-Aboard the Homebound K-196
-Sixteen hours after leaving the anomaly.
-Navigation room.
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Bear with me for a moment.
Imagine that you and one of your good friends just got done surviving a horrific trip to a hostile world, where it felt like even the plants had only one goal: to kill you, maim you, suck your spine out through your mouth, or slowly dissolve you into acid. Combine that with dodging a chaotic, insane group of enemy forces who wanted to do just the same and even worse. Then, finally, rescue comes in the form of the last dropship offworld.
Then imagine that you and your men, or at least the ones who survived, are just getting on that dropship, and you discover it was an ambush all along. Lo and behold, the masked enemy leader himself comes out to kill you and the men you’ve come to respect. There are no words spoken. No witty quips before death. You watch half your men die in front of you. Their blood pools beneath their bodies and out into the snow below them like a slowly spreading disease. You don’t have a choice; they make you watch. Then, while you’re shivering and holding onto your last bit of sanity, their leader comes up to you, puts a sword slick with their red life essence on your shoulder, and laughs.
That was E.
“Screw the ponies then,” I growled to the swirling holograms around me, “I’ll take my fleet right to him and turn him into dust.”
“I’ll follow. If he wants to even think about making a move on us, we need to stop him before he gets to take the first step. If we want him out of the picture once and for all, it’s gotta be now. Last time we let him go, he was gone for years,” Aaro said. A few of the other admirals nodded.
“Our fleets are outdated and we still could get him. We have power, even if he has numbers. If we can get some support from allies, we can get through it with only a couple losses. Easy as cutting a teryn’s throat,” Grezz added, shifting tiredly in his armor.
“No, no. You all do not understand. If I knew we could take him, I’d be ordering you all back to Gantoris for fleet coordination immediately. No, I’m not one hundred percent sure he’s after us, but we know he’s back, and we know he’s had a fascination with destroying us in the past. With the Empirium being so close to our borders now, we can also assume he’s either hiding out in LRA territory, or somewhere in the Neutral Zones. Anyways... that’s not the reason I don’t want us to go after him. Rumor has it, and I mean big, big rumor... they say he’s repaired a Derelict.”
“Bloody false rumors, I say. Everyone’s tried repairing the Derelicts since we started finding them. Nobody, and I mean nobody has ever managed to get one of the sodding things working for more than a second. They’ve only been good for reverse-engineering, I tell ‘ya,” Patrick huffed, crossing his arms in disbelief. “But on the off chance he does have a super-ship or something, I say we increase defenses. I’ll get the ‘ol spy network running again, restart the Intelligence Divi-”
“That won’t be necessary. Yes, we’re going on high-alert here, but if we start moving our ships around and the other factions notice, they’ll think we’re making a move on one of them. Our... alliance with the Empirium has only ever been sketchy. They’d jump at a chance to absorb us. As for the LRA, the only thing stopping them is our better technology. The Allied Systems don’t want to mess with us only out of respect. We don’t want to stir up trouble for ourselves, but I do want you all to come back to Gantoris. Admiral Grezz, Zal, are you okay with that?” Clover asked, looking over to the mountainous figures.
“Our own intelligence, mostly - aheh, we might’ve borrowed from the Wing a bit - suggests that Sorlor was last seen in E’s higher ranks. If E trusts him, and if the Wing isn’t in their number-one spot on their hitlist, then my empire will be in grave danger. I must leave to my own capital to organize our defenses. The others in the galaxy consider us weak and won’t pay our ship movements any mind,” Grezz said. Zalthice nodded hurriedly, looking about at things out of my view.
“Right then. Everyone else is to meet back at Gantoris to discuss defense preparations as soon as they can. Until then, I have to go deliver the news to all of the planetary leaders and... well, politics. Wish me luck, my friends.” The leader of the Wing sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and walked out of view. We each gave our respective salutes and nods, and we each had our heads too muddled with fear to notice Patrick had gone as well. There was no message from the sultry lady, at least.
