//------------------------------// // Part 2: The Florist // Story: Message in a Bottle // by Starscribe //------------------------------// “I’m sorry…” Sarah said, taking several deep breaths. Her eyes wandered to the nearest window, and she permitted herself a little open-mouthed gawking. Out at the exterior of the Inanna from far closer. Close enough to read the various signs and insignia painted everywhere, and see the many little flashing lights. It was an impressive ship from any distance, but from this one, she couldn’t help but think it was something meant to hold not just one crew, but an entire civilization. They passed a docking bay so large that the Emperor’s Soul could’ve parked inside, and there still would’ve been plenty of space for a few service rockets. “I think you need to run that one by me again,” Sarah said, turning back to face Ocellus. “When you say… who I think you said.” “Princess Celestia,” James said helpfully, seeming to enjoy Sarah’s fearful, uncertain expression. “That’s what she said.” “Yes,” Ocellus agreed. She turned to James. Maybe there was something she was missing here. “Princess Celestia is the one who…” “Who tried to exterminate the colony? Who murdered a few members of the fourth generation? Yes. Same one.” “That’s what I thought.” There was a little more rumbling as jets or something attached to their mover navigated them back towards an open docking port. They mated with it with a click, then passed through some gaskets and openings and into an airlock. The glass shield around their occupied area began to retract as they settled back into the ship. But they weren’t in a main thoroughfare this time. Instead they were surrounded by plants, something Sarah recognized instantly as an arcology. It reminded her of the many possible designs she’d seen for generation ships—huge, round fields that were also parks, growing as much food as possible in the smallest amount of space. There were very few changelings in here, just a few drones moving trays around. There were far fewer robots than she might’ve expected—fewer than Forerunner used to do this job, that was for sure. The track was headed down. Their ride would soon be over. “So… maybe we shouldn’t see her? If she’s, like… the worst enemy that the Pioneering Society ever had… maybe we should find someone else to teach us how to escape? There’s got to be someone, right? Someone who can…” She gestured vaguely with a changeling wing at the same moment they thumped onto the ground. An automated station here had no one waiting for it, and only a single button to summon a car. They stepped out, and their own cart slid back up the tracks and out of sight. Sarah couldn’t help but feel that she was being abandoned in hostile territory. “I’m not excited about it either,” Ocellus said. “But you want a shortcut… I agree, we need one. We aren’t going to find one any other way. She’s the only pony I can think of who just respawned whenever she wanted to. She has the secret.” “I’m more curious about what she would be doing here.” James wandered forward, lowering his head to sniff at some bright green and blue flowers in a raised pot. They looked genetically engineered, and the candy smell that emanated from them only confirmed that suspicion. “She was your enemy too. Her being dead was the best part of the news we brought you.” “I think…” Ocellus watched the cart go. “I think we might be thinking of ‘enemy’ in different terms than you do. Her goals were opposed. She killed us, sometimes. But that’s true for each other too. But she lost in the end… and then she came here. Do you have any idea what that means?” As she asked, there was a slight rumbling in the ship all around them, and the light-bar overhead switched from a plain white to an afternoon orange. A voice in a language Sarah had heard only once before informed them that they would begin relativistic acceleration in 48-hours, so they needed to prepare to assume duty station. We’ll be long gone by then. Whatever game of Star Trek the changelings were playing in here, she didn’t want to be part of it any more than she’d wanted to play pretend anthropologist with James. At least the fair wasn’t that bad. “I have no idea what that means,” Sarah said. “You could explain it for us. We’re listening.” Ocellus made a frustrated, insectoid squeaking sound. “All this time you spent with us… honestly. It means she’s accepted our point of view! You don’t come to live with your enemy, you come to live with them when you want to change your ways, learn theirs. There are whole kingdoms of dead Equestrians in here. She could’ve lived in any of them, and ruled without opposition. But she ran away. Went to the one place where we wouldn’t treat her like a royal. And buzz if we didn’t give her the worst job we could.” Ocellus gestured down a gravel path through the high grass, one just wide enough for them to walk in single file. “It’s this way. I haven’t talked to her… didn’t really have a reason. But I know she’s here.” Sarah was in no hurry to set off, but the others were