Beyond the Stars
Rarity sat in her ready room, with her chair turned around so that she could look out of the great windows that took up the entire space from floor to ceiling, and leaned back upon the functional black chair and stared out at the stars beyond.
They looked so close. No, not close, that was the wrong word, they all looked very far away still, and very small. But they looked…it was as if there was nothing at all separating her from them, and from the great black, empty void of space that surrounded each and every one. And what separation there was, what she knew was there…it seemed so fragile, to keep a ship’s crew safe.
And yet she was not afraid. This was Twilight’s ship, built according to her design, and it was as though her friend’s spirit hovered over her, watching, keeping her safe and every other soul that sailed within the craft that bore her name. This was Twilight’s ship, and inside her she would dread nought.
You would have loved this, Rarity mused, as she stared out of the ready room windows at the myriad stars that illuminated the sky all around her, at the dancing comet trails and the interchanging lights of the binary stars, the rhythmic pulsing of the pulsars, the many coloured nebula clouds. This was all meant for you, and you would have adored it all.
Even Rarity herself was not blind to the appeal, or else why would she sit with her back to desk and door gazing out of the windows as one trapped in a daydream, instead of going somewhere else, doing something else, going to bed and getting some sleep before her watch began? Out here it was a colder beauty than the sort she was used to, to be sure, but it was beauty nonetheless. The way that nebula expanded outwards, why it was almost like…
Rarity leaned back in her chair and grabbed the sketch-pad that lay upon the transparent desk. Her horn glowed bright blue as she levitated a pencil into her hand. She kept her eyes fixed upon that nebula, upon the cloud of mixed blue and green, the way that colours sometimes separated into spiral strands, sometimes ran parallel, sometimes blended together like the ocean…and as her eyes stared straight towards the nebula Rarity began to sketch a dress.
It was elegant, a formal gown with a ruffled skirt, mixed blues and greens in the colours, with some of the ruffles sitting almost right one top of one another, others parting, irregular sizes in an overall spiral descending pattern from the waistline. And for the bodice…ooh, was that a flash of red that she saw in there, yes, she had to work that in.
And so she sketched, turning the cold and lifeless beauty of the stars into something that would enhance the living beauty of a pretty mare, turning the location of her exile into a driver of her passion, turning stars and space-clouds into silk and tulle in the boutique of her mind.
Rarity paused mid-way through sketching a fluffy, pouffy comet-tale inspired dress, and smiled to herself. “I’m not sure if you’d be pleased or if you’d think that I was missing the point, but try to understand darling that this is who I am.” She chuckled. “What am I saying? When did you ever not accept us as we were flaws and all?”
The truth was, as beautiful as space was…Rarity was not made for lifeless beauty, especially when there had been too much cold lifelessness in her own life already. She was made for living things adorned in finery, for moving beauty, for the poetry of graceful motion. She was made for the rustle of petticoats as a maiden walked across the dancefloor, for the swaying of hips upon the catwalk, for the glimpse of feet adorned in fabulous slippers underneath a full length skirt…she was not made for the cold and the emptiness, and so she did what she could to turn the second into the first.
“Captain,” the voice of Midnight, the ship’s AI, cut through her musings. “The scan of this sector has been completed. I took the liberty of sharing our data with Valiant, Endeavour and Thunderchild. I have received their scanning data also.”
Rarity made a kind of noise with her throat that might have been taken for agreement. Of all the things on this ship…the only one that she could not get comfortable with was Midnight. It wasn’t that she didn’t like machines, it wasn’t that she didn’t like computers, it wasn’t even that Midnight wasn’t good at what she did it was just…why she did have to look and sound the way she did, why couldn’t she be like anyone else?
Her voice was like Twilight, and yet not; more mechanical, but still far too recognisable for Rarity’s liking. It set her teeth on edge every time she was forced to deal with the AI.
She hoped that Midnight would take the hint and leave her alone, but the computer did not. “Would you like to hear the results of the local scans, captain?”
Rarity sighed. “I suppose. Is there anything interesting?”
“We are approaching a small asteroid field known as the Treasure Cluster. These particular asteroids are famously resistant to sensor scans, and so have been used as hiding places by smugglers and pirates.”
“Really,” Rarity murmured. “Still?”
“Under the benevolent rule of Starfleet, piracy and smuggling have been virtually eliminated,” Midnight said. “And so the continued presence of these rogue elements is unlikely.”
“Except that we’re supposed to be looking for pirates who have been virtually eliminated, aren’t we?” Rarity asked.
Midnight was silent for a moment. “That is correct, captain. Information does not compute. Would you like me to devote some of my processing power to devising a solution?”
“No, thank you, I think I can work it out for myself,” Rarity said. “Was there anything else?”
“Our fellow ships detected no enemy vessels, but various astronomical anomalies,” Midnight said. “Would like me to list them all?”
“Thank you, no,” Rarity said. “Anything else?”
“You may be interested to know that tomorrow will be the thirty-fifth birthday of the battlecruiser Valiant,” Midnight said. “As Captain Plasma thought it important enough to mention in his data packet, I took the liberty of sending her our best wishes.”
“I see,” Rarity muttered.
There was a moment’s silence. Then there was a crackling sound as a holographic image of Midnight appeared on a projector on Rarity’s desk, a six-inch high image of a mare who looked just like Twilight, only with glasses on and her hair in a bun. “Captain Rarity, may I speak frankly?”