“Hmph. I think Paddy went off to bed to sleep the alcohol off. Ah... I’m tired too,” San said, a soft tinkling noise coming from where he was tapping his side with his armored fingertips. “Hm. Jackson? You think if we’re not off Parinin by the time you fly in the neighborhood, we could hitch a ride in the Homebound? I really want to these those pony-things of yours. They sound adorable.”
“Yea, adorable. Don’t worry. If I fly by the Aedinia system, I’ll send down a cadet and the Fate. You’re banned from flying it into the hangar, though,” I said, looking behind me to the door. I suddenly felt a lot more antsy about being as far out as Omega. The belt of rocks acted as a natural defense against larger warships, but that only meant it was twice as hard to get out if you had to make a quick exit. I wanted someplace safe, for once. Gantoris was the only option.
“I’m not that bad at landing things. I’m just better at flying them,” San huffed, yawning a second afterward. Next to him, Ganymede mirrored his actions. Zalthice and Grezz had gone. “I’m gonna get some bed. Or... ah fugghetit,” San mumbled, his hologram giving one last weak fizzle before fading into the air. Now Ganymede was gone as well.
“Any words before hell starts up again?” I asked, smiling faintly at Aaro. He returned the gesture, and put both hands on his hips. Our grins slowly grew into the age-old facial expression that only true old friends will ever realize. Old friends who’ve fought together; survived together.
“I’m just as good as your are with the one-liners, Jackson,” Aaro turned to leave, stopping just as one half of him was fizzling out into nothingness, so close to leaving me alone, a million billion miles from anyone else. “That is to say,” he said with a smirk, “bad.”
And then he was gone. The lights returned to normal, momentarily blinding me. The air lost its tension, and my fingers suddenly decided it was a good time to tap my side like a crazed spider. I took a deep breath, and turned for the door. TACT’s 3D image dissipated, and the door unlocked itself in front of me. Suddenly, rainbows.
Or really, Rainbow Dash, but when you have a metaphorical gun to your head you tend not to care about things like names.
“Oh! Captain - I, uh. We! I mean, we weren’t eavesdropping!” Twilight cried from behind the pegasus. The latter floating in the middle of the corridor like an angry wasp. At least this wasp didn’t have a stinger. Just a silly hair color.
“Who’s E, and why did you guys sound so angry when he was mentioned?!”
“Rainbow!” Twilight hissed, looking over her shoulder. Evo and Applejack were peeking out of the bright room beyond. What, where these doors made of paper or something? Why did we have them in the first place?
“Oooh, and the whole ‘screw the ponies, I need to go fight bad guys’ thing was totally un-awesome, Captain. What’s got your tail in a bunch over him? His name is E, can’t be any worse than O, right?” She flung her arms about in a wild, mystical motion. “Or, ooh, better watch out for Q and his eeeevvillll magic powers!” Dash scoffed, folding her hooves and rolling her eyes. She glared at me behind stupid, arrogant eyes, and I had to resist returning it.
I took a deep breath, feeling the tips of my nails digging into the palms of my hands, and each was like a sword to an open neck. I was getting very close to thinking about the consequences of smashing her against the window so hard it’d break. Granted, those things were designed to take direct hits from heavy weapons, but it would be worth it. So worth it.
“So you were just going to abandon us? That’s what you wanted, right? Just to... leave us, when you said you... uhg! I didn’t come with you guys just to worry about getting stranded in space!” Rainbow huffed, and with a mysterious rainbow-colored blur, was gone. My anger faded as all the energy was stuffed into the part of my brain that tried to keep me sane. Yup. That was definitely a rainbow contrail floating and now disappearing mid-air. In my ship. According to what I knew, she had just broken the speed of light. While technically going faster than the speed of light. That stupid little twerp had actually broken my sense of perception. Why, when I got my hands on her I’d...
My right eye twitched. “Uh,” I started.
“Oh no, nononono. Captain, I’m so sorry about Rainbow. I started listening, and then she came... and I think she’s worked up over not having any space to fly in - I’m so, so sorry,” Twilighted sputtered, rushing over to me while I happily stared blankly at the nearest wall, fists still clenched. She looked up at me like I was about to explode - in rage, or perhaps literally.
