//------------------------------//
// Covenant of the Ark 
// Story: The Unexpected Adventures of Trixie and Sunset 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

The Ark’s security alarm began to ring as soon as the grinding noise began. None of the passengers noticed. They hadn’t really noticed much of anything for the past millennium or two. The staff noticed, but they could scarcely go and look for themselves. But deep inside the belly of the ship, a pair of golden eyes flicked open. In front of them, a screen fizzled into life, showing the blue box where there had been no blue box before. The doors opened, and the golden-eyed creature smiled. 
She only hoped that these two would put up a good fight. She hadn’t had a good chase in ages. Her body creaked to life, showers of dust sloughing off her back and sides as she rose to all fours. Stiff, but quickly limbering, the sphinx went off in pursuit of her prey.


***

“Whoa,” Trixie said. Her voice echoed around the massive metal box. “Hello!” she yelled.
Ello ello ello ello llo llo lo lo o…
She turned to Sunset, grinning like an idiot. Sunset fought the urge to laugh. She was just so earnest. “Well?” Trixie asked. “Where are we this time?”
“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “The TARDIS didn’t name a planet. But the time readout says we’re before the first record of written language in Equestria.”
“By how long?”
Sunset started trotting. “About fifty-seven centuries, and nearly six lightyears away from home.”
Trixie fell into step at her side. “So this place was built…”
“Probably before the first camel civilization, maybe a little after the zebras started up, and that’s a conservative guess. Maybe older even than that.”
“Wow,” Trixie said.
Sunset chuckled. “Yeah, ‘wow’. By our time, this wouldn’t even be rust. It’d be dust!”
“Just dust, or rust dust?”
“Who knows?” Sunset said, grinning. “Well. Us, maybe, if we ever land there.”
Trixie looked around her, staring up at the high walls. “What do you think this even is?”
Sunset shrugged. “A factory, maybe? Or, uh, an electric… magic… power… plant.”
Trixie snorted. “What kind of plants are made of metal, Sunset? Jeez. If you don’t know, just tell Trixie so.”
Sunset rolled her eyes, but she kept smiling. “I’m only guessing. Here, there’s writing on the walls. If I light up a little more, maybe we can read it.”
Trixie stared at the wall as Sunset’s mane started to glow brighter and brighter, until the light reflected off the wall in licks and swirls. She squinted. “Those are not words. They seem to be pictures.”
“Hieroglyphs,” Sunset said, staring up at them. “Not completely surprising, I guess. Lots of cultures used them even on Equestria, so I’m hardly surprised that aliens would, too.”
She paused. “Although it’s odd…”
“What?”
“This looks a lot like Cameltek ‘glyphs,” Sunset said. “I recognize almost all of them, except for this one here and a couple others.”
She tapped the wall for emphasis. The symbol she touched began to glow. She stared as the whole wall began to light up. She and Trixie backed away. “Well, that escalated quickly,” Trixie said.
Sunset glanced over at her. “You know, with the whole distance in space and time thing, and now this, I would’ve thought you’d be more freaked out.”
“Meh. Trixie was kind of expecting it at this point.”
And then the screen flickered into life above them. Trixie yelped and jumped into Sunset’s waiting hooves.
“Welcome,” a warm female voice said. Sunset thought it sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Your trip is over, and your voyage is just beginning. As our old world falls away beneath us, we, the management, ask you to look forth. Look to the sky, our means of conveyance. Look to the planets, our fellow wanderers through the crystal heavens. Look to the future. Our ultimate destination. Welcome, travelers, to the Ark.”
The voice fell silent for a long moment as the gentle pan-pipes that had been playing in the background took over. Pictures of glass sarcophagi faded in and out of view.
“What is this place?” Trixie asked, hushed.
Sunset set her down. “If I understand her right, this must be some kind of colony ship,” she said, staring up at the screen.
“Some kind of what?”
“Sorry. Sci-fi idea. A whole civilization’s planet is wrecked for whatever reason, so they get in a spaceship and fly away. Of course, since habitable planets are few and far between and space travel takes forever to get anywhere, the passengers freeze themselves.” She waved at the glass pods onscreen. “I bet you those are the suspended animation coffins,” she said.
Trixie stared at Sunset, wide-eyed. “Trixie is on… a spaceship?”
“I think so, yeah.”
