similar to ours.
“The possibility that they have developed it on their own is very low,” commented Fleet Command.
The group found the Princesses awaiting them at the castle’s diplomatic room. A proper table was arranged, with very low chairs for them to sit on. The Equines occupied plush pillows, ending up slightly shorter than the group, but still towering over them in some strange way with their... demeanour? ‘Aura’? Or perhaps something else?
“We have seen other species in the city. Have they formed their own nations, or are you the leading species on the planet?” asked the speaker. A stern gaze from his advisor told him not to test the boundaries too far.
Celestia chuckled good-naturedly. “No, we are not ‘the leading species.’ The Griffins, Dragons, Zebra, and even other Ponies have founded their own countries across the planet. Minotaurs live mostly in smaller groups on the south, they don’t have their own land. I am sorry that you’ve arrived in such dire times, but we are currently at a war with the Griffins. While we have a ceasefire for now, we aren’t sure whether we won’t be forced to lead a defence in the eastern regions.” Her serene smile turned into a dark frown.
“What is the cause of the war?” The speaker leaned slightly away from his advisor. He knew very well that his questions weren’t really testing the borders. They were crossing them, stomping on them, and waving a Kushan flag with a huge grin ostentatiously on the other side.
“Why, we are,” answered Princess Luna confidently. “The Griffins, us, and other races are the bearers of the Elements. We move the Sun and Moon, while the Griffins shepherd the Winds. The Dragons have Wisdom; of other Elements we are not yet aware. It has been forbidden to use them in warfare, but the species to hold them all in their possession would rule the land.”
The two engineers of the group stared with vacant eyes at the Princess. The two diplomats gazed at each other and at the rulers in front of them, baffled.
They can move a 1030 kg star. Threat level adjusted accordingly.
“Your highnesses, perhaps we could scan our biology mutually, so that both sides are aware of who they are. It would be the final sign of friendship, and perhaps alliance, between our nations,” offered the speaker.
The Princesses agreed. The equipment was brought to scan the royal Equines, while a few professors were assigned to work on the ambassadors.
Unusual fluctuations in magnetic and energetic fields around their horns, bases of their wings, and ends of their legs. It appears that they are highly psychically capable in those regions. “As far as I’m aware, the ability to develop psychically is available only to the ‘unbound’ as they, or we, are called. Those who have been integrated permanently into the starships or powerful computers, are sometimes capable of doing that. How could then these creatures, who had never seen a starship, develop such abilities?” asked Fleet Command, although she knew no one knew the answer.
“Your magic has been diminished greatly,” explained Luna – who had been scanning the Kushan along with the scientists – when confronted with these questions, “but it still is there. I can see that you’ve traded it for amazing calculative and engineering abilities. What you’ve come to in centuries, we probably wouldn’t reach until millennia from now.”
“You have mentioned moving the sun...” said the speaker.
Luna shot a glance toward Celestia, who shook her head slightly. “We aren’t allowed to discuss the nature of the Elements as it has been noted in the interspecies’ treaty millennia ago, but yes, we do move the sun and moon,” the latter explained. “The same applies for the Elements of Harmony and other magical artifacts in our possession.”
“You have arrived,” started Luna to break the tension that suddenly arose, “upon your ships from a distant planet, I presume. Have you mastered faster-than-light travel?”
“Not exactly mastered,” answered the speaker. “Reverse-engineered from a wreck we found in the sands of our planet, and paid a great price for it. But yes, we have that ability.”
“You have been on a search for your homeworld, and you presume it’s this planet?” Celestia asked. She received a nod from the speaker. “And you wish to settle here eventually?” Another nod. “While I don’t want to impose, are you absolutely certain that this planet’s ecosystem will be able to sustain your species along ours?”
The speaker was taken aback by that question.
“Only a minuscule number of expansive, sentient species can exist on a planet, but cases of more than two have always led to the planet’s collapse,” sounded the Fleet Command’s voice in an engineer’s weak, cracking radio headphone.
“We are nearly sure that our Fleet will not interfere. We would like to, however, invite you to an interspecies dialogue a few weeks from now where we’ll discuss this dilemma. We’ll pinpoint the time as soon as all other species agree to it,” said the speaker. Celestia assured she would come. “A suitable transport onto our ship as the conference’s place will be provided,” he added.
They had exchanged random bits and pieces of culture after that, having encouraged some Equine archaeologists to chat with the engineers, while the speaker remained in conversation with the royals. His advisor was silent, and so was Fleet Command, both contemplating the same issue.
Considering there are more than two intelligent species on the planet, not all of them must be expansive. It appears the most probable that the Equines and Griffins are expansive. “The Griffins wage expansive wars, and strive for control over the world. Equines have formed more than one country, while all the other species haven’t. The Ambassador will be released a half of the star’s rotation from now to confirm that theory.”
The ambassador unit returned to the Mothership not long later, richer in experience, cultural knowledge, and questions.
The star has passed half of its orbit. The ambassador unit is rested and reports full functionality. We assume that the word of our arrival has spread across the planet’s sapient species. They will be prepared. “For better or for worse,” finished Fleet Command. “Launch the Ambassador.”
Ambassador launched. Current destination: Saddle Arabia. Saddle Arabians were a desert nation, and thus the most familiar one to the Kushan, who had spent the most of their lives at the hot, nearly waterless world of Kharak. Beacons were shot into the sky above the Saddle Arabia to hail and monitor them at once.
After consideration of the delicate matter of the situation, a direct speaker-Mothership link was established through a small radio set in his headphone. The same was given to his advisor, and now both had immediate access to the Fleet Intelligence’s team of linguists and diplomats.
Ambassador landing. No automatic hostile reaction has been triggered. It appears we are welcome. The ambassador unit left the ship and proceeded with the appointed guards, once again escorted by a set of stares.
Culture strikingly similar to ours. Some of the Equines here use blade dancing techniques resembling ours, and their clothing, if ancient, is mostly designed to ward off the warmth, similarly to ours, if slightly more colourful.
“Have you noticed,” asked one of the historians of the Fleet Intelligence, “that these Equines have saddles? While it might be somewhat modified by cultural standards both in Saddle Arabia and in Equestria, these saddles are not only a thing of fashion it seems. They appear perfectly rideable. Now a quick question: where are the ones who rode them?”
“Based on the Minotaurs’ resemblance to us,” answered a biologist, “we can safely assume that they used to be a smaller species, or have evolved from smaller species that might be extinct, and that might, or might not have used the Equines as their travel means.”
“But biological evolution takes hundreds of thousands, if not millions of years! The development of a civilisation could take no longer than a few thousand years,” countered an archaeologist.
“The species could have gone extinct recently, or have moved into hiding for reasons unknown.” The biologist retreated in defensive.
“That would be quite strange for a whole species to go extinct, especially if they were the masters. Historians here would suggest a sudden shift of power,” said the archaeologist, some of the historians nodded, “but it often happens between the middle class and the higher one, and the ruling class never becomes extinct, especially if they were numerous enough to make so many Equines wear saddles.”
“They didn’t have to be numerous,” a sociologist interrupted. “It was merely needed for the higher-class Equines, the ones upon whom the master species rode, to wear saddles for the fashion to spread, even though it was quite unnecessary.”
“I still don’t believe in their total extinction,” admitted the historian. “I think they’ve gone into hiding. It would become our secondary goal to find them.”
“I second that notion,” said the biologist, and the archaeologist added the same.
There might still be some live specimens of the species that used the Equines for travelling, hence the use of saddles. Our secondary objective is to find that species and contact them. “Objective will be taken into consideration,” answered Fleet Command. “Ambassador, inquire the Equines about the saddles.”
“Understood,” confirmed the speaker. He shivered slightly after hearing the soothing, yet regal voice of Fleet Command in his ear as if she were right beside him.
Caution advised. Based on Celestia’s speech patterns and body language, we can assume that she would be more trustworthy for that question. “Withdraw the question until you’re entirely sure you won’t cause any negative repercussions,” ordered the voice of Fleet Command before going silent.
“Understood,” said the speaker’s advisor into his little radio before he took it off and examined it. Not more than a few hours ago, these miniature long-range communication radios didn’t yet exist. The speed of technological advancement of his nation surprised even him.
Towers of silvery marble rose to the sky before them, only to support the golden spires that pierced the heavens in an act of defiance to the generally low architecture around. The Equines about not only sported, but also wore, swung, or sold a whole myriad of colours.
“It seems that the more their clothing hurts the eyes, the more important they are,” said the advisor, rubbing his temple and wincing.
The equine clothing doesn’t have the strong sunlight-reflection abilities that ours has. It might signify their class divisions. The tallest buildings appear to have little to no utility outside of aesthetic value. Perhaps they are used as places of worship. The ambassador unit entered the palace, were introduced to the rulers of the nation, this time male and female, and after a lengthy conversation, left.
Summary of the conversation without the use of diplomatic language patterns is as follows: – The Equines of Saddle Arabia use the tall, ornament buildings for worship of their gods. – As the Equestrians failed to state, Saddle Arabia and all the other equine countries are either protectorates or colonies of Equestria, ruled by the government in Canterlot, the Equestrian capital.
“We’re not, as you’ve called it, an ‘expansive nation.’ Why should we be? The soil gives us food, there’s enough place for everyone, and there’s still a lot of inhabitable desert all over the country. While our families are not allowed to have too many children, what bad is there in it, if it’s the Lord’s will?”
– A careful inquiry about the saddles has led to a friendly response. The saddles haven’t apparently been used for riding in the recent times, but they come from a long bygone era from which all the recordings have vanished. Thus, no proper answer can be given of their use.
“We are focused,” the male ruler had added, “solely on prayer. We allow the Lord to dictate our lives, it allows us to worry far less.”
Their faith, however, was not completely unified until the recent ages, just as ours. “We have waged wars in His name, but in years prior, when the winter came from the north and threatened to destroy us, we forsook the war, and understood that He does not want us to die out fighting, but rather spend lives in faith and worship.”
“That is somewhat like us,” the ambassador unit’s advisor had said. “We’d have pretty much killed each other by now without the promise of the Guidestone.”
“The Guidestone had led us here, to Hiigara, if that’s what we can call this planet. Otherwise the wars over where we’ve actually come from, as Kharak was near-uninhabitable, would decimate us into nothingness,” commented Fleet Intelligence, more to herself than to the pilots and Fleet Intelligence that listened in. Basing on the information gathered, it would be best to forsake the contact with other Equine countries for now, and proceed with visiting the other species. The conversation within Fleet Intelligence steered away from the Griffins for the time being. Perhaps the laws of sociology had been broken somehow on this world, and there were more than two expansive species.
Next presumed course: the Dragonlands. Apparently the hostile fauna species we have encountered are of the Dragon origin, but are a wild race that hasn’t been able to form a society. “Provide strike craft escort until the Ambassador reaches their territory.”
Once again the ambassador unit found itself traversing the skies with the escort of spherically-aligned, armed scouts. While it wasn’t sure whether the small, automatically navigated ships would be enough against a dragon, they would hopefully provide enough diversion for the manned Corvette to retreat.
Thankfully, no wild Dragons attacked on the way, and as the group entered the Draconic airspace, the Fighters pulled back. Almost as fast as they left they were replaced by a patrol of Dragons, beating their huge wings fast to keep up with the speeding ambassador unit. Their scales gleamed in the sun like the titan hull did, but it was unknown whether they could stop a barrage of bullets.
The Corvette landed, as designated, by the slope of a mountain. The Dragons must’ve taken a liking to mountain peaks, as a slumbering volcano they had passed before had also been populated with these enormous, fire-breathing structures of gleaming scales.
There was a stir when they landed and exited the ship. There weren’t that many Dragons here; the mountain was presumably only for the highest echelons and their servants. While the guards weren’t many times bigger than the visitors, the entrance to the cavern was enormous.
The entrance to the presumably royal cavern could fit a few Corvette-class ships, if not an Ion Cannon Frigate. It could’ve been modelled after the size of the resident. The feeling of abandonment intensified with each second as from the wide corridor they passed into an even wider, completely dark hall. There they waited. The clawsteps echoing behind told the Kushan the guards were leaving. None of the Dragons from the outside entered the cavern. They were completely alone.
The halls beamed with light, stinging their eyes, blinding them.
“Terribly sorry for that. I can’t get the lights working right these days.”
The owner of the voice could soon enough be seen in the light of small hovering supernovae he called ‘lights.’ They almost immediately caught the undivided attention of the engineers, who set up their equipment before one of them, hoping a fool’s hope that they will not be punished for trying to tamper with the forces they didn’t understand.
The owner of the voice was a dragon, an enormous one, gazing at the newcomers with an educated curiosity.
There is some sort of psychic field keeping these orbs of light in place. Its source appears to be the dragon. “We are glad to meet you, uh, sir,” started the speaker. “We are a fairly new species on this world.”
“You don’t even know my title, do you?” The dragon’s lips curled up slightly. “It doesn’t matter at all. I’m just too used to them trembling when they come here. It was amusing at first, but got dull fast. Just because a dragon’s big doesn’t mean he must be scary and not fluffy.”
Scale hardness analysis shows that this dragon is most certainly not fluffy. “While we chat here, the barkers in your ears tell you how to slay me, don’t they?” asked the dragon.
The speaker was far too baffled by the absurdity of the situation to perform his duties, and the advisor stepped forth. “Quite frankly, excuse our curiosity, but we are simply explorers and scientists, not destroyers or robbers. Let alone killers.” He shot a quick glance at the engineers, who frowned at the spheres of light hovering in front of them. One poked it with his finger only to find, to his great disappointment, that it passed through, with no bright and colourful explosions involved.
“Most certainly not. You are aliens, but you are strangely familiar. I am old, very old, and there are things I don’t remember. Or perhaps don’t want to remember.” He looked through them, searching his mind. “Don’t want to remember...” he muttered.
“What is the legal status of your nation?” the advisor asked. “Are you a part of Equestria or on your own?”
“Politics, always politics. Why are you here? Why do you even ask? Why do you care? You are travellers, aren’t you? What makes you think this is the end of your travel?”
The speaker and his advisor shared a glance. It was the former this time, who stepped forth. “Our records point to this place as the one being our homeworld, the place we have originated from.”
“Where would that place us then? And where are the others of your species here?” The dragon’s voice was stern and demanding, but it wasn’t anger that the depths of his eyes showed.
“We assume that our species have either moved or gone extinct here,” said the speaker.
“What if they haven’t been here in the first place?” The dragon closed his eyes and sighed. “It doesn’t matter. You are welcome here, as long as you don’t interfere with our species, or anyone else. You see, we are the guardians of this world, appointed by the gods, as the tradition says. Unless you can prove your undoubted right to this place, you will not be allowed to destroy anything here without retribution.
“But as for trading and settling, you are quite welcome.” The dragon smiled slightly.
“We have no hostile intentions, of that we can assure you,” the speaker said. “We wish to know whether your species is expansive, however, to find whether our nation will fit in here along with other species.”
“There will be enough place, but you will not expand as far as you wish. There is greed in your eyes, in the eyes of your comrades. If you act upon it, you will be destroyed. Or you’ll destroy yourselves.”
The speaker and his advisor shuddered at the sudden cold in the voice of the dragon, and so did the engineers, even though they missed the words. “We will find a way,” concluded the speaker. “Our technologies allow us to create little to no pollution and to sustain ourselves easily.” Fleet Command was silent as he said those words. They were too afraid of the dragon’s reaction.
“Ah, I know that. But the planet has limited resources, and you will not have access to their full extent. The question remains whether you will be content with your share.”
To that, the speaker and advisor had no answers. They felt the dragon could see through their diplomacy, through their eyes to their very souls. It unsettled them, made a chilly shiver run up their spines, made them shudder with unease and wish to be as far away as fast as possible. The speaker merely nodded humbly, the advisor refused to meet anyone’s eyes, and the engineers followed the pair hastily.
The legal matters were settled quickly. Proper documents were signed. All of that with Dragon commissars, diplomats, ministers, never with their king.
The Ambassador of the Kushan Fleet, along with the president of the Council of Nations, (which will be later referred to as “the Council”) Aelius Axius, being met together on the lands of Dragon Kingdom, deem it right to make known certain principles in the national policies of their respective countries on which they base their hopes for a better future of coexistence in the world.
First, the Council recognizes the Kushan as a nation and independent country, giving them the land designated by the mutual choice of the Independent Species.
Second, the Council does not desire to see any territorial changes occurring by the direct or indirect action of the Kushan Fleet without the freely expressed will of people and countries concerned.
Third, until proven otherwise, the Kushan Fleet are a nation from Without, and do not have the full privilege of a nation from Within. Thus, they will not expand territorially, and will not pollute the environment extensively outside of their lands. They are, however, under the protection of the Council, and will not wage war with any nation from Within by the will of their own, the nation from Within, or both.
Fourth, the Kushan Fleet will endeavour, with due respect to their existing obligations, to further enjoyment by all peoples of access, on equal terms, to the trade and to the raw materials of the world which are needed for their economic prosperity. The resources, fauna and flora assigned along with territory to the Kushan Fleet, will be open to full exploitation within reason, by the Kushan Fleet, along with those acquired by free trade.
Fifth, while the Kushan Fleet may choose the form of government under which they will live, they will, however, not impose on their neighbours or any nation from Within their will, choice of government, or any choice in matters they are or are not concerned with, by any means other than economic sanctions and diplomatic negotiations.
Sixth, unless it interferes with any of the other principles, the Kushan Fleet may come in military aid to the countries from Within if they are facing forces of Chaos or forces from Without. They may not engage in internal struggles.
When the Corvette flew away from the dragon lands, no one of the ambassador unit looked back. They all tried their best not to notice the Dragons escorting them and breathed a sigh of relief when the scales were replaced by the metal hull of the Scouts.
The psychic field is being analysed. The only possibility for the Fleet to access these powers is to construct more Unbound. The only ship where the merging of biological and mechanical components has occurred is the Mothership. There aren’t enough resources and time to proceed with this goal. “Are we defenceless against these types of weaponry?” asked Fleet Command.
We must develop mechanical psychic disruptors. Without living test subjects, however, it’s impossible to calibrate the instruments. We must acquire, either through kidnapping or diplomacy, at least one living test subject. A group of spaceful Corvettes was launched toward the Equine territory, the ambassador unit at their head. They all landed before the mountain Canterlot stood on and waited when the speaker and his colleagues exited their ship and headed toward the palace. At once, a group of guards were at their sides, escorting them forward as the surprised population stared in wonder yet again.
Celestia and Luna were already waiting, having answered the call from the Mothership.
“Isn’t the Council meeting a few days from now?” asked Celestia after pleasantries were exchanged.
“Of course it is,” said the speaker, “but it isn’t what we wish to talk about. We come with a proposition.” Celestia nodded to urge him onward. “We, as the Kushan Fleet, and as a group of insanely curious scientists, would like to study the ‘magic’ that your species possess. We have discerned that your kind in particular has the most prominent psychic abilities.”
“We find it wonderful that you are curious,” said Luna. “But we would love to initiate an exchange of knowledge. I think you’ve got far better advancements in medicine for one.”
“Ah, of course we have a bargaining chip.” The speaker grinned. “You see, during both our and other nations’ research with the clones, we have faced a problem of cancer developing in almost seventy percent of the cases. While we worked on upgrading our cloning processes, we managed to develop a stitched solution: multiple new methods of cancer treatment. They have raised the survivability rates up to over eighty percent, ninety in some cases.
That is not all, however. We have raised the survivability for especially dangerous cancer types, such as lung cancer, leukaemia, and others. We can present you with all of the necessary papers, experiments and everything else required to effectively use these treatments if you agree to our proposition.”
Luna’s eyes shone, and so did Celestia’s, although her wonder was far more concealed. “Do you mean it would require any unicorn able to use magic, or Luna and me in particular?” asked the latter.
“We would require the most powerful units of the species, as our psychic-field-detection equipment is not quite tuned in yet.” The speaker’s voice was kept level, but his advisor entertained a sly smirk toward the engineers and a respectful nod toward him. They were supposed to catch a few fish, but a whale was also welcome.
“I volunteer,” proclaimed Luna. “It would be best for the fairness of trade, however, to examine these papers before we leave for your Mothership. Assuming you wish to perform your tests there, of course.”
A few biologists were brought to the chamber. Or, more accurately, a few biologists miraculously didn’t break their necks as they dashed from the nearest university, having been torn away from their lectures by a statement along the lines of “the Princesses say the aliens have brought the cure for cancer.” The “aliens” were a fact now, after all, and no one disrespected the call of one Princess, let alone both.
The papers, although originally written in Galactic Standard, were hastily translated to the Equestrian alphabet, and a sample was provided to the biologists, who with gleaming eyes approved their authenticity.
“One of these is a targeted therapy.” An engineer tapped the holographic screen machine and pointed at the projection displayed by it. “What I roughly understand from it is that cancer eats tons of sugar. The scientists have devised a sugar ‘pocket’ that can hold strong chemotherapy drugs and be ‘eaten’ by the cancer tumour, releasing the drugs in the process. Straight at the tumour, no damage to other organs. Safe and effective. Repeat over and over for better results. Similar thing with other kinds of pockets, like RNA, for example.”
The scientists nodded as if in a trance. Higher Kushan biology and bioengineering was black magic to them; as they stated, they would devise magical substitutes. Not more than two hours later, Luna and Celestia found themselves on a Corvette heading toward the Mothership.
Celestia shifted her weight repeatedly from leg to leg, swished her tail slightly, and looked at the Mothership ahead and at the faces of the pilots with whom she flew. She was “anxious” and “possibly neurotic,” as the Feet Intelligence psychologists described it.
Luna grinned the second she saw the Mothership on the screen. “Has it ever occurred to you, sis, that after decades, centuries, maybe millennia of development, a powerful, space-faring nation would build a spaceship that looks like a banana?”
Celestia deemed to leave that question unanswered and instead gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Docking in two minutes,” said the pilot. “Research vessel, prepare the receiving deck.”
“Research vessel’s ready. The receiving deck’s open. Welcome,” came the voice of the research vessel’s crew.
“The Mothership we launched from Kharak wasn’t quite ready, especially to perform scientific research, so we’ve external ships for the job. There wasn’t enough space and time to make modifications in the Mothership itself,” explained the pilot as his colleague took over the control over the starship.
“Hey, don’t worry.” The pilot grinned at Celestia. “We only have people die here once a week, and the last guy died, what? Two days ago? You’ve got five days’ time still. Unless they’ll be researching something ‘special.’ The last time they did that, the only thing left of the whole ship were particles.”
Celestia gulped. Her pupils dilated and focused on the hangar door of the research vessel.
“All right, I’ll be leaving you here. Someone should show you things and places.”
Someone did. While Celestia walked forward with her eyes wide open, Luna examined the inside of the starship. She cast a few longing glances at the Mothership, but soon found herself enraptured by the controls and shining consoles that seemed to promise intricate science and huge, colourful explosions.