“It’s alright. And f-... for the record.” I swallowed, feeling light-headed as the heat left my face. “We call him E because his full name starts with it, and nobody can pronounce anything after it. S’only fitting... I. He’s a bad guy.... Equestria has bad guys, right? People - or ponies, who just want to make the lives o-of everyone else miserable, right?” I asked, looking down at her with a forced vacant expression. No. I couldn’t show how much rage was brought up even by mentioning the name, let alone mocking it.
“Yes, we do. Is E like that?”
I sighed, and looked over at the swirling masses beyond the window in front of me. “No. He is worse. So much worse.”
“How much worse? If-”
“My job,” I interrupted, staring straight down at her, “is to stop people like him. On the comment Rainbow made about abandoning, that is. I’m volunteering to show you girls the galaxy, and with E around, it’s preventing me from doing the job I’ve done for long over a decade. I’ll live with it, but... you can understand it’s aggravating.” I paused, letting two more words slide through my teeth like the poison they were. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s... okay, Captain. I know Rainbow Dash isn’t the only pony with limits. Uh, not that you’re a pony, I mean,” she replied, smiling. I couldn’t help but feel the edges of my mouth perk up in response.
“TACT?” I asked suddenly, my voice finding itself again. I stomped over to a nearby wall panel. Twilight’s mouth hung open, and she glanced dejectedly at the ground. TACT appeared on the wall, and before his stupid little robot face could spurt another Yes-Sir, I gave an order. “TACT. Intercom on.”
“Intercom Is On, Sir.”
“Attention, crew members and ponies,” I said, listening as my voice resounded throughout the ship. “I’ve just got word from the Admirals. From here on out, we’re at High Alert. I’ll brief you more later, but be on your guard. Intercom off.” I nodded with the stiffness of a robot, and turned to head down the hall to the lower half of the ship.
“Our stay on Omega might be cut a little short, Twilight,” I said as I passed her, “and that’s just the half of it. Keep Rainbow from having any more outbursts, because I don’t want to have to punish her. I’m not supposed to be your parent.”
“Nor Would That Be Physically Possible, Sir,” TACT helpfully added.
~=V=~
My hands hadn’t stopped shaking. Whether it was against my side or in a pocket, they had to keep moving. If I stopped, I’d probably tear my nails out with my teeth just for something to occupy myself with. I tried to shove a piece of gum in my mouth and end it at that.
Didn’t stop my hands, though.
“Alright, Evo. This is it. Power’s been diverted from weapons, to engines and shields, and you’ve got TACT to auto-correct if it’s too much. You ready?” I asked, peering over the shoulder of our pilot and into the empty abyss beyond. The engines were already winding down into a slow hum, and I seemed to notice them so much more than when they were roaring in the background. As soon as my mind started thinking about them, it was as if the sound was broadcasted in the middle of my head, blaring and compressing down on me like a sonic weapon. Actually, I had been hit by sonic weapons before. Those were much more pleasant.
“Aha! We are... good to go,” Evo tittered nervously, his hands somehow sticking to the controls despite looking like he had dunked them in a bowl of sweat. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. In fact, he could’ve already lost control and flown us straight into the nearest asteroid. Or a mine. To my recollection, there were hundreds upon thousands of the things hidden around the field. They had been set up during a war - nevermind which - and nobody had thought to take them down. They acted as a deterrent to any potential pirates or sneaky thieves, and were so old that it seemed everyone but us had forgotten about them.
Life on Omega was a lonely one, I heard.
“Alright everyone. Prepare to get a bit dizzy,” I warned, instinctively holding onto the back of Evo’s chair, as if doing so would lend him my own inner strength. I looked around and consumed the entire bridge with one sweep of the head. Each member of the crew was steadily watching their respective screens; each honed in on spotting errors. The ambassadors, however, were staring happily out of the bridge window, merrily oblivious to what was going to happen next.
The world, or at least mine, suddenly turned upside down. The thin, cylindrical shape of Starbase Omega was hiding between the asteroids like meaning in a philosophical textbook, its various arms and extending hangars and observatories making it look like it was nothing more than a nail somebody flattened too hard with a hammer. It, and the myriad of floating hunks of rock, spun so much that I was suddenly thankful I had gotten used to the flipping and flopping of space. It was a world where there was no up or down: only whichever way you were going and whatever was in front of you, behind you, or shooting at you.
