//------------------------------// // XIII. // Story: Steel Blade! // by Alsvid //------------------------------// The companions reconvened in the Professor’s drawing room to hear Alsvid’s report. Leo dismissed Jean, Melara, and Remy to their duties, with his captain Jennever attending to them; Alsvid’s assistants, Titanium and Jade, were taken away with them to get some refreshment. Gloria meandered back to the field hospital to have her cuts and bruises bandaged up. Cheese Sandwich, the Professor’s stolid, reliable butler soon had a merry fire blazing away in the fireplace, providing the room with a comfy warmth, and chased off the maids who were still busy tidying up the place, drawing the curtains back from the spacious, roomy windows, dusting the furniture, the tasteful marble statues of various ponies from Equestria’s history, adjusting and re-arranging books in the bookshelves, ensuring the decanters in the cabinets were full, and clearing off the table in the center of the room. Once the last maid had scurried forth from the room, the Professor strode in, with Leo and Alsvid in her wake. Cheese Sandwich murmured something and retreated from the room, shimmering away as he always did, in this truly ethereal way, like fog rolling away in the morning sunlight, seeming rather to float rather than walk over the floor. Leo eased himself into a chair, the human male sprawling out comfortably; Alsvid sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his body. The Professor sat herself in her favorite chair, the one closest to the fire, crossing one elegant leg over the other, placing the tips of her fingers together, and giving Alsvid a very level stare through her spectacles. “Why don’t you begin by telling us everything you know about these Vampire Fruit Bats, then?” “Gladly,” Alsvid said. “This happened about three years ago. The Princess Celestia had commissioned a space station, you see, called the Ecumene, in order to advance Equestria’s scientific standing with the other nations, and we Limitanei Space Marines were charged with staffing and maintaining the station while her finest scientists carried out their experiments. I, myself, had been attached to a rocket tasked with shipping fresh luxury goods to the space station…” “Could the scientists not have grown their own food and produced their own water, however?” the Professor cut in. “Space isn’t my –forte-, but I understand from what I’ve learned of our space exploration program that the goal is to achieve self-sufficient habitats. Your ferrying supplies to the Ecumene Station suggests this goal eludes your exploratory arm of the Equestrian government somewhat.” “Yep.” Alsvid admitted, nodding her head. “They could grow the basics up there – potatoes, grain, carrots, and so on, and we set up a system to produce water and breathable air, which wasn’t too hard, but if you wanted really delicious things, like apples or cider or candy, you have to send for it from the ground, and that’s kinda dangerous and expensive, so we’d go for weeks at a time without apples. And it was awful...you can’t imagine how good it feels to just walk over to someone and buy an apple off them without having to wait for it. There’s always equipment and gear that needs to be shuttled up there, too, because they don’t have factories to make stuff yet; it’s just a small outpost, it isn’t that self-sufficient. So they’d set up a group of Limitanei Space Marines to fly rocket ships up and down the space-lanes, bulk-carrying goods for the Marines and the scientists on the Ecumene.” Alsvid continued: “I started piloting those big rocket ships when I turned 16. Ponies were dying like flies out there on the space-lanes, although nobody talked about it much, and the advances we were making out there in space far overshadowed the risk. Oh, I might be exaggerating, too, because about 55% of the time you’d launch from the ground station and dock with the space station safely.” “Same thing getting back. But every now and again, you’d pass by a wrecked rocket ship that hit something that was going too fast…you’ve got really quick asteroids and comets hurling past you at hundreds of miles an hour, but usually due to the calculations of our scientists and the mission controllers at Her Majesty’s Space Center in Manehatten, and the rules every pilot must follow, you can avoid getting smashed to bits. I still saw some rocket ships rolled over, stranded in the dead zone next to the space lanes.” “You’re supposed to be safe if your