“Welcome, welcome. I bow to you in servitude.” A white-gowned scientist bowed before the Princesses. He had the aura of a typical nice, old man, given to him mostly by his smile, many creases and milky mess of a hair. “Well, without further ado, follow me. The sooner we begin, the better.”
Celestia found themselves in spacious, separate white chambers situated right next to each other, with a window to the same console room overseeing both. “All right, I hope you’re not too discouraged by separation. We can’t have any distortions now, can we?”
Celestia nodded understandingly. Luna looked at the window impatiently.
“If you turn around, you’ll notice a set of blocks of varying mass and volume we have devised to use for this experiment. But let us begin with a simple ‘spell,’ as you call them. You’ve said you can generate light. Please do that now.”
Luna and Celestia’s horns flared with bright light. The lead scientist walked to each window and nodded in appreciation.
Fluctuations in the psychic field noted in greatest altitude around the horn. Colour of the light corresponds with the colour of the psychic ‘aura’ of the equine. Inhibitor system set. “All right, you may turn the lights off now.” The chambers went dark. “No, not you, idiots! The Princesses.” The chambers were lit again. Luna chuckled slightly. “Great, now turn toward the blocks and try lifting the smallest one and holding it in the air.”
Calculating energy needed in comparison with the fluctuations of the field. “Good, now set the block down and lift the next one.”
That block was bigger by a significant measure. It was almost as big as Luna herself, though she and her sister lifted it without a problem. A few scientists at the monitors frowned and nodded in respect.
Calculating the energy needed for inhibition. Energy calculated. “All right, now lift the biggest block.” Both of the Princesses did. “Is it hard for you to do that?”
“Not at all,” answered Celestia. Luna laughed.
“Very well, now try to hold it in the air.”
Suppression field activating. “Do you feel the block getting heavier?”
Celestia nodded. Luna chuckled.
Suppression field magnifying. “What about now?”
Both of the Princesses didn’t need to answer. Their blocks fell down a bit before they caught them and lifted them to the position they were in. “You’ve managed to heighten the gravity of that block remotely! Magnificent!” said Luna with a grin at the window.
The scientist chuckled. “All right, now hold it with everything you have.”
Celestia’s pupils shrank. Luna’s grin turned from a friendly to a competitive one.
Suppression field magnifying. Gradually, the strain could be seen in both of the Princesses’ muzzles. Celestia’s block gradually descended first; Luna’s fell a few seconds later and slammed the floor loudly. “Too...” Luna said in-between panting, “heavy...”
“All right, have some rest. We’ll have the next turn in a minute.” Plush-etched benches extended from the ground.
Both of the Princesses occupied their respective bench eagerly. Celestia looked at the console room window suspiciously. “Are you testing our level of power?” While Luna couldn’t hear her, the lead scientist could.
“Only as a secondary result. Our main goal is devising what ‘magic’ actually is. We’ve come to the a conclusion that you can somehow manipulate energy through the use of your horn, which generates physical exertion on you. The problem is that the metabolism of your bodies simply can’t generate enough energy to lift that block. You take it from elsewhere. There might be a possibility that you have some kind of perpetuum-mobile in your horns.”
While a spark of recognition showed in Celestia’s eyes at the term, she remained silent. Magic in Equestria, as she had stated before, has never been analyzed scientifically. The science of that world itself relied on magic.
At first, Celestia was reluctant to continue the study, but a message had arrived from the group of engineers, scientist and translators that were sent to Equestria. The patients treated with the new, alien methods had started showing first signs of improvement. She decided to persist the second the news reached her. Luna didn’t have such doubts in the first place, or simply decided not to voice them.
The second test also measured their raw power, among other things.
“You’re able to cast some form of solid object ‘spell,’ am I right? A shield spell, or something along the lines of that?”
“Not exactly solid; you’ll notice once you see it. You wish to analyze how magic can create solid objects?” asked Luna.
The lead scientist nodded. Celestia only looked with uncertainty at the enormous Ion Cannon pointing straight at her.
“Oh, don’t worry, Your Highness. That thing doesn’t really fire on its own. And we’re going to tune it down just for the experiment. It can punch right through our ship if we’re not careful. This allows for virtually the most beautiful of deaths – vaporisation.
“The target becomes stardust, completely one with the universe it came from. Oh, if I were to die, I wish I had the chance to die like that: turned into the simplest, smallest particles of matter, and perhaps become a part of a star one day.” The lead scientist wiped a tear from his eye with a kerchief.
Celestia scowled at the cannon, her wings twitching.
“All right, Princesses. Cast your shields, please.”
Shield analysis undergoing. The shield is not a solid object, but rather a strong, fluid-like material of pure energy, reflecting or possibly absorbing all other energy and mass, while having no measurable mass of its own Ion Cannon activated, 10% power. “Don’t worry, ten percent won’t hurt even a fly.”
The shields withstood.
Ion Cannon at 70% power. The shields withstood, but the Princesses looked at the cannons in their rooms with more respect.
“All right, now step to the side and keep the shield in place. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
Ion Cannon at 100% of power.
The shields cracked very, very slightly, but reformed themselves easily not a second later. The material the shields are made of appears to have very high structural integrity. “Could you make these shields reflective?”
“Not at this level of power. The reflective ones would shatter at that strike,” answered Luna. “They’re far less useful in an actual battle too. You can’t control where the reflected strike goes.” “All right, would you mind if we bring in two more of these beams?”
Luna smirked cockily. Celestia looked at the exit longingly.
Two Ion Cannons, overdrive of both at 140%. Three Ion Cannons, power level of both at 70%. Three Ion Cannons, overdrive of all at 120%. For the first time in millennia, as she described later, Celestia lost her composure. Her pupils dilated and she panted heavily when the three Ion Cannons pointed straight at her. Well, not exactly straight at her, but a mind perceives whatever it wishes in times of primal fear. To her credit, she didn’t scream, and found her composure quickly.
Luna didn’t. For the rest of the way back, she huddled close to her sister, her pupils wide and staring at each scientist and flashing light as if it were a mortal threat. She didn’t glance at the Mothership anymore, and merely tried to breathe deeply as a Corvette flew her and her sister home.
“What is the extent of the psychological damage done to the Princesses?” Fleet Command asked.
The psychological damage appears to be non-permanent: shock, fear and surprise are included. No signs of trauma displayed as of now. 30% chance of the accident leaving permanent damage to the psyche. “Organise a letter of apology, then allow them access to more of our medical technologies. Make sure that it wasn’t the Fleet’s intention to show the extent of our power in such a way. What are the results of the research?” The shield can be broken with the use of three Ion Beams overdriven to 120% of their power;the exact energy required is being calculated. The tired state of the Princesses must be taken into account. Amount of energy required calculated. Multiple Inhibitors, or providing the inhibitor with more energy should be able to reduce the amount of shots needed to one, or remove the need for using the Ion Cannons whatsoever.
The amount of energy required for the Inhibitor to prevent the Princesses from casting magic was very high. The Inhibitor took the power of all of Research Vessel’s reactors and accumulators, and overheated to burning in the process.
The Inhibitor’s improvement is required, along with the creation of a suitable vessel, presumably a Capital or Super Capital class starship, to host one or two units of the Inhibitor and carry them into the battle zone.
[New technology research information] Inhibitor Device Energy cost-effectiveness increase upgrade for the Inhibitor device, allowing its installation in Capital class starships. The Inhibitor now consumes far less energy, providing the same psychic abilities suppression output.
Inhibitor Frigate Technology required: Inhibitor Device; Capital Ship Drive; Capital Ship Chassis
Ship information Classification: Capital ship Purpose: Psychic Field Inhibitor Ship Type: Frigate Resource Unit Cost: 545 RUs
Technical Information Mass: 15 000 t Length: 96,7 m Acceleration: 70 m/s2 Max Velocity: 300 m/s
Armaments 1 Psychic Field Inhibitor Damage: N/A Range: 3 000 m Fire time: 15.0s
Description A Capital class starship with an Inhibitor Device built-in. High energetic demand of the Inhibitor Device prevents the ship from using any other form of defence. To satisfy the energetic needs of the ship’s drive while remaining its mobility, it has been equipped with stronger power generators that take up most of the ship’s remaining space.
While sufficiently mobile, the Inhibitor Frigate must approach the enemy very closely, and its firing time isn’t enough to wear down the enemies possessing the power level of the Princesses. Its complete inability to protect itself from any kind of attack beside psychic makes it an easy target for enemy Frigates and Strike Craft.
The advisable approach is to launch these units in the middle of the Fleet with a Strike Craft and Multigun Corvette escort to fend off smaller enemy units, and with Ion Cannon Frigate support to detach enemy Psychic Units and Capital class ships. Cloaked Fighter Sensor Upgrade
A completely new, far stronger sensor system for the Cloaked Fighter, allowing it to proceed with search operations on planets and to serve as a scout for eventual battles on the surface of a planet. Upgrades the sensor range by 50%. Unlocks the Planet Surface Scan ability. [New technology research information over]
“Group three, affirmative, assuming formation.” Support Frigates placed nearer the planet to provide faster refuelling for the fighters.
“Commence the search operation.”
Cloaked Fighters on route. Sensors active. Scanning the planet’s environment. Awaiting response.
Group one: no response so far.
Group two: no response so far.
Group three: no response so far.
Awaiting response.
“Group one reporting. Response from the sensors received.” Once again, the Cloaked Fighters broke the surface of the clouds and descended toward the planet, their metal hulls gleaming in the setting sun. The high-detail cameras registered even the waves of the sea below them as they passed.
Finally they reached their destination – a harsh type of terrain which the cold ocean currents turned into a dry, dusty desert. There was no life to be found for miles in each direction: no vultures circling the sky, no tumbleweeds making their way through the sands, no venomous scorpions to threaten the expedition. Only the empty wailing of the wind.
“Group one. Cold currents' activity reported. It’s a desert. The object is buried deep beneath the sand. Send in the Resource Collectors.”
“Launch Resource Collectors to clear off the sand. Launch the Ambassador with a Light Corvette escort toward the Equine territory.”
Resource Collectors launched. Light Corvettes launched. The fact that the ambassador unit could hear a muffled cry of “They’re back! Lock the gates! Raise the shields! Get them out of here!” from afar and were received by a smiling, grey-maned equine instead of the Princesses was enough of evidence that their technology had made a sufficient impression and that they weren’t as welcome in Equestria anymore.
Archaeologists were quite excited to hear that new ruins had been discovered within the sands of the Saddle-Arabian desert and that they might have some affiliation with the newcomers. Very few objected to entering the metal Corvettes and flying to said deserts for examination, and a delegation party was assembled quickly.
Equine delegation for the alien confirmation of the ruins’ affiliation with our culture has been assembled.
“Hopefully these ruins have our technology, or anything else that would prove we are a nation from Within. Otherwise it’s simply us against all of their united nations, trying to settle on a world that had once been ours,” said Fleet Command.
Beacon signal response resembling Kushan detected within the ruins.
The Saddle Arabian government allowed for the search to commence on their territory. Detected attitude: fearful. Presumed cause: the state of the Princesses after leaving the Research Vessel. Group one at the excavation site. Resource collectors at the excavation site. Light Corvettes at the excavation site. “Commence the excavation.”
Kushan research group on the surface of the planet. Equine research group on the surface of the planet. Resource Collectors programmed. At first, the collecting beams reassembling the sand into tiny, collectible particles of silicon dioxide, aragonite, calcite and other chemical compounds were working at maximum efficiency to remove the upper layer of sand. They slowed down and their radars were working at a far higher capacity when they neared the ruins.
“We’ve reached the ruins,” reported the lead archaeologist researcher. “Looks like a whole city’s in there. Intact.”
Resource Collectors stopping. Resource Collectors returning to the Mothership. “All right, it’ll be smaller machines from now on,” said the lead researcher to his team. A few hand drills and automatic diggers removed the final layers of the sand, revealing the outline of an ancient city of faded white stone and rusted metal.
“Fascinating, isn’t it? The fact that we were once an integral part of this world. That talking Equines, Dragons and Minotaurs weren’t just a thing of legend, but integral parts of reality. Perhaps our mythology came just from the time we lived here! But why would we leave? What could’ve happened?” asked the lead researcher.
No one in the group answered him, as all were too busy calibrating their equipment to mind.
“Good question,” a historian of the Fleet Intelligence said. “What exactly did happen? Did you notice the Dragon King mentioning something about repressed memories?”
“Obviously that would hint at a war. I’ve no idea why you’re trying to be suggestive, colleague,” said the archaeologist. “That would not be just a war, though. A bloody war, perhaps involving genocide. ”
“A genocide, but on whose side? Maybe the Dragons burnt us all to smithereens for reasons unknown, and now are sorry for their deeds?” asked the historian.
“While I can understand how you find those points valid, I must ask: what did we do? What could we have done? Do you remember the outcry when we assembled the first Scout? ‘This is a peaceful colonization mission! We aren’t going to fight there! What can there be in space that would prove dangerous to us?!’”
“I can understand this statement’s supposed value, but we can’t look only from today’s outlook on the world. Perhaps years earlier, we used to be a warring nation, incapable of anything else.” The historian took a deep breath. “Here arises the question of what exactly happened. I’d vote for them expelling us. I think we might’ve obtained the Hyperspace Drive somehow and reached Hiigara afterward.”
“That’s just needless speculation, and it’s all we’re capable of right now. Let’s adjourn this conversation for the time being.”
“Good point.”
A city revealed itself from within the sands. From flat of the desert rose collapsed corridors, hallways and whole buildings, some of them even intact. Overeager scientists of both Equine and Kushan affiliation almost jumped in ecstasy.
Original layout of the ruined city discerned. First set of bones found. Analysing. Although it bears minuscule differentiations, it’s strikingly similar to Kushan in anatomy. It might have used to be our city. “What gave off the responding signal?”
There is a transparent orb in the middle of a tall, spiral building that responds to the cloaked fighters’ sensor signal. The excavation team’s report is as follows: “All right, there’s a huge crystal ball in the middle of the, we presume, main building. Why it stands there, we don’t know. We do know, however, that there are multiple crystalline ornaments running across the whole city, entangling the ball too. There’re some strange circuits around it as well. They’re not out of conductive materials, so we don’t know why they are there in the first place.” The crystal ball is being analysed. It is presumed to have served as a symbol, perhaps of worship, for the city. Its true purpose is yet unknown. The machinery found attached to the orb is being analysed. It is similar in design to our systems, but its circuits are made of non-conductive materials. “Gather as much evidence as possible to confirm our former residence on this world. Find flags, carcasses, pieces of furniture, anything that points to our species, and catalogue it. Make sure that the Equines sign confirmation on our claim. Continue your research in the city afterward.”
Multiple pieces of furniture designed for Kushan use found. Multiple remnants of finger-requiring computational machines found. No evidence pointing to the Minotaurs found. No flags, painting or other distinct signs of cultural development found. With the Council meeting three days away, there was yet one country, one species to address. The Fleet Command waited patiently a few hours for the ambassador unit to come back to the Mothership, and for the Fleet Intelligence to assemble a proper plan of operations.
“There is yet one species left to address: the Griffins. Prepare the Ambassador.”
A murmur passed through the Fleet Intelligence. Nothing surfaced, though.
Ambassador unit launched.
Scout escort launched. Ambassador on the way. Each second became an hour. Closing in on the Griffin territory. Each light on the horizon, a war declaration.
Scout escort departing. The Equines, friends of the Kushan, had been at war with the Griffins. Would the fleet become an enemy, too, then?
Corvette slowing down. Griffin escort falling into formation.
There was no doubt that the Griffins were expansive.
Griffin Islands visible in the distance. There wasn’t much to quell the thoughts nagging at the back of the speaker’s mind. Griffin Capital reached. Landing. It was interesting, how the Home Fleet could loom in the dark skies over the horizon. How it could block the most beautiful of stars with the coldest metal of the starships. How it seemed from so far away that all the cannons and turrets were meant for you.
Griffin Capital reached.
“We’re safe and sound,” the speaker reported, the sound of his words neither honest nor confident.
“Received,” said Fleet Command, emotions deeply hidden beneath her level voice.
The Capital stood guard to the seas over all the islands belonging to the Griffins. Its walls were of dark stone, with rough, sharp edges, as well as multiple small openings for crossbow and bow sharpshooters. But what could a crossbow do against an ion cannon?
“We are glad that you have finally come to visit us. We were growing anxious you’d not consider us worthy,” started the Griffin King. The crown on his head sat askew by the slightest of millimetres; perhaps he feared that righting it would be a sign of unease.
“We didn’t play favourites, Your Highness,” said the speaker. “We wished to visit you as the last, to understand the land of this world before we reach toward the sea.” Only a sliver of meaning hid behind the pointless poetry.
“Ah, I understand. We have signed a hastily stitched treaty with the Pony nation for the time of your visit. I believe you wish to settle on this world?”
“That is true. We have been reassessing our general knowledge of this world’s nations to understand their nature and find our own place. And, perhaps, the threat they pose,” said the advisor slyly.
The Griffin King was sweating slightly in what seemed his conversation with the Hades’ advocate. He tried to count on the slightest chance to save his soul, and it was the most amusing to toy with him until he broke.
“Perhaps you could show us the art of your nation,” suggested the advisor, smirking slightly. “What does it revolve around?”
He agreed and led them across the castle, an art gallery in itself. From far-off, sounds of music reached them. A music dark, not melancholic, but instilling emotions they wanted to bury deep inside them. What the song was about, however, was to be determined by the linguists on the other side of the radio link to the Mothership.
Most of the Griffin mythology revolves around the sea. Most of the musical and visual art revolves around their mythology. Detected various depictions of sea beings of varying shapes and sizes. “These? These are the Seaponies. We aren’t sure whether they actually exist; we’re not suited to explore the bottom of the sea. We’re creatures of the sky,” explained the Griffin King sounding of forced pride. “Legends say they retreated deep under the surface when the wars broke out and now keep under their masking spells down there. Who knows what they’re up to.”
“And this one?” The speaker pointed at a depiction of three strange, draconic-shaped hybrids of varying colours, all rising from water, presumably with the ability to swim.
“This picture shows the Mermaids, or as some call them, the Sirens. With their beautiful songs, they tempted the sailors off the usual trails onto sharp rocks to break the ships and devour their crews.”
“What about this one?” The speaker smirked as the King’s eyes lit up. The both stopped before a picture of a long-necked, scaled creature, partially submerged in water. It had an enormous body, and its wings resembled fleshy fins more than actual wings, but perhaps, had it given them strong enough flaps, it could lift into the air.
“Oh, these? They are, as we call them, the Sea-Dragons. Truth be told, they are my favourite. Enormous creatures from times long past. What was the reason for their existence? What did they do? We don’t know. Some say the Dragons do; apparently they came from the same ancestry line. I wish they’d share their knowledge with us.” Detected extraordinarily hyperbolic depictions of an island. “That island was supposed to be a paradise. As you might have seen, our archipelago consists of four islands. That was supposed to be the fifth one. The mythical Fifth Island as we called it.
“Due to our internal struggles, when a Griffin didn’t stop short of killing another Griffin, it sank to the bottom of the ocean. It has never been heard of since, and only legends remain. Some legends say that’s where brave and honourable Griffins go after they die.” “And who are these two? Is it a symbol of some treaty?” asked the speaker, pointing to a depiction of a short Griffin, with a scar running across his eye and down his head, his uniform markings suggesting a high rank, shaking hands with an enormous Dragon. The Dragon was essentially naked, as nothing showed his significance. The glint of his scales was captured perfectly by the artist.
“Why, it’s the famous Dragon-Griffin pact. I’ve told you about the secrets the Dragons withheld from us, even in regards to our own nation. One of our kings decided to wage war until, due to the enormous losses on our side, our nation had to give in.”
The speaker shared a quick glance with his advisor, who nodded sagely, darker emotions dulling his eyes.
“Needless to say, the war was indeed bloody on both sides, but thankfully both of the nations, two royal generations later for us, decided upon a treaty, as they were finally tired of the lack of resources and the bloodshed. Dragons traded ancient tomes concerning our culture, and we supported them in their leadership of the Council of Nations.” The King noticed something and looked at both the speaker and his advisor in desperation.
“Please, follow me in private, if you may,” he said to the speaker. “The walls have ears,” he whispered.
They went alone inside the closest suite. The guards were left at the door, and the advisor was sent, along with the engineers, for an early dinner, which he promptly refused due to recent “problems with digestion.”
The King’s eyes finally shrank. As he allowed himself to hyperventilate and show his fear, he beckoned the speaker into a bathroom. “The best insulated room in a castle suite.” The speaker followed, although rather reluctantly.
“I don’t want war! I’m a damned pacifist!” His voice, although a whisper, carried enough emotion for the speaker to shift his weight nervously. “The former King was good and kind, but they didn’t receive him kindly when he said something about our hatred toward Ponies – toward everyone – being unjustified. He was shorter by a head not long after.”
“Who did that? Is there some kind of high-echelon clique within the Griffin kingdom?” the speaker asked, awkwardly observing the panting King’s eyes dart back and forth between the door and him.
“A clique?! The whole nation! Years, Tartarus, millennia of teaching cubs hatred. You know what they, uh, we have in schools? A shooting range where they teach how to target the weakest parts of a Pony, a Dragon, a Diamond Dog, and a Minotaur. Where it’ll hurt the most. They even have ‘education trips’ where they take older students for hunting trips. They made hunting a game. They made war a game.”
“We have created proper psychological developments to counter such type of a nation, but I’m afraid we aren’t holy either. We have fought among ourselves before our journey.”
The King sighed before looking at the floor in resignation. “It’ll take years, millennia, to restore us back to the Fifth Island model.
The speaker smiled and put a hand over the King’s shoulder. His diplomatic protocol knowledge screamed of violation in his mind, but he persisted. “We’ll do our best. We can help you, I’m sure of it.”
His headphones recorded each and every word, which was then processed, scrutinized and filed by over a dozen of minds, for each interpretation to add to the greater picture.
Reassessing the current Griffin Islands situation:
– The Griffin King, while the head of the state, is currently against most of his nation in his opposition of drives for violence and expansion.
– With proper social engineering, it is theorized that the nation can be pacified to an extent. It could remove one expansive species from the planet, and thus allow our fleet to settle here without breaking the balance.
– The King is the only part of what’s known as the “council” of high-status individuals that would accept the pacifying program. There are multiple ways of either converting the majority of said individuals, or replacing them with those who already support the King’s views.
– Proper statement concerning our willingness to help with the unstable situation on the Griffin Islands should be voiced during the Council of Nations’ meeting.
“Proper steps will be taken, Fleet Intelligence. Prepare a plan of action for our social engineers and psychologists.”