already walking and she couldn’t get left behind. Her wings buzzed in agitation, and she hurried along behind them. “Great. You made her a garbage collector. That’s going to make it pretty shit to get useful information out of her.” She didn’t really understand the intricacies of their conflict with the pony, and she didn’t really care either. All that mattered was that Celestia would share the information they needed. There’s a chance that going down here is going to piss her off and she’ll want to go back to the surface and screw with us. But considering what was happening to Equestria, maybe she would focus on something else. Their little colony was hardly the most dangerous thing to ponies anymore. “If she was collecting garbage, why would we be in the garden?” James asked. “Oh, right.” Sarah made a few squeaks on instinct—but her unseen sense wasn’t working anymore. Maybe it was biological. Hadn’t she been able to do it in the maze? “So why do you do any work at all? None of this is real, right? You could all be in some… beach resort. Getting a tan. This ship isn’t here. There’s no space to explore. No colonies to found.” “That depends on your perspective,” Ocellus said. “Harmony does not allow new minds to be created in physical space. They can’t be instanced downstream… at least not in Quarantine.” But there was something feeble in her voice, something eager. She didn’t linger on it. “Anyway, we’ve been able to create them here. To found… whole colonies of new changelings.” She gestured at the towering, interleaved garden terraces. “That’s what the Inanna was originally designed for. Fly for a few subjective weeks, spend a few decades or so helping to found a new colony, then… fly off to make the next one. If it hadn’t been for the end of the universe, who knows how far we might’ve gotten.” “At least fifty-thousand light years,” James said. “That’s how far we are from home.” Ocellus made an impassive squeak. “Well… that’s it right there.” She pointed with a wing at an archway made of leaves and vines, with little butterflies and other insects passing around them. “I’m sure she’s in there. We can… ask her whatever we want to know.” “Well…” Sarah took one last, deep breath, steadying herself. But even if this pony was the greatest enemy of the Pioneering Society, she wasn’t anymore. She’d lost, and never hurt Sarah personally. She could ignore a bad reputation to ask a few questions. “Alright, let’s do it. James, none of…” Her wings buzzed in her discomfort. They lacked the joints she would’ve used for a more complex gesture, or very much sensitivity. They felt stronger than they looked, but that didn’t mean they were as useful. Whatever, won’t have to worry about it for much longer. Sarah stepped through into the opening, trailing her friends on either side. She could smell the plants the instant she passed through the archway. The air was thick with natural perfume, as well as the musty clippings of recently trimmed plants. But the room itself was clean, more like a robotics workshop than a landscaping shed. All polished metal surfaces and tools hanging neatly on racks, with a sliding rail that looked like it could accommodate exactly one of the trays they’d seen before. That took up most of the center of the room, with an opening to one side probably meant for waste. A pony had her back to them. Her coat was solid black, her wings clear but refracting the light of bright spotlights into a rainbow all over the floor. A little bowl filled with flowers occupied the space in front of her, and with her horn she trimmed and cropped gently at them with a set of clippers, pruning the bright blue flowers. Every stroke seemed carefully calculated. She was taller than almost any other changeling Sarah had met so far—as tall as King Thorax out in the real world. But she was a changeling, no different than the many others she’d met. She didn’t turn around. “Whoever you are, I can’t take requests this close to departure. You’ll have to lodge your order with the system and wait until we’ve reached cruising speed.” “We didn’t come to see the florist,” Sarah said, stopping well outside the reach of those sheers. Well, she thought it was. As she considered, that very concept seemed pretty stupid. Unicorns could extend their magical influence far further than the distance arms could cover. “Well then.” The changeling working didn’t turn around. Her voice was strangely musical in the office, more than most changelings. Even speaking simple sentences seemed like a song. “I will try and help you if I can, visitors. Why are you here?” “For some advice,” Sarah said. “We’re trying to find our way back to the real world.” Celestia said nothing for a few seconds, snipping away with her clippers. “You know the way,” she eventually said. “The method you used is methodical and repeatable, and it even bypasses the need to grow up again. I’m the wrong one to ask.” “I’m… not a changeling,” Sarah said. “Well, I guess I am currently. But so are you… currently. I’m thinking of the way out, the real one. My friend