ship gets pulled into that zone, but it’ll also probably roll your ship, and you don’t want that to happen. Just the lateral motion can kill you. Or something flies up into your skull or chest…or you get thrown clear out of the ship. I saw some really fresh young Marines crawling out of the wreckage of a rolled rocketship. They were scrambling through the window. I’ll never forget that. The door wouldn’t open, so they had to exit the ship through the window. That’s one of the things that will happen to you if you roll your ship. ” Alsvid’s voice grew small, and Leo noticed that she had tightened her hands into fists. She was staring at the ground. The Professor’s eyes narrowed behind her spectacles, but she said nothing, even though she could not help thinking what would possess the young Zebra mare to put herself in such grievous danger. “Our scientists took the time to calculate the odds for Mission Control and the sponsors of the space project. They informed us, after researching the matter, that there was a 45% chance you would suffer a fatal injury each day, just from a rocket ship impact. It was safer in the space station, though not much more. That had its own problems – I ain’t gonna get into them right now. Flying the routes from station to station though…a lot of the others used to say 45% odds of fatal injury were meaningless, and a lot of pilots used to brush it off as meaningless, but some of the girls grew permanently afraid. Couldn’t fly anymore. They’d get horrible panic attacks if they even so much as boarded a rocket ship. They’d talk about how they couldn’t breathe, their chests were getting tight, they would pass out…or some girls would swear off piloting entirely and only ride along.” “Weren’t you frightened?” Leo said, quietly. Alsvid thought this over. “I don’t know. I was aware I was playing with death just getting into the ship and piloting it, and I used to be really scared sometimes, but then when I was piloting the ship, I used to take a lot of risks. It was a lot of fun, too. If I hadn’t gotten my walking papers from the Marines I’d probably still be riding the spacelanes. I was also really good at piloting the rockets – the big ones, mind you, not the little two-seater spacecraft, the big, roomy, passenger-carrying rockets that have a lot of space to carry cargo. Those are even harder to control; a lot of the time they’ll run away with you if you don’t keep an eye on the spacelane and watch the commands from Mission Control. They take longer to stop, because they’re larger and heavier.” “They don’t adjust course well; you’ve got to be gentle with the wheel and ease her around turns, and you’ve got to decelerate a lot or the rocket will roll on you. I used to run the engines really hot, though, and boost the thrust to about 70% power. I used to steer the rocket carefully enough that most of my girls, and a great deal of the scientists riding along, fell asleep while I was at the wheel, even ones that said they wouldn’t dare closing their eyes while someone’s piloting the rocket they’re on. A lot of the girls liked riding with me because I got them to the station quickly, though I gotta say I wasn’t as quick as some of the other kids. They’d blow by me in the next spacelane at 80% and 90% power, and the shock from their ship passing mine would shake the whole cabin of my ship. “So we’d be running cargo and fresh detachments of Marines and Scientists to replace the ones on the Ecumene. They’re expensive jobs, because each rocket takes a lot of fuel. That’s why it costs so much to put something into space, or to go into space, or leaving space when you’re tired of it and want to feel actual gravity instead of the forcefields they have up there keeping objects and of course yourself stuck to the floor. So you board your rocket and ride the lanes, hoping you won’t hit anything, and most of the time you don’t, or it’s something relatively uneventful like dinging your hull against the docking port. “When your rocket does hit something, though…it splinters into a million pieces in an instant…you and your friends get hurled into space at hundreds of miles an hour, and you don’t stop flying until you hit something, and consequently turn into jelly, or fall back to the planet and burn up in mid-atmosphere. Or let’s say you manage to stay inside. You get to enjoy being cut out of a blazing hot rocketship by Recovery Marine Engineers while your skin and muscle melts off and your eyeballs turn to jelly, and if you’re lucky maybe you