It was then that I realized I hadn’t even noticed when we had arrived. It wasn’t as if Omega, the rocks, and the far off sun flickering in the background had slowly faded into being. No. They were not, and then they were. Such was space travel, where not paying attention for half a second could mean flying straight into a star.
“And this, little ambassadors,” I bellowed into the rumbling of the engines, my gaze flicking back to the ponies and their little lizard pet. Rainbow still didn’t look happy, but at least she didn’t look like she wanted to strangle the nearest living being. Maybe she was too focused, like the others in her party, on not losing her lunch and the rest of their innards. I didn’t blame them, really. The complicated maneuvers that made up the Omega Run, the only way for Wing-designed - and only Wing-designed ships - could make it to Starbase Omega, wasn’t feared by new pilots just because it had an intimidating name. They got it easy, compared to me. The ESS Legacy had been stationed at Starbase Omega for months, and during that time I had made the Omega Run countless times. In an outdated fighter craft. So they could just suck on that treat while I polished my medals for all I cared. Nobody got anywhere by whining like some of the cadets did. At least Evo wasn’t whining. Then again, he was sweating and shivering like he was going to crash us any moment.
“Bad,” Evo hissed, and everyone’s heads jerks to stare outside. Four people groaned in tandem at the whiplash.
Crunch.
“Bollocks,” I muttered, releasing my grip from Evo’s chair to peer at one of the walls. As if he had known what I was going to ask, TACT appeared on it, staring at me from across the bridge with hawk-like intelligence.
“Sir, An Asteroid Has Collided With The Ship. Shields Are Holding.”
“Whatever. Keep going, Evo. You’re doing better than lots of people. Granted, they’re buried somewhere in a memorial right now, but good job anyways,” I said, patting Evo’s shoulder. The accented pilot jerked it away like my fingers were poisoned stingers, and I rolled my eyes.
“TACT, think you can call up the facility for me? Just gotta make some last minute preparations. They know we have the ponies on board, right?”
“I contacted Lt. Willum earlier, Captain,” Aran said from her own terminal. Communications, if I remembered correctly. “He’s fully aware of the situation and said he’d whip the crew into shape. There’s plenty of room aboard the station for all of us, and he said he could spare a few men to restock the Homebound’s cargo with what they have on hand. Bringing him up for you now, Captain.”
“I Have Full Capacity To Call The Station Myself, Cadet Aran. V-error,” TACT’s voice droned out, infecting my ears just like the veritable roar of the engines.
“It’s V!los, hun,” the teryn said. I could’ve sworn she rolled her eyes at the screen. Nevertheless, a rough, warm voice replaced TACT’s only a moment later, drowning out the engines like a sea of daffodils. I turned my eyes away from the swirling mess of nauseating images coming from outside the ship, and tried to look anywhere else.
“Hey! Oh man, Amber! We only just got the news an hour ago. To believe anyone actually thought you were dead! Oh man, haha, it’s-”
“That’s sodding brilliant, kiddo,” I said, taking a quick gulp of air and casting a nervous glance towards Twilight and her friends. “Listen, I guess Aran already passed out the list of stuff I needed prepared before we got here. Did you get everything done?”
“Oh you bet, Captain. Got a few of the seats modified already, and we’ll have a couple bits of gear ready for your - eheh - little pony pals once we get a chance to measure them. Aran gave me some numbers, but I think it requires more of a personal touch, yanno? Why, did you have something else you needed?”
“One thing, really. Do you have any audio recorders? I’d like you to get me one. Missions like this, they require a bit of a, how did you say it, personal touch.” I stared numbly at the ground for a second, counting the seconds until the godlike voice decided to spread its horrible, excited tone across my eardrums again. It sounded too much like Pinkie Pie.
“Hm. Looks like we do. I can get right on that and it’ll be waiting for you in your personal quarters when you arrive. I guess you’ll be using your dropship?”
