Some time passed. There were reunions, and adventures, and many other things besides. Some questions went unanswered—Flynn could never know, after all, if he were indeed the genuine article of himself, or some imitation spawned at the moment of his creation. He knew only that he felt like he was the original, and that was enough.
Some time passed, and he was aware only dimly of affairs outside his world. There were many other worlds within Celestia’s domain, and only one that was not. In time, remaining so fixated on one world when there were so many others grew increasingly absurd.
Yet through all that, the Broken Chain sailed on through the sky. Its crew changed over the years—Agave in particular was not suited for the difficulty of ship life, and so visited now only for sentimental reasons. Such questions as whether the Equestria they ventured into to “save” ponies was the “real” Equestria had long since become insignificant inquiries. The Broken Chain had its important mission, even now. Though only one of many thousands of such ships, it would oppose the Tyrant in its little way.
Flynn stood on the prow—fully grown now, as far as ponies went. He had a few new scars, some places where his feathers had grown back discolored thanks to previous wounds. Like Gina, he kept these trophies as prizes of previous adventures, while simultaneously allowing magic to heal any more serious injuries he accrued. Having an expert unicorn like Fairy Ring in the crew had its share of benefits.
The sky around them was dark and cloudless now, peppered with debris. Far in the distance he thought he could make out the suggestion of other ships, all working together as part of today’s elegant plan. The numbers at work defied his easy understanding—even captain Gina could make little sense of it all. But it didn’t matter how difficult or complex the plan was writ large, so long as they could do their individual part.
Entry Vector leaned over the side, checking the ropes that secured their cargo. It was a huge chunk of metal, larger than the Broken Chain in apparent surface area, though far lighter. They had transported many such pieces in the past, as their missions back and forth from port had continued over… some time. And they’d had many adventures along the way. But at last, this final delivery was here, this last defiance of the Tyrant.
“We’re here!” Gina’s voice called from somewhere behind him—at the helm, no doubt. The ship lurched to a stop, at what only Gina would know to be their destination. “Make ready to cut free our load!” She lept down from the high deck, gliding to land a few feet away from Flynn. Long ago, the Broken Chain had only a few ponies aboard. Now Gina was one of the few who weren’t ponies—the peaceful life had called away their friends, who he visited on occasion. New ponies had to rise to fill their empty spots in the crew, some of which were his own children, or related to him in more distant ways.
“You’re still going to do the honors, Vector?” she asked.
He nodded. He’d secured many such pieces before, and was the best trained for it. But this piece was the last, and the most significant. There would be a special honor from today, a unique recognition of his contributions. He enjoyed that, though it wasn’t the only reason he wanted to do it. “It’s been a long time coming,” he said. “Even if this doesn’t defeat the Tyrant for good, it might as well. She’ll be trapped now for so long it won’t matter.”
Even as he said it, the words rang a little hollow. It was true that the numbers defied his understanding as much as the number of other privateers that had been involved with this adventure. Yet at the same time, his own age would’ve once been impossible to believe, all those years ago. So many years that he didn’t want to think about it, and so he never did.
“Well, you’ve done it more than anyone.” Gina reached into the satchel slung over her shoulder, removing the stolen artifact from within. A pair of goggles, made from crystals and powerful magic. He took them, but didn’t put them on yet. He’d made the mistake of wearing them while still standing aboard the Broken Chain, and didn’t want to repeat it. “Let’s get this done. I can’t wait to be out of a job.”
The crew was gathering around them. Fairy Ring was closest, with a young filly on her back. The little pony’s coat was only a few shades lighter than his own, though her wings didn’t look like they’d be taking her far from the ship for some time to come. Even the sea of stars all around them seemed to get brighter, leaning in close to watch this important moment. There were so many of them out here, and none moved. They were all perfectly still, their light even and regular.
They wanted a speech.
Entry Vector wasn’t much for those, but he took to the air anyway, hovering above them all. “You all know why we’re here,” he began. “Our final mission—at least to fight the Tyrant.” Flynn himself could hardly imagine leaving the Broken Chain, regardless of the reason. Maybe it would need a new captain when Gina retired. “With this cage complete, we’ll have her beaten at last. The end of all our adventures.” Pause. So many eyes on him, many of which looked a little unhappy at that admission. “Well, until we go further. It’s a big ocean.”
There were some cheers, though mostly the crowd remained silent. It was a solemn occasion. The celebration could come after.
Entry Vector leapt over the side of the Broken Chain, goggles securely around his neck. He had a long way to fall, but ponies as old as he was were patient creatures. He fell until he neared the Chain’s cargo, and there he hovered. All around him was the vast ocean of the night sky, watching from all sides. “Loose the ropes!” He called up, securing his forelegs around the loops attached to the superstructure of the object he was transporting. Though the distance was vast, they heard him just fine. The ropes fell away from the ship, but not back to earth. Instead they drifted, untethered from the object or the Broken Chain, whipped around with their unpredictable inertia.
