//------------------------------// // 16 - Rise of the Gopniks // Story: Dash to the Stars // by Meep the Changeling //------------------------------// Rarity Belle - 21st of Faust, 1st year of Harmony 749,567.83 A.H. Bochra and Associates Offices - New Macau, Caracalla Sector Rarity Belle was a happy unicorn. Admittedly, this was extremely unusual for a pony who had been kidnapped by aliens, drug halfway across the galaxy, vivisected and experimented on, then sold into slavery. On the other hoof, her “owner” had freed her the moment she came to in his star yacht, then offered her heir status for his company. Rarity had at first believed that she was being offered control over a law firm. The name Bochra and Associates invoked the image of lawyers slaving away over cases in thousands of cubicles. She reluctantly agreed, hoping she’d have the resources to find her friends if she suddenly became a part of a wealthy family. The papers had been signed, Mister Bochra asked very politely if he could call her “granddaughter” expressly to irritate his relatives, Rarity said yes, and then her new “grandfather” fired up a holographic display and began to provide Rarity with examples of the company’s fashion line. Bochra and Associates was the third largest producer of clothing in the Galaxy. Not just the local arm, but across all of known space. Rarity was in a position where even the poorest of her designs would be loved by more people than a pony could comprehend existing. She’d been given a city to live in. As in, the entire city was hers. Everyone else who lived there worked for the express purpose of supporting her personal estate, which sat in the middle of the city. Despite this, the estate used holograms to appear as if it were in an isolated section of a lush fantastical forest. The elaborate, elegant, and decadent estate was supported by the city’s sixteen million workers, all of whom were required for the estate’s existence in some way or another, and all of whom led good lives. Especially after Rarity had given them a pay raise. After all, Grandfather had told her to do absolutely everything she could to piss off his immoral and ungrateful relatives. Especially if it made commoners’ lives better. Nearly a week later, having finally finished a full tour of her estate and been introduced to all the staff members whom she might personally associate with in pursuit of a goal, Rarity found herself quite happy. She was living in a suite where each room had been decorated to her exact standards of beauty via nanomachines. If she even so much as thought a color, pattern, texture, piece of furniture, or appliance looked anything less than perfect, her neural implants would discover what changes were required for that perfection and make them. Before Rarity consciously realized she’d started to dislike the decor. She lived in a sea of ever-shifting golds, silvers, bright gemstone colors, crystals, metals, and exotic woods. All of them subtly flowing from one state to another to match their owner’s whims and aesthetic tastes moment to moment. Rarity was certain that such luxury hadn’t even been imagined by anypony on Equus, and now it was hers. Not only that, but it was one of the smaller throw away luxuries her staff had almost forgot to mention. As if that were something homes did as fundamental as provide an enclosed space. Which made her feel horrible. Rarity lay on her bed. Or should that be inside it? She wasn’t yet quite sure what the proper terminology for using a bed was when that bed was a pile of blankets floating in an antigravity field and stabilized with tractor beams for perfect comfort. Rarity pushed her mind towards her room’s holo-suite, her long experience with spellcasting making the process of using a neural interface second nature to her. Within a heartbeat, her adoptive Grandfather appeared in holographic form, seated in a large overstuffed chair next to Rarity’s bed. The hologram was perfect, without knowing his form was simulated, Rarity would have sworn the kindly old Prai was actually in her chambers with her. He had not teleported inside of course. Mister Bochra was seventeen lightyears away attending an in person business meeting. Advanced cybernetics allowed him to split his attention seamlessly between his real body and the holographic one Rarity had conjured. Mister Bochra cleared his throat and removed a fine silken cloth from his breast pocket to clean a pair of glass and crystal spectacles. “Good afternoon, Rarity. Is all well?” Rarity shook her head, doing her best to suppress the residual sniffles left over from her crying session. “No! It’s absolutely not alright.” Mister Bochra inclined his head and steepled his fingers. “Is it your eye? I told the doctors they shouldn’t simply copy your other eye. I may not be a biologist, but after seven hundred rejuvenations you learn a thing or two. We can have it replaced tomorrow. I’ve hired a Mina geneticist to be your personal physician.” Rarity shook her head again and rolled over in the antigravity bubble to try and face the hologram better. The young mare had no idea the hologram system was simply adding her to Mister Bochra’s perception of reality. To him she was sitting across the conference table from him, not laying in bed. Environmentally Aware Adaptive Holographic Telecom. A handy luxury, but a terrible acronym, to say the least. “No,” Rarity sighed. “That’s not it at all! My eye is fine. Wonderful even. Thank you… For everything. But, it’s so much!” Mister Bochra chuckled and offered Rarity a smile. “You visited your personal bank, didn’t you?” “No,” Rarity said again, then smiled shakily as the memory of a warehouse full of saturated credit sticks came rushing back to her. “Well, yes. I did. I don’t understand how much money is in it.” Mister Bochra smiled, partially out of genuine affection, partially out of spite. “Nor did I, or the shareholders.” “It’s more money than exists on Equus!” Rarity insisted with a dramatic sweep of her hooves. “You just… Gave it to me. Why? Why me?” Mister Bochra finished wiping his glasses and placed them back on his face. “I keep an eye on all the slave