“Correct. We could use some help transporting my crew and the ponies, though. We only have room for half, so it would be nice if you launched your own dropship to pick them up. I’ll be taking cadets Aran, Evo, and Lilian. Disconnecting.”
“Goodb-”
“Thank you, Aran,” I muttered, ignoring the stares piercing into my skull as I walked around the pilot’s area and down into where the Navigation terminal was, next to Aran. “Anyways. All crew members, I’ve got an announcement. By now, your ex-crewmates back on Equestria already know, but because of your bravery in volunteering for this mission and keeping your cool even in the most... unusual of circumstances. Ahem. Right. Because of those things, and because you’re all on my good side, I’m promoting you. Ensigns, congrats, you’re now official officers in the Wing, and are now under my command until the Admirals decide you aren’t. Each of you better get very comfortable being around each other in this ship, because you’re all going to be spending a lot of time in this company. You’ll get your gold stars and there’ll be a ceremony on Gantoris later. Until then, you’re still Ensigns, but it’s business as usual. Let’s move out,” I said, casually managing my voice tone and pitch to sound like the bravest, manliest of leaders. Right as the echo of my newest order died out, the childish cheering and congratulations started up on cue. I ignored it, though. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t smile at it.
It sounded too much like the writing of an obituary.
~=V=~
“So,” I started, gazing with dead eyes out of the dropship window. It was amazing how awkward long, silent trips in a cramped room full of beings you didn’t really like could be, especially if your pilot was a medical officer, and you had ordered both your other completely qualified pilots to sit across from you because you liked the way they smelled.
That wasn’t completely true. I had a reason for it, and I had spent the entire trip to Omega’s hangar bay thinking of how I’d finally spurt it out. At least all Wing members were required to have a pilot’s license and at least a few hours of piloting experience, even if every other year we recruited some lucky fool who happened to do a few neat tricks in front of an officer. There were no such lucky fools anymore; the latter half of their title always caught up to them.
“You two are... related?” I raised an eyebrow, mentally running Evo and Lilian through a visual scanner. They were both pretty scrawny, had brown hair, and seemed to have the same eye color, but the real giveaway was their faces. Almost identical if you compared them while they were next to each other. How, then, did one end up on an Academy on Gantoris and the other on Siraconore, the Wing’s greatest military stronghold? They looked at me with narrowed eyes, and for once, I didn’t care how the girls next to me thought of my straightforwardness.
“Da,” Evo said, blinking as if that explained everything in the universe. Good show.
“Siblings actually. Uh...” Lilian muttered something, licked her lips, and gazed right into my eyes, “and we were separated at birth. My mother took me to Gantoris during the first Galactic War. I guess you remember it was a safe haven during that time, Cap’n. Evo and my dad stayed on Siralifore to keep running the business. When it was attacked, they evacuated to ‘Conore. We lost contact, I guess, so I grew up on the planet of politics, and he grew up on the planet of war machines. You wouldn’t remember most of that, though. From what I remember from Wing history back at the Academy, you were on the front lines.
“I remember,” I muttered, feeling the reflected visions of a thousand mistakes pass behind my eyes, “I wasn’t anywhere near the Sirius system when it fell under attack. I think... gosh, that was near the end of the war, wasn’t it?” I supplied a plastic, half smirk, and my eyes fluttered back to the ambassadors. All but one of them was engrossed in conversation, and she stared out at me from behind her long pink mane with an almost uncharacteristic curiosity. “Yea. I was swimming neck-deep in demons around then. But who wasn’t?”
“Um, excuse me, Captain Amber?” a diminutive voice asked from next to Lilian. Without even bothering to look at her to check if I was correct about her identity, I supplied an answer.
“Yes, Fluttershy?” I looked at her, my smirk shrinking into a smile equal to her courage. Don’t say I’m not a good actor. I mastered the art long ago, back when it was completely necessary and lying through your teeth was second nature to everyone and their dog. It’s a shame they didn’t let us take our own shotguns to the political meetings. Shooting a stupid politician and chuckling as they VALK back to their homeworld never really got old.