can walk after that, or just have excruciating pain in your back and neck. If not, you’ve probably died or gone into a coma. Or the whole cabin’s deformed and your steering column just got lodged through your sternum.” Alsvid sighed, pulling her knees up against her chest, and curling into a tight ball on Leo’s lap. “About every day you’d hear of a wreck on the official comm transmissions each day. They’d go something like… Specter Two’s thrown her rocket into a roll and it crumpled under its own weight, or Ghost Five struck a meteor at full speed and got turned into jelly along with her passengers and crew. It was still a lot of fun, though, and I’d still be doing it, but the Marines let me go after my last cruise up to the Ecumene. I think I saw one of your Vampire Fruit Bats then, Professor.” “How did you come by her?” the Professor asked, her red eyes glinting behind her spectacles. The silver-maned Pegasus mare leaned forward in her chair, staring at Alsvid intently. “We were carrying a load of fresh apples and some scientists who were due to replace the team that was currently on board the station.” Alsvid closed her eyes for a moment. “It was a nice day out for a flight. Sunny and mild, with no clouds. Visibility for miles. I was in the space dock getting ready with the rest of the other Marines, and we’d just been cleared to take the HRG-6 out…” “Sorry – the HRG-6?” the Professor asked. “That’s the model name of the rocket we were using. It was colored a nice white and blue, with golden décor. It had a long body and a pointed, sharp, needle-like nose; that’s where the Launch Escape Control was located, in case Mission Control changed their mind about us going into space, or we had a malfunction of some kind. I don’t remember what the acronym stood for, but I do know the HR stood for “Heavy Rocket”,” Alsvid said. “Its name was the “UNITED”. HER MAJESTY PRINCESS CELESTIA’S SPACE CENTER, MANEHATTAN LAUNCH OF THE HRG-6 “UNITED” ROCKET SHIP 0800 HOURS CANTERLOT STANDARD TIME The spacedock in which the huge, tower-sized HRG-6 rocket sat was a hive of activity; Limitanei Space Marines, all nubile young mares in their teens, wearing tight, form-fitting, hip-hugging blue spacesuits, brown leather bomber jackets, and utility belts bristling with energy weapons – each Marine bore a light-rifle and two lightpistols, one on each him, the rifle slung over their back – leather gloves, and goggles. Some of them were busy tossing crates into the rocket’s cargo bay, others securing the crates to prevent load shifting, others were scurrying up with pallets loaded to the top with even more crates, and still others were guarding the operation. Scientists, important-looking older stallions and mares of various races, Unicorn, Earth Pony, and Pegasus alike, in lab-coats and suits, clutching briefcases, instruments, and packages, strode past the milling Marines disdainfully, talking amongst themselves, pointedly ignoring the Marines. Alsvid, a bubbly 18-year-old Zebra mare at this time, her mane pulled back into a tight bun, wearing the uniform of Celestia’s Limitanei, came running out of the command center into the spacedock; she stopped just long enough to greet one of the other Limitanei Marines pulling a pallet loaded with crates – a thin, long-legged, powerful-looking Earth pony mare called Kessler, orange-coated, with a brown mane that shot around her skull in spikes. “Clock’s ticking, matey! Get those things packed up before we leave you behind!” “Oi! Steady on, old chap, I’ve still got another pallet to go,” Kessler complained, grunting with the effort. She, like Alsvid, spoke with a merry, musical Northern Equestrian accent. “Tell that to the Scientists, they just want to get to the Ecumene, old top,” Alsvid said, importantly. “Don’t be a B.F., you’d better stow that cargo away before I get to the cockpit.” “Oh, I say, that’s a bit much, old thing,” Kessler puffed, still hauling away at her pallet. “Stow the gab and get that cargo set up, shipmate,” Alsvid advised her, slapping the smaller Earth Pony mare on her flank. Kessler squeaked and snorted in surprise, her ears shooting up, tail flicking back and forth. A pair of white-coated scientists, both Unicorn mares, passed by while this was happening. Alsvid and Kessler heard them distinctly remark, in low undertones, “So uncivilized, those Marine grunts…” “Blast them! They think they’re so much bloody better than us just because they’re bloody paid more!” Alsvid growled. “We draw our pay same as they