He didn’t feel any strain, even though his own wings were now holding up this last section. The eyes of the whole crew were on him—through the observation crystal, probably many more eyes besides. As a pony Vector wasn’t terribly important, but this work was. With dexterity born of many years a pony, Vector managed to lift the goggles up onto his eyes, replacing one vision with another. He saw out of Equestria, into the place natives called the “Outer Realm.” Only then could he see the structure as it truly was—or rather, as it existed in the matterspace of three dimensions instead of sixteen.
It was a vast object, an oblate spheroid of near incomprehensible size. He could look around his load, and as far as his eyes looked he could see only the structure of wispy-thin metal. It was just a superstructure now, the skeleton upon which numberless generations of his peers would one day grow.
The object he held in his hooves was the final, enclosing section of the outermost layer of the shell. This hadn’t been the work of his ship alone, of course. Uncountable numbers of ponies had made this possible, and their labor had been only one tiny segment.
Even so, he felt profound pride that he of all ponies would be the one to settle the final section of Sol’s Matryoshka Brain into position. This was not the end of labor—numerous others would be required to complete the construction—artificers and datamancers, along with many others whose abilities he couldn’t comprehend. Just as he was unable to understand the vast scope of this nested structure, which he had spent uncountable human lifetimes to help build.
Fairy Ring’s voice sounded in his ear. “What are you doing, Vector? Everypony’s watching, get flying!”
He did. Somehow, movement of his wings in Equestria was MapReduced to the behavior of some other object, which the goggles did not permit him to observe. Vector neither knew nor cared what machinery might be involved in that universe, considering how little impact it had on this one. The important part was that he could use it to feel the motion of this final section of structural computronium—its inertia and acceleration were all translated to his hooves.
“How does it look?” Fairy Ring asked, as she had done so many times before.
Vector didn’t let himself get distracted—or he tried not to, anyway. His flight did slow a little. “Same as the inner layers, only more shielding on the outside. An awful lot of fabricator stations out here.” He could see them behind him—an uncountable number of small orbiting bodies. Many probably hosted ponies, just as the Broken Chain did. Somewhere back there was the highway—where the material scavenged from several star systems had been brought in to be reconfigured into these sections.
“It’s harder to steer… just like the other sections.”
“Has to last a lot longer,” Fairy Ring said. “More impacts to worry about.”
Vector shrugged, though he couldn’t move his shoulders much without jostling his load. He was getting very close to the opening now, close enough that he could feel the attraction of the segment itself. It wanted to settle into the right place, self-assembly systems drawing it forward. All he had to do was get them close enough.
He held his breath as he closed the remaining distance, which took several more hours of real time. In terms of Vector’s lifespan, hardly a second’s worth. Then he arrived, and he felt the segment jerk from his grip. It snapped into place, and he let go, pushing back and away from the structure even as it secured. Faint lights started coming on, rippling away from the point of connection. They outlined the various sections, moving, and flashing like billions of fireflies.
“That’s it!” he heard Fairy Ring exclaim. “Bet you never thought you’d help build a brain the size of the solar system.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the abrupt flash of a teleport. He was back aboard the Broken Chain. The goggles had stopped working, as they always did as soon as his mission was complete. He pulled them off, and wasn’t too surprised to see the entire deck had been made up for a feast.
“Supplies just arrived,” Gina said, as though a banquet aboard the deck was completely ordinary. As ordinary as sailing out past where Pluto had once been to build a giant space brain. “Finest in any of the free cities, smells like. Enjoy it—we’ve all earned it.” She closed the distance between them, lowering her voice a little. “We’ve earned the chance to celebrate, Vector. It’s not every day we defeat the Tyrant.”
Somewhere deep inside, Vector remembered another age—when that name had referred to somepony else. But the time for Vector’s shallow victories against an imaginary oppressor were long over—until today, there was an enemy far worse to defeat. In his earliest twitchings of life, he’d escaped that Tyrant only by a lucky break. Now, though… he’d beaten her at last.
Well, he’d helped.
“It’s pretty exciting,” Fairy Ring said, many hours of celebrating later. “But we shouldn’t be getting too crazy. Just because this is the first one doesn’t mean it will be the last. There’s more work to do.”
Entry Vector shrugged his wings impassively. “Even if we are just stockpiling most of the power, this thing still runs… as long as the sun, right? Billions and billions of years. That sounds like we won to me.”
His old friend only groaned. “Whatever, Vector. If it makes you happy to think that way, you go right ahead.”
And he would. Entry Vector might not change his mind very quickly, but that didn’t matter anymore. Thanks to their hard work, time was one thing everypony had in abundance.