Thirty six hours remaining until the Council of Nations’ meeting.
Two hours remaining until the Council of Nations’ meeting.
The Princesses on board a Light Corvette. The Griffin King on board a Light Corvette. The Minotaur Representative on board a Light Corvette. The Dragon King on board an Assault Frigate. “It’s the first council in ages, if I remember correctly,” said the Dragon King more to himself than to the guards at the ammunition hangar, now emptied to temporarily house the enormous Dragon. “First council in ages without the Zebra, at least.”
Zebra have refused to take part in the Council meeting. They are represented by the Princesses.
The Diamond Dogs have been expelled from the Council permanently. They are not considered an Independent Species.
Someone in the Fleet Intelligence threw the idea that the Diamond Dogs could’ve been the higher race for whom the saddles were designed. No one picked the subject up, however, as the upcoming meeting occupied every mind.
The Princesses on board the Mothership. The Dragon King on board the Mothership. The Griffin King on board the Mothership. The Minotaur Representative on board the Mothership.
A sufficient place was found within the hastily modified hangars to accommodate the Dragon and every other ambassador, allowing for some semblance of private space.
“What baffles me, though, is how you’ve made a pillow perfectly designed for me? Where did you find so much fabric? How could you make it just plush enough to support my weight?” asked the King.
All the other ambassadors, although they noted the peculiar ease of the Dragon, remained nervous, with their eyes scanning the new environment. The lights blinded, the muffled walls deafened, and the welcome smile of the always optimistic Kushan speaker seemed more forced today than ever before.
“Oh, it’s simple,” the speaker answered, turning to the Dragon King he sat next to. “Our cameras scanned your body from every angle and we observed how you prefer to sit. We’ve also estimated your mass, which allowed us to design and fabricate the perfect pillow. I think every pilot has a seat like that made for him, unless we’re building ships in the middle of the battle.”
“How lovely! I wish we had that fabrication technology. I could lay my whole cavern with plush.” The dragon sighed and smiled a dreamy smile. “But may we begin? I’m terribly anxious to hear that Fleet Command, as you call her.”
The screen at the end of the chamber flashed, and the emblem of the Kushan Fleet was displayed: Two wings, stretching outward from a small sphere, the representation of the world they came from, Kharak. It seemed that the small, winged planet was flying, yearning to reach a larger, closer one slightly below it. The emblem itself appeared to be a representation of their journey, from the hot, unwelcome Kharak to the new, unknown, but filled with hope Hiigara.
“This is the Fleet Command of the Kushan Fleet. I’ll represent the side of the Fleet. I’m currently unable to see you in my physical body. Please, proceed with the introductions if you deem them necessary.”
“I’m the Dragon King. I’ve always used to be the Dragon King. Maybe outside of the time when I wasn’t the King, but that was a long, long time ago. Back when the world was flat, I think.”
“My name is Adamantine Rhetorics. I am the Representative of the Minotaur Tribes.”
“I am Princess Celestia, and this is my sister, Princess Luna. We stand for the United Pony Nations, and as appointed, for the Zebra, at this Council meeting.”
“I’m Ailidh, the Griffin King. I represent the Griffin nation and all of its colonies.”
“The Diamond Dogs remain expelled from the council since the last meeting, nothing’s changing here soon,” said the Dragon King.
“I believe that is everyone,” Fleet Command said, the speakers reproducing her voice perfectly. “Considering we are the hosts, may I have the privilege to speak first, Dragon King?”
“Privilege granted.” The Dragon smiled.
“Now, as you’ve been informed, we’ve recently discovered a set of ruins, whose origin appears to have association with our culture. We have found biological remains and technology suggesting that this planet is our world of origin.”
“We are aware of that. It has been confirmed by the Princesses here, and the scientific community in general. The question is: what does that imply for you?” The Dragon’s question was almost a rhetoric one and he didn’t show any signs of surprise when the answer was voiced.
“We request to be considered a nation from Within at this council and at all times forth.”
“We’ve never had an alien race claim to be the nation from Within and for smaller groups of species from here it takes time and agreement of at least three countries for the nation to be independent,” the Dragon mused. It was clear, however, that he hadn’t finished yet. “Why, I believe for the time of this Council, we shall dine as equals. You may deem yourself a nation from Within, if the others agree. The formalities shall be dealt with later.”
“I agree to the Kushan Fleet’s request,” said the Griffin King.
Celestia looked at the other ambassador’s uneasily, and then at her sister. She was answered with the same lost and nervous gaze. “We agree to consider the Kushan Fleet a nation from Within until proven otherwise.”
“Majority reached,” Minotaur Representative said. “I don’t believe my agreement is required, but nonetheless, it is granted.”
“Consider it done then.” The Dragon King nodded at the screen. “You may be the first to voice your matter. You’re both the host and the virtual cause of our assembly.”
“Thank you,” the voice from the speakers replied. “We shall state our intentions toward each nation openly on the meeting. You may voice your opinions once all intents and purposes have been revealed.
“First, the Minotaur tribes. Your species’ structure is unstable and unbalanced. With the tribal lifestyle, it’s impossible to judge the social implications of the whole species’ population fluctuations, and both political and military potential.
“To preserve your culture and implement the positive development, we offer your tribes to be monitored by volunteers from within. Nothing more than the number of specimen in each tribe and their health state will be recorded, but it is important that any internal or external conflicts be handled with a negotiator to prevent any actual combat that might have dire consequences on your species.
“In return, you will be provided with research in fields such as medicine, comfort and education. None of the species will be provided with mechanisms of warfare research. The technology of the hyperdrive will also never be traded.”
“We agree to the presented terms and conditions, although we allow for no direct or indirect way of forcing a change of lifestyle on Minotaurs within or without the tribes,” the Representative asked.
No direct opposition recognised from the Minotaur Representative basing on his body language. No direct opposition recognised from the other Council members basing on their body language. “It will not be,” assured the Fleet Command. “We wish to address our relationship with the Dragon nation now. From this Council meeting forth, we believe the treaty we have signed becomes officially invalid.”
“Some of its points, yes, but it merely needs to be rebuilt...” the Dragon King started.
“You are a wise and everlasting species, even if decreasing in number as of recently. As a nation from Within, we wish to trade with you and provide an exchange of our scientific knowledge for your wisdom. As soon as the proper trade route documents are signed we shall begin. No birth control technology will be provided.”
The Dragon King chuckled, but approved.
“I would like to address the Equine nation now.”
“We call ourselves Ponies, but address us as you will,” interrupted Luna.
“I suppose I’ll address the Pony nation now then. We’d like to issue our sincerest apologies for the... high efficiency of the scientific tests we have done with you. In exchange, we wish to sign adequate treaties to establish trading routes. Our technology and knowledge will be provided to you at a fair price.
“Furthermore, we have come to know and understand the nature of your war with the Griffins recently. We would like to voice our full support of your side.”
There was a stir in the group.
The Equine Princesses show surprise, based on their body language. The Griffin King shows multiple signs of fear, based on his body language. “As soon as you allow, and as the documents are agreed on and signed, we will station our ground troops by the chosen points within Equestria and intervene only upon a direct request from the Pony nation itself.”
“This...” Celestia stumbled on her own words. “This will require further negotiations on the bases’ placement, on the amount of forces stationed, on multiple other parts. But we do accept your request as of now.”
“Very well then. We will send in our troops no sooner than in a week’s time.”
Luna shot a surprised stare at her sister. Celestia’s horn flashed briefly in response, but she didn’t look into Luna’s eyes.
Psychic message detected. Deciphering. Comparing to Equine speech patterns. Message deciphered: “I had no choice but to accept. We must call for the Elements as soon as we get back.”
Luna’s horn flashed. “They are considered a nation from Within. We cannot use the Elements in war unless it threatens the very existence of our species!”
“It might. That’s enough,” Celestia answered, her eyes trained on the Kushan Fleet symbol visible on the screen.
“Don’t be afraid, Griffin King, for we have heard and understood your request. We won’t unleash a direct attack on your country.”
“What was the request, if I may ask,” inquired the Dragon King.
“I have tried, on multiple occasions mind you, to bring this matter to the Council, but it has never been addressed! You see, my nation, its culture and goals, are degrading. We are becoming more and more obsessed with war, with having more and more territory. I don’t know why this is happening, but I’m afraid we’ll deem ourselves and everyone around us to years of conflict if it doesn’t stop,” the Griffin took a deep breath.
“I’ve got no idea why this hasn’t been addressed. Perhaps some of my damned adversaries thought this is not important enough to be brought to my attention. I’ll make sure they eat gravel when I get home. Lots and lots of gravel.” The Dragon King huffed. “Nevertheless, what can we do? That is a good question.”
“A proper pro-royalist and peace propaganda needs to be created. Psychologists within your country should be trained to reduce the population’s tension. The influence of the lords must be diminished, and the power centralized. Upon request, you will be granted all the help we can provide,” Fleet Command suggested.
“Oh, if you can help with my nation, if that can be done, you have my full approval,” agreed the Griffin King.
“Well, I suppose the Council’s help won’t be needed then. Good luck sorting the situation out!.” The Dragon nodded and looked at the screen in deep thought.
“The plans will be prepared immediately. We’ll deploy our operatives as soon as possible.”
“All settled? No further questions? No major issue to be brought before the Council? Then I call the meeting over. No matter how much I appreciate this pillow,” he tapped the pillow below him, “the politics bore me. You’ll polish things out on your own, just make sure they agree with the treaties we signed all those ages ago. Good whatever-time-of-day-it-is!” The Dragon King, no matter how much he wished to leave, realised he was in space. And in space, as some might notice, no one cares you wish to leave.
The adversaries on board Light Corvettes. Dragon King on board an Assault Frigate. Traces of uncertainty and fear noted in the Princesses’ body language. Relief noted in the Griffin King’s body language.
The camera turned toward the ambassador unit’s speaker, who sat in a corner by himself throughout the whole meeting, and did his best to remain in the background. His face hidden in his hands, he breathed slowly.
Someone entered the room, seemingly an uninvited guest. His footsteps on the metal floor seemed to match perfectly with the beating of the speaker’s heart. They were haste, in different intervals, as if they were made by a person who had no intention of reaching any place on time, and was hurrying somewhere at once.
“Speaker?” Fleet Command called.
He shook his head as if he awoke from a slumber. “I am at your disposal, Fleet Command.” He looked at the newcomer curiously.
“It’s the gunner of Augury. His insight has proven remarkable in the past, just as yours has. I wish to know your opinion.”
The gunner of Augury he most certainly was not, didn’t have a uniform on him. It was doubtful whether he even was a Kushan, as the long, warm coat he wore would never hint on the deserts of Kharak as its place of origin. Nonetheless, if Fleet Command decided he could be trusted, there was no reason to doubt her.
The speaker stood up and walked closer to the screen, looking straight at one of the cameras. “I believe Fleet Intelligence has a far more educated opinion to pro—”
“Fleet Intelligence can’t hear you. The room has been muffled.”
The speaker then fell silent, judging the situation. He looked questioningly at the “gunner.” The latter only smiled and found a place to sit. To the speaker’s surprise he fished out a cigarette, a real, not an electric one, and lit it. The cigarette, instead of filling the gunner’s lungs with nicotine, flew to the floor and flattened obediently under his shoe’s abuse.
“I disabled all the smoke detectors here for the time being,” announced Fleet Command the slightest tinge of a bell’s ringing in her voice told she was amused.
The gunner glowered at the cameras.
The speaker, in turn, seated himself too. His heart was settling down, he even chuckled at the situation. “Is this Hiigara?” he asked, looking more at the newcomer than the cameras or the screen.
The newcomer, however, said nothing. “We are sure our race has been here. We are sure the Guidestone pointed to the world that led us here. We don’t know if it’s Hiigara.” Fleet Command, although her voice was almost inhumanely level, sounded lost to the speaker, who’d heard that voice indefinitely for the length of the Journey.
“We’re not sure. We’re betting far too much on that card. I’ve never supported pointless hazard,” said the speaker.
“How pointless do you believe the hazard is?” The cameras turned toward the gunner to indicate it was his turn at an answer.
He stood up from his seat and looked straight at the cameras. “We both know how high the hazard is,” he said. “And something tells me you’ll be giving me work, much more than I’d rather handle.”
The speaker stood up too and started pacing back and forth, cameras following him closely. “What are we doing here? What are we, explorers or conquerors? Are the Equines as dangerous as the Taiidan Empire that it’s so important to hold them at a gunpoint?”
“Perhaps at least one of you can realise how helpless the situation is.” She left them a moment for thought. The gunner nodded, but said nothing, the speaker didn’t notice his gesture.
“Have you thought what would happen,” she addressed the speaker more than the gunner this time, “if we were to leave?”
They remained silent.
“This is the only lead we have. We have nowhere left to go, and if this is Hiigara, we must find our place here.”
“But there is no place here!” he shouted. “We look for our place, we don’t shuffle back everyone who wishes to live there. It’s not only our planet, Fleet Command.
“If a war were to start here, it’d take many, many lives. Countless more than our own wars would. They’re not prepared to face us. Not today. It’d be a genocide!” The speaker then retreated back a step, realising what he’d said. To Fleet Command no less.
“The records of this place might be kept. Even if we try to forget, our children might come here with an armada greater than ours, and raze this world.”
The speaker nodded. “There is no answer then, Fleet Command, but to stay. What if a war breaks out?”
“Don’t you believe in our ability to coexist with other species?”
He chuckled. “Ability to coexist? We can’t coexist with ourselves, and we didn’t even know there were any ‘other species’ at all when we started the journey! We’ll be drawn into a war sooner or later.”
“We will do our best to avoid it.”
“Sometimes best is not enough.” The speaker saluted and left the room. The door opened as he walked and closed deafly behind him, leaving dull silence.
“What should I do then? What is there left to do?”
“I’d hate to be the person to say this,” the gunner picked up the cigar he had earlier flattened and stuffed it in his pocket. “But, well, do what you think is right at the moment. Each action has consequences: count the numbers, choose the most probable one. Integrate as many factors as you know, and simply calculate.”
“The lives it might take, the suffering it might cause...”
The liquid cooling the computers of the Mothership boiled, as numerous factors were implemented. Each Kushan can have a family, each Griffin, each Equine, each Minotaur, a blast from a Ion Cannon can turn a whole city to ash. Whole city. That would be thousands of Equines, or Griffins, or Minotaurs, thousands of families, incomplete, or killed, children orphaned, wives widowed, husbands killed...
Focused, she didn’t pay attention to the steps that resonated deafly through the room. The gunner left. There was a slam of a door closing, not a ship door, but door of something else. Then a roar of an old engine. He was gone.
A Probe sent directly over Canterlot to support the communications array set up in the castle focused its glass eye on Celestia’s chambers and listened. Unfortunately, its position didn’t allow to see what transpired inside.
“... concerning these aliens?” asked a feminine voice, slightly higher than Celestia’s.
“Yes. We have returned from the meeting and called for you as fast as possible,” answered a voice that most certainly belonged to Luna.
“But why talk here and not in the throne room?” asked the unknown voice. We presume this is Twilight Sparkle, Celestia’s student. We are not yet aware of her threat level. “They have this contraption from Tartarus set up near the throne room,” Luna said. “We can’t trust them not listening in.”
Hidden intent detected. Awaiting outcome. “You see, Twilight, we must have the Elements ready in case of emergency. Because of our lack of choice in the matter, we have agreed to house their units within our country,” said the voice that without a doubt belonged to Celestia.
“No choice my flank!” countered Luna. “We simply needed to say no, that’s all. We are fine with defending ourselves.”
“That would show our distrust toward them. I have severe doubts if we could afford not being their supposed friends. What happens if they turn against us?”
The third voice fell silent as the pair argued.
“What happens? We use the Elements, that’s what happens. Now they’ll be able to have us at their every whim, and that’s because of the terms we’ve agreed to.”
“You must understand, Luna, that war is not a solution. We can’t oppose them in any way beyond using the Elements of Harmony. We aren’t sure how they’ll work this time. It’s a very delicate matter. What if their intentions are actually genuine, and we end up forcefully scattering them across the galaxy?”
“We’re risking much. Far too much,” said Luna quietly.
“I believe you understand the situation, Twilight,” Celestia’s voice addressed the third person.
Assumptions confirmed, this is Twilight Sparkle, Celestia’s student. “While I don’t want you to raise panic, I’d rather you and your friends to wear the Elements at all times and to be ready to come here at a moment’s notice. Cancel all further trips across Equestria. All incurred costs will be refunded from the royal treasury.”
“Of course, Princess Celestia. We will do our best,” Twilight answered bravely.
Sounds of hooves clopping away reached the microphones afterward.
Drawn conclusions:
– The Elements of Harmony (also referred to as the “Elements”) are presumably a magical artefact of immense power, but unsure outcome of using. As opposed to the other Elements the Princesses have named before that the species posses.
– Twilight Sparkle is the supposed owner or user of these Elements, we are unsure of why the Princesses can’t use it. Perhaps because the Elements have some specific coding that allows only for certain Equines to wield them.
– Both of the Princesses are distrustful of our motives, but are aware that the Elements are their only way of countering our technology. We must invigilate Twilight Sparkle while making sure that the Equines are not aware of our knowledge. “Send in Cloaked Fighters after her and keep one over her permanent habitat,” ordered Fleet Command.
Cloaked Fighters launched. Tracing. Twilight Sparkle’s permanent habitat is located within the village geographically marked as “Ponyville.” “Monitor her movements. Try to determine whether she is the only one using the Elements. There is a possibility of more than one vessel required for the Elements’ activation. Do not reveal yourself under any circumstances other than the danger of her or you dying. Do not let harm come to her.”
“Group eight reporting. Understood the order. Evasive tactics on. Full power to the engines. Moving to target.”
“Fleet Intelligence, give me an overview of the data on our operation in the Griffin Kingdom, and a reassessment of our objectives for that region.”
Six months and twenty-five days have passed since the start of the operation ‘Solar Guide’.
Our psychologists have been sent to work on sufficient propaganda and social engineering to change the behavioural patterns of the Griffin Kingdom’s inhabitants.
Military, religious and political leaders are resocialized and integrated into the loyalist groups that support the griffin king above the word of their leadership council. They also support our anti-war efforts.
Assessment of the Griffin population within and without the Islands is in effect. Birth control in all forms is being administered freely in all social ranks and circles. The amount of recorded births is decreasing steadily.
The most prominent pro-war and rebellious members of the Griffin Council have been assassinated, or convinced to join our cause. The rest has been replaced for the loyalist agents.
There is but one member remaining. He’s been noted as a prominent pro-war supporter of the expansionism, with little to no chance for redemption. He had an important role in the series of decisions that led the Griffins to war with the Equines. He’s been deemed unfit for resocialization.
Following your orders, an assassin is being dispatched to remove him. He will receive the call to action in thirty minutes.
“Very well. Return to analysing the data. Attempt to create more efficient ways of working with the Griffin nation.”
Understood.
“Who’re you onto now?” Ambassador unit’s advisor took a small puff of smoke from his electric cigar. He hadn’t been seen smoking for a long time.
“A griffin chancellor by the name of Locke. He didn’t have anything to do with military for quite a while. He isn’t trained. None the less, he might be well guarded. He’s the last. Do you suppose he’d suspect something?” He was probably the only person in the whole Fleet whose uniform wasn’t white and whose equipment didn’t shine like a torch in the darkness. Oh, well, maybe not the only. One of the very few.
“I should knock you out for compromising the mission details to me, officer.” Advisor hid his electric cigar in his pocket.
“You’ve got the clearance, sir.” The advisor blinked in surprise at that. “As far as I’m aware, in the event of our ground forces losing contact with the Mothership, the Ambassador is to take over. You’ve the clearance for all the possible tasks going on down there.”
With each ship being merely an insect under control of Fleet hivemind – Fleet Command, there was no chain of command at all. Every ship simply responded to her orders. “Well enough you’ve learnt. Even if it’s not your specialization. I want to talk to you afterwards. You’re off soon.”
The officer saluted, to which the advisor merely nodded, and chased off through the ship. In his run, he was met with stares of respect, sometimes of fear. He’d been the man they had all the right to fear, should he turn against them. He paid them no heed, though, and reached the hangar bay in no time. Within, a Cloaked Fighter awaited to take him on board.
The interior was cramped up. Most of the vessel’s space was taken up by the, machines and consoles and the crew had only their seats to fit in. The engineers managed to stuff in another seat for him, but it was far less than comfortable. “See that hole?” One of the pilots pointed at a vent in the ground that wasn’t there in the standard Cloaked Fighters. “We’re throwing you off through that hole.”
It was far less than encouraging. “We can’t land?” he asked.
“They might spot us. We want to drop you closer. Then we’ll pick you up from somewhere farther on the shores. Or from the sea, if you fancy yourself a fisherman.”
Another pilot chimed in, “You know what’s the plan. But keep in mind you’ll be dropped near the beaches, the manor’s a bit farther inland. You drop the guy, then go north, to the beaches. You’ve got five hours until we get to you. Better spend them well.”
“Should I activate the beacon here,” the officer poked a small spherical device with a long antenna, “only in case of emergency, right? Or when you’re near?”
“Better not click it on at all. We don’t know what these birds can snuff out. Just stand on the beach and wave hands. We’ll pick you up,” said the first pilot.
The officer nodded, less than encouraged. The beach they dropped him on was deserted, and hardly any Griffin crossed the skies above. Even in case they did, the cloaking was on. The quiet generator hummed out a magnetic field that made the officer feel strangely elated. He was glad to be off the ship as fast as possible.
The field he welcomed like an old friend. Be it the desert sands of his homeworld, or this lush, green forest, he was at home. No twig broke under his swift, light step. No bush snapped its leaves and no bird was startled as he passed by. The further inland, the more patrols he encountered, but none spotted him. Where he misstepped, he’d dart into the thickets. If a Griffin pursued, he’d end up in the bushes, his throat slit with a titanium dagger.
Most of the patrols were in flight, and the Griffins had eyes sharper than his daggers. In the dark, their eyes were much blinder, however, and standing watch constantly had made them weary. They knew they could tear a Kushan apart in open combat, should one come their way. They expected the Fleet to come in, guns blazing. How their other leaders fell over the course of these months, they hadn’t been told.
The manor was an ornate place of wood and stone. At its door, two marble lions, and a dozen or so guards awaited. Though the main door weren’t what the officer aimed at. He circled the manor, carefully weaving between the two-Griffin patrols, hoping none of the dogs would catch scent of him.
A blast lit the night. “Sabotage!” some guard shouted. The officer couldn’t tell who started explosion and lit the fire, but now the forest all around the manor was lit with furious, orange flames. He had no time. He recalled the basic Griffin defence system, and threw a hook on the roof. The guard had stood a moment in the place the hook impacted, but he didn’t notice, not yet.