“Please forgive me for, uh, eavesdropping, but you two never knew each other growing up?” Fluttershy leaned forward, looking at Evo and Lilian with an adorable face of fear, pity, and something else I couldn’t identify but still sparked something deep down in my brain. Love, or something. Maybe I was just seeing things. “That’s just awful.”
Evo snorted, and Lilian let loose a throaty chuckle. “Heh. Wasn’t so bad, I guess. The galaxy is a pretty mean place when it wants to be, and splitting us up wasn’t even the worst I’ve seen. Take the front lines of that very war, for example. Jackson said he was swimming in demons at the time, but he really meant swimming in demon bod-”
“Thhhat is quite enough, ensign,” I barked, not even bothering to conceal my anger at her slip of the tongue. Was it a slip if she didn’t know it was? Whatever, I still marked getting her back for that later. I’d have to brief the crew - if not the whole Wing - on why we couldn’t go saying things like, ‘Oh, Jackson massacred enemy forces without mercy back in his glory days!’ and the like. It would be bad for business.
It was untrue, anyways. I had plenty of mercy, no matter what the history books tell you. In fact, I deserved an honorable mention for being the man with the most mercy during the Galactic Wars. I’m a freaking hero, no matter what they say.
Fate decided to take hold of that moment, and the back ramp unceremoniously folded downwards. Outside, blending in perfectly with the bleak grey surroundings, were the Wing officers that had lined up, offering crisp salutes and looks of unadulterated awe directed at the ponies. Willum, standing off to the side with a proud grin on his face, was the only one looking at me. Like a toddler waiting for his teacher to give him a golden sticker for finishing his fifty-page coloring book.
I decided it would be in everyone’s - mostly mine - best interest to ignore him for the time being. Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached to Pinkie Pie. I wasn’t particularly knowledgeable on Willum, but all I’d ever seen of him was equal to someone draining the will to live out of several planet’s worth of people, and then dumping it all into one person. Or thing, really. Maybe he was a robot.
Life would be so much easier if everyone you didn’t like was a robot.
The inside of Omega was, for lack of a better term, a good mix between roomy and bashing your head on the ceiling every time you stood up. At least the, quote, “cozier” areas were below the general living quarters, where scientists and engineers slaved away to do all the secret things that every other system had banned from being practiced on their planet. It would be safe to say that most of our highly advanced technology came from the Starbase, but most of the time it wasn’t. Even the gargantuan success, if you could call it one, of weapons such as the Void Technology hadn’t been developed there; I’d actually taken a personal interest in that iconic invention, and I would’ve claimed it as my own if Aaro hadn’t gotten his slimy red hands on the rights to it first. Jerk hadn’t even given me the time of day - granted, we both ran competing technology companies, but I was the original. You can’t copy good guns, even if they sometimes exploded.
Right. Barring unprecedented inner rants on my complicated relationship with every other living being in the galaxy, Omega really didn’t have anything to offer. It had actually been pretty inactive recently, come to think of it. Why did we even continue using it?
“Whoa. This place is huge!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, immediately flying up to the ceiling of the hangar - forty meters above my head. I had filed out of the dropship with the rest of the crew, Aran conversing silently with an officer who looked like he did more work than Willum could ever dream of, and every pony who couldn’t fly and Fluttershy were looking around in absolute raw wonder. Rainbow did a few showy tricks above the amazed heads of the rest of the Omega crew, and I felt a small smile sneak in on either side of my lips. It wasn’t because I was happy for the flamboyant winged marshmallow horse that was blindly doing loop-the-loops around a small airtight station over a billion kilometers from her own planet, or even because I just enjoyed watching things fly. In fact, I think most of that sudden joy was because I wouldn’t have her be so aggravated all the time. I suppose I could relate, being a fighter pilot for most of my earlier years, but things like happy rainbow ponies lost their interesting characteristics as soon as you met one. I learned that from pure, untainted experience, ladies and gentlemen. And by experience, I meant what I was witnessing just then.
In short, while everyone was feeling something, I felt nothing.
Hollow.
I sighed, and turned to face Willum. Twilight and her friends had already begun their conversations with the crew, and I listened in as I inched my way towards the inevitable meeting with the overly-groomed, pampered party-officer standing ten meters away, standing in stark contrast to the frizzled, excited party-mare in the other direction. Willum it was.