Trixie’s jaw fell open, and she struggled for words. Her mouth flopped like a wet fish. Sunset laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild,” she agreed. “First spaceship. Huh. Wish I’d brought a camera or something.”
Trixie nodded enthusiastically. “Trixie bets there will be one in the TARDIS!”
“Oh, good idea. Let’s go and look,” Sunset said, turning back to the blue box.
She froze in her tracks. “Erk.”
Trixie spun around. “What? What is wrong--” The color ran out of her face.
Sitting right behind the TARDIS, one paw on either side of the ship, was a massive sphinx, her coat the color of mulberries and her eyes like gold. “Hello, little morsels,” she purred. “According to the ship, you’re in breach of security protocols seven-point-three, twenty-eight-point-ought-seven, and forty-five. Now, I was never one for memorizing the rulebook, so I’ll put that in easier terms to grasp. Give me a reason why you should be here in the next ten seconds, or I’ll eat you.”
Trixie squeaked. Sunset thought fast. Could she overpower the sphinx? Maybe she could burn it, but it would definitely eat them both before it was fried crispy. Teleport? She would bet that the creature knew the ship better than she did. That voice she’d heard earlier. Where was it from? The sphinx, the glyphs, the voice, they all ran together in her mind…”
“Three… two…” the Sphinx said, resting her house-sized head on a paw lazily.
“I AM RA!” Sunset screamed.
The Sphinx stopped, her mouth forming a moue of shock. “Identifying,” she murmured. “Hm. Your aspect is known, as is that of your associate.”
“As your queen,” Sunset said, her heart racing, “I certainly would hope so.”
“Not so fast,” the Sphinx said, eyes narrowing. “While there certainly is evidence to support your claim, I need stronger proof than that.”
Sunset swallowed. “Effrontry!” she managed to protest.
“Protocol, yer Maj,” the Sphinx snapped. “If you’d bothered to come around once or twice in the last few centuries, you might’ve known that. What’s your password?”
Sunset bit her tongue. “Uh... Ra1234!”
The Sphinx leaned in close, showing off her sharp teeth. “Incorrect. You have two more guesses. Would you like to access your hint?”
“Yes, please,” Sunset said, grateful.
The Sphinx sat back. “Very well. What makes one man blind, and another man see, makes one building strong and tears another down?”
Sunset stared. “Um…” she said. “Excuse me a moment, won’t you?”
“Take all the time you need,” the Sphinx said lazily. “Gods have nothing but, so I’m told, and neither do I.”
Sunset turned to Trixie. “Okay, I’m not good at riddles.”
“And you think Trixie is?” Trixie asked, incredulous.
“I was hoping, yeah!”
Trixie rolled her eyes and thought. “One man blind… another see… makes buildings strong and tears them down…” She scratched her head. “Um, time?”
“How do you figure?”
“It’s always time,” Trixie said. “And it takes time to build buildings, and it takes time to wear them down. When you get older you go blind. It works, right?”
Sunset hesitated, then turned. “Time!” she yelled.
The Sphinx raised a brow. “Incorrect,” she growled. “One more chance, ‘Ra’, and then it’s lunchtime.”
Sunset turned back to Trixie. “Okay, you stink at riddles!”
“Yeah, Trixie knows!”
Sunset rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Okay, okay. What makes ponies blind, other than getting old?”
Trixie thought. “Uh, darkness. And darkness can help ponies see, like sunglasses.”
“But it doesn’t have anything to do with buildings!”
“Oh.” Trixie thought. “Maybe the buildings are a red herring.”
“It’s a riddle! Riddles don’t have red herrings!”
“Uh, fine. Throwing stuff in ponies’ eyes makes them blind. That’s all Trixie has.”
“Okay, what helps them see?”
“Glasses?”
“Good, okay, what makes a strong building?”
“Rock, wood, metal… cement… or concrete. Trixie knows there’s a difference, but she can never remember…”
“What tears them down?”
“Er, natural disasters? Wrecking balls? Zoning committees?”
“I’m getting bored!” the Sphinx warned. “You wouldn’t want to bore me, ladies. It makes me peckish.” She took a swipe at the TARDIS. The box flew across the room, scratch marks gouged into its side.
“Well,” Trixie muttered, once her heart rate had slowed again. “That’s going to be Tartarus to sand out.”
Sunset inhaled sharply. “Sand!” she shouted. “The answer is sand! Sand that you throw in someone’s face to blind them! Sand, which is the main part of glass and concrete! And sandstorms can tear down a building! The password is sand!”