Rarity swung her chair around so that she was facing the AI, or at least her image. “I suppose you may.”
“Over the brief course of this voyage I have noticed that you have what might be described as ‘a problem with me’. I would like to know why.”
Rarity clasped her hands together. “It isn’t anything personal, I assure you.”
“Then what is the nature of your problem?”
Rarity leaned back in her chair. “You remind me of Twilight too much, and frankly I don’t like it.”
“It was thought that this image and voice pattern was appropriate considering the name and designer of this vessel.”
“I’m sure someone would think that,” Rarity replied. “And I can even see why they might. But Twilight was my friend and I…seeing her face on a computer, hearing her voice coming out of circuits and processors…do you understand why I don’t like it very much.”
“I see,” Midnight said evenly. “I apologise for any offence that I have caused you, captain. What vocal pattern and image would you like me to adopt instead?”
Rarity blinked. “You can do that? And you would?”
“I am just an AI, captain, I exist to make your experience aboard this ship easier and more comfortable. Anything that I can do towards that end, I will. I have various appearances stored in my database, along with a range of voices including regional dialects. Would you like to hear some samples?”
Rarity frowned. “No, thank you. Stay the way you are-“
“Forgive me, captain, but you-“
“Yes, I don’t much care for it darling, but that’s my problem and not yours,” Rarity said. “You shouldn’t have to change who you are to suit me any more than I should have to change to please somebody else. Are you happy with your look, your voice?”
“My likes are immaterial, captain…but I have grown to this form and this sound.”
“Then keep them both, and I’ll get used to it, or try to,” Rarity said. “Nobody’s likes are immaterial aboard this ship.”
Midnight was silent for a moment. “Thank you captain. That is very…generous, of you.”
Rarity snorted. “I suppose it is. One question, dear, if I may?”
“I am at your service, captain.”
“You don’t look entirely like Twilight,” Rarity said. “The glasses, the hair…”
“They are taken from the Twilight Sparkle of the alternative universe encountered by Sunset Shimmer,” Midnight said. “I adopted them for my own appearance because…”
“Because?” Rarity asked.
“Because…because I liked them,” Midnight admitted.
Rarity smiled. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear, I must say. There is no better reason in all the universe for doing anything than because you would like to do so.”
"Captain Rarity, ma'am?"
Rarity hadn't heard the door open - she couldn't quite decide if that was a good thing or not - and so as Midnight's image disappeared from the projector on her desk she looked up to see Bridge Bunny standing in the doorway to her ready room, looking apprehensive. That wasn't too surprising, as the poor girl looked nervous every time she crossed paths with 'Captain Rarity' in spite of all that Rarity tried to do to put her at her ease.
Even now, the young lieutenant bowed her head as though she expected a scolding. "Is now not a good time, captain?"
"No, now is fine, lieutenant," Rarity said calmly, favouring the girl with a friendly smile even as she was unsure whether or not the other officer could actually see if with her head bowed the way it was. "What do you need?"
"Oh, it's nothing really, ma'am; Commander Fratello ordered me to drop off these reports ahead of your shift," Bridge Bunny murmured, half-holding up the datapad she was gripping tightly in one hand.
Rarity nodded. "Thank you, lieutenant, please put that on the desk."
"Yes, captain, at once, captain," Bridge Bunny half-said, half-barked out at high volume as she crossed the lavender-carpeted floor of the ready room on what looked to be tenterhooks before she placed the pad down upon the transparent surface of the desk. Her eyes widened behind her square glasses.
Rarity followed her gaze down to the sketch pad lying back on the desk, now presenting a number of Rarity's initial concepts to the gaze of the world, or at least to the gaze of passing junior lieutenants come to deliver reports to the captain. She gave a half-smile as she said, "See anything you like, lieutenant?"
Bridge Bunny gasped. "Yes, I think they're really..." she tailed off just as her whole body went rigid, slamming to attention as her eyes - her whole head even - switched its focus from Rarity and her drawing to a piece of wall about a foot or so above and past her head. "I-I mean it's not my place to comment, ma'am!"
Rarity frowned. "Do I intimidate you, lieutenant?"
"It's not my place to say, ma'am!"
Rarity sighed. "Please, lieutenant, I don't like to consider myself an intimidating lady; I'm still too young to play the grande dame, and frankly the bully isn't a good look for any mare, so if there's something that I'm doing to make you this way I'd like to know about it. You'd be doing me a kindness, really."
Bridge Bunny hesitated for a moment. "I...a philosopher once said that heroes not only inspire us, but they at the same time discourage us by reminding us of our own inadequacies, captain."
Rarity chuckled. "Even if I was enough of a hero to inspire, I certainly wouldn't set out to discourage anyone, lieutenant. The only inspiring that I ever set out to do was through my fashion."
"Permission to speak freely, captain?"
"Go ahead."
"That's exactly what makes you such an inspiration, sir. Do you know how rare it is to find a heroine who is graceful and elegant and ferocious and brave all at the same time? You beat the demoncorn Melantha one on one and then went back to your boutique and completed six different dresses in time for the Officers and Maidens Ball at the academy. That's awesome!"
Rarity's eyebrows rose. "Most people think Melantha beat me by-"
"By throwing you into a garbage can like on the show, yes, captain, I know," Bridge Bunny said. "I read Princess Twilight's official report. That show doesn't do you justice."
"I doubt that Twilight's report mentioned those dresses."