“So how long have you lived here? IIIII lived on farm once! Well, actually I grew up on a farm! But that counts as living on one, right?”
Definitely Willum. Rest in peace, whoever Pinkie had set her “annoy” targeting system on. Judging by how their faces looked when I dared a glance back, she had a shotgun of annoyances with a very wide spread rate. Then, suddenly, a lavender magical protege and a white dressmaker were at my side, seemingly to escape Pinkie’s wrath. I didn’t blame them, and suddenly Willum was no longer ten meters away. More like a hundred. I slowed my pace to match.
“Well, you weren’t kidding when you said it was big,” Twilight said, eyes scanning the walls like they had x-rays built in. “But this... wow. How do you manage to build something like this?”
“Very carefully.” I smiled, trying to follow her gaze and line of thought. I had been thinking the same thing back when I first visited it - the original Omega - and the station hadn’t lost its charm on me yet. It would always be a home to me. “But actually, compared to a lot of the things we’ve built, Starbase Omega is pretty small. You haven’t see ‘big’ ‘til you’ve seen the Tolos Station.”
“I don’t think I could imagine anything bigger,” Twilight whispered in an impressed tone. I turned to smile at Rarity, who only huffed.
“While I won’t make any comments on its obvious grandeur, don’t you think it’s a little bit grey? Dull? Lifeless? The spartan look can be good, but there comes a time when you need a bit of pizazz! Sparkles!” She moved a hoof in a grand encompassing motion, deliberately drawing my attention back to the empty walls.
“I’m not making my ships sparkly, miss Rarity, but I get your point. The other parts of the station are a bit more, ah, colorful, rest assured. Not that it was a design choice, it was just a colorful way for making the power dispersion system more efficient. As long as you’re not sowing rainbow-capes into my uniform, you’re free to make any criticisms you’d like. Get what I’m getting?” I raised my eyebrows, the ghostly smile returning once again to my lips. She returned it with a look of understanding.
“Well, I suppose the grey is at least easy on the eyes. Heavens forbid it would be yellow, or some ghastly bright red!”
“Right. Any questions, miss Sparkle?”
“Oh, right! If this is for long-term living, how does it get the resources it needs to keep running?” The purple unicorn asked, looking up at the dim lights hanging from the ceiling so high up.
“Excellent question, actually. Most of the food is synthesized, all the air is processed, recycled, or generated by the vast gardens belowdecks. All the power comes from either solar energy, or is taken from the nearby asteroids. Most of them have valuable metals that can be converted into fuel, and therefore power, etcetera. It’s not entirely self-sufficient, though, and they need cargo ships to come by about... twice, every year. The crew rotates out so they’re not all bored out of their skulls. And so on and so on. As for Omega itself, it’s mostly for research purposes and the like. Also acts as a communications relay, too. It’s the reason we found Equestria within the anomaly, you know,” I rattled off, summing all the knowledge I had on the place in one go.
“How fascinating. You think we could get a tour of the science labs? After dinner, maybe?” Twilight asked.
“Oooh! No thank you,” Rarity exclaimed. We gazed at her for a full five seconds before she continued, as if she was just making sure all our attention was only on her. “As much as I’d love to bore myself with scientific details and the like, what I really need is a nice hot bath. I did, after all, pack a few of Aloe and Lotus’ miracle-working shampoos!”
“There’s baths, here,” I said dryly, looking over to the ever-closer Willum. “Mess hall, too. I think the fabricator can make some synthetic coffee, though I prefer fresh. Tea, too, but I’m not a big fan of that stuff.”
“It sounds positively delightful!”
“Yea, sure. Hey, Lieutenant!” I called, waving over the grinning statuesque man.
“Heya, Captain Amber! Listen, I just got word that dinner is ready, and they just finished prepping your room to your specifications. Recorder’s there, too. And - haha, sorry for listening in, but did you just say you’d like a tour, little lady? I can make sure the scientists are notified of that; I’m sure they won’t mind if I send down Ensign Burgs. They like him for some reason, bit beyond me, though!”
“Awesome. What’s for dinner?”