The Sphinx stared at Sunset, unblinking. “Wow,” she said flatly. “I believe that was the most energetically I’ve ever heard someone say the word sand.” A pause. “Correct. You are identified as Ra and the High Priestess of Ra.”
Trixie let out her breath, and Sunset mopped her brow. “You are therefore being arrested on suspicion of murder.”
“OH COME ON!”


***

They were ushered down a large corridor, the Sphinx right behind them. Everywhere Sunset looked, the icy caskets stood. In them, all manner of creatures slept tranquilly; cats, camels, crocodiles, camels, and those were just the ones beginning with ‘c’.
“Jeez,” Trixie said, wrapping her cloak around herself a little tighter. “Trixie feels like she’s walking through a morgue.”
“Guilty conscience?” the Sphinx asked, giving her tail a lazy flick.
“No!” Sunset said sharply. “Look, we literally just arrived here. Who are we even supposed to have killed? Did we accidentally land the TARDIS on a bug? Step on a butterfly? What?”
The Sphinx stopped dead. “You are charged with deicide,” she said shortly. “The death of Sutekh. His son accuses you, and you will be tried by your fellow gods.”
Sunset turned around, all of her anger draining away. “Sutekh? Dead?”
Trixie leaned over. “Which one was he?” she hissed.
“...The bailiff,” Sunset said.
Trixie scratched her chin. “Nope.”
“The only one who wasn’t fighting.”
“Mm, nah.”
Sunset sighed. “He gave me the idea to have you use fireworks.”
Trixie brightened. “Oh, yeah! The one with the weird-looking head!”
Sunset closed her eyes. “Yes, Trixie. The one with the weird-looking head. Eloquently put.”
“Trixie has a better memory for faces than names, fight her.”
The Sphinx cocked her head. “Should that not be, ‘so sue me’?”
“Trixie has no money, but she has hooves and anger. Therefore…”
The Sphinx smiled. “I am glad I have not eaten you yet. You amuse me.”
“Um, yet?” Sunset asked.
“Keep walking, or I will be forced to devour you without trial,” the Sphinx said lightly. “You were right, by the way. His head was funny-looking.”
“Haha! Vindication!” Trixie crowed, trotting onwards. Sunset sighed and began plodding along as well, the Sphinx’s eyes burning a hole in her back.
Down, down through the winding corridors, the Sphinx marched them ever onwards. Trixie glanced back. “Are we there ye--”
Sunset nudged her roughly in the side. “Jeez, okay, okay,” Trixie grumbled, facing front again.
Eventually, the Sphinx called for them to halt. She turned to face an empty stretch of wall, and her eyes flashed like a camera. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, with a horrible grinding, the wall slid open, opening a massive doorway into a dark and cavernous room. Trixie and Sunset stood at the threshold, peering in. The Sphinx rolled her eyes, reached out a paw, and shoved them both in. She slunk in after them, and the door ground closed behind her.


***


It was dark in there. The only light in the entire room was that which Sunset herself gave off, a rich orange glow that illuminated exactly nothing. “I thought we were going to stand trial,” she said. She couldn’t disguise the slight catch in her voice.
“Patience,” the Sphinx replied. “It’s been awhile since the lights in this room were used.”
A few moments later, and the lights flickered on, casting a dim, fluorescent glow around the room. The room was almost completely empty, save for a strange object sitting on a plinth in the center of the room. Sunset looked around. “...Not seeing any gods here,” she said.
The Sphinx sighed. “Let me through,” she grumbled, plodding toward the object, which appeared to be some sort of upside-down fishbowl with lots of colorful little lights inside. “Useless self-maintenance function…”
She carefully extended a single claw and rapped the side of the fishbowl. The lights started blinking quickly. The next thing Sunset knew, the room was full of static.
Trixie cried out in surprise and clung to Sunset’s side. “What is this?”
“Outdated, that’s what it is,” the Sphinx grumbled. She glared around the room. “Someday, my programming will glitch, and then where are you going to be, hey?”
“Your programming?” Trixie echoed.
The Sphinx grinned coyly and lifted her nemes just a little. Underneath the headdress, the two mares saw lights and wires and circuitry. “Impressive,” Sunset managed. “Artificial intelligence. I suppose that explains a thing or two.”