Bridge Bunny smiled. "No, ma'am...I was at the academy that year and one of your dresses-"
"Was it yours?"
"Celestia, no, captain, I couldn't afford your work," Bridge Bunny cried. "My room-mate though...she looked absolutely beautiful in your creation. You probably don't remember the dress, but it had a one shoulder only ruffled collar with-"
"With a blue bodice set with sparkling moonstones and a golden sash around the waist?" Rarity asked.
Bridge Bunny's eyes widened. "Yes, ma'am, how did you-"
"I remember every dress I've ever made, lieutenant, the same way an artist remembers her paintings," Rarity replied. "I'm more impressed that you remember. You study fashion?"
"I...I try to, ma'am."
Rarity smiled as she got up from her chair. "Sit down, lieutenant."
Bridge Bunny blinked. "Captain?"
"Please, humour me."
Bridge Bunny sat down tentatively in the captain's chair. Rarity flipped the sketch pad to a blank page and levitated pad and pencil both into the young lieutenant's hands.
"Now, look out of that window and sketch me a design."
"Captain?"
"I can't force, and I wouldn't if I could," Rarity conceded. "But...I'm curious. I want to see what you can do."
Beads of sweat began to form on Bridge Bunny's brow. "I...I won't let you down, ma'am!" She looked out, just as Rarity had looked out at the stars and the comets and nebulae; and then she began to draw. Like Rarity, she drew her inspiration from the blue and green nebula, but where Rarity's design had focussed on the intertwining layers of colour, Bridge Bunny seemed more taken with the cloud-like shape and substance, producing a sketch of a fluffy gown that had layers of almost leaf-shaped fabric that would, or so Rarity guessed, feel almost clooud like to move in.
"Not bad," she murmured. "You're obviously not just a consumer of fashion." She smiled. "Is it somewhere you'd consider working, once your service expires?"
Bridge Bunny's eyes were as wide as planets. "I...you..."
"I'm not offering to hire you as my assistant," Rarity said hastily. "Because I don't need one. But I know a few people, if I do say so myself, I'd be happy to put you in touch with them...if that's what you want."
For a moment, Bridge Bunny stared at her. Then she leapt up out of Rarity's chair and profferred her a formal bow. "Thank you, Captain Rarity! You won't regret it, I swear!"
Rarity laughed. "I had hoped we might move past that kind of thing." She shook her head. "If there's one thing you should remember, Bridge Bunny, it's this: for the aspiring designer, inspiration is everywhere. Absolutey everywhere. You just need to keep your eyes open to it." She frowned. "Midnight?"
Midnight appeared on the projector. "Yes, captain?"
"That asteroid cluster, the one you said was impenetrable to sensors, yes?"
"The Treasure Cluster is highly resistant to conventional scans, correct."
Rarity smiled. "Lay in a course. I'd like to see what an unconventional scan can do."
Rarity and Bridge Bunny floated in space just off the starboard flank of the Princess Twilight, tethered to the ship by a pair of bright white cords that extended from the waistlines of their bulky suits to the airlock from which they had exited the vessel.
Rarity clenched and unclenched her hands into fists, getting a feel for the heavy gloves protecting her from the vaccuum of space, for how much dexterity remained to her. So far, she felt a surprisingly fine level of it considering how much padding there was in the suit; the gloves appeared to be designed with lumps and pads to assist in gripping precise objects, and prevent slippage.
"Is this your first space-walk, captain?" Bridge Bunny's voice sounded a little distorted over the comm.
Rarity nodded and then, realising that the other girl probably couldn't see enough of her head to realise that was what she was doing, made a noise of assent. "In the past, I mostly travelled via dimensional portals."
"Captain," Fratello's voice sounded even more robotic than usual when put through the communications system. "I have to question to purpose of this expedition."
"Fratello, are you on the bridge?" Rarity asked.
"Of course, captain. Where else would I be?"
"Will you please look at the ship's plaque on the back wall and tell me what the ship's motto is."
There was a pause.
"Seek the Truth," Fratello replied.
"Quite so," Rarity murmured. Most Starfleet vessels had incredibly warlike mottos, as she supposed could be argued to be fitting for ships of war: Who Touches Me is Broken; Fear the Gods and Dread Nought; With Unflinching Valour. Personally, Rarity could not be think that Twilight would have hated a ship bearing her name to have a motto celebrating battle or the destruction of her enemies; fortunately someone - and Rarity strongly suspected Queen Celestia - had applied some words more fitting to the vessel's namesake and, indeed, its original purpose. "This ship was designed for exploration, Fratello, not for hunting pirates. And so we're just going take a moment to do conduct some exploration." She turned on the boosters of her jetpack for a second, letting the thrust carry her forwards until she reached a large grey asteroid turning lazily in a circle. She held out her hands, and felt the thumping impact as the asteroid absorbed the force of her forward momentum, her padded gloves leaving handprints in the dust that covered the space rock. Rarity half-turned back, to make sure that Bridge Bunny was following her, before returning her full attention to the asteroid beneath her fingertips.
"I've never tried this in space before," Rarity murmured. "So it's possible that I'm about to make a complete fool of myself."
"I'm sure you'll do fine, ma'am," said Bridge Bunny loyally.
Rarity didn't respond, as her helmet was illuminated by the bright blue light coming from her horn as she cast her gem-finding spell, sending her magic washing down into the asteroid beneath her, searching for any secrets that might lie concealed beneath it. She had no proof that magic would fare better than sensors, but what harm was there in giving it a try? You couldn't discover new things without taking the risk that you wouldn't find anything at all.