“Hm, regular rations, last I checked, but I guess I could make a few changes since we have guests! How’s a salad supreme sound? Haha, that’s right! I did my research!”
“Oh! That sounds sublime!” One of the mares at my side said in a fake sounding accent, nevermind which one.
“Yea, sublime. Think you could send it to my room? I’ve got to take care of something,” I muttered, scratching the back of my neck with one hand. Willum merely nodded, keeping his mouth shut for once, and I couldn’t help but feel my smile grow a bit wider. I turned to face my companions. “Right. Sorry, but I do have some things to take care of, so... uh, right. Heh. Hope you don’t mind me skipping out on lunch.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, Captain,” Twilight said. My smile suddenly turned to plastic, and I numbly spun on one heel towards the exit. The lights here seemed to pulse, pounding into my skull like a headache waiting to happen. The bright blue parts of the wall, shining and throbbing as energy coursed through them at the speed of light, seemed to taunt me, stretching each hallway into another corridor of never ending doorways and hanging lights. My body had already fallen into the automaton I had learned to control, directing itself to my designated quarters. My hand zipped up to my head, and pressed a button on my tiny headset, the rest of my body coming up on a door. I knew what was behind it.
“TACT? Are communications between the Homebound and my headset still working?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Think you can connect to the recorder when I get it? I’m going to need some semblance of an official mission report, you know, and I need to get it all out while it’s still fresh.” I took a look around the room as I drifted into it like a ghost. Simple blue-sheeted bed that looked like it had a water mattress under it. Mini-fridge off to the side, near what could only be a closed window, and in the middle of the room, facing the window, was a thin metal desk. On that desk, slapped on like a useless object, was the handheld audio recorder laying on its side. I smiled at the tiny grey object, and sat down hard in the wiry chair behind the desk. Looking out to the starred, infinite sky beyond, I picked up the recorder.
“Yes Sir.”
“Good. Try connecting now.”
“I Have Connected To The Device. It Is Online,” the recorder suddenly blurted out in TACT’s voice, the sly devil. I rolled it over in my hands, looking for any indication that it was recording.
“Ahem. TACT, are you sure this thing’s on?” I asked. On cue, one of the little lights started blinking as soon as I spoke. The familiar smile appeared again, and I leaned back in the flimsy chair. “Good, good. I’ve been meaning to get my hands on one of these stupid recorders since we got back into Wing space, in case things get worse than they already are.” I didn’t know why I was reiterating things I already knew, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to judge me for it later, right? The last words left my mouth, and I found myself brought back to E. It was as if I suddenly had him hanging over me, ready to crush and destroy everything I could accomplish with those ponies and Earth. The last thing I needed was to fight him and cater to the ambassadors at the same time. I took a deep breath, and glanced down at the ring on my finger.
“Now, first thing to note if you’ve found this message,” I said absentmindedly, barely paying attention to my wording. The silver ring glinted in the overhead lights, as if knowing what I was thinking. “Why, you ask, am I talking in your native language? Well, the short answer is magic, and you’ll learn why that is eventually. Second thing, what exactly is this recording for?”
I bit my lip, and my gaze slowly turned up to the infinity beyond the glass window. It felt like all the world had fallen onto my shoulders suddenly, but for some reason I didn’t feel tense, or worried. I thought, I supposed, that this recording and any others I made afterward would be nothing short of a therapeutic session, rather than a mission report. In fact, it wasn’t much of a mission report, was it? Something in the back of my head told me I wouldn’t be eating that dinner.
“Well, to that, I answer: It’s a story. My story....” I trailed off, gulping, and the wheels in my brain were brought back into overtime as I thought of a good place to start. Recordings like these meant I had to pay attention to detail and then remember them exactly. If there was anything I was good at, it was those two things. “Alright... give me a moment, my memory isn’t what is used to be, but it’s still better than you’re average schlub. Ah... yes, where to begin?” I suddenly thought of E, and the ponies, and everything I’d ever done. Maybe it was life flashing before my eyes, or maybe it was the turning point in something great.
“Call me Jackson,” I said, my grin turning into a smirk that could end a planet.