“You didn’t guess?”
Sunset shook her head. “Beautiful,” she murmured. Trixie stiffened at her side. “I’ve never seen anything so complex,” Sunset continued quickly. “Clearly, there has been much technological innovation since I was here last.”
“Well, it has been only three thousand years,” the Sphinx said drolly, letting the syllables roll around her mouth like marbles. “Of course,” she added, glancing around at the static that still filled the room, “it’s hardly perfect. Give it a whack, why don’t you? You’re less likely to shatter the thing than I am.”
Sunset eyed the device. “Some form of projector, I take it.”
“If you like,” the Sphinx purred. “Though that’s only con-jector.”
Sunset glanced back. “If you think that pun was actually funny, then I’m sorry to say that you’re breaking down faster than you thought.”
The Sphinx scowled. “Just give it a thump before I thump you.”
“Touchy.” Sunset smacked the fishbowl right over the top. The static cleared. The three of them were left standing in a room, much different than the one they had entered.
Gods lined the walls, a vast peanut gallery of regal animalian figures all staring from above. Horus the falcon sat polishing a spear. The ibis, Thoth, was dictating to Babi the baboon at a typewriter. The aquatic Nephthys sat clad in red, tears running over her cheeks. With a pang, Sunset remembered that she had been Sutekh’s wife.
At the front of the crowd, Anubis stood, a cloak wrapped around his well-muscled body like a funeral shroud. Or a flasher’s overcoat, Sunset thought as he leaned over the balcony, his knuckles white as they gripped the edge. “Ra,” he growled.
“Anubis,” Sunset said coldly.
“Trixie!” Trixie shouted.
Sunset glared at her. “Not the time.”
“Fine…”
“Ra,” Anubis repeated, just as venomous as before.
“Anubis,” Sunset said in a more normal voice.
“Sphinx!”
Everyone looked at the sphinx. “I felt left out,” she said, arching her back before slinking over to a bright spot at the back of the room.
“Typical,” Anubis sighed. “You can never tell a cat to do anything.”
Suddenly he realized all eyes were on him. He straightened quickly. “Ra!” he said, though it was obvious that his heart wasn’t in it now.
“Yes, yes, what?”
“You stand accused of the murder of Sutekh, my father, who was brutally burned to dust and bone by a ray of your celestial light eight hundred years ago. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty,” Sunset said. “I haven’t seen any of you since I settled that dispute about the Omphalos.”
“Belly button,” Trixie muttered before breaking into giggles.
Sunset poked her in the side and shook her head. Now was not the time. Sutekh was dead. She had liked Sutekh.
“Lies!” Anubis roared. “None but you could have done this, Ra! My father was burnt alive by a fire that lanced from the sun as it flew past! Only you could have done this!”
“Oh, really?” Sunset demanded, her wings growing steadily brighter. “How do you know all that, Anubis? I guess you were right there when your father was roasted? I know you two got along so well!”
Anubis flinched, and shocked murmurs spread through the crowd. The god recovered quickly and leaned over the parapet. “You accuse me of patricide?” he demanded.
“I never said anything of the sort!” Sunset retorted. “Though you seemed perfectly happy to dish out your accusations on me. How did you know how your father died, Anubis?”
“He told me himself!” Anubis thundered, throwing wide his cloak. Sunset flinched and Trixie squealed. Fortunately, Anubis was wearing a skirt. Less fortunately, he was wearing a necklace of bones. The oddly-shaped skull in the center made it obvious to whom those bones had once belonged.
“Sutekh,” Sunset breathed, mesmerized.
Trixie was somewhat less reserved in her reaction. “You’ve been wearing that since he died?” she demanded.
“There wasn’t enough left to mummify!” Anubis said sharply. “This was the best way I could think of to honor his passing!”
“Okay,” Sunset said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. “So you’re wearing your dad’s bones. That-- I’m pretty sure that’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen, but hey. I’m not here to judge. I’m here to be judged, apparently. I don’t suppose I get a defense attorney at all?”
“Right here,” said the voice from the big-screen advertisement.
Sunset spun around. A large purple cat with a three-tipped tail and bright green eyes stood in the middle of the floor. She had abandoned her jewelry in favor of a conservative blue suit, red power tie, and a tan leather suitcase.
“Ba’ast?”
The cat flashed her a kilowatt smile. “My Queen.”
Sunset blushed a little under the cat’s gaze. “You are my defense, then?”