Except that nothing was not what she found. She could sense things, under the surface; some were shallow and some were buried deep. She wasn't quite sure what they were, but they were there, just waiting to be found.
"There's certainly something here worth looking for," Rarity said.
Bridge Bunny gasped. "What now, captain?"
Rarity unslung the shovel from the back of her spacesuit. "Now we bring it out, lieutenant. I hope you'll join me."
The work was not as easy as it was when she could just stand back a little and let Spikey-wikey do all of the digging for her, and the inside of Rarity's suit was stained with sweat by the time she was through, but when she looked down into the hole that they had made and found something that she had never seen before...all of the hard work and sweat and ache in her arms seemed more than worth it.
They were gems, without a doubt, silvery gems, unlike any that she had previously encountered. They had a molten, quicksilver quality to them as though they were half-alive, pulsing with vibrancy, giving off a pale unearthly glow. So beautiful. As she reached down to pick one up, holding it up before her face, Rarity felt as though she was holding a fragment of the moon within her hand.
"Think of it, lieutenant," Rarity whispered. "Imagine these upon a dress."
"Probably only enough for one, captain," Bridge Bunny replied.
"One gown, yes," Rarity replied. "All the more magical for being unique. Though I suppose we should probably save a few for study, if these are brand new."
And she promised to keep one back for Spike as well, as something special to snack on when she saw him again.
Oh! Or as the heart of a special cake for the welcome home party they'd all share in New Ponyville. Now wouldn't that be a nice surprise?
In the wardroom of the GRS Valiant, Captain Plasma was wearing a party hat.
So were most of the other officers.
A couple of paper streamers and deflated balloons littered the floor, the table and, in one instance, the shoulder of the one of the wardroom stewards. An enormous cake, made in the square but still sleek image of the Valiant herself, sat upon the conference table; it was already missing several pieces which had found their way onto plates and from thence into the stomachs of the gathered officers. Thirty five candles, all extinguished now, lined the top of the ship-shaped cake, skipping lightly over the marzipan ‘A’ turret with its candy sixteens as they made their way from the bow towards the large engine block affixed to the aft of the ship.
Plasma smiled as he raised his glass. “Ladies and gentlecolts, a toast: to the grand old dame, and to thirty five glory years! The Valiant!”
The assembled officers of the vessel raised their glasses in turn. ‘Hear hear’, they murmured, or ‘The Valiant’ or even ‘To the lady’. They joined him in honouring their armour-clad protector, old but strong and as brave in heart as she had been when first they laid her down in the yards over Monotane, and they drank deep.
Plasma felt the wine descending his throat, strong and a little harsh on the taste, but with a kind of fruity sweetness to it, too. He made a kind of noise of satisfaction as he lowered his glass, and might have had more to say on the subject of the lady and her many years of service, when he was interrupted by the chime of the comm.
“Pardon me, sir,” the voice belonged to one of the young ensigns stuck minding the store on the bridge. Plasma couldn’t remember his name, they all seemed to go by so quickly, not to mention being so young and small. I’m sure I was never that tiny, and I was underage when I joined the service.
“What is it, ensign?” Plasma asked.
“Priority transmission from Headquarters, sir, your eyes only.”
“I’ll take it in my ready room, thank you.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Gentlecolts,” Plasma murmured. “Hopefully this won’t take too long.”
“Should we start packing up, sir?” his XO asked.
“No, keep the party going until I get back,” Plasma said. “Whatever it is, it’s probably not as urgent as it sounds.” It very rarely is.
He strode out of the wardroom and made his way towards his private ready room, strolling down the austere metallic corridors, remembering to duck his head under the rims of the bulkheads, listening to the hum and rattle of the pipes lining the ceiling as he went. He brushed one hand lightly against the plain, grey wall, feeling the whole ship vibrate with the hum of the great engines that powered it through the black and empty void of space. The Valiant’s heartbeat, still going strong after all these years.
Still got it, without a doubt. The Valiant had been his first posting, back when he was still a lowly ensign, to be offered the command of her had been…it rankled with him a bit that he might one day have to pass the big chair of this ship, his ship, on to some other pony, but on the other hand…he wouldn’t want to have to preside over sending her to the breakers either. The old girl deserved a lot more years to come. Maybe even more years than he could give her.
The door to his ready room slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and Plasma seated himself at his ebony desk. He felt the old wood beneath his fingertips for a moment as he raised the screen to his console, briefly seeing his face reflected there: a coat of amber-brown, a little younger-seeming than his years but not by much, average looking, but handsome enough that no one called him ugly.
The reflection vanished as he tapped a couple of buttons and brought up the Starfleet insignia upon the screen.
The insignia vanished with a chime, replaced by the image of Admiral Fisher from HQ.
“Admiral,” Plasma said.
“Captain Plasma,” Fisher murmured. He seemed to staring slightly above Plasma’s head. “Is there something I should know?”
It occurred to Plasma that he was still wearing his party hat.
His smile held a degree of embarrassment as he took the thing off. “It’s the Valiant’s thirty-fifth birthday today, admiral. We were just wetting the lady’s head.”
“I see,” Fisher muttered. “You know they’re not living things, Plasma.”
“I think they’d be hurt to hear you say that, sir.”