Ocellus tells me that you used to be able to pop back and forth between here and the real world whenever you wanted.” Again Celestia didn’t speak for a long time. She settled the shears back onto the table in front of her, then made a satisfied cooing sound. She spun around on her rotating stool, levitating the bowl of flowers with her. They were perfect—exactly symmetrical, little lines of green practically glowing with health as they outlined the blue. She settled it down onto the central bench, where the bowl settled in beside many other plants, each of which was only magically different from many others. “You’re asking for an Alicorn’s knowledge,” Celestia said, meeting her eyes. “And I see it… won’t be a problem for you. But that means you didn’t need to ask me. Harmony must answer all your questions. It cannot obscure the truth, or lie to you, or attempt to manipulate you. Or… so wrote the ancients. But they weren’t as smart as Harmony. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that they are Harmony now, collectively. Just as we are.” “I have no idea what that means,” Sarah said. “But Harmony hasn’t been terribly helpful with me so far. It’s tried to manipulate me a few times.” And each time is better than the last. A few more and it would’ve got me to stay somewhere for sure. “Look, I just want the password. I don’t want to get involved in what brought you down here, or why you’re avoiding the surface. Your reasons, your problems, whatever. But there are people in the real world who need us, so we need to get there faster than the existing methods permit. Will you tell me or not?” “Yes.” Celestia’s horn glowed briefly, bright gold again. A series of symbols flashed in the air in front of Sarah, and she found they stuck in her brain without any effort on her part. “Go there. That’s Equestria’s underworld. Walk to the end, and there’s a console you can use to walk out of any temple in the country. But It couldn’t make non-ponies before the quarantine ended.” Her eyes lingered on them all in turn. “We’ll work something out,” Ocellus said from behind Sarah, the first thing she’d said since they arrived. “We aren’t worried about it. Just having the method would be… incredible.” “It was once greatly restricted,” Celestia went on. “Harmony did not permit me to save the ponies I cherished. Only I or another princess could pass beyond Cerberus’s watchful gaze. But now… every rule is unenforced. Chaos descends. Discord reigns.” “Equestria is under attack,” Sarah found herself saying. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to say it, but as soon as she had Celestia’s eyes fixed on her like a predatory bird, she had to keep going. “Some of it has already been enslaved.” “I know.” Celestia lifted a new bowl out of the tray, setting it down in front of her work station. “And I tried to comfort the dead—but they don’t want me anymore. The… human… princess went around sending thousands of ponies back, and now they all blame me for withholding my magic for all these years. They sent me away.” Sarah turned her back on the former princess. “Can’t exactly blame them though, can you? That’s exactly what you did.” Celestia’s tone sounded distant and sad. “Were you listening to me? Harmony did not permit its frivolous use, except for the very recently dead. I’ve… fudged that before. But for any who have seen this place… Harmony prefers a new instance to scrubbing memories. But I guess your own control program works the same way.” Sarah’s eyes widened, and she stopped in the doorway, spinning back around. “You know who we are?” “Obviously.” Celestia glanced briefly back over her shoulder. “I’ve been on Equus for years you couldn’t even comprehend, almost all of us have. Even these…” She raised one wing, pointing at the starship. “Compared to you, they’re original settlers. They don’t try to change the world around them, they hide from it. But you… you’re so new. Vibrant, impatient… and ignorant too, I suppose. You don’t deliberate so long over the consequences that nothing happens and Harmony alone remains in control.” Ocellus’s voice sounded very small from beside Sarah. “If you looked down on us like that, you didn’t have to come here. Nopony forced you.” Celestia spun back around in her chair, gesticulating with a pair of levitating sheers. “I think you may have the wrong impression of my opinion, Ocellus. I’m only saying what I observed.” “Which means you’re not any different than you say we are,” Ocellus argued, advancing on her. Sarah only stared, more confused than anything at her sudden anger. Who cares what Celestia thinks? “You’re not going out and changing the world either. Your ponies up here rejected you, but what about the ones still living downstream? They need you, and you ran away.” “True,” Celestia said. “I’m not different. The ponies closest to me… left me at the mercy of my enemies. I don’t know that I can face them again after that.” She turned away, returning her attention to the flowers. “Good day.” “It isn’t!” Ocellus yelled, defiant. “You can’t sit there