//------------------------------//
// Room 409 
// Story: Homeworld Conflict 
// by Lily Lain 
//------------------------------//

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... 

Darkness.