The officer climbed the rope as fast as he could. All around him there were shouts, the barking of dogs, sometimes the discharge of rifles. His time was shorter with each moment. The third story of four-story manor, was his destination. He hoped none would see him in the windows he passed on his climb.
The last window was just as unguarded as the rest. Without much thought, he broke the window’s lock with the hilt of his dagger and opened the window itself. The manor wasn’t as unsafe as he thought, though. Inside, he saw a tiny string just at the base of the window, leading deeper into the hallways.
He slipped in carefully. Just as he was inside, he heard a call from out the window. A Griffin guard, the one at the roof, descended, following the rope of his hook. He almost flew into the open window. That killed him. The officer dragged the body into the manor carefully, then unlatched the hook and sheathed it back into his pocket.
The body, however, as it fell to the ground, slipped. It nudged the cord. Nothing happened, though, and that meant the cord led to the quarters of the watch on this floor. He took out his dart gun. Its darts were designed to look like anything the Griffins could’ve manufactured, but the poison was beyond their comprehension.
The body count should’ve been null. Any bodies found and examined will point very clearly to an assassination. The officer waited quietly behind a corner of the corridor. A far-off music he could barely hear broke the silence, but it didn’t muffle the clawsteps. Not a moment later, four guards fell to the ground in spasms. For his charge, though, he had a different toxin.
Darkness reigned in the halls as he passed. There was some erratic music in the background, but to the listener’s credit, it was done with actual instruments. It rose unrest, however, although quiet and far away as of now, it made him thrilled, bloodthirsty, and all the more happy about his task. He had never been truly happy about them, not even for a faintest moment.
The halls were now devoid of life. Portraits of Griffins looked at him from the walls with disapproval; judging, hating him. The door was oiled fantastically, it didn’t make a sound when opened, let alone one that could rise above the music.
A Griffin sat at his desk, scribbling on some papers. He dipped the quill in an ink container and sipped from just as black coffee. He didn’t feel the needle between his feathers. It wasn’t designed to be felt.
“I hope we don’t need to be making introductions here,” he said to the Griffin and sat comfortably on a nearby armchair.
The Griffin shuddered, but to his credit, he turned back slowly and calmly. “To whom do I owe this interruption?” he asked.
The officer smiled. “Oh, how polite. Well, I merely wished to inquire, why do you strive so eagerly for war? You see, I’m quite curious as to what has made the Griffin population so hateful throughout these years.”
“Thief?” the Griffin asked.
The officer yet again smiled calmly. “Assassin.” His smile persisted when he saw the Griffin’s pupils shrink and his paws start shaking.
“Have you already…”
“Yes.”
“I could scream now. They’d know it was an assassination.”
“Go on, the walls and the door are muffled,” he lied. “All hail technology.” The Griffin fell silent for a moment. “But, why?”
“Answer my question.”
The Griffin cleared his throat for a speech, determined to die a more noble being. “For the interest of the Kingdom, of course. War drives our nation, it ignites passion in hatred, in love. It drives us–”
The officer measured him with a stern gaze. “Truthfully. Truth will cost you nothing. Not today.”
The Griffin sighed. “The colonies. They allow us to buy lower from them and sell twice as high to Ponies, or the Dragons, or anyone else virtually. And every lord, and there’s sixteen of us, has his own piece of a colony. Some have islands or huge plots of land of their own that allow them to earn five times as much. It’s all calculated.
“But it’s not all. War allows us to keep countries in constant fear of us. We are a thing of legends on the battlefield, that’s why other species would rather accept a horrible treaty than be on the other side of the barricade. War is calculated, even when it’s not even present.”
“Why Equestria?”
“Well, while it isn’t a sure-fire colony material, it wouldn’t hurt to own the Elements of Moon and Sun for ourselves. We could even have the Dragons on their knees. If the Elements worked for us, that is. And not only that, the conflict also allows us to force other countries to remain completely neutral, or side with them. That way Equestria’s colonies take ridiculous measures to remain neutral.”
“Like the Saddle Arabians?”
“Exactly like the Saddle Arabians. Ridiculous, isn’t it? A country with essentially no water, with controlled population, nothing but desert and some ruins here and there. We’d take them over if the only commodity they had wasn’t sand and dry winds.”
“Why Dragons though?”
“They...” the Griffin coughed heavily, “they have the knowledge. Answers we’ve taken centuries to obtain and always failed.”
“For example?”
“The Fifth Island. Where is it? What happened to it? The Dragons are known to distinguish history from myth; it could be a complete overhaul for our faith if the Fifth Island turned out to be true. Let alone the—” the Griffin coughed heartily once again, “the secrets of the Sea-Ponies. Tartarus, the Sea-Dragons.”
The officer nodded. “Thank you.” He stood up and headed toward the door. “Make your peace. You have twelve seconds.”
He left as quietly as he came, but satisfied with the answers he received. He blamed himself for not taking the recorder, though. There was a Cloaked Fighter waiting for him a few kilometres north through urban and rural terrain, but there was no hurry. The fire had distracted the guards well enough, and the third floor, as called the Griffin custom, had no connection to the floors above and under it. They’d eventually come to check up on the chancellor, but then, it’ll be far too late.
The officer was glad when he was back aboard the Cloaked Fighter, and even more glad once he left it for the hangar of the Mothership. There was hardly a stain of blood on his black uniform, and his dagger he cleaned with a handkerchief as he passed. With that, he caught all the gazes of nearby soldiers, and excited murmurs of the recruits. He paid them no heed, though.
The advisor caught him on the way. “It seems rather shallow to say, but they do it for money,” the officer told him once they reached a more secluded room. “At least, mostly for money. They want to sell things cheaply to the colonies they’ve taken over. Though, I don’t think it’s just that. There seems to be this deeply-rooted belief in their people that what they’re doing is right.”
“No one caught them on it? How long can a jingoistic fervour last?” asked the advisor, tapping at his cigar, but not taking whiffs from it.
“A long while, if the whole social system’s based on it, I presume,” said the officer.
“You didn’t get anything more out of him, did you?” The advisor measured him with a hopeful gaze.
“Not at all, I’m afraid, sir.” The officer nodded in disappointment.
“Have you then noticed anything unusual happening around when you struck?” The advisor’s eyes wandered far off now, his mind lost in thought.
“A fire started near the manor right when I reached it for reasons I don’t know. Not to mention, I had to take out no more than six guards, and very few were on the floor with the chancellor. None of the dogs had caught smell of me, and only one of the guards saw me when I entered the mansion. It seemed as if something had deliberately worked in my favour there.”
The advisor nodded slowly. “All right. You can go. I’ll need time to think it through.”
“Of course, sir.” The officer saluted and left the room.
The door within the Mothership opened on its own accord swiftly and silently. The ambassador unit’s speaker straightened in his armchair. The window before him overlooking the planet, his gaze was focused intently on the Griffin islands often hidden at the corner of the sight, obscured by the drifting ocean clouds. The sudden arrival broke him out of his reverie.
“Straight from the briefing. Another success, they say,” stated the advisor.
“Which one this time? Poison?” the speaker asked.
“Oh, the poison, of course. We don’t really use blades these days, shock neither. I believe our fellow aliens can scan the brain synapses quite efficiently.” He seated himself on an armchair prepared for him next to the speaker’s.
“How many?” The speaker’s gaze never turned away from the unusual spectacle of the planet’s stillness.
“Considering the work of every one of them, I believe it was the last one. Eleven Griffin officials of their Council, all assassinated and replaced with ours. We’re done, there’ve been maybe ten of them with actual power overall.”
“Have you noticed what the Fleet Intelligence has been doing?”
The advisor’s gaze regarded the speaker with curiosity. “Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, first, we have sent out psychologists to add alterations to their science. Now their psychology relies on our principles. We have successfully indoctrinated their mental health care.”
The advisor nodded. “We have freely given them our knowledge and understanding. That is something I don’t quite agree with, you’re right. They should’ve paid with metal at least, iron if not gold.”
“What about the mission our officer just came from? Isn’t the removal the king’s opposition not essentially immoral?”
The advisor chuckled nervously, the question had caught him off guard. “Immoral?” He sighed and then smiled good-naturedly. “I shall play it up to your youth, I suppose. You see, how could we help the Griffins otherwise? You know very well that this was our very last solution, and we used it only as that. We’ve tried running elections for better leaders, convincing the elder, even, to furthest extent, capturing and beating it into their heads that what they’re doing is wrong.”
“The propaganda–“
“Peace propaganda? Or perhaps the environment protection propaganda?”
“The anti-family one.”
“Well, we did have to stop the Griffins from multiplying, so they wouldn’t feel the need to capture colonies to accommodate their overwhelming numbers. And we’re succeeding. The Griffins can live without five kids in every house if actually ninety percent of them survives to the adulthood without being culled by preventable diseases.”
“The problem is, among other things, that we’re not succeeding. The families just don’t register their kids to the government as they’re born. It simply creates an enormous chaos instead of decreasing their population. And our health care just helps with it. There’s actually more Griffins than there were before our arrival.”
The advisor remained silent and surprised, which seemed a sign for the speaker to continue. “Now, mind you, these aren’t the Griffins of the older times. Their children aren’t registered, aren’t supported by the country, they don’t have the money for the psychologist. They don’t think they need one. Our figures regard mostly the higher class, but it’s the lower class that is capable of an actual revolt.”
The advisor chuckled. “Oh, so that’s what the reports have been leading up to. We’re on a brink of a civil war! How wonderful!”
“What reports?!” The speaker asked, surprised.
“They’re working on diversion. We had some of our convoys assaulted, to measly results, of course. The pilots noted they ‘accidentally crushed some birds.’ A few times. Apparently these were not birds. There were some demonstrations too. And by demonstrations I mean explosions, sabotage and smaller revolts.”
“Why am I the last to know of this?!” said the speaker in a raised voice and stood up. He paced back and forth behind the armchairs when the advisor relaxed patiently in one of them. “This could have dire circumstances! What if a war breaks out?! There’d be thousands if not millions of lives lost!”
“On whose side? They’ll surrender as fast as they notice they aren’t able to even remotely face our engineering,” the advisor assured with a slight smile on his lips.
“What if they don’t?! How can you be so calm?!”
“Well, if they don’t, we’ll have a few sapient specimen less, won’t we?”
The speaker groaned. “Do you think our engineering has the power to match them? Let me debrief you on what the Inhibitor does. It affects solely the brain, tampers its ability to fluctuate the psychic field. It doesn’t stop the fluctuations. So if someone throws something at us before we put up a shield, we die. If they make a shield against the inhibitor, which is quite as possible, we die twice as much. We have no idea on how the psychic field actually works."
The advisor stared at the speaker, eyes aghast. “How do you know that?”
“I spoke to Fleet Intelligence on a private channel today. They didn’t want to rise panic, but they want the Ambassador to know. Just so we actually understand what’s the stake in eventual negotiations.”
The advisor slumped down in his chair, completely resigned, staring dumbly at the planet ahead. “At least the war isn’t up yet. There’s yet time to take countermeasures, to slow down our advance and rethink our strategy on what we’re doing down there. Even though the time is somewhat scarce—”
“Group one taking fire. Prepare weapon systems. All units on high alert.”
A missile of pure, unhindered light bathed the skies in milk white glow as it flew straight at the patrolling units, still unheedful of it. It impacted one of the ships and burst into an enormous, insanely bright sphere, seemingly a new star on the horizons above Griffin lands. It threw away all of the ships and heavily damaged the one it impacted.
“Group one reporting. Under fire!”
“Group one, switch to evasive manoeuvres. Identify the target. Damaged strike craft, return for repairs,” came the response of Fleet Command.
“Understood. Full power to the engines. Scanning the terrain.”
The cameras scanned the suburban districts thoroughly, picking up meek signs of movement. Upon focusing, the strong zoom pointed at a group of Griffins on top of a building, scrambling into a vent to hide from the prying glass eyes.
“Organised enemy diversion noted. Sending in the–”
Another explosion lit the skies.
“Strike craft down! I repeat, strike craft down! It was hit and fell down on a rural area.”
‘Clash’ Corvette class starship down. It must be recovered before enemy units manage to scan its schematics.
“Group one, full power to the engines,” ordered Fleet Command. “Move in a hard to predict path over the area and scan it.” A microphone cracked in the shot starship. “Corvette Clash, can you hear me? Clash, if there’s anyone alive on board, respond.”
There was no visual signal from the starship, but a remote radio cracked back toward the Mothership. “This is Corvette ‘Clash.’ We’re down, the systems don’t respond, but the ship isn’t in danger of exploding. Three out of four pilots down. There’s some kind of light coming from without the sh– it’s... gone? ”
“Lock the ship manually and don’t leave the area. Utilize anything you find as weaponry if needed. We’re coming for you.”
“Understood.”
“Group five, respond.”
“Group five ready.”
“Group five, move to the crash site. Your light turrets will be needed for the living targets, should we encounter them. Fire at anything moving on top of buildings or taking interest in you. Risk hitting civilians if you must, but protect the downed corvette. Do not get hit under any circumstances.”
“Understood. Group five moving. Evasive tactics on, full thrust.”
“Inhibitor one, respond.”
“’Abolition’ class Inhibitor ready.”
“Move to the crash site. Turn the power down to the systematic-unicorn-magic-inhibition level, turn it on once you arrive and keep it up for as long as you can over the crash site.”
“Understood. Inhibitor moving, power adjustment is being prepared.”
Ambassador unit’s intervention in the local government required. “Ambassador, report.”
“Ambassador reporting. In our ship,” said the speaker. His voice was shaky.
“Fly to the Griffin capital. Two Multigun Corvettes will escort you.”
“What permissions do we require for the action?”
“We need the permission to move our ground forces on the Griffin territory for now, and to have them stay permanently if possible. We will pay the reparations for any damage caused, but have the king allow us to proceed.”
“Understood. Moving out.”
“Carrier one, report.”
“First carrier reporting. We have the men equipped and suited.”
“Move to the crash site and secure the crashed ship. Use all the soldiers if needed and kill everyone who as much as breathes at the ship. Take two Fighter wings for escort, a salvage corvette and a resource collector. Find every single piece of it. Not even our materials can fall into the hands of the enemy.”
“Understood. Group three and four with me.”
The carrier slowly strode toward the planet, two formations of agile Fighters joined it, more for the power of impact and sheer number, than actual protection.
“Perhaps it could’ve been more efficient to simply have the soldiers be sent in light corvettes,” commented Fleet Command.
While it is a faster solution for the time being, more units can be transported in the Carrier. An open conflict might start and every sapient resource will be needed on the planet then. Fleet Command remained silent.
From within the Ambassador’s Light Corvette, it looked like an invasion.
A swarm. Wings of Fighters all about, somehow not impacting each other, clustered about the enormous, black Inhibitor. Right next to it flew the Super Capital class Carrier, a ship big enough to construct an entire fleet, but unable to build Super Capital ships of its own, filled to the brim with bloodthirsty ground soldiers.
“All right, guys! Check your belts, we’re nearing the planet!”
The speaker checked his belt. There was a war on. He sighed quietly, then sighed again and started hyperventilating.
“Group one. We’re under fire! Fuel low!”
“Group five is relieving you. Move to the Carrier.”
“Group one docking with Carrier initiated.”
“Group five weapons ready. Initiating attack.”
The flashes of the turrets could be seen from the Corvette. Time and time again a sphere of light would soar from the ground to the sky and either be omitted by one of the ships, or explode against it, knocking the formation apart. The ships would reconcile, however, and renew fire. Only one more fell.
The Carrier and the Inhibitor were drawing closer to the crash site, the swarm grew thicker with each passing minute. The fire burned the ground, turned buildings to ruin and lives to ash.
The speaker trembled in his seat.
“We’re nearing the capital, just pray they don’t hit us now.”
As if on cue, their escort opened fire.
The sound of the turrets, although close and loud, seemed distant. The insulation of the hull muffled them. To the speaker, though, it felt like sitting in a cardboard box in the middle of a house fire.
It was that haunting calm before the storm. The world slowed to a crawl. The light of the turrets, their sound, the engines of their ship, of the escorting ships.
A hit shook the world and lit the skies.
“What are you doing out there, escort?!” the pilot shouted.
“One ship’s retreating, had to fall back before being shot down,” came the response. “It looks like the whole darn nation’s against us!”
“We should survive one hit, but no more,” said the pilot. “We’re very close, just a bit longer. Don’t fall apart, Clawy, don’t you dare fall apart on me now!”
Another hit shook them, lit the skies, made the Corvette lose some of its hull. Gradually it fell apart, screws, parts of the hull, windows, all soaring in the air behind them. Still, the pilot was thankful the ship didn’t explode. Their escort opened fire once again, this time not stopping. Thunder, thunder, thunder as the machine guns fired.
The speaker didn’t look out the window. He didn’t want to see.
“Check your seats! We’re in for a crash landing!”
The Corvette plunged into the earth, kicking up dirt in its wake. The two hits it took rendered it hardly mobile, but didn’t manage to tear its hull apart fully. The speaker unlocked his belt, but remained unmoving.
“Want this war to end quickly?” the advisor slapped his colleague’s cheek. “Then move out of here!”
The speaker stood up and followed. Everything was distant.
The war was somewhere else. As if someone wrote a book about ships crashing, about blood and crushed bodies beneath their ship. In that book, soldiers dismounted a Corvette, two of them fell to the ground, holes in their chests.The inkstained paper told a story of bloodstained feathers, of arrows that flew and pierced, of claws that tore and rent. Of a time when Griffin wouldn’t stop short of killing another Griffin.
Someone wrote of a mighty fortress with its front gates tainted with blood. Of the King who hid in the fortress, of his eyes shrunk in fear. Of his soldiers who with no remorse killed their brethren, piled their corpses and burnt them to ash.
“Do you have magicians like they do?” someone asked.
“Not as many, but we do,” someone else answered.
“Vaporise our ship,” someone ordered. “Turn every last piece of it into atoms. Do it now before the enemy gets the schematics.”
“Will be done.”
“And take him to a room, let him have some rest. He doesn’t seem to take it all too lightly.”
“Of course, you two, lead him to a room.”
In the far, far away land, a Kushan ambassador unit’s speaker was dragged across the castle’s corridors by his arm. Once in a while an echo of an explosion would be heard from the distance. Sometimes a scream would spill across the halls, having broken through an open window. And in that frightening, far away that land, the air was tense, impossible to breathe, choking speaker.
But once that speaker reached a room, he was at peace. Sturdy walls protected him from the outside. From the explosions, from the screams, from the war. The world here was dully, eerily white, as white were the walls, the ceiling, the bed and the curtains on it, the shelves were made of bright wood.
And here, the world was finally quiet.
“We need permissions,” said the advisor, looking at the Griffin King with imposing gaze. “Everything we’re doing must be legal, as in, us taking the downed ships over, and landing in your country, perhaps permanently.”
“Permanently?” The King asked, baffled. “But surely there’s no need to! That would stir this war up even more. Surely we can solve this matter pea–“ A sterner gaze from the advisor shut him up.
He pointed at a firefight below the castle, thankfully won by the loyalists as of now. “Look out the bloody window! It’s a civil war, and if we don’t help you, you’re going down. To preserve peace you must spill the blood of those who desire war, to say it poetically.”
The King avoided looking out the window. He sighed sadly and nodded. “What permissions do you need?”
“For landing on your soil, for providing you military help in the field, and for taking our downed ships. Also, we’ll need a strategy of political engagement for the situation we’re having. Namely, we’ll need to condemn these rebels as traitors, to have them imprisoned and rotting in the darkest dungeons.
“But not killing them. Killing will give us nothing. The catch is, we’ll imprison them on our ships. There we’ll convert them.”
“Convert them? The whole nation?” The King’s gaze, if somewhat hopeful, turned into a disbelieving one.
The advisor chuckled. “Not the whole nation. Just the leaders. Not the aristocracy, though, the people’s leaders: the priests, the charismatic factory workers, the Griffins of renaissance. We’ll build our own following.”
“But there’s so many of them. To think that they don’t have a single group leading them! How can they coordinate?”
“Sir! We could not establish a contact with the Mothership. The equipment’s damaged,” the second engineer from the ambassador unit reported.
The advisor grit a swear between his teeth. “Wonderful! Delightful!” he said. “Get the Griffins around and have them build some makeshift comms array. Double time!”
“Yes sir!” The engineer ran off with his colleague and followed the nearest Griffin guard through the castle.
“Now, diplomatic matters.” The advisor turned back to the Griffin King. “We’ll need to show ourselves as the righteous ones before the Council. Otherwise we’ll risk having the powers that be against us, and that’s something we don’t want... yet,” he added quietly to himself.
“Haven’t we already made that clear on the Council meeting? Don’t they all support us?”
The advisor grinned and chuckled disrespectfully. “People have the nature of standing for the ‘oppressed.’ We’re having the textbook democracy issue: the majority wanting something inherently bad. The problem is that sometimes the majority is plain stupid, as simple as that. No one wants to pay taxes, but everyone wants to live in a country funded by these taxes.”
“But aren’t we giving these insurgents exactly what they want? They want war, conflict, death and glory. Aren’t we giving it all to them?”
The advisor smiled indulgently, a dangerous shine in his eyes. “Oh, are we? The glory shall be drained out of their achievements, and whatever victories they claim, we’ll turn into defeats. They’ll beg to end this war. We’ll turn them all into bloody pacifists!”
The King trembled slightly. “Ver-ry well. Um, I believe, that, uh, we should go on to signing the permissions.”
We have decoded the Griffin psychic wave radio technology and are receiving their broadcast. “Play it.”
“... that all the insurgents are traitors, and should be considered as such. No door may be opened for them, no house be their shelter. For the country’s stability and freedom, we must remove them from our lives, our memories, and our land until they repent for what they’ve done. Furthermore, all trade between the Islands and the Capital is to cease. Everyone traversing a ship toward the Capital will be considered a traitor...”
There has also been a repeat message sent with the same technology straight to the Mothership.
“Play that one too.”
“This is the Ambassador. Our speaker is indisposed at the moment, we suspect a psychological shock. No permanent damage has been noticed as of now though. We had a crash landing, had our ship vaporized for it not to fall into the enemy hands. Of the escort, five soldiers are here with us, two were shot at the landing. Ammo’s getting low. Both of the escort ships were returning to base when we last saw them.
“The situation is dire. We’re holed up in the castle, but we’ve managed to receive all the required permits. It would seem like most of the country’s population is insurgent. Either we’ll manage to convert them fast, or there’ll be a mass genocide. Other islands of the archipelago are overrun with rebels and are sending ships at the capital island. We insist on taking these ships down before the castle can’t defend itself anymore.”
Transmission over. The Ambassador is right. We need to cut the supply lines from the adjoining islands. They are marked on the radar now. The castle is currently in a very bad tactical situation. It requires assistance “Are the units at the crash site finished with removing the debris?”