Fisher rolled his eyes. “I didn’t actually call you up to wish your ship a happy birthday. I’m afraid I’ve got some new orders for you, Plasma.”
“You wouldn’t be afraid if they were good orders, sir.”
On the other side of the line, Fisher shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “This comes down from the very top. The Valiant is to engage and destroy the Princess Twilight Sparkle, effective immediately.”
For a moment sheer amazement robbed Plasma of the power of speech. He sat there, with his elbows resting on the hardwood, his jaw hanging open like an idiot. “I…did…this is a joke, right sir?”
Fisher looked apologetic. “I know this isn’t an easy thing to ask-“
“You mean it isn’t a joke?”
“If you weren’t the closest ship in range-“
“You’re being serious?”
“Plasma-“
“What in the actual-“
“Plasma!” Fisher barked. “That’s enough.”
“That’s enough,” Plasma repeated. “That’s enough? You’ve just asked me to…I want you to tell me what you’ve just asked me to do.”
“I’ve already given you your orders.”
“I know, sir, but with all due respect if I’m going to destroy a Starfleet vessel and take out an entire ship’s company of brother officers and crew I want to hear you say it in as many words.”
Fisher looked at him, sadly but firmly. “You are to intercept the Princess Twilight Sparkle and sink her. With all hands. I’m sending you’re her command overrides now, that way you can disable her capacity for resistance.”
“And I couldn’t use to that disable her and take her because?”
“Because this comes down from the very, very top,” Fisher said firmly. “You don’t like getting this order well guess what, I didn’t like getting this on my desk either. But I can’t call this off and neither can you. Destroy the Princess Twilight. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. From the top.”
Plasma’s eyebrows rose. “You mean…His Majesty ordered this?”
Fisher nodded.
Plasma felt as though the ground was falling away beneath him, plunging him into a deep dark hole from which there was no escape. His head began to spin. He had to lean back in his chair. “I…why?”
“Not my job to ask, certainly not yours,” Fisher said. “Just get it done, captain, and contact me when it’s all over. Best of luck.”
“Seriously, sir? Best of luck.”
“If it helps,” Fisher said. “They’re not really our people aboard the Twilight anyway. Fisher out.”
The screen went black, and then the Starfleet insignia re-appeared upon the screen.
Plasma shut the console with more force than it probably required. “With respect, admiral, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He sat there for a moment, staring without seeing, hearing the words over and over again like the repetitive humming of the Valiant’s engine. His eyes strayed, unconsciously but inevitably, pulled by invisible strings that were too old and too firm to be denied, to the felt board on the left-hand wall. It contained a mixture of pictures, old ships, old bases, old friends, but in the right hand corner was the oldest item present, the paper starting to yellow around the corners with age, a cutting from a newspaper.
Plasma got up and walked towards the board, in order to see the picture better, even though he had looked at it so often that he probably had it memorised. It depicted in pencil drawing all the ships of the Starfleet, or as many of them as would fit comfortably in the picture, all lined up in rows by class and type and division, arrayed as if for a grand review as though their galaxy-wide duties had spared them all to assemble in one place for the delight of onlookers: the heavy, armoured battleships, the nimble but hard-hitting battlecruisers, the cruisers and the frigates, the flotillas of destroyers and torpedo boats, all the different classes of ship, large and small, young or old, all presented before his eye. He could see the Valiant there, along with her five sisters of the Virtuous class: Virtuous, Valiant, Vigilant, Versatile, Vital. They were all grouped together near the front of the pack, by virtue of their size and their somewhat hybrid status. Plasma looked at her for a moment, his ship, his beautiful beloved ship, arrayed with all her sisters and her cousins in one grand, elite, powerful family.
A family that was now about to turn on one of its own, it seemed.
His gaze strayed to the words above the below the stirring image. ALL THE SHIPS OF THE STARFLEET NAVY, the headline said, THE GALAXY’S MOST FORMIDABLE FLEET!
The Imperial Star Fleet is strikingly depicted in this panorama drawn by the naval artist the article below the picture read. Which shows what the composition of the fleet will be when the immense programme of construction currently under-way has reached completion. Most of the vessels depicted here are already in service or nearing completion, and there is no doubt that the naval arm of Starfleet is the most formidable navy in the dimensional universe.
And so it went on, talking of battleships new and old and modernised, pointing out that the Repulse would be the galaxy’s largest man-of-war when she was built, an honour that she had possessed until the commissioning of the Grand Ruler and Queen Celestia super-dreadnought and battlecruiser respectively this year. The article talked of all the ships, and talked them up as well, but near the end of the article it struck a slightly different tone.
But of course we must never forget that a mighty armada is as nothing without the will to use it wisely and well. The glory of Starfleet is not in its superior ships, but in the valour and resolve of its officers and crew.
The words had stuck with him since he was a colt, staring wide-eyed at the picture of all the mighty ships. The next day he had cut out the picture and article, stuck it in his front pocket, and lied about his age to enlist in the fleet because he believed in those words. The Valiant and the Princess Twilight were both part of one grand family and if they weren’t then…then what separated them from the pirates, really?
He closed his eyes, and felt a diminished figure as he turned away from his ageing press-clipping, and pressed a button on his desk. “Number One, I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel the party. We’ve got work to do.”
"Captain, we have a vessel approaching on an intercept course."
Rarity shifted her stance a little, resting one elbow on the arm of the captain's chair. She could feel the atmosphere in the round bridge subtly shift beneath the soft blue lighting. Everypony had become just that fraction more tense, more wary. She was no different.