“I am.”
Sunset leaned in. “Are you… trained in law?”
“As much as dogsbreath up there is, yes!”
“Oh. That’s… reassuring.”
“Let the trial commence!” Anubis ordered.
“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sunset said, glancing around. “Who’s the judge?”
Anubis gave a predatory smile. “Me.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re already convinced I did it, no way you’ll be impartial!”
“Oh, I don’t need to be,” Anubis said. “Not if you hold… the Feather.”
“The feather?”
“The Feather.”
“The feather… of the gods?”
“The God Feather.”
“Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”
Trixie groaned and put her face in her hooves. “Trixie thought you wanted to be serious.”
“Yeah, okay, okay,” Sunset conceded. “The feather…” her mind raced as she scrabbled for any memory of studying mythology. Winged serpents? That was Tenochtitlan. Certain tribes of buffalo believed that fallen feathers carried on the energy of the bird it had once been attached to. Daedalus and Icarus escaped an island with wings bound with wax. But she couldn’t think of anything related to the situation at hand.
“So, what is this feather?” Trixie asked.
Sunset let out a faint huff of relief. Ba’ast turned to her. “My queen? Would you care to explain to your high priestess the nature of the trial?”
Rut-rut-rut-rut-rut. “No, no,” Sunset said. “Anubis may do it. I should hate to take away from his moment of glory.”
A muffled ‘ooh’ ran through the peanut gallery. Sunset restrained herself from making a rude gesture with her wing. Anubis looked at Trixie with contempt, but explained. “The Feather of Truth is a gift from the great Ma’at, the ancestral force of order. No being may hold it and lie, else they will perish in terrible agony.”
“And given that I have nothing to hide, I don’t have anything to fear,” Sunset said, meeting his gaze and holding it.
“Then you will submit to this test?” Anubis challenged.
Sunset waited until the jackal broke his gaze. “Bring. It. On.”


***

There was some difficulty getting the feather, as all the gods’ consciousnesses existed only as holograms while their bodies were frozen with the rest of the passengers. They couldn’t really touch anything, so it was left to the Sphinx to go and bring it out of storage. She returned some several minutes later, a peacock feather held delicately in her lips. “What kept you?” Anubis demanded. “Justice does not wait!”
The Sphinx lowered her head and let the feather flutter to the floor. “Listen, if you want me to be your errand-girl, you might have considered making the artifact room a little easier to access for someone the size of a house, you get me?”
Anubis flushed. “Insolent machine. I expected nothing less, given who created you.”
Ba’ast coughed. “Uh, standing right here.”
“What possessed you to give your automaton such an attitude?” Anubis demanded.
“I didn’t. Free will is part of the artificial intelligence program. She chooses how she wants to behave.”
“Free will. Pah.”
The Sphinx smirked. “If we’re all quite ready to get on with the trial?” she said.
Anubis flushed, and waved for Sunset to pick up the feather. She moved to do so, but Trixie grabbed her hoof. A gasp went through the crowd. “Strike her down,” one rumbled.
“She touches the queen!”
Sunset glared at them. “She has my permission to touch me,” she said grandly. “As my oldest, most faithful lieutenant--” she caught a glimpse of several angry faces. “--who happens to be mortal,” she corrected quickly. “Harm her at your peril.”
The disconsolate mutters died away slowly. Sunset scowled at Trixie. “What was that for?” she hissed.
Trixie shook her head. “Don’t do it,” she hissed. “Trixie does not trust this dog!”
“I already said I’d do it. I can’t back down now, this is probably the only way to prove I’m telling the truth.”
“New Bus--”
“Anubis.”
“Whatever. Jojo the Dog-Boy up there is plotting something, Trixie can tell.”
Sunset took a deep breath and let it out in a long nicker. “Probably,” she admitted. “But I don’t really have a choice. And if I say run…”
“Book it.”
“Yeah.” Sunset slipped her the key to the TARDIS. “Don’t wait for me until you’re inside. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, look, I can burst into flames and teleport. I’m good, I’m telling you. Get to the TARDIS, give me maybe ten minutes, then take off.”
“Trixie is not going to abandon you!”
“Queen Ra,” Anubis called. “The Feather, if you would be so good.”
Sunset smiled, tight-lipped. “You won’t have to.” She pulled her hoof from Trixie’s grip, then picked up the feather.