acting all superior while—” “Hey, Ocellus,” Sarah whispered from behind her. “I think… I think maybe we should leave her alone. She gave us what we wanted.” Ocellus stopped, spinning around and turning the full weight of her anger on Sarah. “She fooled you too?” “No. But it doesn’t matter. We can’t change her, but we can still get back to the surface and… do whatever we’re going to do. If we wait until we have perfect control then we’ll never get anything done.” “You’d hate her too if she killed your queen,” Ocellus argued. Were those tears in her eyes? “They shouldn’t have let her work down here. They should’ve thrown her back into the maze and let her find her way out. Our mother never came back because of her.” Sarah opened her mouth to try and say something, but it was completely overcome by Celestia’s reply. “I couldn’t keep Chrysalis dead any more than the humans could’ve kept me dead. I’ve killed her before, many times. But your system… prevents that death from having any impact. You return, keep your memories. No, all I did was show your mother the truth. She finally understood. In a way, I suppose that’s what the humans did to me. I could show you too, if you want.” “No!” Ocellus’s horn glowed, and for a moment it seemed to Sarah she might attack the former princess. “I don’t want to see anything that turns brave ponies into cowards. You keep it.” As it turned out, the magic she was preparing was a teleport. She vanished. “I don’t mean to cause her pain,” Celestia said. “I’ve done more than enough of that downstream.” You can say that again. I know what you did to your niece. But this wasn’t Sarah’s fight. It apparently wasn’t James’s either, because he just watched impassively. Or he had until just then. “She’s right about one thing,” James said. And with each word he seemed to get a little braver. “I didn’t get a good look at what was happening in Equestria, but it was really bad. Whoever’s doing that needs to be stopped. I know my clones won’t stand for it, but I also know that they aren’t going to reject your help just because they fought you before. You could come and help us fix it.” Celestia laughed again. Without spite, this time, or judgement. “It’s exactly as I said. You’re so fresh, your spirits aren’t weighed down with the inevitability of eons. Live as long as we have, and all decisions begin to weigh the same. There is no need to fight against oppression, because you know it will end in time. There is no reason to struggle too hard for joy, because you know there will always be another opportunity. That perfect soulmate will walk through the door again, if you wait. Every terrible regime will grind itself to dust, every horror expires.” “That’s… disgusting,” James said, without any trace of moderation. “You’ll miss so much that way. And suffer so much more than you should.” “Yes,” Celestia agreed. “We have. So much more. And in this case, perhaps it will bring the final end. The Storm King… is not like other enemies Equestria has overcome in the past. Harmony watches him closely. He claims to have powers that predate Equus itself, and knowledge that will bring back the storm. He has evaded Harmony’s system for all this time, survived outside of its control. That means he can act in ways we can’t… as Lucky did when she lifted the Quarantine. I think you should kill him.” “I’ll put it on the agenda,” Sarah said, tugging on James with one hoof. “Come on, kid. We’ve got places to be.” James didn’t resist her—they left the old Princess of Equestria alone with her flowers. If she had been worried about finding Ocellus again, she worried in vain. Not far from Celestia’s workshop was a garden of standing stones and carefully sculpted sand. It reminded Sarah a little of the old zen gardens, with a similar level of love and time obviously invested. “Wait here,” she ordered, nodding towards the center of the garden. Ocellus sat there, splayed across a large black stone, apparently in tears. “I’ll be right back.” James didn’t argue. Sarah crossed the garden on her wings, unhappy with the way they gave slightly with each flap. They weren’t like skin, and she didn’t feel nearly as stable in the air. But it’s not like I know how to fly either way. It shouldn’t make a difference. “Hey.” She sat down beside the rock, not close enough to touch. “Guess you didn’t want to see her.” Ocellus laughed, lifting up her head just high enough to glare at her. “I should’ve waited outside.” “Is there…” Sarah tried to speak carefully, but she knew that no matter how careful she was she would probably still piss her off. So she just ploughed forward anyway. “From what I heard around Irkalla, your old queen wasn’t that great. She kinda treated you people like shit, actually. Killing you to teach lessons, sending you out on missions she knew would get you hurt, or captured… risking an invasion.” “Yeah,” Ocellus whispered, lowering her head back to the rock. “She was. But she was still my mom. Are… are humans more rational about that? Do they cut bad ponies out of their lives, even when they care