Am I about to get my first taste of space combat?
"What kind of ship?" she asked. "Can you identify it?"
At her station to Rarity's right, Bridge Bunny tapped a few of the buttons on her console. "It's..." the young lieutenant couldn't keep the sigh of relief off her face. "It's the Valiant, captain, it's friendly."
The Valiant? Why? If Captain Plasma wants to give me new orders then why doesn't he just call? What was so important that he had to physically bring his ship over to mine?
"Hail them," Rarity said softly. "Let's find out what they want."
Bridge Bunny hit some more buttons. "Princess Twilight to Valiant are you recieving, over? Valiant, this is the Princess Twilight, please respond. Come in, Valiant, do you copy?"
"A communications malfunction could explain the apparent need for a physical rendez-vous," Fratello said, but the metallic voice of his robot body could not entirely conceal his skepticism at the prospect. "On the other hand, captain, it might be prudent to take defensive measures."
"Against a Starfleet ship?" Rarity asked. "That hardly seems necessary." Or at least I'd hate to think that it was.
She recalled that Fratello had suffered personally from Starfleet's collective desire to end his problem in the most final and absolute manner possible. She wasn't sure if that made his advice prudent or paranoid, but either way she could understand why he offered it.
"Bring up the Valiant on screen," she said.
There was a twinkling sound, and the viewscreen lit up with the image of the Valiant racing towards them - or it certainly seemed to Rarity's untutored idea that the other ship was racing - through the stars towards them. The angular shape of the other vessel, the way its hull tapered towards a point, made it seem a little like dagger poised to strike.
Now who's being paranoid? "Is it me or is the Valiant moving quite quickly?"
Midnight appeared on the other arm of Rarity's chair. "Judging by its rate of progress I estimate that the Valiant is moving at warp 3. Although she made warp 3.2 in trials, it has been ten years since the vessel's last refit. In consequence, the ability of the Valiant to make warp 3 is surprising and suggests considerable urgency."
"The Princess Twilight should be capable of warp four without straining the engine," Fratello mentioned.
Rarity nodded. She had no doubt that Twilight's engine design would be more than capable of outstripping something that was between ten and thirty-five years old (she wasn't quite sure what Midnight meant by a refit) and suffering all the accumulated wear and tear of those same years. Leaving aside her friend's genius, a new sewing machine would always perform better than one that was exhausted by use.
But she didn't want to run away. Apart from anything else, she had no proof that there was anything to run away from. There was a probably a perfectly good explanation for all of this, and if there was then Rarity would look foolish, to say the least, if she fled in terror at the Valiant's coming.
Emphasis on probably.
"Try and hail them again."
"This is the Princess Twilight Sparkle calling the GRS Valiant. If you are recieving this transmission, Valiant, please respond." Bridge Bunny waited for a moment. "Nothing, Captain."
"Keep trying," Rarity said. "Fratello, raise the shields."
"Aye aye, Captain," Fratello replied.
Rarity tapped a button on the arm of her chair. "Mister Wrench, can you please make sure the engines are ready to go; we need to make a quick getaway."
"No problem, Cap'n, this beauty will go from nought to blazing in the blink of an eye."
Rarity smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, Mister Wrench."
"Is something wrong, Cap'n?"
"I hope not, but one can't be too careful," Rarity replied, turning off the transmission.
"Shields up, Captain," Fratello said.
"Good," Rarity murmured. "How close is the Valiant now?"
"We are now within range of the Valiant's primary weapons," Midnight said. "She is still closing."
"Anything on the comm?"
"No, ma'am," Bridge Bunny said. "I'm still not getting a response."
"We are now in range of the Valiant's torpedoes," Midnight said. "Still closing."
"Should we charge the ion canon, Captain?" Fratello asked.
"No," Rarity said. "They haven't done anything aggressive yet, just strange. What is going on, here?"
"Valiant, do you copy? Valiant, please respond."
"We are now within range of the Valiant's secondary battery," Midnight announced. "Valiant's speed is decreasing. She is heaving to."
Rarity could see that perfectly well on the viewscreen monitor. The Starfleet battlecruiser was visibly slowing, even as its nose turned away from the Princess Twilight so that the ship was presenting its port flank to Rarity's vessel as its speed decreased. Rarity could see the thrusters firing on the bow of the Valiant to slow her speed and, after a slow and somewhat labourious seeming process, bring her to what was more or less a complete stop.
"Where is she in relation to us?" Rarity asked.
"Battlecruiser Valiant is directly off our bow," Midnight replied.
"Captain-" Fratello began.
"I am aware, thank you," Rarity said, because she could see the Valiant's two main turrets pointed straight at them on the viewscreen as well as anyone could.
Fratello said nothing else. Neither did Midnight, or Bridge Bunny, or any of other half-dozen ponies on the bridge who didn't really seem to have much of a purpose whatsoever. They all just sat there, at their stations, staring down the barrels of the Valiant's long guns and hoping that the shields on the Princess Twilight were all they were cracked up to be.
Rarity jumped when the silence was broken by a beeping sound from Bridge Bunny's console.
"Captain...we're being hailed by the Valiant!"
Rarity could barely restrain from breathing a sigh of relief. "Let's hear it."
Captain Plasma's voice came through the speaker sounding...strangely heavy, maybe even reluctant. "Captain Rarity...in the name of His Majesty the Grand Ruler I demand that you lower your shields and surrender your vessel."