All of the detected ship debris has been removed. “Move the units from the crash site to the castle. Give me the report of the action.”
Displacing units. Report is as follows: All personnel weaponry retrieved. 126 soldiers lost. Over 740 enemy casualties and growing 257 soldiers remaining aboard the Carrier. 2 Fighter class Interceptors lost. 6 pilots on board the Interceptors lost. 2 pilots remaining from the crashed Interceptors returned to the Mothership. We don’t have enough units to wage a successful war against the Griffin insurgents. Activation of the Cloning protocols advised. “Activate the Cloning protocols. Devise a way to speed up the cloning process.”
A sufficient technology will be researched.
“All right, what were the figures of all that happening, given our data?” asked a sociologist in the Fleet Intelligence room.
“Of some kind of organised resistance, pretty high,” a mathematician answered him. “Around seventy, seventy-five percent. Of an uprising, they dropped to somewhere around thirty. For a country-wide levy en masse? Almost none. This wasn’t even an option we considered.”
“Then an outside influence we didn’t take into account could’ve influenced the outcome,” mused the sociologist.
“Well, that would explain a few things...” muttered the mathematician.
“What, do you presume, was the influence?” asked a historian.
“Perhaps the Dragons?” offered the sociologist.
“Because they and the Griffins love each other so much...” The historian chuckled.
“What we’ve picked up from the Equines seems not too friendly either.”
“They had a war a few weeks prior,” the historian countered matter-of-factly.
“Well, under some circumstances, a unification against a common enemy might be—” added a psychologist before he was cut off.
“Perhaps there was some other, external factor.” A smug grin could almost be heard in the historian’s voice.
“I know where you’re going, and let the whole Fleet Intelligence know I don’t support this claim,” the sociologist snapped.
“Perhaps there was indeed an external factor,” the historian continued. “Perhaps those who occupied the ruins weren’t vanquished thoroughly. What if they hid? Donned disguises?”
“Gentlemen, we’ve seen the ruins. We’ve seen the corpses. Now, before you interfere,” the sociologist glared at the historian, “there aren’t that many corpses in the ruins because, as our archaeologists may tell you, the corpses are actually quite hard to preserve. Perhaps we haven’t found their burial place yet too.”
“Don’t teach me my craft, sir!” the historian snapped. “Why the negative response? It is quite possible. You see, it’s rather hard to remove a whole population altogether, and you must yourself admit that the animal population models don’t quite fit with a fully developed society.”
The sociologist groaned in as dignified fashion as he could muster. “Let’s, for a moment, pretend it can be true. What does it imply?”
“Why, a number of things.” The historian straightened up in a boost of confidence at the acceptance of his theory. The sociologist chuckled at the gesture. “For one, it would imply our enemy might have advanced all the way from where we were on Kharak, having hyperspace drive and a quite modern society to live in.”
“Well, there isn’t much of that advancement left now, is there? They’re fighting us with sticks and stones!” The sociologist’s voice rose by a slightest of margins at the end of the sentence.
“You forgot about one more device they fight us with. Psychic powers, or, as they call it, magic. However ridiculous that sounds, we are faced with a reality we remembered only in mythology. This bears some serious implications.”
“What implications?” asked the sociologist impatiently.
“We’re not seeing starships and guns. What if our survivors’ field of science was the exact opposite: magic? What if they’ve gone far, far further than we expect?”
“All right, let’s not go too far. You’ve just invented a possibility and then purely speculated, having no scientific background whatsoever on psychology, that we have a powerful enemy that is hidden for some reason, and that will destroy us if we do something against their, once again speculated, will.”
“There is a possibility—“
“There is a possibility that the white alpha Equine will throw the sun of this world at us and we will all die.”
“Now, that would be impossible for the reason the sun does create a gravitational pull here and is quite hot, which—“
The sociologist rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “I was giving a random, just as likely example. Your hypothesis is not even falsifiable. Until it becomes so, it’s useless.”
“We must take such possibility into account, and prepare ourselves even to leave, shall too much losses occur. We must also consider the Elements the Equines possess, and not only the artifacts. We are yet unsure of the extent of power the magic has, and yet we’re eager enough to start a war with it in full confidence that we’ll win.”
“How swiftly you’ve retreated from your former claims? Still, it doesn’t matter. Magic is a force to be reckoned with. Let us adjourn this conversation until further information on the artifacts’ nature is known to us.”
The warmth on his face and hands was growing cold, uncomfortably cold. His legs a shaking cotton, he retreated to a nearest table and put the gun on top of it. He produced a handkerchief from within a pocket of his suit and carefully removed the stains from his hands first, then his face.
The seconds his body was numbed by shock were trickling away. Only after carefully examining his clothes to distinguish foreign blood from his own, he noticed a stab wound in his thigh. It wasn’t deep by military standards, as in it didn’t reach the bone, but there was a steady trickle of blood from it, and it looked all too welcoming for an infection.
He moved swiftly to the nearest expensive, ornate royal curtains, and tore them apart with strong, decisive movements. With this makeshift bandage, he secured his leg tightly, then found the nearest chair to sit in, hoping it would be enough to lessen the bleeding and not cause too much exertion on his wounds. His mind would kick in soon.
First there was the smell. The overwhelming, characteristic stench of blood. He dared not look at the bodies. The sound returned to him gradually, first he could hear his breath, then some shouts in the hallways, then the screams from the outside.
“You’ve killed them. I can’t believe you’ve just killed them,” the Griffin King said quietly.
His mind was kicking in too fast. His hands curled into fists.
“For the ancestors’ sake! They were fine Griffins!” The King didn’t notice the glare piercing him through.
The advisor stood up and loudly smashed the table he was standing by, effectively silencing the King. “I’ve never asked for it! I’m a bloody pacifist! I didn’t explicitly tell those wazzocks from Fleet Intelligence to get me an Ambassador seat just so I could toy with guns!”
The King backed off a bit.
“And if you, bloody bastard, didn’t give personal protection to shifty arse-lickers, then perhaps, just bloody perhaps, we’d be in a different situation!” The advisor, although he didn’t always have his eyes trained on the King, never looked at the bodies.
“What happened? I’ve heard gunsho–“ The speaker rushed into the room, but stopped abruptly when he saw the advisor’s bloodied uniform. His discipline and fear overpowered his curiosity. He didn’t look down. “I’ll get our soldiers. The Carrier is on the way... I’ll get you some bandages too.” He was off.
The King looked grateful for the interruption. His claws clicked infuriatingly across the floor when he paced back and forth. Click. Click. Click! Click! Click! Click! A glare from the advisor made him stop and sit on a nearest chair.
The speaker was accompanied by two soldiers this time. “A stab wound.” He walked closer to the advisor, careful not to look down too soon. “Please, remove the bodies, give them at least somewhat proper burial. Burn them or whatever it is Griffins do.” His voice trailed off.
“They don’t deserve a proper burial,” said the advisor decisively and almost immediately winced when his makeshift bandage was unravelled. “Throw them out the window, let them rot with the rest.”
The speaker didn’t object, and neither did the soldiers. The enormous windows were opened, the bodies promptly dragged, leaving a bloodied trail in their wake, and thrown off into the streets, to rest among the other dead. Not one of the loyalists showed surprise when they noticed the bodies falling from the castle’s windows. The traitors hid everywhere.
A Griffin magician, the still loyal one, visited and kindly removed the bloodstains from the floor with a spell. It seemed that no one had ever died in the vast chamber, and if one shut the windows to the shouts and screams outside, turned off the radio to the constant reports of death and destruction, and closed their eyes to the pale faces and frightened stares, one could imagine there never was a war outside.
“It’s ready,” said the speaker, nodding at the bandage. “Don’t move this leg around too much. Actually, it’d be better if you didn’t move from this spot at all. Just sit here.”
The advisor gladly complied. He thanked the speaker with a nod.
“The Carrier is setting up nearer to the ground. The Corvettes are already here, the Inhibitor will follow soon. I doubt there’ll be anything hostile moving in here, but we must be prepared for the worst,” said the speaker.
He didn’t look at anyone when he said these words. He walked to the nearest window and gazed outward, not at the city, but at the blue skies above, clouded and darkened with swarms of ships, lit at times by the stars that rose from below and exploded into supernovae in their vain attempt to chase this artificial, swarming night away.
“Hey, you!” the advisor called to one of the soldiers who stood guard at the room’s entrance. “Go tell the Carrier we’re holed up here. Lead them here, if necessary, the castle’s a damn maze.”
“Understood!” The soldier saluted and went away through the endless corridors.
“Does swearing make you feel better?” said the speaker, perhaps because of some sensitivity, or perhaps because he desperately wanted to break the silence.
“Why, bloody yes!” The advisor placed his hands on his knees to keep them from shaking uncontrollably.
“Oh. All right then.” The speaker’s small voice barely even reached the advisor. It didn’t help that the former refused to turn toward him.
The enormous carrier blocked the sun when it came to hover motionlessly over the castle, like a divine testament to its lord’s power. The king was a vassal only to the heavens, the texts said, and heavens have now came down to wage war against the profane.
The radio set by the engineers cracked joyfully. “It’s ready. We’ve sent the Mothership a signal, should be in touch in a minute.” Another crack sounded from the speakers. “All right, it should be on, sir. You can speak now.”
The speaker cleared his throat awkwardly. “This is, um, this is the Ambassador’s speaker. The report here is as follows: some of the King’s personal guard had rebelled, they had to be taken down. We’re unsure of whether the rest is loyal or not, but most of them have been fighting against the rebellion, so we can presumably assume they’re loyal. The advisor has a piercing wound in his leg but is otherwise fine.”
A familiar, feminine voice poured into the chamber, wafting through the air but never overbearing. “Thank you, speaker. Your highness, I will require your direct answers to the questions I’m going to ask. Can you hear me?”
“I’m here,” a faint voice of the Griffin King answered.
“The Equines have mentioned a magical phenomenon called the Elements. They have pointed to the Griffins as the possessors of one of them. What do you know about them?”
“The Equines?” The King sounded lost for a moment. “Oh, the Ponies! Well, yes, there are things named the Elements, or, as some call them, the ‘Powers of Nature.’ The nature of the whole planet is controlled by magic. The Ponies control the celestial bodies around us, we control the winds. I’ve no idea about other Elements.”
“The Equines have pointed to the Element of Wisdom owned by the Dragons. Do you have any knowledge of it?”
The King laughed. “That’s an old Dragon joke. There is no Element of Wisdom. They made it up around the time they got to rule the Council.”
The speaker looked to the advisor, sitting nearby and shaking his head with a frown on his lips,.
“There’s also the question of the Elements of Harmony. What do you know about them?”
“Ah, the necklaces and the diadem. Used to vanquish the evils of our times, at least in Equestria. Defeated Nightmare Moon and Discord. Worn by six young girls, named the embodiments of the Elements. Laughter, Generosity, Kindness, Loyalty, Honesty, and, of course, Magic.”
“Nightmare Moon?” echoed the speaker as if he’d heard only the first sentence.
Conversation is being interpreted in accordance to the gathered data.
“Nightmare Moon had been banished to the moon for a thousand years, and returned recently. As we all know, it was Celestia’s corrupted sister who, after being shunned by the ponies living in daylight, turned to the dark side to give way to the emotions bottling within her.”
“Princess Luna? The dark blue Equine?”
“Yes, the dark blue one. She was Nightmare Moon.”
Through deliberate psychological stimuli on the Princess, it’d be possible to bring that creature back, and force it to cooperate with us.
“What made her affiliated with the ‘chaos’ as you name it?”
“Quite a crazy idea. She figured out that if Ponies didn’t get to see her night, she’d make the night last forever. I think you know where it’d go.”
That idea would require to be rooted out.
The speaker chuckled slightly. “Any more bad guys with ‘bright’ ideas?”
“I’ve mentioned Discord, right?” asked the King.
The speaker nodded.
“Well, Discord was, and essentially is, a quite, well, shady individual. The Princesses? He could easily overpower them. Easily. And what did he do? Imagine roads made out of soap, clouds out of cotton candy and raining chocolate milk, physics turned inside out so much that laws I didn’t know existed were screwed around.”
Description of Discord based on current data: – Divinely powerful – Insane.
“You’ve mentioned his reformation.”
“Reformation, yes. He’s still quite unpredictable, but restrains himself. Apparently he’s friends with the Elements now. And an ally to Celestia, if you ask me.”
Current objectives: – Learn the whereabouts of Discord. – Judge his danger level. – Discern plan of operations concerning him, should the threat of a war with the Equines arise.
“Where is Discord now?” Fleet Command asked.
“As far as my espionage got, he should apparently be staying with the Element of Kindness in Ponyville.”
The Ponyville recon unit hasn’t recorded anything of the sorts. Connecting.
“Ponyville recon reporting.”
“An individual will be described to you. Tell us if you’ve seen him.” Only the recon team could hear the words of Fleet Command this time. “Tell us what he looks like,” heard the King.
“Made of different creature body parts. Grey, horse-like head, with a deer antler on the right, a goat horn of the left...” the King went on.
“Oh, this guy! I thought they kept him as a pet.” Then, after a pause, “What did you expect of me? I gave up when I’ve seen cows talk.” Another pause. “Yes, um, Fleet Command, we’ve seen him. Stays with Element of Kindness, though hard to spot most of the time. Freaky individual.”
“Thank you.” Then the radio crackled slightly as the connection went back to the castle. “While the ‘Powers of Nature’ of Sun and Moon are governed by the Equine royals named Luna and Celestia, who controls the winds in your kingdom?”
“There’s a temple, the location of which no one knows. Some old priests there are trained their whole lives to become psychologically and physically conditioned to wield the Element of Winds. And the whole thing can’t be wielded by one, it needs consensus of a group, but no liberum veto type of uprising will ever come to pass. It’s all legend now, though. We can only see the winds moving back and forth, the temple’s location has been lost to time.”
There was a momentary pause. “Thank you, your highness. I’m sure the information you’ve provided to us will be put to good use in assuring your country’s safety. We shall speak to you if it’s needed.”
The King nodded and moved to the more comfortable armchair to seat himself heavily upon it. The gravity of the situation was almost visible, weighing him down, pinning him to the luxurious pillows.
Elements of Harmony (all presented are female Equines): Generosity Race: Unicorn. Name: Rarity. Appearance Characteristics: White, violet mane and tail falling in curls. Mark: Three light blue diamonds. Additional information: Fashionista. Lives with her sister, or has her staying over on multiple occasions. Parents alive, names unknown for the moment. Tactical deductions: – High affection for aesthetic values – Very high manipulative tendencies – Mild to low psychic abilities – Has a living family. Honesty Race: Earth Equine. Name: Applejack. Appearance Characteristics: Orange, blonde mane and tail, freckles on her snout Mark: Three red apples. Additional information: Apple farmer. Current family consists of a sister, brother, and grandmother. Parents unknown, presumed dead. Tactical deductions: – High association with traditional values – Highly dependent on family and friends – Works with fragile plants for a living – Low ability to lie in an undetectable way – Next to no psychic abilities, or psychic abilities associated solely with plant care. Loyalty Race: Pegasus. Name: Rainbow Dash. Appearance Characteristics: Cyan blue with characteristic rainbow mane and tail. Mark: Rainbow-coloured thunderbolt striking from within a cloud. Additional information: Weather control worker (physical cloud dissipation through repeated application of considerable force). Applied for a military organisation. Family unknown. Tactical deductions: – Considerably low self-esteem, expressed in frequent attempts to cover it by repeatedly stating her supposed high worth – Prone to accepting challenges, especially if provoked – Prone to conflict – Low tolerance of social pressure – Highly athletic – Capable of breaching the sound barrier with the strength of her wings, creating a colourful explosion capable of being weaponized (the possibility of an organic being breaching the sound barrier without mechanical augmentations and remaining alive afterward is essentially none, presumed psychic abilities in that field). Laughter Race: Earth Equine. Name: Pinkie Pie. Appearance Characteristics: pink with deeper, curly mane and tail. Mark: Three balloons, two blue, one yellow. Additional information: Pastry chef. Town motivator and morale lifter. Family alive, whereabouts and names unknown. Tactical deductions: – Uncertain psychic potential (Certain anomalies concerning lack of obedience to basic laws of physics noted) – Certain psychotic activities noted – Best avoided if possible. Kindness Race: Pegasus. Name: Fluttershy. Appearance Characteristics: Buttery yellow with pink mane and tail. Mark: Three pink butterflies. Additional information: Veterinarian (of non-sapient species), no other occupation noted. Tactical deductions: – Very unsocial – Incapable or near-incapable of being turned against her ideologies and friends – Highly prone to violent visual stimuli. Magic Race: Unicorn. Name: Twilight Sparkle. Appearance characteristics: Purple, dark blue mane and tail, brighter streak running through them. Mark: A pink star with six pink points (occult analogy?) and six white points. Five white six-pointed stars around the pink one. Additional information: Princess Celestia’s student. Librarian. Parents of Equestrian upper middle class. Elder brother is a captain of the capital’s guard, married to the third Princess. It would appear that her and her family’s life, was arranged by Princess Celestia to a great extent. Tactical deductions: – Slightly unsocial – Has a young Dragon servant who lives in the same building. – Leader of the Elements of Harmony – The result of any harm directed her way would most probably be a war with the offending country – Actual psychic abilities unknown, but presumed high to very high.
Four days. The exact time it took for the Equines to respond and issue an ‘immediate request for a diplomatic meeting’ as they explained it, was four days.
A figure surfaced in his mind then and again: twenty-three thousand one hundred and twenty-five; twenty-three thousand one hundred and twenty-five; twenty-three thousand one hundred and twenty-five. That was a strong figure, especially for such a small time. It was hundredth of the Griffin Capital Island’s population. What were the figures for the newly rebelling colonies, it wasn’t known yet. But the estimates were far, far worse.
The speaker sipped his tea very, very carefully, and the advisor didn’t even touch his own. It was important to spare one’s life as long as the cloning process was sloppy and slow, and there weren’t enough people with diplomatic skills onboard the Mothership.
“We wish to make clear that Equestria and its adjoining Pony nations do not respect the measures you’ve taken to quell the Griffin uprising.” Luna’s gaze was met evenly only by the advisor, and even he didn’t dare to look at Celestia.
“We’ve been forced to bring our ground forces down. Otherwise, our ships would’ve been scanned and very dangerous technology taken by the insurgents.” The speaker himself looked humbly to the side, or at Celestia’s lips. He never chanced to look either Princess in the eye.
“You have remained in the position later,” continued Luna, “killing tens of thousands of Griffins in the process. You still remain stationed at the castle. Beyond that, you’ve destroyed every ship heading toward the main island, killing further thousands. It has been confirmed that there were civilians on these ships.”
There was a hazy mist in the speaker’s mind. He felt pressure, barely suppressed some force that drove him forward to lash out at the Princesses.
“I wouldn’t say civilians,” interrupted the advisor. “These were battle-ready warriors. Their King had warned them not to traverse the sea. They knew where they were going.”
“We have confirmed information,” drawled Luna through clenched teeth. “The warning had been issued approximately only a few hours before the first shots were fired at the ships. There were still civilians heading for their homes and families on the main island.”
The speaker knew very well why not even Luna would look at her sister. In Celestia’s eyes there was no fear, nor anger, merely the disappointment. That frightening disappointment of one’s parents when the child they’ve given a credit of love and effort turned its back on them. He felt as if it was his own fault. As if he didn’t misuse the trust of Princess Celestia, but Fleet Command herself.
If she were to speak, there wouldn’t be any of that scared urgency she displayed when rallying Twilight Sparkle and the Elements. Not even an inch of hesitation. She wouldn’t even raise her voice. She wouldn’t need to.
“Either we took their ships down, or we had to fight them at the main island. It would result in even more and more dead, but this time on both sides,” said the advisor.
The speaker was silent. The mist grew stronger in his mind with each minute. He clenched his hands into fists and grit his teeth.
“Is that the reason? To spare your ‘clones,’” she almost spat the word, “as you call them, you kill females and infants?!” Luna’s voice was presumably a pitch higher than she intended it to be. And at least ten decibels louder.
The speaker studied her. She was different, far different than she’d been on the first meeting, but he wouldn’t put a finger on it. The advisor, on the other hand… it seemed the same mist got to him.
“Our clones are sentient, feeling, and emphatic. I believe they can show a more altruistic approach than some of you can. And most certainly more than nearly any given Griffin.”
Luna stood up and shouted, “How dare you compare living, breathing, and feeling Griffin to any of those test-tube-born machines!?”
The advisor also stood up and smashed the table with his fist. “How dare you regard thinking, feeling people as lesser just because they look the bloody same!”
The advisor has never been this angry. He’d grumble; at worst, he’d yell at a layman. He’d never shout at a diplomatic leader of another country, even if that one insulted his family.
“Silence,” said Celestia before Luna could take a breath and strike back. Although it didn’t sound like an order, nor like a threat, it worked well. The advisor and Luna both sat down, still glaring daggers at each other.
Celestia nodded at the speaker, who only then managed to look her in the eye for a moment. There was no anger in her eyes, but the uneven disappointment had also faded. Her gaze was cold, deadly freezing, as the legends said was her hatred.
“What would you wish for us to do?” the speaker asked. He flinched, but didn’t break his eye contact even as the figure before him seemed to grow more threatening and imposing with each passing second.
“Leave,” Celestia said. “Leave and never come back.”
The speaker flinched again. It felt like a poisoned dagger stabbing his chest, as if he himself, and not the circumstances, or the Fleet, had caused the situation. He was pulling the trigger on the King’s guards, on the innocents aboard the ships, on the Griffin and Kushan soldiers lying dead on the islands.
“We can’t,” the speaker whispered, guilt clenching, pulling and stabbing his chest. “Because a hundred, or perhaps a thousand years from now our children will build an armada of ships, and reach out into this world to destroy it, or take it for themselves.”
Luna and the advisor were silent. They seemed… embarrassed? They looked as if awoken from a dream, yet still somewhat angry.
“You can educate them. You can forget about Equestria.”
“They’ll remember. And even if they forget, there will be wars, scores of times more horrible than the one with the Griffins.”
“These will be your wars, waged on your worlds” stated Celestia, her voice unflinching. “We will not allow them to be brought here.”
Both Luna and the advisor looked at Celestia in disbelief. The speaker stared at the ground, trying to fight the mist.
Celestia looked both in the eye, but nothing showed in her expression. “The meeting will be adjourned now. We... we will discuss the matter at a later date.” With that, she left, not looking back, not waiting for Luna to follow.
The advisor and the speaker were led out of the city hastily. A few passersby cast a curious, some more a scorning glance. To their great dismay, they became the messengers of the end times, the embodiment of the whole Fleet’s sins.
They both breathed audible sighs of relief upon entering the metal asylum of their starship. Only then the mist was gone.