She looked up at Anubis. “Ready.”
"You must swear the oath. Take the feather in your left, er, hoof, raise your right, and repeat after me."
Sunset did as she was bade.
Anubis looked at her. "I swear to answer truthfully all questions asked of me."
"I swear to answer truthfully all questions asked of me."
"I swear to omit no detail, hide no truth, speak no falsehood."
"I swear to omit no detail, hide no truth, speak no falsehood."
"I swear to hold the symbol of Ma'at until the court dismisses me."
"I swear to hold the symbol of Ma'at until the court dismisses me." 
"Then the covenant is made. You may be seated."
Sunset glanced around the empty room. "Where?"
That threw him. He looked at the Sphinx, and received only the stink-eye in return. "Only the floor is available, I fear."
Sunset grunted and sat down, making sure to keep her tail between herself and the cold, hard, metal floor.
Anubis cleared his throat. “Did you kill my father?”
“No,” Sunset said.
There was a rather anticlimactic moment after that. The court seemed to deflate. Anubis, however, looked totally unfazed. “Do you know who killed my father?”
“No.”
“Do you know why my father was killed?”
“No!” Sunset said, growing frustrated. “I am saddened to hear of Sutekh’s death. He was a good lieutenant, and a good fighter. But I am not responsible for his death, nor was I connected to it in any way. I would appreciate it if we could end this charade of a trial now so my High Priestess and I can return to our travels.”
She attempted to throw down the feather. However, she found that it was stuck to her hoof, as though magnetically. “I’m not finished yet,” Anubis said, his voice as smooth and cold as cream. “You did not kill my father. But my father told me with his final breath that Ra was the one responsible. I must ask, therefore-- are you Ra?”
Sunset froze. Trixie let out a squeak of absolute horror. The room seemed to shrink as all around, gods leaned in, each one sucking in their breath.
Her mind buzzed. Trixie had been right. Of course she had been right, she knew every trick in the book. Probably literally. Focus, Sunset. She couldn’t lie, or she’d die. She couldn’t tell the truth, or she’d also probably die. What did that leave her? Her eyes fell on Trixie.
“I am a goddess,” she said slowly, “though perhaps not the one you were expecting.”
A low buzz ran through the crowd. Anubis scowled. “Explain!” he demanded.
“I am not the Ra you once knew,” Sunset said. “That Ra is long gone.”
The feather was painfully warm against her hoof, but Sunset reminded it very forcibly that Ra had left a very long time ago, and her statement was therefore completely true. This was the first time she’d felt hot since her ascension. Every word needed to be perfect.
“I was the student of the Sun-Raiser,” Sunset said. “I was as a daughter, then, taken under the wing of a powerful and wise elder deity. But one day--” she paused to swallow a lump in her throat. “One day, my tutor fell. I-- She-- The great faith that had been placed in her was lost. For a long, long time, I was lost, too. For a time, I became dangerous, dark, cold. I was desperate for belief, for followers. For power.”
The silence was thick and cloying, like mustard. Sunset blinked back tears. “Only… quite recently, in the grand scheme of things… was I able to fully reconcile with my loss. It took a great deal of effort. Pain. Growth. But in the end, I was able to ascend beyond my loss.
“I took the name ‘Ra’ as a convenience,” she said. “I felt certain that the original wouldn’t return to challenge me over it. So, no. I am not the Ra that you were expecting. But I am Ra.”
The Sphinx identified me, I’m in the database, I’m recognized as Ra, c’mon feather work with me work with me work with me…
There was a short, sizzling sensation, and it took all of Sunset’s will not to flinch. But then, the murmur went around the crowd. “Ra. Ra. Ra! Ra! RA! RA! RA!”
The feather went from skin-charring to uncomfortable to pleasantly warming. Sunset let out a long, shaky breath and gazed up at the open-mouthed Anubis. “Any other questions?”
He closed his mouth with a snap and glanced around the room. His shoulders bowed and he shook his head. The feather lost all its heat in a flash of blue light, then fluttered to the floor. “Good,” Sunset said. “Because I have a few questions of my own.” In a flash, she had picked up the feather and was marching it over to the Sphinx.
“What are you doing?” Anubis demanded.
“There’s still a murderer at large,” Sunset said shortly. “It may have been a long time since it happened, but over the lifespan of a god? Eh. They could strike again at any time.”
“And justice should never be left undone!” a hippo bellowed, rising to her feet.