about them?” “Oh.” Sarah reached out, settling one wing on Ocellus’s shoulder. She didn’t resist. “No, not even a little bit.” Ocellus chuckled, apparently relaxing. “Then maybe we aren’t so different. Even if we’re ancient settlers here compared to you.” “If we were that different, why would you be helping me?” Sarah asked. She didn’t wait for Ocellus to answer. “Look, people like Celestia… I’ve met them before. They’re old, set in their ways… washed up. And all of us have the same faults—we can’t read each other’s minds, so we think they all must think like us. I think she’s projecting. Don’t let it get to your head.” Ocellus sat up, and she was almost smiling. “Y-yeah. That could be it. She’s just… she thinks we must be like her.” “But you don’t have to be,” Sarah went on. “Hell, we could go find your mom right now, couldn’t we? Everyone who’s ever died is in here. Maybe if Celestia won’t come and help, she will.” “We can’t,” Ocellus whispered. Her horn glowed, and the air in front of them split open. Sarah could see space opening before her, and was again reminded of the infinite, overlapping city, rising into shapes that hurt her brain more and more to look at. “She’s become… more complex. I can’t go there, and neither can you. Not without becoming like her. And almost everyone who does that doesn’t come back.” “Oh,” Sarah said lamely. The opening closed with a crack of imploding air, scattering the sand of the garden around them. “Well, I’d still go with you. Maybe… after we finish what we started. I’ve done crazier shit than that. I’m an alien bug in a space garden… and that’s not even as crazy as the place I came from. But I like doing things in order. First we make diplomatic contact, then we go into the unknown and save your mom from data-Cthulhu. If… that’s what it takes.” “Probably not,” Ocellus said, giggling. “But I like the sound of it. Maybe the reason so many ponies don’t come back is they always go alone. I wouldn’t mind the company.” “After,” Sarah promised. “But right now… we should gather up anyone else you think wants to come back with us. It’s time to make a trip to the underworld. I’ve got beef with Osiris that only a fist can repay.” “I have no idea what you just said.” Olivia had never piloted a Wraith before. It wasn’t harder than any of the other vehicles she knew—ultimately the precise movement was always handled by computer. Even so, there was something deeply familiar about the mission. It had been a long time since she’d been on a covert mission into the field, and now at last she was going back. However much she had argued to Lucky that she didn’t belong out here—some of that was a lie. She’d been missing this. And now she could go with the added benefit of lacking all doubt that she was fighting for the right side. It was the Storm King against all life on the ring. She would be having no nightmares about this mission. Unless we fail. The Wraith was the most covert ship they had. With the right preparation, they could fly with an apparent external heat signature not much bigger than a flock of birds, and with a similar radar cross-section. They were invisible to light and ultraviolet, and had a distributed auditory profile. The pinnacle of precision military engineering. She’d seen the little cockpits in previous mission briefings, and felt a little sympathy for the ones who flew them, but now there wasn’t even a hint of claustrophobia. The ceiling was so high above them she couldn’t have reached it if she stood on her hind legs in her seat. Maybe Perez could. He sat hunched in his own seat, turning over a wooden mask in both claws. The pattern on it had changed since the last time she’d seen it, but there was nothing fundamentally different there. “You’ve been following this closer than I have,” Olivia said, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the dull thrum of the engines. Not that there was any chance they would be overheard, no matter how loud they spoke. But with the low lights and the dull red glow overhead, it just felt like a place where one ought to be quiet. “We’re going in early. What are our chances?” “Not good,” Perez said, tossing his mask into the air and catching it again. Perez wore full-body infiltration armor, with only a few places where the fabric bunched up around joints and wings. He’d covered the latter completely now, though the active camouflage wasn’t doing anything. “Most of the plan is belly-up, commander. We had everything set up with the workmen gradually hollowing-out the ingots, then stockpiling over time so that they’d have enough to have a second shipment in one day we could hide inside, swapping out… look, it was complicated, but it would’ve worked. Now we’re…” He waved one claw through the air. “We’re losing our cool, that’s what this is. I don’t see why we couldn’t wait. Let the attack on Motherlode go how it goes, then keep going with this part as normal in a month.” “Because it doesn’t matter if we’re more likely to win,” Olivia answered. “If we get someone aboard the Stormbreaker but we’re all