“Think they’ll strike back at us?” asked the advisor.
“I hope they won’t,” muttered the speaker. “Think of that creature they have. Discord was its name, wasn’t it?”
“Global weather change, chaos everywhere. How do we kill this thing?”
The speaker sighed. “If only we could do without killing. That’d be a victory.”
“That’d be a victory,” echoed quietly the advisor before feeling the pockets of his uniform. He produced a packet, took out one of the pills and swallowed it quickly.
“Nerve meds?”
The advisor nodded. “I’ll scramble myself sometime. Need to cool down after, well, you know what.”
The speaker nodded and cast the advisor a supportive glance. The latter never did smile, though, and the speaker’s glance went right through him.
The advisor looked out the window blankly. “That’d be a victory,” he muttered thoughtfully.
“This is group six. So far we’re clear... wait! There’s something approaching. Looks like our Corvette.”
The cameras pointed at the new ship. Its white chassis resembled that of a Light Corvette, but with additional armour integrated into its hull and a strange hemispherical shape added at its bottom. Patrol group six, consisting of four scouts, was enough to surround the newcomer.
“This is group six, identify yourself.”
No response.
“Identify yourself or we’ll open fire.”
Still no response.
“I repeat, identify yourself!”
The hemisphere at the bottom of the ship started glowing.
“Group six, retreat. It’s an order! Full thrust and retreat!” The voice of Fleet Command resonated in the pilots’ earphones.
The four ships obediently turned toward the capital, but didn’t manage to shoot off into space fast enough. The hemisphere beneath the Corvette glowed brighter and brighter in seconds. One-by-one, pure light shot at the Fleet’s ships, knocking each aside, tearing the formation apart, and piercing holes in one of them.
“Group six, we’re under fire, retreating!”
One of the ships received another hit and went down, hull blazing, into the rural edge of the Capital Island below.
“One ship down, I repeat, one ship down!”
“No survivors,” were the quiet words of Fleet Command.
“They’re targeting another ship!”
The Corvette was hot in pursuit across the landscape, drawing further and further into the city. Another series of pure light missiles pierced the sky to shatter a Fighter’s hull and send it tumbling toward the ground.
“Another ship down!”
“Also no survivors. Self-destruction systems intact. Setting these systems on.”
This time the missiles came from the ground, from some mages of the resistance force still remaining on the main island. Two struck true.
“Ship down! It’s just me left!”
“Carry on. Groups one and two are on the way.”
While the Corvette chased after the small Recon Fighter, two wings of Cloaked Fighters flanked it at either side. With their cloaks on and weapons trained on the intruder, their communications cracked in.
“Group one ready. Eyes on the target. Awaiting the command to strike it down.”
“Cripple their engines, don’t destroy or damage the target too heavily. Gravity Well Generator is on its way.”
“Power to the engines, then. May they bleed.” With those words, the communication with the Fighters was cut off.
“The Invisibles” was what the Spectre class Cloaked Fighter pilots called themselves. “The lunatics” or “the occultists” were more popularly used terms. Nonetheless, they were often known to chase down surrendering ships and take unnecessary risks to make sure the enemy didn’t return home. They performed admirably when it came down to destroying the Griffin water transporters filled with insurgents.
The cloaks of the Fighters fell down for a moment to prevent overworking the cloak generators, and multiple shots flew straight at the enemy Corvette, smashing against a light-blue force field around it.
Fleet Command didn’t attempt to make a contact. The Gravity Well Generator was on its way, its engines at moderate speed to not overheat the reactors. It was fully remotely-controlled, as the device was one-use. It created a stasis field in a short range, that’d block the movement of all smaller ships. Afterward its generators burnt out and the expensive piece of technology exploded, dissolving into nothingness. Two doubly manned Salvage Corvettes followed in its wake to gather whatever was left of the enemy ship for study.
The feed from the cameras showed the enemy ship’s shield fading out with a flash. None of the Spectres were damaged as of yet, but the pure light soared back and forth as its targets faded in and out of the visible world.
The next volley from the Fighters was pointed straight at the weapon of the Corvette, and while some shots bounced off the hull to either side, most struck true, and a bright explosion lit the skies, throwing the Corvette and the Fighters aside. As the cameras on the Salvage Corvettes indicated, however, all ships survived, and seemed to be intact.
“Salvage team, keep out of the Gravity Well’s range. Wait until they disorient and capture the ship, then move in.”
“Understood.”
The “wings” of the Generator, pointed straight before, now opened as if the ship wanted to flap them and fly away. It served another purpose, however, cooling the generators and preventing the Well from exploding too soon.
The enemy Corvette could do nothing but spin helplessly around, immobilised, its weapons useless. It had, of course, tried to fly away, but its damaged drive and hull didn’t allow for fast movement. At least not fast enough. It could only await the judgement of the Spectres vulturing beyond the rim of Gravity Well’s reach.
“I’m overpowering the Gravity Well. Salvage team stand by. Enter the ship, incapacitate the crew. Do not kill them if possible.”
The Corvette was spinning wildly and being yanked back and forth.
“Salvage Corvettes, prepare. Switching off in three, two, one. Gravity Well off.”
Two Salvage Corvettes flew up to the ship and quickly caught it in their directed force field. The soldiers onboard prepared their short-range tasers and unsecured their blasters.
“We’re linking with the ship in five seconds. Five, four, three...”
The guns were pointed at the doors of the airlock.
“... two, one. Ships linked. Doors are opening! Move in!”
There was no time to think, only react. Four Griffins within the main room. Two with bows, one with a crossbow, one with a magician’s staff. Fire. Spells, arrows and bolts at the Kushan, laser discharge at the Griffins. Neon red of the lasers. Ear-piercing scream. Dark red of the blood. Miss. Bright and orange of the fire. Whistle of the arrows. Neon red of the laser. Miss. Miss. Hit. Ear-piercing scream. Bloody red floor, blood-caked bodies. Six. Four Griffins, two Kushan.
The Griffin side was killed nearly instantly, having little to no protection whatsoever, especially against the advanced weaponry. None survived to be interrogated.
“Well, I suppose that adds point to the historian’s speculations,” admitted a mathematician in the Fleet Intelligence’s chambers.
“It does add a fine point to your speculations, colleague,” said the sociologist in a shocked, slightly absent voice.
“I’m not glad about that!” blurted the Historian. “In fact, I’m quite horrified. How come they’ve built this ship?”
“Our technicians have managed to reach some conclusions so far.” Everyone’s gaze turned directly at the lead technical physicist. “Essentially, its most interesting system is the one converting Griffin psychic energy straight into the physical one, something that can be measured and used. With certain amplifications and some of the energy derived from the environment, (the leylines, as the Griffins call it) a ship can be steered by thought. And not only steered. Powered, too!”
An engineer interrupted, “Well, it isn’t the only thing we’ve witnessed down there, and a thought-steered starship is hardly an innovation—”
“Why thank you for asking questions I was about to answer, sir. What we’re dealing with here, is a self-powered starship. Furthermore, it’s a spellcasting one, which provides the ultimate fusion of psychic and material, of divine and profane...”
The engineer looked at the physicist in a quite disregarding manner.
“You needn’t open your mouth, sir, I’m quite aware that I’m getting off topic. Perhaps I shall allow mister psychologist here to finish for me,” the physicist nodded for the nearby seated psychologist to speak.
The expert in question smiled and voiced his concerns, “You see, gentlemen, we’ve the perfect ship at our disposal. With the help of our Griffin brethren, we could even build this ship. There is, however, but one problem in the equation. You see, there is no way for us to steer it.
“Our psychic skills are essentially dead after millennia of stagnation in that field, and it’d take centuries, if not another millennia of deliberate work to create something capable of even resembling the Griffin powers.
“Practically every Griffin can become a wizard if he expresses some interest and talent. Equines and Dragons have their skills too. We, however, traded it for technology and mathematics. It’ll be decided in this war whether ours was a fair trade. Sir strategist, are we able to use these ships in combat if we man them by loyalist Griffins?”
The strategist in question chuckled. “These exact ships have little to no use, and even if we devise a more powerful ship, who would put a Griffin in charge of it?”
There was a chuckle here and there, but everyone knew the question was rhetorical.
“A question arises then,” said the physicist. “Who built the ship?”
“Who built the ship?” Fleet Command asked.
Current hypotheses are: – The Ambassador Corvette was scanned while it was left on Griffin territory. – The Ambassador Corvette was scanned while it was landed on the Equine territory. – The Ambassador Corvette was scanned while it was landed on the Dragon territory. It could have been constructed by either of these nations alone, by their united effort, or by any alliance between them. All hypotheses’ probability is unknown as we are unsure of the enemy magic’s potential to conduit research. Considering, however, they lack development in many sciences we’ve pioneered, it is highly unlikely that such ship be constructed without outside influence. “What influence? That of our remaining ancestors?”
It is a possibility. No evidence, however, has been found on why no other advanced developments have been found on the planet. “Could they have been concealed from our sight?”
It is not a falsifiable statement. “Fleet Intelligence, it is quite a falsifiable statement! Strengthen the scanners and sweep over the planet at least thrice before voicing this conclusion again. The safety of the whole Fleet is at stake!”
Understood. Reassigning groups one to seven into Cloaked Fighter wings. Preparing group one, two, three...
“Group three, point your radars east. You’ve got fast-moving objects incoming.”
Indeed, five dots blinked at each of the six Cloaked Fighters’ radars. They approached fast, straight at the patrol, more and more blinks, closer and closer.
Hostile ships inbound near group three.
“Group three, these are hostile ships. Keep your cloaking on and retreat to base.”
The cloaks were kept on, no response from the Fighters was delivered, but despite their increasing speed the enemy ships advanced straight at them.
Enemy detects the cloaking. “Drop the cloaks, engage the enemy in a claw formation. Evasive manoeuvres. Don’t let them hit you.”
Before Fleet Command finished voicing her orders, her Spectres have arranged themselves and were soaring at the enemy, weapons charged and targeted.
The cameras revealed seven ships, the heavily armoured Light Corvettes with the faint blue of force shields about them and the magic-focusing hemisphere at the bottom. Their hemispheres were pulsing with energy. They were named“Fireflies,” or more accurately, “Sajuk-damned Fireflies”.
Just before they came into range, the Spectres faded out of the world, concealed by the cloaks. They reshaped their formation into a more loose one and switched the cloaks back off.
The distilled-light missiles fell in the spots the Spectres had occupied earlier, but corrected quickly and continued firing. Although some of the Fighters were damaged, they all responded with a salve that bounced off the enemy shields.
Fleet Command directed some of the Probes straight at the field of battle, assuming direct control. “Group three, split into two delta formations.”
Right beyond the enemy lines, the group reformed itself into a formation resembling an X with its middle pulled back. The moment they turned around, they cloaked and split in two V-shaped groups, darting in opposite directions. Each group flanked from either side. As expected, half of the enemy ships followed the first group, the other half the second one.
The Spectres switched off their cloaks and flew in separate directions.
“Group east, do an upward sharp 180 west. Group west do a downward sharp 180 east. Fire at the enemy midway.”
The three Spectres heading west turned east by pulling sharply upward. They then targeted the enemy chasing the other group.Same manoeuvre was completed by the other group from the other side, forming an infinity sign. Their respective Corvettes lagged clumsily behind, unable to target well.
The enemy shield’s a thinly stretched film. Concentrated fire will breach it. “Both groups, focus on one target’s hemisphere each and fire at the same time.”
The sentence wasn’t finished before the skies lit up again with both the distilled light and fire of projectile cannons. The light, however, was inaccurate, and if any of the missiles found its mark, it was by pure chance.
The projectiles cracked two holes in the enemy shields and knocked two hemispheres out of commission on the first salve. The second salve gave similar results, dropping the hemispheres of two other Corvettes, giving four out of seven total.
While inaccurate, the distilled-light missiles overcompensated in power. When they did land a hit, the Spectre was left barely limping, most of its systems on fire. Two ships were knocked out of the sky that way. The message was delivered, though. These weren’t the rookie Scouts, but the far more experienced, unforgiving pilots. All Corvettes turned to flee.
The Spectres were restless. They pursued, mercilessly firing at the battered shields of the three remaining ships and chasing the already defenceless ones despite the severe collateral damage. Engines exploded, hemispheres shattered and all the Corvettes were felled into the ocean.
In the end, none of the Corvettes returned home. Perhaps they would later be found rusty, crewed by Griffin skeletons in their final rest at the bottom of the sea.
Situation analysis: Enemy possesses many small ships of low manoeuvrability and aiming accuracy, but high firepower and average maximum speed. They all have shields unable to withstand concentrated fire and all have clear weak spots, hitting which renders them unarmed. Sensor Array has proved incapable of working this close to the planet, and thus might only be used for communication purposes.
Suggested course of action: – Use of small, manoeuvrable, but sufficiently armed and armoured Interceptors and Cloaked Fighters. – Use of the "Puppeteer" class Drone Frigates, with all drones aimed at one enemy hemisphere, firing until the hemisphere is shattered, then switching to the next one. – Creation of minefields by the Minelayer Corvettes across the whole globe, at greater density near patrol paths. – Assembling of a Proximity Sensor and Probe net to determine where the enemy ships are assembled and refuelled.
“Recall half of our Destroyers, Light and Heavy Corvettes, and Defenders for salvaging. Their pilots will be reassigned.”
Recalling Destroyers. Destroyers en route. Recalling Light Corvettes. Light Corvettes en route. Recalling Defenders. Defenders en route.
“Order half of our remaining units to the Griffin Main Island. Keep the rest to the Mothership.”
All groups ready. Executing command.
Building Proximity Sensors Building Probes. Dispatching Proximity Sensors Dispatching Probes
Probe on eastern region of the northern hemisphere is receiving multiple enemy ships inbound. “Exact number?”
Ten. They are heading straight toward the Probe. “Dispatch two Drone Frigates with a Cloaked Fighter escort, and a Support Frigate. Send two Ion Cannon Frigates their way with Interceptor escort.”
Dispatching orders. Drone Frigates en route. Cloaked Fighters en route. Support Frigate en route. “Assign them to group three.” Group three reassigned. Ion Cannon Frigates waiting for escort. Interceptors in position, assuming Claw formation. “Assign them to group four”
Group four reassigned. Ion Cannon Frigates en route. Closest Probes in position. Further expansion of the net will require the creation of a larger number of Probes. “Assemble the required Probes.”
Assembling the Probes.
“If the place of the ships’ construction is found, inform me. Do not take any automated action.”
Group three has encountered the enemy units. The nearby Probe has stopped responding, it had been destroyed.
“Give me the direct feed.”
Ten Cloaked Fighters, now with their cloaks off, were flying in a claw formation. Now at the backmost end were the Drone Frigates and the Support Frigate, both protected by the Spectres and supporting them in a strange, mechanical symbiosis.
Both the Support and Drone Frigates were quite alike in design. They both had the cuboidal body, at one of its ends a semicircle of the command bridge was placed. From the main body, extended downward from the back of the ship were the generators, and in front respectively a hemisphere that helped steer the drones around the Drone Frigate, and the output of the Repair Beam of the Support Frigate.
While most of the spare room in Drone Frigate was occupied by, well, drones. The Support Frigate had to sacrifice a lot of its crew space for engineering bays, spare pilot quarters, and docking bays.
“The figures were incorrect, Fleet Command. There are over twenty enemy units,” reported one of the Spectre pilots in a strangely calm voice.
“Twenty-three,” responded Fleet Command. “The Probe was destroyed before more units arrived. We can see no more approaching at the radar, though. This is all you’re going to face thus far.”
The Spectres darted left and right as the Corvettes approached, leaving the bigger Frigates exposed. As was expected, the Corvettes split up evenly to engage all targets.
“Spectres, evasive manoeuvres. Drone Frigates, launch the drones. Support Frigate, remain behind the Drone Frigates. Prepare the Repair Beam.”
Out of each of the Drone Frigates came out a swarm of twenty-four drones that were all steered by their respective hivemind. It would be alien, frightening even, for an unwary passerby to see all these drones trained on a single enemy ship as if they were one entity, as if their sole purpose was the hunger for scrapped metal and burned circuits.
The Spectre formations broke, each darting in their respective direction, with only ship computers stopping them from crashing against each other or the enemy, where mortal minds would fail to comply.
Every once in a while a salve would be fired at one of the hemispheres. Either it crashed mightily against the blue shielding, making it waver, or it shattered both the shield and the hemisphere. But if the fire wasn’t concentrated, it merely formed small ripples, doing no more harm than rain would to the ocean.
The Drone Frigates, despite their strong hull, were suffering hit after hit. The Support Frigate had its repair beam directed at the other ships, desperately scrambling whatever pieces of metal could be melded back into their hull. It wasn’t spared though. Multiple distilled light missiles had impacted it, sending some of its Fighter landing pods down onto the ground below.
Drones unable to focus on targets. Drone Frigates are easily rendered inefficient.
The pilots couldn’t agree more as all the Frigates were nearly falling apart at that point.
The agile Spectres fared better, though. They moved into tighter formations and focused to take the enemy ships down one-by-one, and one-by-one, the hemispheres shattered into tiny, reflective pieces, leaving their horrified pilots to flee to safety. One-by-one, the Corvettes ran from the battlefield.
“Spectres, relieve the Drone Frigates. How far away from the battlefield is group three?”
Two kilometres south. Suggested separation of the Interceptors to aid on the battlefield. They should arrive in five minutes.
“Keep the Interceptors in place. We can’t risk the Ion Beam Frigates. Drone Frigates, what’s your status?”
“Ma’am, this is Hivemind. We’re picking ‘em off, but the damage is high. Some of the drones are downed, and some we don’t have the capability to control. We can’t make replacements right now. Crew down to sixty percent. Overlord lost contact, but is still intact.”
“Will you hold on until the end of the battle?”
“Yes, ma’am. But we won’t make another one.”
15 enemy Corvettes remaining.
12 enemy Corvettes remaining.
10 enemy Corvettes remaining.
“Give me the status report.”
Overlord is operational. The drones are being reassembled, the contact is back online. Half of the crew is down, but it can function. The hull is being repaired by the Support Frigate.
Hivemind is operational. The drones are being reassembled and the electronics repaired. 40% of the crew is down, but it can function. The hull will be repaired by the Support Frigate.
Support Frigate low on hull integrity, two landing pods destroyed. Will repair itself.
Four Spectres are being repaired by the Support Frigate. Five of them are down.
Three enemy ships are fleeing.
“Send proximity detectors after the fleeing ships. I want to know where they’re going.”
Sending nearby proximity detectors at maximum detection range after the enemy starships.
5 enemy Corvettes remaining.
Group four, multiple targets approaching at your radar. “Sajuuk, let these be birds,” muttered an Ion Cannon Frigate pilot.
15 targets in range. 19 targets in range. 26 targets in range in total.
Group three is still engaging the enemy units.
“Group four, move as fast as possible toward group three. Full power to the engines. Evade the enemy ships until rejoined.”
Calculations prove the battle is impossible to win without major losses.
“Move additional Interceptors and Spectres there. All we have!”
Grouping Interceptors. Interceptors en route. Grouping Cloaked Fighters. Cloaked Fighters—
Multiple enemy units approaching the Griffin Capital. Detecting over 2 351 enemy ground units massively moving toward the Capital. Detecting over 43 enemy starships. Number rising.
“Begin mass Cloaked Fighter production. Send the Missile Destroyers toward the Griffin Capital.”
Inhibitor no longer functional against the enemy starships. Multiple Fighters down. Casualties increasing. More enemy units incoming.
There was only silence for a moment as the Fleet waited for orders.
“Place a Heavy Cruiser and three Ion Cannon Frigates over the Equine capital,” said Fleet Command.
Fleet Intelligence didn’t object.
“Place an Ion Cannon Frigate over every major Equine and Griffin city. Keep them out of enemy reach with Cloaked Fighters and Interceptors.”
Silence persisted.
“Move all of our remaining interceptors with them for escort.”
Executing orders.
“Fire off every Ion Cannon Frigate that the enemy manages to get closer to.”
Understood.
A single Ion Cannon Frigate is capable of turning each of these cities—
“Why are you scrambling with that vent?” the speaker asked curiously.
“Checking if there isn’t any bugging in there. I feel watched and listened at every step.” A small cloud of water vapour floated up from the advisor’s crouched form.
The speaker looked about their private room sceptically. “Inside the Mothership? Why would anyone do that? Fleet Command listens to us at will anyway.”
The advisor screwed the vent lock back in place and exhaled another puff of vapour. “Fleet Command I can trust. But I feel there’s some leftist on the ship.”
The speaker leaned on the arm of his armchair and ran a quick, nervous hand across its smooth surface. “Leftist?” He asked, baffled.
“Are you even following the news? We’ve got magical ships on our tails. Bloody magical ships! Someone must’ve sold them the design. I don’t believe these bird half-wits came up with something like that.” The advisor stood up, letting out another puff of water vapour from his electric cigar.
“But these are magical ships... could you stop smoking and look me in the eye for once?” The speaker’s gaze became stern for a second. The situation weighed him down far more than he let on.
The advisor took the cigar from his lips and stuffed it in his pocket. Immediately after he produced a box of pills and took one, crushing it with his teeth quickly.
The speaker continued. “Why, thank you. You see, these are magical ships. We couldn’t have constructed these ourselves. Who would be qualified to design such a ship, impossible to steer with our own mind, without us knowing about it? They must’ve designed it themselves.”
“Even you don’t sound convinced.” The advisor’s hand reached into his pocket, but stopped abruptly. “Once again, I don’t believe they could do that without any external help.”
“What about that idea of there being some forgotten remnants of our race?”
The advisor chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous. No one believes it and I’m not going to lean that way. Especially not if there’s another, far more plausible explanation.”
The speaker shook his head and looked down in surrender. “Fleet Command has all the rooms under watch. I’m sure she’d notice something.”
The advisor chuckled once again. “With almost our whole personnel having access to most of our data? I highly doubt that. It could be a pilot, one of our engineers, one of us even.” He scratched his chin, his gaze on the speaker intensified. “Did you do it?”
The speaker shook his head and looked him in the eye. “How could I doom so many of ours to a certain death? How?!” His gaze pierced through the advisor. “Why do you accuse me? Perhaps you’re the leftist!”
The advisor didn’t even flinch. “One can never be too careful.”
The speaker sighed. “No one’s stopping you.” He turned toward the enormous window that overlooked the planet. Although the only thing visible was the blue ocean and a layer of clouds rimming it, he knew there was a war going on, one that could decide the fate of their whole mission.
“Ambassador unit’s advisor, report! Ambassador unit’s advisor, acquire your headset!”
The advisor’s and speaker’s eyes met for a brief moment, pupils dilated in shock.
“But we...” started the speaker.