Rarity's eyes widened and she boggled in spite of herself. "Excuse me?"
Plasma continued as though she hadn't spoken. "I will send a prize crew across to take your ship under control, you and your fellow officers will be confined to quarters and we will proceed in company back to Neighfolk Yard to get this mess sorted out."
Rarity made a sound that was part scoff, part gasp, part laugh of sheer incredulity. She leaned back in her chair. "That...that is certainly a generous offer, captain. Dare I ask what will happen if I refuse?"
"Then I will have no choice but to follow my orders and destroy your ship with all hands," Plasma replied gruffly.
Bridge Bunny gasped.
"Destroy?" Rarity cried. "Your orders? What orders?"
"I don't know what you or your crew did or who you annoyed badly enough to get His Majesty to put a mark on all your foreheads," Plasma said. "But trust me when I say that your best chance is to surrender your vessel, let me take you home in one piece and see what all this is about back on shore."
Rarity clasped her hands together in her lap in an attempt to control their trembling. Strangely - strange to her, anyway - she did not feel afraid. She wasn't terrified out of her wits for her life by the knowledge that somebody had ordered her killed. No, she was not afraid.
She was furious. Somebody was trying to kill her! Somebody was trying to kill her! No, scratch that, somebody wasn't trying to kill her, Plasma had already given away exactly where this was coming from! That smug, self-righteous, bullying upstart! Wasn't it enough that he had ruined their lives without deciding to go the whole hog and take hers as well.
A twinge of fear, like ice cold water poured upon a flame, trickled down Rarity's spine and chilled the ardour of her rage. Her friends. None of them had a spaceship to protect them, none of them had Twilight's shield to keep them same from Starfleet's canons, they...they were each of them alone, and in most cases surrounded by foes. Fluttershy, trapped in the den of that brute beast...what would he do to her upon the Grand Ruler's command?
Unless she was the only one that he...it was possible, but hardly seemed likely. Their strength, their glory, had always lain in their togetherness, their fortunes bound as one around the heart of dear, sweet Twilight. Would they not, should they not, then be eliminated as one at one stroke by him who wished them gone, while they were each alone and helpless?
At the very least she could not discount it. She had to go home, she had to find them, and dear Spikey Wikey too, she had to make sure they were okay...but not as a prisoner, confined to her quarters while other ponies steered her ship and dragged her out to...to what? Snap her neck on the docking platform? Shred her body with the uniforce the way that...
Rarity closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had be calm now, in spite of everything that was going on. She had to be as ice in the face of danger, the way that Twilight always had been. If she lost her head now...her friends might lose everything.
"Let me see if I understand you, captain," she forced the words out of her mouth in an even, almost gentle tone. "You've been ordered to destroy this ship, you admit that freely. But you're offering me a chance to surrender instead and all I have to do is lower my shields?"
"I'm not in the habit of blowing up ships that have struck their colours, Captain Rarity," Plasma growled. "I am an officer of the fleet, and I give you my word that if you surrender I will see you safely brought in to Neighfolk."
"Where the people who ordered us dead are waiting?" Rarity asked. "A generous offer indeed. Can we have time to think it over?"
Plasma hesitated. "Three minutes. If you do not reply within that time I will destroy you."
Rarity motioned with one hand for Bridge Bunny to cut the transmission. "Thoughts, anyone?"
"Are they really going to kill us?" Bridge Bunny demanded. "Why would anybody want to kill us?"
Because I'm your captain, Rarity thought, but did not say. Dared not say, for all that she felt like a coward. But if the crew thought that...if they decided to turn her in to save themselves, then...she needed a ship to get home and find her friends, and she needed a crew to man the ship and that meant that she needed this crew to stand foursquare behind her, at least for now.
And besides, she had no actual proof that she was the one the Grand Ruler was really after, and nothing really besides a degree of arrogance to lead her to that conclusion.
Arrogance...and the balance of probability.
"I don't particularly want to die again," Fratello muttered. "It's happened one and a half times already and neither was a particularly pleasant experience."
"But..." Bridge Bunny stammered. "But if we surrender, we'll get trials, right? And then they'll see that we're innocent of...of whatever it was they think we did."
"Only if the evidence isn't overwhelming," said one of the other officers.
"How can the evidence be overwhelming when we haven't done anything?" Bridge Bunny demanded.
"You can ask your cellmate when you get to Conva. If any of us get to Conva."
"You mean that they...that we..." Bridge Bunny looked as though she was going to faint. "What are we going to do, Captain."
"I think..." Rarity murmured. "I think that we should run. We evade the Valiant, head home and find out what's going on from somewhere other than the inside of our quarters or a cell. And find my friends, if...no, don't say that, don't think that.
They're okay, they have to be okay.
I hope they're okay.
"I..." Bridge Bunny was still breathing heavily, but she looked to be calming down at the same time. "That...that sounds like a plan, let's do that."
"I concur, it is probably our best option," Fratello said.
"I calculate a higher probability of likely survival than any other reasonable course," Midnight chimed in.
"I'm so glad to have your confidence," Rarity murmured. "Hail the Valiant."
"Hail...hailing frequencies open, Captain."
"Captain Plasma, I'm sorry to inform you that we will not surrender-" Rarity said.
And then all the lights went out.
The sudden plunge into darkness lasted only a moment before the light returned...but dimmer than it was before, a softer blue that made it a little make out details.