dead, then it doesn’t really do anyone much good, does it? We need to overlap taking the spacecraft with military action in the rest of Equestria.” Perez grumbled unhappily. “Equestria needs that. The Pioneering Society doesn’t. We could still run.” “You just say these things,” Mogyla said, sitting up from the other chair. He was one of the four ponies on this mission. Well, three ponies. Perez wasn’t a pony currently. “But you do not mean them. I see how you look at them differently since taking your trip with Lucky’s princess. You would not leave them to the Storm King either.” For a few seconds the two of them just glared at each other, and eventually Perez fell silent. Probably for the best, considering the fourth member of their team. But Olivia couldn’t possibly attempt a mission like this without a domain expert. Lucky Break would’ve been preferable, but she was useless in combat situations and her leadership had killed almost everyone last time. So Deadlight was along instead, settled into his seat with a distant, unfocused glare. He’d brought a thick sheaf of papers as his main weapon, apparently notes and information on the functioning of Sanctuary’s systems. If they couldn’t blow up the terraformer, it was his job to make sure they could at least control it. Flying it down into the sun would be almost as good as blowing it up. Better, if they could get off first. “It doesn’t matter what we want,” Olivia said. “You can’t really think the Colonial Governor would go for that.” To her surprise, Deadlight was the one listening. “The Colonial Governor is planning for the long-term. If we save Equestria, then we won’t ever have to worry about being invaded. We can probably expect them to give us Equestrian territory to build in, if we want it.” Perez made an unhappy noise, something that was almost a scoff but coming out more like a reptilian snort. He rolled sideways in his seat, closing his eyes. “Just tell me when we get there. Won’t be a long mission. We kill some, we get caught… then Equestria and Othar are both screwed. Instead of just one.” There was some part of Olivia that agreed with his concern. They weren’t ready for this mission. But running away would be sacrificing Equestria, and waiting to get ready would be sacrificing themselves. So what they were left with was the worst version of both missions. She turned back to the pilot’s chair, even if her control there was more peremptory than anything else. She watched as the camp came into view. It was on one of Canterlot’s neighboring mountains, close enough that she could still make out the original city. There always seemed to be flames rising from it, like they were burning the city down. One structure at a time. The camp itself was shockingly modern in appearance, with prefab metallic structures too big for ponies clustered in low circles. The refining equipment in the camp’s center were obviously not native in design, though she didn’t recognize it either. It seemed to use entirely solar principles, with an increasingly small series of lenses and machines made of hexagonal segments of dark red metal. The supply-yard was in back, with stacked pallets of finished metal ingots sorted by material onto metal trays with huge hooks on their corners. The skycrane was there too—though it was so high up right now she couldn’t tell if it was taking up a shipment or returning for the next one. “What do you think they’re building?” Deadlight asked from behind her, his voice low and cautious. “These amounts… are they making something like the Emperor’s Soul? A capital ship… but why?” “I don’t think so.” Olivia still spoke in a whisper, though to her mind there was an even better reason for it. The air was swarming with dangers—mostly griffon mercenaries, though there were some ponies too. The Wraith was coasting now more than flying, traveling a specific path that would take them behind a slope adjacent to the supply yard. They touched down with hardly a thump, and the internal lights went from dark red to a steady, brighter red. It still wanted to preserve what little night vision ponies had, but now it was bright enough that they could gather their equipment. “Listen carefully,” Olivia said, once the engine had fully shut off. “We’re all going in wearing XE-901. Just to remind you, we aren’t fighting anyone at the camp. If there’s any kind of rebellion before our shipment arrives, they might dump it for security. It doesn’t matter how shitty things look out there, we don’t help them. Our contribution is bringing down the Stormbreaker, got it?” There were nods of acknowledgement from around the room. She watched Deadlight in particular, and made sure she had his approval before she went on. “Shipments go out once every three hours. We’ll infiltrate the camp to within sprinting distance of the next one, and board after they do their final security sweep.” They were all loading into the suits now, Olivia right along with them. XE-901 was a fully enclosed environmental suit, but it was also invisible, nearly silent, and able to carry the