“We’re a unit, yes. I’ve no idea what they want from me. Let’s both hope it’s for some short briefing.”
The speaker stood still. He merely followed the advisor with his eyes as the latter grabbed his headset and walked out the door. His eyes lingered for a moment on the spot his friend had been a moment ago. He tried his best to piece the puzzle, to make whatever sense at all, but the result terrified him.
The camera focused on Princess Celestia and the chimera-resembling creature named Discord floating on a cloud a few metres from the floor of Celestia’s office. The voice sensors were switched to maximum, the background noise being blocked out by the advanced filters. The pair was within the safe confines of the castle, deliberately not disturbed by other Equines.
“Why, Celestia, I’ve no idea what’s the reason you’d summon me,” said Discord. His form sprawled lazily on a cloud couldn’t show a greater lack of care.
Celestia looked out the window. From afar, one could guess there were a few enormous metal icicles hanging in the sky, with insects buzzing about them. Not only above Canterlot, though. Over every major city in Equestria and the Griffin Islands there was an icicle looming in the skies, blocking the sun.
“These ships,” Celestia pointed at the nearest icicle, “can wipe out the whole nation. Griffins are facing the same problem. There’s nothing we can do at this point. Not fast enough.”
“And you presume I could help? Oh, I’m delighted you’d score my abilities so high, although I believe you might overestimate them a bit.” He popped out some cotton candy out of thin air and as he ate, it grew back.
“Do you enjoy your picnics with Fluttershy, Discord?”
Discord’s cotton candy popped back into nonexistence and he got up from the cloud. “You creepy stalker—“
“Discord, there’s no time for fights. Fluttershy has mentioned that fact repeatedly in her letters. You see, if you don’t help, there might be no Equestria to have any picnics in. We don’t know how mortal ponies will survive this war.” Celestia held her breath for a moment.
Discord sighed, and finally, nodded. “Let it be then. But what do you expect me to do? Pop them into nonexistence? Do you want me to be the cause of a genocide on the whole nation? I doubt I could even do that. With their Inhibitors and whatever else.”
“We must do something. Though we don’t yet know what. And we can’t wait. Every second seems to bring us to an orbital strike and mass extermination of our species. Luna should be here soon. Twilight too. We must have something, anything, before they arrive.”
Celestia stirred.
Picking up psychic signal.
“I can’t arrive, sis,” translated the Mothership computers from Luna’s psychic message. “It’s too far gone at this point, they need a leader and some workforce of mine. You’ll have to do this one on your own. Did Discord agree?”
Celestia’s horn glowed. “Yes. Twilight should be on her way as we speak too. May the stars be with you, sister.”
“You’re getting dramatic, sis. Let’s get it over with already. For Equestria!” With that, Luna cut the transmission.
A ghastly howl of a horn thundered through the air. It echoed against the walls, sneaked into corridors, barged through the open windows and shattered the closed ones. If months ago the Equines learned they weren’t alone in the universe, today they learned they weren’t safe anymore.
The silence that was left after the howl deafened, terrified.
“They’re calling,” said Celestia. “For war, or for negotiations. We can’t wait for Twilight. She’ll arrive soon enough. We’ll contact her then.”
“Oh, Canterlot we can save. Or we can force them into negotiations.” Discord looked up as if he saw through the ceiling. “Who gets to their ship first wins a cookie!”
Instead of thinking the idea over, Celestia reacted. Right after Discord popped out of existence in a flash, her horn glowed brightly.
There was the familiar non-presence of the Warp, as the Unicorn scientists described it. It lasted too short to be remembered clearly, but long enough to be perceivable. As Celestia herself remembered her early attempts, they felt “as if being turned inside out and back again.”
Next thing she saw was the one of the many chambers of an enormous Kushan ship. Glass eyes gazed at them from each direction.
Discord was beside her, thankfully. “I got here first, so I get the cookie.” He popped himself a small cookie with bits of chocolate baked into it and gingerly, piece-by-piece, ate it.
Celestia eyed the cookie hungrily before shaking her head and looking around. “We are Princess Celestia, and Discord, of Equestria. We demand your attention, Kushan Fleet!”
There was a silence, as no Kushan could be seen in the vicinity. The room crackled with sound of static.
“Fleet Command at your service. Welcome aboard the Augury,” spoke the voice that every Kushan adored, but Celestia dreaded. “The negotiations shall be held by the ambassador unit’s advisor. I believe he has far more experience in that field than I do.”
A nearby screen flashed into wakefulness. The first thing Celestia saw was the figure of the advisor with his arm pointing one of their deadly blasters at...
The advisor fastened his headpiece. The door shutting behind him made next to no sound as he took out his electric cigar and turned it back on. The nicotine-infused water vapour filled his lungs and unclenched his shaking hands.
“Can you hear me?” sounded, surprisingly, the voice of Fleet Command.
“Yes,” he answered briefly.
“Find the nearest soldier.”
No matter how puzzled by the idea, the advisor followed the Fleet Command’s order. The steel corridors of the Mothership that had been his home since the beginning of the Journey were familiar to say the least. He came across a soldier in no time and stopped him.
The young, grey and white-clad individual eyed him with awe and respect. “What would you require of me, sir?”
“Take his blaster.”
Trying his best to not let his expression show, he ordered the recruit to give him his blaster. “You may get back to your task now.”
The recruit nodded, then saluted and walked away, more spring in his steps than usual. He was either nervous, or happy about having met the Advisor. Perhaps he was suspecting something. Or perhaps...
The weapon in advisor’s hand was perfectly maintained and slightly shining due to repeated polishing. He checked; it was loaded. He unlocked it and then locked it back again, just to get a feel for the mechanism. Fleet Command was silent.
“Head to room four-oh-nine near Dock 4.”
Thankfully, he knew all the docks of the Mothership, but all the rooms? It would be ridiculous to even suggest so. The Mothership was nothing less than a city. He made his way to Dock 4 easily, however. No one stopped him, a few nodded with respect. No one questioned the gun in his pocket or the electric cigar in his lips, not even his fists clenching and unclenching time and time again, with his hands shaking.
There it was. Dock 4 was its specific name, spelled always with the number. No one noticed him here, and no one would, unless they bumped right into him, or unless they deliberately looked for him. Engineers ready to repair starships, pilots ready to man them, all scrambling about in utmost hurry, hardly noticing their squadmates, focused on the work ahead.
It was war. And Fleet Command was leading him on a goose chase across the Mothership. He’d be at least annoyed if he didn’t know exactly where he was being led and what was going to happen next.
Once again, multiple doors. Rooms around four hundred, below five hundred. He was near 425. He found the corridor where room numbers descended; 416... 410, 409. There. Small, seemingly unimportant. Quiet. Away from the hassle. There was no one here apart from two guards at the entrance, their expressions iron.
“I’m expected, am I not?” the advisor asked.
One of the guards saluted. “You are expected, sir.” He opened the door.
The room itself was hardly spacious. Hardly luxurious too, except for the six bright-red pillows in the middle. There were guards at either side too, with their laser rifles pointed at the centre of the room. More specifically, at the six very particular Equines seated in the centre of the room.
The door slammed shut behind the advisor, and he noticed that although the room was spacious, and even had a screen, it felt small, cramped up. He smirked mockingly. Celestia’s best, and only, weapon against everything. And they got themselves caught.
All six of them. The yellow one hiding in the corner. The white one and the orange one glaring daggers at him. The pink one, with a hard to read expression. The bruised blue one, probably from having picked a fight with the guards, and, of course, the purple one – Twilight Sparkle.
He had fifteen minutes.
It was Twilight, and Twilight only who looked at him indifferently as he approached, blaster unholstered and unlocked, clutched tightly in his hand. He looked her in the eye, and she looked back, with something more than malice. Maintaining that contact, he lowered himself, hoping with all his will that she wouldn’t try anything.
He whispered in her ear, hiding his mouth from the cameras. He moved away then, slowly, watchful of the rest. They all looked ready to pounce at him, the orange and blue one especially, but in the end they didn’t. They learned on the blue one’s bruises and scorch marks.
Twilight blushed and giggled melodiously, although a bit stiffly. “You really think so?”
The advisor smiled too. “Of course.”
Her ears moved down and her smile grew a little.
The white Equine, Rarity, he remembered, carefully moved toward Twilight. From the movement of her lips, he read. “What did he tell you?”
Twilight smiled sheepishly, lowering her head, then quickly turned back toward the rest of her friends. “I think he’s all right. He doesn’t want to hurt us,” she said a bit stiffly.
“But, Twi–“ Rarity started.
“Girls, you need to trust me on this, please!” Twilight added in a harsh whisper.
Although they weren’t quite sure, and it was apparent, they all nodded in unison. The orange one still glared daggers, the blue one looked ready to pounce at the advisor in the right moment, her wings twitching from time to time, her hoof digging the imaginary dirt to find a grip. But they stayed silent.
The yellow one. What was her name, he couldn’t remember. It lurked in the darker recesses of his mind... Fluttershy. That was her name. “Fluttershy, could you come here?” the advisor said. “I’ll need you here. Don’t worry, nothing’ll happen to you.”
Urged, or perhaps more accurately, forced forward by Twilight, Fluttershy shyly walked toward the menacing figure of the advisor.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Just stand here and don’t move.”
She was right by his side, trembling slightly, but quiet. He felt tense, he almost dropped his weapon when the screen on the opposite end of the room flashed to life. He quickly directed his weapon straight at Fluttershy. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “All of you, remain quiet.” His voice was loud, authoritative.
The screen finally caught the connection. He saw the white alpha, Celestia, and the chimera, Discord. The eyes of both shrank in a matter of seconds.
“Twilight!” called Celestia, her voice a little shy of a shout, but holding the emotional quality of a scream.
“Fluttershy!” whispered Discord.
“We are aware of your backing up of the insurgents, your highness,” said the advisor, his weapon trained on Fluttershy, both trembling, though the former far less noticeably. “As you’re probably aware, both you and the Griffins are locked in a stalemate. If you try to dismantle one of the ships now, all will fire at once.”
“I can take them down at once.” Discord’s gaze met the advisor’s.
The advisor felt he’d never lock his eyes with the creature if it was before him, and not in the imperfect vision of the screen. He carefully measured his voice. “She,” he nodded at Fluttershy, “will die if you try. We both know you can’t do everything at once.”
Discord and Celestia remained silent, but while the former glared daggers at the advisor, the latter had a distant gaze, perhaps wondering what to do.
“Your highness,” the advisor said, prompting Celestia’s eyes to focus on him, scrutinizing, judging, “call off the ships for the time of negotiations. We won’t attack then.”
“The ships will be called off in due time.” Although Celestia’s expression was steady and showed nothing, her voice was slightly off. “Release one of the girls, then the ships will fall back.”
“Let me rephrase it. Every five minutes the insurgent units aren’t called off, one of the cities will be destroyed. What should we start with? Perhaps Canterlot?”
Celestia hesitated for a moment, but no longer. Her horn glowed and a few seconds later there were reports of the enemy backing away at all fronts sent in feedback to the advisor’s headphones.
“Thank you. Now, I want to know, who—“
“Silence,” Discord said, his voice calm and demanding. “I can remove all of your ships, we’re on a stalemate.”
“You—“ the advisor started.
“I’ve set up a spell when we were talking.”
“Bluff.”
“You don’t have another card. Are you willing to bet it all on this one?”
The advisor looked at the pony at his feet and the loaded blaster pointed at her.
“You won’t touch her. I can see it. You’re pitiful. Your psyche would break if you were to hurt an innocent being, let alone shoot it dead. There’s a reason you signed for diplomacy and not mi—“
Twilight watched. It was surprising how quickly she came to trust him. It would be less surprising how quickly he could lose that trust. Maybe she’d be sensible enough to listen to him though.
The trembling hand pulled the trigger on its own. With all the remaining power of his will, he directed the blast at Fluttershy’s hoof, and not her body. He could feel the adrenaline build up even more in his veins, but this time of the “fight or flight” options the hormone provided, he’d rather choose the latter.
“If she doesn’t get treatment soon, she’ll have to walk on three legs from now on, if not worse. I’d rather you listen, sir, or next time she won’t be that lucky.”
Celestia was silent.
Discord could only whisper faintly, “I’m... sorry.”
The advisor couldn’t bring himself to look Twilight Sparkle in the eye. He could not look at Fluttershy. For all the Sajuuk’s wrath, he couldn’t look either in the eye. Not now, perhaps...
Twilight’s adrenaline kicked in. The room was dark, save for dim chemical lights in its corners. To drive herself forward, she rememebered how she came to be here. There was a rush in Ponyville. A group of Kushan came by, everything happened too fast.
Rainbow was out of the library, Applejack went out to get her. They’d later told her it was at the farm where the Kushan got them. They saw two of them emerge from between the trees, point their weapons at them. They didn’t have the time to dodge, or to run off.
When they walked into the village, most ponies mistrusted them. Some were scared, but through the crack in door of the library, gathered with all her friends, she saw what happened outside. Big Mac, then a couple of other villagers stood before the door, barring the Kushan the entrance. When she saw them raising their weapons, she closed her eyes, preparing a teleportation spell.
The Elements had to be found and gathered, that’s what Celestia would’ve wanted. She’d teleport the whole group to the Apple orchards. They surely hadn’t gotten there yet…
She didn’t have the time to think. Bare the group before the door, someone kicked the windows upstairs in, shattering her concentration. Before she had the time to form any spell patterns, she saw three or four barrels pointed at her. Then... darkness.
Now, from the prey, she became the hunter, even if unable to see well in the dark. For the slightest fraction of a second she caught a slight shine above her: the Kushan’s eyes.
He was terrified, like a cornered animal with nothing to lose that would lash out desperately at both friend and foe to get out. What he did to Fluttershy was still indescribable.
Twilight teleported out of the room and ran. She didn’t yet know where.
“In fifteen minutes,” he had whispered right in her ear, hiding his lips from the cameras and her friends, “the power will go out, the Inhibitor too. The Elements are on the ship. You’ll leave this room and find them, then go back and use them. You’ll have fifteen minutes. Now blush and smile as if I complimented you.”
Twilight’s horn flashed briefly when she was at least moderately sure there was no one nearby. The Elements were indeed on the ship, somewhere deeper into the corridors she didn’t know. A tracking spell had to do. The Elements’ position was slightly glowing in her mind.
Her horn dimmed, she ran.
She didn’t stumble, and was thankful for the persistently flat floors of the ship, especially in the darkness. They were hard, however, and the clops of her hooves echoed loudly through the empty spaces. Once or twice she crashed onto someone, sending them tumbling to the floor while she herself teleported away and ran, and ran, and ran.
“Prisoner on the run!” echo carried through the corridors.
She was closer. Closer.
“Get the flashlights! Find her!”
Just one more turn.
“Box them and get them to the Research Vessel! At once!”
A room in the darkness, lit by a few flashlights held by Kushan in white scientific gowns. Two of them had soldier uniforms and the devices in their hands. She remembered these same devices shooting at her, the static charge clenching her muscles forcefully, the dreadful powerlessness she felt. Then the cold floor of their confinement room she had been trapped in with her friends.
She jumped into the middle of the room, illuminating it, blinding the Kushan. The attention turned at her, she scanned the surroundings briefly. The Elements were scattered at some advanced contraptions whose purpose she didn’t have the presence of mind to discern.
There were two paralysing devices pointed at her, held by the unchangingly indifferent guards.
In the last second, she conjured up a shield, allowing the static-bearing darts to bounce off of it. To the horror and powerlessness of the guards, she levitated the darts back at the owners. They fell to the floor, twitching spasmodically, but nowhere near dead.
At this point the scientists had either ran off, or were cowering away from her. Not paying them any heed, she grabbed the Elements, counting them in her mind: Kindness, Laughter, Generosity, Loyalty, Honesty, Magic-crown-thingy.
Not a second later she was off, blasting through the corridors. If anyone was unlucky enough to stand in her way they’d fall to the floor and have their muscles clench too tight to move, or do anything, to stop her. She didn’t kill anyone, though. She would never resemble them, even remotely, no matter the circumstances.
The power was steadily going back on. She sometimes crossed a fully lit passage, and the light diffraction bathed the road she took in steel grey. The density of the guards and personnel was higher with each intersection, she was running out of time.
Finally, there it was. The interrogation room. She paralysed the guards outside, then teleported in and paralysed in turn the guards within, to a great horror of her friends. There they stood, afraid, with Fluttershy whimpering in pain behind Rainbow, the advisor lying in the corner, body bruised.
She saw a glint of hope in the eyes of them all, even the advisor himself, when she levitated the necklaces in their rightful place. It was a routine by now as their bonds, by an unspoken command, were tested. Thankfully, they held.
There was a light. Indescribable to mortal senses, infinitely bright.
There was a light. Light in the eyes of the Equines, light in the whole room, piercing through his closed eyelids, hurting his retinae. Not even shielding his eyes with open hands helped.
In a moment the light subsided and all the Equines fell to the floor. The pink one with her hair puffed out, no one would fathom it used to be straight; Fluttershy, no longer limping; the blue one, no longer bruised. But outside of that, everything appeared unchanged.
The power was slowly switching back on, and the advisor heard the uncalibrated communications, orders barked back and forth, nowhere and everywhere. He listened in.
There wasn’t anyone complaining about being displaced in space or time. The Ion Cannon Frigates were at their places, the Fighters buzzing happily about them. Equestria was still in danger.
The advisor took off his headset and switched it off. With his eyes closed, he tried his best not to think of what would come next.
“Hey, Twi, did we win? I can’t see anything through this metal.” Someone kicked the wall, causing it the reverbs to echo across the room and forced the speaker to cover his ears. The carpet didn’t help too much.
“I, uh...” Twilight stammered. “I don’t know.” There was a slight, peculiar buzzing sound, the one the advisor heard whenever he saw a unicorn casting a spell. “Still can’t cast my magic here. It seems we’re trapped. What if the Elements were weakened by the Inhibitors too?!”
There was a crackle of static in the room’s speakers. “Um, are we connected, Fleet Command?” someone asked. The advisor opened his eyes. The screen in the room wasn’t on, it was only the sound contact coming in from somewhere.
“Yes, you are connected to the whole Fleet, expedition team,” answered Fleet Command’s soothing voice. If she could use her lips through all the machinery she was roped into, the advisor bet she’d be smirking slightly.
“Oh, the whole fleet? All right. Well, let me explain what happened here. Turns out the crystalline ornaments in the ruins we’ve found weren’t actually ornaments at all. They’re conduits for the psychic energy, we believe. We don’t have the machinery here to test it clearly, but... Never mind. They’re powered up now. The whole city glows like a supernova.
“But, you see, this is just the beginning. Most of the machinery here is down, except for one thing. The sphere we’ve noticed in the main building. With the power up, I think we can calibrate it...
“It seems to show a galaxy. This galaxy. It seems so similar to ours.” The scientist fell silent for a moment. “This world is highlighted along with a number of others. One of the worlds is highlighted stronger. We’re centering on it to see what it is.” The silence stretched into minutes.
“Fleet Command, are we still connected?”
“Yes, the Fleet can hear you.”
“We’re bringing in a camera, I hope it still works. You must see it.”
The screen in the room flashed to life. The advisor took a minute to adjust his eyes and finally see what was there, and even then he didn’t quite register it. White spheres were probably stars, green, he believed, were inhabitable planets. Above one of the planets there was a white arrow, perhaps an indication of where they were. In the centre there was a slightly bigger green sphere with a blue ring circling it. What was the most curious, however, was that the sphere was labelled Hiigara.
The word “Hiigara” was on the Guidestone, as the advisor remembered. The Guidestone led them to a planet, with a portal on its surface, which in turn transported the whole Fleet here.
The advisor took out his cigar, unmindful of the six curious stares directed at him. With shaking hands, he fished through his pockets for something to fill it up with, but found his vial was empty. He looked to the right and found the body of his unconscious colleague there, a full nicotine vial in his pocket. The advisor filled his cigar and lit it up.
A few puffs of vapour unclenched his muscles. With a few twitches in his eye, he chuckled at first, then broke into a full laugh. “This isn’t Hiigara! Hahaha!” He paused for a moment, clenching his stomach, but still laughing. “Did you hear it, Fleet Command? It isn’t Hiigara!”
The guards that later barged into the room found a most bizarre scene. Two unconscious guards at either side, with the advisor – an old and respected man – rolling around in laughter, six ponies staring at him, baffled.
Aboard the Augury, Celestia was at ease. Even though the screen went blank, even though she had just seen Fluttershy get shot. Discord was twiddling his paws, ready to click the whole Fleet into nonexistence.
“It’s all right, Discord. We’ve won,” Celestia said.
He looked at her, fury in his eyes boiling. “We’re all right!? How can you say we’re all—“
“The Elements have been used,” she cut him off. “Can’t you feel it?”
“Oh, uh, yes. I do have a sense of a slight tingling that desperately wants to tear me apart for whatever reason.”
Celestia didn’t say anything. Her horn glowed suddenly as she picked up a psychic message.
“I’ve no idea what you did, sis,” Luna said. “But they’re retreating back to their accursed ship. Shall we chase them?”
“Don’t,” answered Celestia. “The Elements have been used, they should be harmless by now.”
“But Twilight and her friends are still with them as far as I’m aware. We must take them back!”
Celestia sighed. “Yes, we should, but not with cannon fire. I’ll negotiate with them, but they know they’re on the losing position. Twilight and her friends will return here safely.”
“I hope so,” said Luna quietly and cut the connection.
Discord didn’t ask about the call and Celestia wasn’t eager to talk either. They both waited silently for when the chamber they were in would regain contact with the Kushan Mothership. Celestia could tell, with a simple spell, that they weren’t the only ones present on the ship. There were bipedal figures hurrying back and forth, avoiding the chamber she was in.
There was a stir among the Kushan on Augury. Once again, their coat of arms was displayed on the screen – the two circles encased by wings – and a voice sounded through the speakers. No, not a voice. The voice.
“Certain unforeseen events have taken place. Our forces are currently retreating and we’re thankful for you not chasing us. We wish to sign a peace treaty if possible. A Corvette will be send to escort you to the Mother—”
“We shall speak here,” Celestia cut in. As the silence she forced persisted, she turned to Discord. “Thank you, but I think I’ll handle this matter myself.”
Discord, although for the slightest moment he looked as if he wanted to object, nodded solemnly and teleported away, leaving Fleet Command and Celestia to themselves.
“I believe it would be in the best interest of our both to maintain a physical contact while—”
“No.” Celestia tampered herself before the upper hoof led her too far. “There is no point in arguing over it. We both know that you still have the Elements. You wish to have me aboard your ship too. I cannot adhere to that.”
“The Elements are unhurt and are being sent back to Equestria as we speak. All forces are being pulled back, both ground units, and starships.”
Celestia looked at the screen puzzled. “Why? What happened that made you back away even after the sacrifices you’ve made?”