“Exactly! Thank you…”
“Thouris.”
“Very good. Ba’ast, you built the Sphinx, didn’t you?”
The purple cat raised a brow. “Yes. Do you suspect me? Or her?”
“Not of murder,” Sunset said, rather cryptically.
“What, then?” Ba’ast challenged, taking a step forward. Trixie blocked her path. 
“Back off,” she ordered, glaring into the goddess’ eyes. “Trixie has a long memory, you know. She remembers your little stunt with the ribbon.”
“Then you know full well I could strike you down.”
Sunset paused. “Trixie, don’t pick fights,” she warned. “Ba’ast, I’m not accusing you or Sphinxy here of anything.”
“Then what is it you want of me, my lady?” the Sphinx asked, lying down to get closer to Sunset’s eye-level.
“Simple. I need a witness. Not a dying breath, not a mausoleum on a piece of string, a witness.” Ignoring Anubis’s squawk of protest, Sunset held out the feather. “Ba’ast, the Sphinx is your security guard, the monitor and enforcer of law all across the ship, correct?”
“I can answer for myself,” the Sphinx said, a note of irritation entering her tone. “And yes, I certainly am.”
“Then take the feather and repeat after me,” Sunset said, meeting the Sphinx’s eye-- she would have met both eyes if she could, but they were too far apart. "I swear to answer truthfully all questions asked of me."
The Sphinx extended her right paw and let Sunset lay the feather there. She did so gratefully-- the damned thing was starting to heat up again."I swear,” the Sphinx said solemnly, “to answer truthfully all questions asked of me."
"I swear to omit no detail, hide no truth, speak no falsehood."
"I swear to omit no detail, hide no truth, speak no falsehood."
"I swear to hold the symbol of Ma'at until the court dismisses me."
"I swear to hold the symbol of Ma'at until the court dismisses me."
"Then the covenant is sealed.”
“Aren’t you going to bid me to be seated?”
“You kinda already are.”
The sphinx yawned. “True enough,” she agreed. “Now, ask away, Queen Ra, before my desire to nap overwhelms me.”
“Insolence!” Anubis snapped.
Everyone on the court floor rolled their eyes simultaneously. So did more than a few observers.
“First question,” Sunset said. “Do you have access to all the security footage on the ship?”
“Certainly I do. I wouldn’t be much of a security force without it, would I?”
“Do you have footage of Sutekh’s death?”
The Sphinx considered. “Give me a moment,” she said, rising to her paws. She stared blankly at a wall. There was a groaning sound. A panel pulled back into the flat, matte metal wall and slid away, revealing a screen the size of a ping-pong table.
“Stop,” Anubis ordered.
“Why? Sunset demanded. “Do you have something to hide?”
For once, he didn’t rise to the bait. “Are you telling me,” he growled, “that there has been evidence that has been withheld for eight hundred years? That there was footage all along, and I wasn’t told?”
“Yes you were,” Ba’ast said. “Then you said it wasn’t necessary because you witnessed the whole thing and knew who killed Sutekh, so it would only be a waste of time. You literally refused to have it viewed.”
“I--” Anubis stopped. “Oh.”
“Oh, indeed,” Trixie gloated. “Oh, the tables have turned now! Oh what a hash you’ve made of this one! Oh well, your reputation was never great to begin with!”
Anubis turned to face her, snarling. “Trixie!” Sunset said. “Stop baiting the gods!”
“Trixie is only baiting one god, and everyone knows he deserves it.”
“HOW DARE--”
“She’s right.”
“He kinda does.”
“What a tool.”
Anubis flushed, but at that moment, the screen lit up. Sutekh stood, facing away from the camera. His hands were buried deep in a pile of wires. The camera bathed the whole scene a sickly green.
“What was he doing there?” Sunset wondered. “Why wasn’t he with all of you?”
“We didn’t freeze our bodies immediately,” Ba’ast explained. “We wanted to see the heavens as we flew through them. Besides, there were still a few problems left to fix.”
“Problems?”
“We had to leave our world in something of a hurry. There was a disaster. Fortunately, thanks to your own good judgement, we had been working toward this ship for centuries. Unfortunately, it still had its problems…”
“Such as?”
Ba’ast nodded to the screen. “Power supply, mainly. As I’m sure you can guess, a meltdown here would not end well.”
“Hm.”