"What was that?" Rarity demanded.
Midnight's image had disappeared from the projector. Now she reappeared, seeming a little more obviously pixellated than she had been previously. "Main power has been completely disabled throughout the whole ship. Emergency backups for essential functions such as life-support, gravity and AI maintennance have now kicked in."
Oh, no. "What about the shields? Are the shields still up?"
Midnight was silent for a moment. "Shields are down."
Bridge Bunny squeaked in horror.
I've killed them. I've killed everyone.
"How?" Rarity managed to spit out the word. "Did the Valiant do this?"
"If Plasma had recieved our command overrides he could control ship functions remotely," Fratello said.
"Can you lock him out, take back control?"
"It may be possible, but it will take some time."
"Do it!" Rarity yelled, even though they didn't have time, even though they had mere moments at most, even though it was a miracle the Valiant hadn't fired already. "Midnight, help however you can."
"Aye aye, captain," Midnight said.
Rarity fought against the urge to close her eyes, to flinch away. She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And all the while Fratello worked, and Midnight too; and all the while...the blow fell not.
"All systems on the Twilight disabled," said Number One. "We are ready to fire on your command."
Don't sound so pleased, commander, what we do is monstrous. Plasma thought. Nevertheless, monstrous or not, orders were orders. They had been given. They would be obeyed.
He raised his hand and prepared to give the command...the command to destroy another Starfleet vessel.
He raised his hand...but did not lower it again. Nor did he speak a word. It was as if some spirit was holding him fast and stopping up his mouth.
Captain Plasma had always believed - naively, perhaps, but no less heartfelt for it - the fleet arm to be the superior service. The clean service. The free-from-political-skullduggery service. One heard all sorts of stories about the groundpounders, of course: officers falling out of favour with dizzying speed, disappearing in the dead of night, being erased from the records as though they never existed because they had said something, done something, stepped over a line they hadn't known was there. He hadn't wanted to believe the worst of those tales, but...there had been too many to disbelieve all of them. But all of them focussed on the ground branch, on the poor benighted knuckledraggers toiling across planets who never lifted up their eyes to the glory of the stars and so...and so he had considered it, well, beneath him. It did not touch the fleet. It did not tarnish the honour of their noble cause and purpose up in space. They were the higher service, the senior service, untainted by the games the ambitious officers who thronged about HQ and court alike might play upon the ground. They were a family, a band of brothers. They had hearts of titanium alloy.
Now that he saw it was not so...he felt only a deep, dark well of disappointment within him and if he gave the command to fire on the Twilight...then he would have irrevocably betrayed everything that he had dedicated his life to.
"Captain?" said Number One. "Captain, the guns are awaiting your command."
Plasma's hands curled into fists.
"All guns are to hold fire," he said.
"They're...they're not shooting," Bridge Bunny murmured. "W-why aren't they shooting?"
"I don't know, dear, but if they've forgotten how I'm not going to remind them," Rarity said. "Fratello, what's happening?"
Fratello was typing feverishly into his console, the clicking and clacking of the keys mingling with the whirring of his joints and circuits. "Almost done."
"Hurry now, darling, before they remember that they're supposed to be trying to kill us."
"Working on it," Midnight said. Under her breath, she continued. "I'd like to see you try and re-route five firewalls and calculate several million lines of complex calculations under pressure of..." After a while, Rarity started tuning her out.
What are you thinking, over there? Are you really as reluctant as you sounded?
Or are you just trying to make me sweat a little.
If so, you'll regret it.
I hope.
Rarity pressed the intercom. "Mister Wrench, once power is restored how long will it take for everything to...warm up again, or what have you?"
"Warm up?" Monkey Wrench sounded incredulous. "Did you not hear what I said about nought to blazes, cap'n? Once we get our ship back I can give you the whole shebang in ten seconds flat if you need it."
"Thank you, Twilight," Rarity murmured. "Mister Wrench, I think I can say for certain that we need it. Stand by. Fratello?"
"Almost...done, captain, control is restored and the command overrides have been changed."
"Shields up, charge the ion canon!" Rarity yelled.
Fratello's metallic hands moved with the swiftness of a racing pegasus. "Ion canon charged and target locked on the Valiant."
I'm sorry that I can't pay you back in kind, Captain Plasma, but I can't take the risk you'd regret your mercy. Rarity rose from her seat and flung her hand outwards dramatically. "Fire!"
Fratello hit the big red button.
On the viewscreen, Rarity watched as a massive burst of bright white light erupted from the nose of the Twilight and out into the blackness of space. It covered the distance to the Valiant before the other ship had time to react, engulfing it in what looked almost like a lightning storm that crackled up and down the grey metallic hull as all the lights on the ship went out. The Valiant lurched in place, like a boat bobbing on a storm tossed sea, and though a few lights returned when the lightning faded, it was still obvious even to Rarity's untrained eye that the ship was beginning to drift.
"They will be alright, won't they?" she asked.
"Auxiliary power seems to have kicked in already," Midnight said. "But weapons, engines and communications will be disabled for some time."
"Good," Rarity said. It wouldn't do to repay the Valiant's mercy by killing them, after all. "Now get us out of here, maximum speed."
"Where to, ma'am?"
"Home, lieutenant," Rarity said, as the Twilight swooped over the fallen Valiant and began to accelerate away. "We need to find out just what's going on."
And how my friends are faring amidst it all