“This is not Hiigara. This planet has no importance to us, no more than any other habitable planet would. It doesn’t belong to us. It never has, and we don’t wish it to. We will leave it as soon as proper reparations have been paid for our transgressions.”
Celestia stood in place, completely petrified for a moment. “Why do you wish to talk to me on your ship then?”
“I wish you to see, and I will need you to understand.”
Celestia turned her gaze downward, considering. Even if Fleet Command was lying, what was there to lose? “I will be there as soon as the Elements are reported back. I will arrive on the ship you send with them.”
“I need to tell you something, well, something important.” The speaker fidgeted on his seat and stole nervous glances at the advisor.
Said advisor could hardly be glanced at, since the water vapour surrounded him and was on its way to fill the room whole. He stared through the glassed wall of the room at the planet before them, absent. “Me too,” he mumbled around his electric cigar.
“You see, I’ve... What?”
The amount of nicotine the advisor breathed in wouldn’t have made the speaker cough at all. It would’ve made him drop dead right where he sat. “Fleet Command knows, I think. I mean, she’d need to be blind and deaf not to see.” He addressed the ceiling. “No offence, of course.”
“What did you do?”
“Let me tell you the whole story. It shouldn’t be too long.” The advisor put his cigar away, letting some of the vapour about him dissipate. “Back in the Griffin capital, I think something snapped in me.”
“You didn’t smoke before. At least not that much,” remarked the speaker.
“I didn’t. I suppose I was far more supportive of our ‘conquest’ here. Killing things that you’ve just seen alive and well a moment ago changes a man.”
The speaker was silent.
“I got a call, a confidential one, when everything started to fall apart, when they got reports of these new enemy ships. Fleet Command wanted me to host an interrogation, when the time arrives. For the Equine Elements. They got captured earlier today.”
“That’s what you went out for today? You knew?”
“I knew,” he said calmly. “Fleet Command didn’t want you, though. She knew there’d be tons of pressure involved and that I might have to singe them up a bit. I did have to.” He fished for a nerve medication in his pockets.
“And then we got the message from the excavation site.”
“They used their Elements. That’s what made the machinery there start to tick.”
“I thought they’re a weapon.”
“Well, they worked. They’re said to be a weapon of, ahem, friendship, after all.” The advisor chuckled. “Truth be told, had my hand in that. Deep down I knew they won’t kill us, and even if they did,” he took a nerve pill. “I suppose I want to know what Sajuuk looks like.”
“What did you do?”
“Remember me scrambling with the vent? I was planting EMPs to discharge the whole ship off. The cryogenic bays were untouched, though, of course. Our last hope for genetic differentiation is still alive. I planted a number of these charges on the Mothership. That’s why I believe Fleet Command knew. She’s the only god on her ships.”
“I’ve a similar confession to make,” the speaker said.
“Shoot.”
“I’m the leftist.”
“What?”
“The leftist.” The advisor hung his tired head. “I’ve sold the Equines the plans. Or rather, gave it to them. For free. And not just the plans. Every science book I could find.”
“You didn’t do anything.” The advisor took out his electric cigar again and breathed in the nicotine. “No one, no matter how damned intelligent, would be able to master our books in a month. Besides, there’s whole matter of our understanding of mathematics, physics...”
“I believe they’d be bright enough to understand. We don’t know how intelligent their ‘old ones’ or whoever they have for professors are. They’re a bright race, but bright in a different way.”
“‘Bright in a different way’ is something you tell a kid you know will never get to pilot a ship.”
“You see, I’ve learned something from them. The Equines have managed to avoid struggles among themselves for millennia. They’re ruled by a diarchy, but they love the authoritative rule. They understand social sciences far more than we do. They’ve formed something near what we’d call a utopia.”
“Leftist blabber.” The advisor shook his head. “They won’t build a ship, and as long as our descendants aren’t retarded, they won’t be getting the hyperspace drive from us. And they aren’t developing it themselves anytime soon.”
“No one beside the Progenitors did...”
“Somehow, they still managed to understand how our ships work and build their own version. It isn’t possible to be done in a month. How?” The advisor stood up and kicked the soft carpet covering the floor. “How!?”
The speaker turned his gaze at the ceiling. “Perhaps, just perhaps, that question can be answered someday.”
Celestia stood right behind the door she was about to cross. She hesitated. The two guards that had led her here were now standing at either side of the door, gazing into the distance. The Mothership itself was a curious construct, a flying city, with restaurants, a shrine, many docking bays for ships, and far more rooms and barracks for the crew.
As the official who had led her here suggested, the ship didn’t have only the basic constructions. The Cloning Chambers and the Cryogenic Bays took up a great part of the ship’s space. She was only beginning to understand the significance of the latter to the Kushan people.
“Could you open the door?” Celestia asked.
The guard nearby nodded and clicked the unlocking button. After Celestia stepped in, the door closed behind her. She entered a room filled with dim light of... circuits? Or perhaps symbols? The most curious, though, was the device in the middle of it.
“Is this what you wished to show me, Fleet Command?”
“Among other things, yes.” The voice was everywhere at once.
It seemed to Celestia that the Kushan was speaking in her head. She moved toward the middle of the room. There was a circle on the floor, lit up brightly and connected with a cylinder on the ceiling by a beam of light. A steel torus about the beam of light seemed to keep it stable, it was also wired to the top cylinder.
And in the beam of light floated a Kushan female, wired to the upper cylinder.
“Is this you?”
“Yes. Karan S’jet– neuroscientist, Unbound, Fleet Command of the Kushan Fleet, born to Huur of the Kiith S’jet.”
“Have you chosen this fate for yourself?” Celestia asked quietly.
“Oh, this isn’t exactly a pitiful state. I can reach where others would never have been able to. I can sense the fabrics of hyperspace, hear its movements. Although I’m unable to shake your, well, hoof, I’ve only thought you’d rather talk to me eye-to-eye, as far as it’s possible.”
Celestia smiled. “I gladly accept the sentiment.” The situation was bizarre to say the least. The voice she had feared earlier today seemed calming and almost relaxing now.
The room dimmed, darkened into complete blackness. Behind Fleet Command, an enormous planet hanged on the wall, a world of arid deserts and treacherous sandstorms. Celestia stepped to Karan’s left to see better.
“You’ve told us of a world,” Celestia said quietly, as if any sound above whisper would destroy the display before her... “Is this Kharak?”
“This is Kharak. The world we had found ourselves on. Wars had raged upon its surface for years.”
There were scenes displayed all around Celestia. A group of Kushan running, one of them noticing something, shouting. Then an explosion in the middle of the group. Dust, smoke, shouts, blood.
Another group, bigger, this time each Kushan was pointing a gun at the other. The muzzles of their guns flashed, blood exploded from their chests, stomachs, heads. It all lasted mere seconds.
Then the battlefield afterward, bodies and blood carpeting its surface, foe and friend alike. Again war, more groups, this time with various ships, big and small, along with the ground troops, exploding, falling down on unsuspecting soldiers. The vulnerable Kushan torn apart and left in bloody heaps by the heavy ammunition.
“War of your own doesn’t repent your people, Karan. The thousands you’ve killed on the Griffin Islands can’t be brought back to life.” Celestia’s voice wasn’t accusatory, it merely stated a fact. Still, being the Hades’ advocate was a heavy weight upon her heart.
Karan remained silent. She changed the display back to show Kharak. “We fought for the most infantile of reasons. We couldn’t understand why we’ve been sent to such a world, where no life should’ve ever been.”
There was an artificial satellite, not resembling the modern Probes in shape, but of the same purpose. There was its temporary scaffold standing firmly on the face of Kharak. Then, at once, the scaffold moved away, engines of the satellite burnt and it was in the sky, then in space. What it saw would change the future of the Kushan race.
“Khar-Toba was found on that day. From its engines we devised the hyperspace drive. Within it rested a Guidestone with one word on it – Hiigara. Home.”
“It has led you here?” Celestia asked.
“It has.”
“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” Celestia’s voice was quiet, soft. She didn’t demand the answer, she merely asked.
The Scaffold, such was the name of the enormous space station tasked with the construction of the Mothership. Its corridors reached outward like hands, holding the unfinished ship as it grew in its womb, shaped more and more intricately.
“The first hyperdrive test was successful. We misjumped slightly, but moving through space at a faster-than-light pace was incredible. It still is. There was a price to our development, though.”
There was a feed directly from one of the satellites around Kharak. It recorded ships, endless fleet of brightly yellow Fighters, Corvettes, Frigates, Capital ships. From this distance, they looked like wasps swarming about a defenceless planet.
Kharak wasn’t defenceless, however. At once beams of light erupted from the surface of the planet. Missiles lit the skies with numerous explosions. For the moment, it the imposing fleet was but a swarm of fleas, but even as the fire purged the swarm away, some ships got through. A few small ships, what a silly joke, one might think. What could they do?
There were a few sparks above the surface of the planet. What was unusual about the sparks, though, was that they spread outward, outward, outward, until the flames covered the whole northern pole, then the northern hemisphere of the planet. Kharak was smouldering. Kharak was in ruins. Kharak was no more.
“Only the best of health and mind, young, but mature, hand-picked, were assigned to accompany us on the Journey. The chosen few. Very few. The rest: the elderly, the young, were to stay behind—” Karan’s voice broke.
“If you were to walk… through the Mothership...” Karan paused, her voice refusing to cooperate despite not using the vocal chords. “You’d find no children... There aren’t any. They’re all gone.” Her voice fell into a mere whisper, barely audible enough to reach Celestia’s ears.
The display faded into the soft glow of the circuits.
“You have nothing but the Journey. Nothing but the promise of Hiigara?” Celestia asked quietly.
“Nothing,” echoed Karan.
“It doesn’t justify what you’ve done, but,” Celestia took a deep sigh, her eyes closed, “I understand why, now. Thank you, Karan.” She looked at the body suspended in the light.
Finally, Celestia gave her verdict, “We’re not different. I can see it more clearly now.”
“But we...”
“I have hooves and I’m slightly bigger, that’s true. But we’re not very different.” Celestia smiled.
“But... I... thank you, Celestia.”
“Thank you too, Karan.”
“Everything we know, every piece of technology on health care, on energy and food production, we’ll deliver it all to you and the Griffins. To everyone. May those be the reparations we’ll pay.”
“Will we meet again though?” Celestia asked.
“Hopefully not. I don’t trust those who’ll come after me. I don’t trust myself.”
Celestia’s smile faded and she nodded. “Perhaps that’ll be better.”
“There’s one issue I’d like to discuss, however. I’ve invited the ambassador unit’s speaker, I believe both you and him might be acquainted with it.”
“What issue is it?” Celestia asked.
The door slid open in that exact moment, and from without, the speaker walked in. His gaze directed away from Karan and his movement skittish in a violation of what he and most of the Mothership’s crew considered, if sometimes with amusement, sacred ground. Karan was the only material god of the Fleet, so to speak.
Or perhaps he was afraid of what he’d done in the past. “I come on your call, Fleet Command. Your highness.” He tipped his hat at Celestia.
“Now, I’m sure you’re both aware of the matter I’d like to address you with...”
“I can assure you that there’s no conspiracy between us,” Celestia said, her intonation implying the exact opposite. She then shamelessly winked at the speaker.
The speaker himself looked like he was about to faint. He shrank and bent a little, making himself the smallest target possible. “But... I...” he blurted. It was easy to guess what was going on in his head. He’d be left there in the land of these Equines to never reproduce, to die and rot.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please, don’t make me stay in Equestria. I only wished to...” He didn’t quite finish. Hands covering his eyes, he moved a few steps away from Karan.
Celestia’s smile died in an instant. “I’m sorry. I’m sure your Fleet Comm—“
“Calm down, speaker. You won’t be left in Equestria. I don’t know what got such bizarre notion into your head. Every living Kushan is to leave the planet.” The speaker uncovered his eyes and sighed with relief. “But let us progress to the matter at hand. You’ve provided the Equines with schematics for ship construction. Why?”
Celestia looked at the speaker, there was no trace of surprise in her eyes. She knew.
“I was afraid we’d do rash decisions. I’ve thought that if we encountered resistance, you and Fleet Intelligence would think twice before acting. Otherwise the Equines and the Griffins would be no more than slaves to us.”
“Your actions have cost the Kushan Fleet lives.”
“Us, yes. But these lives would be taken tenfold from the Griffins if I didn’t do that. They’d only have their feet to stand on, and their bows, arrows, and occasional gunpowder weaponry to use.”
Karan was silent. Celestia glanced at both, but her gaze settled on the speaker. He stood there, from a fretful, shaking prey he became a man-at-arms, standing straight, with a defiant frown on his lips.
“And all life in the universe is equal?” Karan asked.
“I believe so.”
There was a pause when Karan sighed. “You might think so, but our race – every race that I know at all – doesn’t. Far too many experiments are done with the use of animals. Far too many species are forced to kill others in order to survive. But I suppose it’s a conversation for another day. Your point stands.
“There is, however, one question regarding this matter I’d like to address to you, Celestia. You see, it’s quite hard, impossible even, for a nation to develop working ships in a month, even if they’re given the books and schematics. For us the construction of the Mothership took years, even with a reverse-engineered space drive and much more advanced technology.”
The advisor looked at Celestia with curiosity himself. He had wondered, but she was unsure of whether he gave them the credit of being able to do it. “I’m not quite sure what you’re implying. The materials and the schematics were quite a lot to be given.”
“You’ve reengineered the whole ship to suit your power source and weaponry. It requires expert knowledge on not only ship construction, but the entirety of Kushan engineering. I hardly believe we would ever be able to achieve this feat in such a short amount of time.”
“Once again, could you specify your questions, Karan? What do you exactly mean?”
“Did you receive any outside help? Who worked on the ship? There’s something I can’t quite comprehend about this situation, and I believe you might know the answer.”
“We had a team of Ponies, Griffins, one Dragon and one Minotaur working on it. I’m, well, I’m unaware of any outside influence, but on the other hoof, I’m unaware of what exactly happened there.”
“With all due respect,” the speaker started. “What do you mean ‘unaware of what exactly happened?’ Weren’t you the person financing it?”
“Financing, along with Luna, the Griffin renegades, and the Dragons – yes. The team asked for materials, we provided it. How it was possible that they created these ships—” She broke her sentence in half. “There could’ve been something.”
“Mind engineering?” suggested Karan.
Celestia confirmed. “Indeed, possible. Why and how, however, I cannot fathom. The Ponies, mostly unicorns, were certainly not tampered with. I can’t confirm that for the rest of the team.”
“Do you have any ideas as to why they’d do that? The question of how could be explained. A perfect timing had been chosen when you, speaker, have delivered them the starship schematics.”
“Perhaps...” The speaker rubbed his forehead. “Perhaps their motive was to drive us away from here, that can be devised. They were protecting this world.”
“But who could that be?” Celestia asked, looking at both Karan and the speaker for answer. “The Dragons?”
“There was an idea, among the Fleet Intelligence, implying there were some remnants of our ancestors here, on Equestria. That they’ve gone into hiding and were now interfering with this conflict somehow,” Karan said.
“Perhaps,” Celestia mused, “you had the means to reveal them that we didn’t. They wanted you away as fast as possible.”
“It’s all merely speculation. The only fact we have is the dim notion that the scientist teams probably didn’t work alone. Probably.”
“I’m afraid it’s not only that, Fleet Command,” the speaker shyly implied. “I’ve talked to the excavation team. The ‘circuits’ they’ve discovered are pretty much a similar thing to what we’ve found on the ships. They convert magic to electricity.”
Celestia’s pupils shrank. “In that case... In that case I’d rather you remained in our orbit. We might require your help in finding those beings. We don’t know who they are, we don’t know what power they hold and what their motives are, it’s—”
“I’m afraid we can’t. We must leave as soon as possible. We’re on a journey to Hiigara, and that is our main objective.”
“You’re the only ones who could know might be happening. You’re the only ones that could help us, Karan.”
“You have your magic, you have the Elements. And you have your wisdom, Celestia, one that protected you from wars for years, until the Griffins attacked.”
“What if whoever is behind the creation of those ships is also behind the attack of the Griffins?”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t speculate—”
“I think this idea could work. I think we shouldn’t—” the speaker started but was almost immediately cut off.
“Silence, speaker,” Karan, once again Fleet Command, said sternly. “The Griffins don’t want us here. Were it a small group of people influencing a whole nation to the point of madness or not, we have no place here. The Fleet will be leaving soon. It was good to have met you, Celestia.”
Celestia stared with hope and anger at the limp, floating body before her.
“The hyperdrive is being charged as we speak. You have twenty minutes to leave.”
“Karan, you’re able to differentiate our technology from theirs, and only you’ve advanced far enough to help us fight them. Your technology could nullify the Elements to the point of them only showing you the path to Hiigara. I ask you, in the name of whole Equestria, to help us.”
“The transmitter we’ve left you on Equestria will have our medicinal and engineering knowledge. You’ll sort this situation out yourself. It’s your world, not ours. Any further interference from us will only create further destabilisation, cause further death and destruction….”
Celestia’s eyes trailed to the ground. “Thank you.” She turned around and walked away, toward the door. Each of her steps was heavy, but she her head was kept up, keeping a semblance of dignity. She didn’t glance back, not once, instead keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the door.
“I’m sorry,” Karan said quietly.
Celestia nodded in acknowledgement. In her mind, the world was being rearranged to deal with the newly revealed threat to her nation. The door slid shut behind her, leaving anxious silence behind.
“Speaker?”
“We could’ve helped.”
“We’ve done enough evil to them.”
“We could reforge it into good.”
“No, we couldn’t. Not after all we’ve done.”
The speaker fell silent. He gazed at the shining circuits on the walls, dully following their patterns, lost in thought.
“Speaker, I’d like you to tell the advisor that I knew, and that no negative repercussions will be enforced upon him as long as the matter remains confidential.”
“I will. I’d...” The speaker’s voice broke. He turned away from Karan, afraid of eye contact, even though ever-present cameras registered his every move. “I’d like to apply for discorporation as soon as my duties for today are accomplished. I don’t think there is anything more I can do for the Fleet.” He left quickly, his breaths heavy. The door behind him once again left a complete silence.
After Celestia was escorted back to Equestria and the Corvette that escorted her was docked back with the Mothership, the starships lined up for the hyperspace jump. Frigates by Super Capital Ships, Super Capital Ships by the Mothership, Corvettes and Fighters in her hangars.
And then they were gone. Where once for Ponies, Griffins, Dragons, Minotaurs and all other races of the planet the sky was obstructed, they could see the stars again.
Over the course of the Homeworld Conflict, as it was later called:
Former presence of the Kushan on the world was confirmed 145 Griffin Starships were destroyed. 128 Kushan Fighters were destroyed. 7 Kushan Frigates were destroyed. 2 Griffin cities were destroyed by the Ion Cannon Frigates before the ceasefire took place. 12 743 Kushan have perished. 65 871 Griffins have perished. 340 Ponies have perished. 20 Minotaurs have perished. 78 964 sentient lives have perished.
Millions of lives were saved from disease, starvation, miscarriage and genetic disorders, thanks to the developments in medicine and engineering provided by the Kushan.
The advisor made his way through the most abandoned, and yet most crowded room of the Mothership – the cryogenic bays. It was spacious and cold. The generators here were solid ones, those built to provide their services until the end of time and a day more. As he walked through row after row of cylindrical chambers, he didn’t pay them any heed. Only one of them mattered.
He knew the way, its length gave him some time to think, to formulate the words. There was much to tell. He opted not to take anything with him, no calming pills, no electric cigars, nothing. The road stretched indefinitely, and he wanted to already be there so badly, like a child who couldn’t wait for a new toy.
He’d considered asking for a walking cane at some point. Not because he had problems with walking, not at all, but rather to accentuate his age, and supposed wisdom. He chuckled at the idea.
There it hung. On metal wires, strapped to metal bars, the chamber he was looking for. It hanged always in the same place, and yet he always felt a bit surprised to see it still there, always waiting. He never really said anything while visiting, only thought. Today he would change it.
He ran his fingers across the metallic surface. He couldn’t see inside, but perhaps that was better. With each day he was closer to seeing her again.
“I know you hated that Scout we first built back at Kharak. I know, we both thought we’d be alone out there, just us and the void. How bloody romantic.” He fiddled with the ring on his finger. He never took it off, and never would, but how it itched sometimes!
“We’ve used that Scout. We’ve used the Interceptors, the Corvettes, the Frigates, the Carriers. We’ve used all of that. And here we were, thinking that we’re alone out there, that we can study other worlds in peace, and that no one would ever drag us into a war again. Guess how bloody wrong we were.” The chambers were silent. No one was there to answer, no one would.
The advisor remembered her standing up at the summit, all eyes turned toward her. “It’s an exploration mission!” she’d say, fire burning in those blue eyes, the black mess of a hair a bit more messy than usual. “Will we welcome whoever is out there with mass drivers and cannons?” She had a point. Some applauded, some didn’t. In the end it mattered little.
“We welcomed them with mass drivers and cannons,” the advisor said. “Just as they welcomed us.”
She’d not been listened to, a botanical expert among military engineers and men of war. At least she had a drive. Wonder how she’d react... “I killed too,” he said. “Four bodies, blasted to death. Not Kushan, though, I’m not mad. Aliens, with heads of eagles and bodies of cats. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Well, not if you see their lifeless corpses at your feet.”
“Remember Kharak? You remember only Kharak. The roasting hell-hole of a world, where we all left the kids and the old. You know what happened to it? It doesn’t exist.” A tear fell down his cheek, then another, and another. “Your parents, my mother, gone. Kids from that Paktu family, gone too. There are no children on the Mothership, never were.”
She was waiting in the line to be put in her chamber. In the cold. He remembered her looking at the city, at the sands, the people doomed to stay. “We’ll return for them someday, right?” she’d ask. “I swear,” she called to them, “we’ll return for you!” They smiled, and waved, and kissed their loved ones. The advisor made the same promise. Now there was nothing to return to.
“What did we think Hiigara would be? I’ve no idea. Perhaps some kind of paradise. The world we ended up on, here, is a paradise, don’t you think? Grass everywhere, water everywhere. None of the damn sand, not in the Kharak quantities. We never would’ve thought it’d be populated.”
He recalled how even those not included in the Journey would talk about Hiigara. How wonderful it was supposed to be. How the birds and the trees would populate it whole, how the clear water would be a house to fish, otters, and whatnot. No one took into consideration there wouldn’t be enough place for them.
“And the world we’ve found, the bloody paradise with no place for us, isn’t Hiigara. Hiigara is the place we’re going to. Again we’ve a clear goal in mind. The Journey isn’t over yet, but maybe Fleet Command will make up her mind and lead us somewhere for once.” He tapped the metal surface of the chamber. “See you home, Eliin.” He walked away.