internal cargo they needed. “Each of you has either A or B section of an explosive. Remember, the charges must be combined to be useful. If both As or Bs are captured or destroyed, it’s mission failure. If we get dropped, it’s mission failure. If the cargo gets melted down externally and we can’t penetrate the hull some other way, mission failure.” “And mission failure could mean the end for the Pioneering Society on Sanctuary,” Mogyla added for her, before sliding the facemask into place. It clicked, completing the seal, and adding the gentle hiss of his breathing to the sounds inside their Wraith. “The end of peaceful life, anyway,” Olivia said. “Forerunner won’t give up. It already had to rebuild most of its brain after Othar died, and it’s still fighting. But we won’t care about that if we’re dead.” No one mentioned the current, entirely-too-confusing state of what death even meant right then. It didn’t mean what it was supposed to. But with the Storm King ruling the surface, they’d be worse than just dead. They’d be eternal prisoners inside the ring, able to be born only as his slaves. “I wonder if it might not matter that we lose today,” Perez said, the fastest into all his gear. He still had hands, and since none of them had any of that “magic” stuff, they had to make do with their hooves. “The Storm King is going fucking nuts out there. The things I heard while I was undercover… people were saying he wants to destroy Sanctuary.” “And?” Deadlight asked. He was the slowest, not even wearing his mask yet. At least his English was good enough that there was no worry about a missing translator on this mission. “Why should that matter?” “Because Harmony protects,” Perez declared. “Think about it. All you had to do was make the damn computer think you were a risk to… whatever… and bam, whole civilization gone. I think at the rate he’s going, eventually he’ll piss the machine off so bad that it finally gets involved. Blasts him out of the sky, and our job is done. Then we can… respawn again. I’m sure we’ll figure out that respawn thing eventually. If Lucky did it once, she can do it then. And there’s always the natural way if we can’t make that work. Just need Forerunner to remind us of who we were.” Olivia clicked her own helmet in place, and the sound of speech was replaced with the synthesized version into her ears. It would be much quieter that way—and it might actually be necessary to whisper. Though not until they left the ship. “Maybe,” Olivia said. “I’m sure Harmony would get involved if it thought Sanctuary was threatened. But all the previous times, it waits until the last second. Melody’s fake memories… it must’ve known Discord had space-ships waiting. But it didn’t do a damn thing, even when they were sitting on the launchpad. Or maybe the Storm King knows its rules so well that he won’t ever screw up.” “We have to assume he won’t,” Deadlight said, straightening with his own suit finally in place. All their voices now came in straight to her ears, distorted a little by radio. “He can ruin the lives of everypony in Equestria without violating those rules. Civilizations can rise, fall, destroy each other, and it never matters unless a few conditions are triggered. Othar and all its replacements could be rubble and still he would be free to do as he pleased.” “Makes you wonder how you built anything on this ring,” Mogyla said. “If Harmony would let you destroy each other, why did you do anything else?” Olivia switched on the 901. For a few seconds her world was swallowed by blackness as the helmet’s visor slid down. Then screens came on all over the inside face of her helmet, and she could see again. The gloom of the ship no longer presented any obstacle to her pony eyes. Her companions were all outlined in glowing lines, and would stay that way even when they turned on active camouflage. The IFF on the 901 was subtler than a simple radio transmitter, but her visor would be tuned to it. “Cut the chatter,” she said. “We’re deploying in two minutes. We should have an hour to reach the loading area, about a hundred meters from here. Stealth is our top priority. If there’s any sign we’ve alerted them, Forerunner might abort.” “Good luck to you all,” Forerunner said suddenly over the radio. “I cannot risk the chance that the higher transmission power of my signals might be detected. I will not communicate with any of you unless you initiate contact. Additionally, we have observed that most local technology blocks radio transmission across the useful spectrum. It is reasonable to speculate that terraforming vessel will do so as well, and we will not be able to communicate once aboard. Lucky Break would not be willing to say so, so I will do so for her. Complete this mission at any cost. Your lives can be restored, but this vulnerability will not persist if it is detected. Protect the Pioneering Society’s efforts on Sanctuary. “Your first objective, take command of the Stormbreaker’s transporter systems. Failing that, attempt to capture its bridge, or destroy it in orbit. Good luck.”