do, and we risk our lives flying their bloody ships…you’d think they would appreciate it a little bit more!” “Oh, lay off ‘em, shipmate, I’m too tired for all this argy-bargy right now. I’m off – I’m gonna try to get this cargo secured,” Kessler said, hauling her pallet towards the rocket ship’s belly hatch. “Righto,” Alsvid said, regaining her former cheer. “Don’t forget you’ve been assigned Navigator as well, so once you’ve done that, report to the cockpit posthaste. Hop to, Marine!” “Oh Celestia, that’s too much,” Kessler groaned, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her gloved hand. “I wanted to catch a brief bit of shuteye before we landed on the Ecumene…” Alsvid rode an exposed metal elevator up to the “UNITED” rocketship’s cockpit. She struggled with the hatch’s release – a big metal ring that required several counterclockwise turns before the hatch would open. Gripping the ring with both hands, Alsvid grunted and puffed and tugged away on it until the hatch opened with the hiss of a seal being released. She hopped inside. The cockpit was large and roomy, with big, comfy leather Gee-couches, complete with arm-rests and cupholders. A dizzying array of brass gauges, switches, levers, and buttons covered the rocketship’s dashboard, with two wheels extended from poles thrusting up from the floor at two couches facing the windshield. The floor of the rocketship was polished wood. There were large, chubby CRT-style telescreens embedded into the dashboard. Alsvid sat in the pilot’s chair on the left side of the windshield. A brief thrill of fear tugged at her heart, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and she patted the steering wheel of the ship happily. “All right, let’s get you up and out of here.” She reached up and flicked on the “MAIN ENGINE POWER” switches, then the “FIRE SUPPRESSION SYSTEM” switch, and the “ELECTRICALS” switch. She spun the “LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM” dial to 50%. The rocket began to hum and judder beneath her, the gauges lighting up, their needles bouncing up to full, then falling back down to zero. More lights flickered to life in the cockpit. She let her hand hover teasingly over the “IGNITION” button, and withdrew it, waiting for the official command from Mission Control in the flight tower. Kessler entered the cockpit, panting and wheezing. “Shut that hatch, matey,” Alsvid said, pointing at the still-open hatch behind her. Kessler pulled the huge, heavy door shut with a resounding “BANG”, and began spinning the release wheel closed. Then she threw herself into the gee-couch next to Alsvid and put her hooves up on the dashboard. “Ahhhh….” She let out a contented sigh, wiggling herself a little deeper into the cushy leather gee-couch. The telescreen at Alsvid’s elbow flickered on with a low whirr. A blonde-maned, white-coated Unicorn mare in a white labcoat peered out of it at Alsvid. “Well? What are you waiting for, Specter Six? Power up the rocket and launch! All your passengers and cargo are accounted for, and your consort of Marines are strapped in! You are cleared for launch on Space Expressway 495, Inter-Orbital! Route’s clear, no traffic!” “Roger that,” Alsvid said, pulling a microphone over to her lips. She buckled herself in, and Kessler did the same. “Ready to do this, shipmate?” “Ready!” Kessler said. “Here we go! This is Specter Six to Mission Control! All systems are go! HRG-6 UNITED launching in three…two…one…” Alsvid slammed her fist on the “IGNITION” button. “Ignition sequence start!” “Copy that, Specter Six, Control acknowledges ignition sequence start,” the launch scientist in the telescreen verified. There was an earth-shattering roar as HRG-6 “UNITED”’s main engines fired, and the cockpit shook furiously, throwing Alsvid and Kessler back into their gee-couches. The rocket engines blazed like the sun, spewing smoke and flame, making the entire rocket’s body tremble and shake, from its nozzles to its nosecone. “Control, we have liftoff! Setting engines to 50%!” Alsvid grabbed the throttle levers and pushed them halfway up. “Acknowledged,” the launch scientist said, static fizzing over her screen. “Launch bolts decoupling from your ship!” “Roger that, Control…nnngh…!” Alsvid was pushed into her gee-couch by the furious ascent of the rocket. It felt like her organs were being pushed right into her backbone, her limbs plastered to the couch. The rocket shuddered violently, vibrating as it thrust skyward. The rocket climbed steadily, nozzles flaring.