Sutekh drew back from the wall. His face could be plainly seen now. A river of sweat was pouring down his face. He pulled out a small device. It was flashing.
“What is that?” Sunset asked.
Ba’ast’s face was ashen. “A power detector,” she whispered. “The cameras are never normally this green, I should have known…”
Trixie gave Sunset a sidelong glance. “Do you know what she’s talking about?” she muttered.
“I’ve got a nasty idea that I do, yes,” Sunset said. “Sphinx! What powers this ship?”
“The glowing rocks, of course.”
Onscreen, Sutekh threw the device to the floor. It smashed into a thousand pieces. He stood there for a long moment, struggling to catch his breath. Then he raised his arms. The green glow of the screen faded. The god staggered, fell to his knees, retching. Then he lay still, his skin shining red as a cherry and covered in blisters and lesions.
The door burst open and Anubis ran in. He saw his father lying there and fell to his knees at his side. Sutekh said something indistinct. Then his head lolled and he said no more.
The court was silent. Then Sunset turned to face Anubis. “Your father did not say Ra,” she said. “He tried to say ‘radioactivity’.”
She turned and trotted out the door. She didn’t look back. “Sphinx, you are released from your oath,” she said.
The feather fluttered off her paw, blowing in the wind coming off the slammed door.


***


“Sunset…”
“I liked Sutekh,” Sunset whispered.
They had returned to the TARDIS. Sunset had shoved some levers as soon as Trixie had closed the doors, and they were even now hurtling through time.
Trixie wasn’t really worried about where they were going. She was only worried about Sunset. “Trixie… is still not clear on what happened.”
“No. No, I guess you wouldn’t be. The fuel source for that station was fatal in large doses. There must have been a massive leak to affect him so quickly. He absorbed it, somehow, to save every other living thing on that ship. That’s what killed him.”
“Oh.” Trixie was silent for a long moment. “So… he died a hero. And you are the one who showed them that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sunset made a noise that was half sob, half chuckle. “What am I crying for? He’s been dead eight hundred years. Hell, if I ever figure out how to fly this thing, we could go back and see him again, and again, and again. It’s like flipping back through a book, but now I know the ending.”
Trixie didn’t know what she could say to that. Privately, she wondered if the Doctor ever felt like this. Or if he ever felt anything else. She sat down beside Sunset and put an arm around her shoulders. After a moment’s hesitation, Sunset leaned on her. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You’re a great friend.”
“Of course. Trixie is great at everything.” She froze, horrified at herself.
Sunset just chuckled. “Yeah. I guess you are.” She nuzzled a little closer and Trixie’s heart skipped several beats.


***


The courtroom had cleared out. The other gods had gone back to their holographic entertainments, or back to sleep in their own bodies, or off to check on the functioning of the ship. It seemed more urgent now, for some reason. Only Anubis was left. The doors slid open.
“Are you still here?”
Anubis ground his teeth. “Obviously.”
There was a tutting sound. The lights flickered on. Ba’ast stepped away from the switch. “Are you still sulking?” she asked. “Your father died a hero.”
Anubis clenched his fist. “Yes.”
Ba’ast gave a long, low sigh. “Are you going to give him a decent ceremony now? That is sort of your job, after all.”
Anubis gave a short, humorless bark of a laugh. “Decent? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
She stayed silent, gazing at him, waiting for him to go on.
“I cannot lay him to rest,” Anubis said at last. “Where would I make his tomb? Somewhere in this hollow shade of a heaven?”
“We’ll make planetfall in only another hundred and eighty-five years,” Ba’ast reasoned.
“Put my father’s bones to rest on a foreign world? Never.”
“Then where?”
“Here. With me. Forever.”
Ba’ast opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Ra did not kill my father, Ba’ast. But my vengeance will not sleep. It was you who made this ship, you who made us leave our world.”
The cat stepped back in shock. “We would have died had we stayed! All of us would have met our doom, your father included.”
“You are the one to blame,” Anubis said, not reacting to her words. “Miserable cat, I will fight you to the ends of the new world and beyond for my vengeance.”
Ba’ast forced a laugh. “You must be joking.”
Anubis raised a paw. The royal blue of the Feather of Ma’at shone in the light.
The cat went pale. “One hundred and eighty-five years,” Anubis said. “I will count the days.” He marched out of the room, flipping the light switch behind him, leaving Ba’ast in darkness.