markets. I would have bought your freedom even if I hadn’t been in need of an heir, Rarity. I tried to buy your friend too, but Nova Wing decided to limit one per customer. If it makes you feel better, I did flip a coin.” Rarity’s ears drooped down as low as they could. “A coin toss… I get everything I could ever want a thousand times over, and Fluttershy is your perverted niece’s sex slave because of a coin toss.” Mister Bochra frowned and stood up from his seat. He took a seat on the edge of Rarity’s bed and gave her a light hug, an action permitted by the hologram’s integrated hardlight systems. “Ah, I see what the problem is… If it helps, I can explain why I brought her along with me.” Rarity paused, her lips pulling into a sharp frown. “I didn’t think it was a coincidence the other person was someone from you— Our family.” “Of course not,” Mister Bochra scoffed, letting go of Rarity but remaining at her side. “Lady Rina was the best choice. No matter what she has told your friend Fluttershy of her intentions, Rina will get bored of her within a few months. Once she no longer wants her new toy, she’ll put her up for sale and I’ll buy her freedom.” Rarity blinked, her ears and tail stood up as a ripple of rage washed over her. “B— But I got to call her the other day! She’s already had her sex changed, and is going to be made… Humanoid, I believe the word is! All to fit with that— That vile women's fetishes!” Mister Bochra sighed. “Regretfully, yes. However, such things are easily reversed. The only permanent damage done will be emotional… Hardly a good thing, but it was much better than allowing one of you two to be lost to the galaxy.” “How? How is it better?” Rarity demanded, willing her bed to let her drop to the ground so she could pace angrily. “She’s still going to be degraded and humiliated, and used!” The elderly Prai turned to face Rarity. “That is another reason I chose my niece. As an empath, she is unable to do anything to someone they wouldn’t enjoy without feeling what they feel as well. This means her, pets, are only subjected to things she knows they will enjoy, even if they themselves are consciously unaware… Again, it is not good that Fluttershy is with her. It is quite bad. However, it leaves her in a place where we can liberate her easily. Once free, she’s welcome to live with you here. This is your estate and your money. You may do with them as you please.” Rarity frowned in thought, making her eyes narrow. “Can I buy Fluttershy from her right now?” “You can try,” Mister Bochra said calmly. “I want to.” The old Prai nodded and with a quick thought set a reminder for later. “As soon as I am no longer in this meeting I will help you arrange a call with her and you can try. She may be bored already. Normally she enjoys making her toys into exotic forms. The appeal of an exotic species such as yourself is likely to wear off soon.” “Thank you,” Rarity sighed in relief, then slumped as more negative thoughts replace the one which left. She looked up at Mister Bochra and then back down. “But…” “You worry about your other companions,” Mister Bochra said with a sad sigh of his own. “I don’t even know where they are!” Rarity sobbed, tears rolling down her face. “Nor do I. Howev—” Rarity turned towards the wall and took a few steps away from her bed. “I’m… I’m here. In more luxury than I think even the Princesses have ever imagined. They are all out there, having Celestia knows what done to them! We couldn’t even find Rainbow onboard the ship when we escaped. We don’t even know if she got away or if they got her too and held her someplace else onboard. I—” Mister Bochra took a deep breath. “Rarity, I—” “I can’t imagine anypony having it worse than Fluttershy, but I know something will prove me wrong!” Rarity sobbed, sitting down on the floor, which had become nice and soft the minute her room detected her movement towards a sitting position. The elderly businessman took a long, slow, loud breath to calm his nerves. If this is what helping a young woman through major life problems was like, he was very glad to have never had children of his own. “I would like to inform you that I have people looking for them.” Rarity’s ears perked as her head spun to face her adoptive grandfather once more. “You do?” “Of course I do! I’m Tantaib Bochra,” the elderly man huffed indignantly. “I run one of the few megacorps to exist galaxy wide. What do you take me for, a doddering old fool?” Rarity’s cheeks flushed. She pursed her lips and stammered. “W— Well you do look very old, and I know nothing of your people’s aging process.” “My appearance is entirely my choice and you know it!” He corrected as he instructed the hologram to bring his chief of security into the call. “One moment, Rarity…” The air in front of Rarity flickered and rippled as a much lower grade hologram of a tall woman Rarity recognized as being a Toraxian sprang to life in her room. She made Rarity think of a weasel. All Toraxians did. Rarity felt quite bad for looking at them and seeing giant bipedal weasels, but at the same time, that’s exactly what they looked like. A meter tall weasel someone stretched into a humanoid-ish shape. Then gave them a squirrel-like tail twice as floofy as their body was tall and wide. The specific Toraxian in front of her now was taller than most, clad in a bright blue jumpsuit with yellow accents and black security armor. She had the typical gray, white, and brown fur patterns, but a large rune was burned into her face covering her left eye, cheek, and the side of her neck. Apparently, she’d done that to herself. Toraxian soldiers’ tradition of ritualistic burning the first letter of their Lord’s name into their own face with an old knife blade was something which made Rarity want to stay far away from their homeworld. If that was how they expressed loyalty, she had no desire to learn how they expressed more intense emotions. Especially not love. The Toraxian saluted the moment her hologram came on line. In her office, her Lord and the young Lady had simply walked in through her door, as if this were a formal business meeting. “M’Lord! And Lady,” she greeted with a low bow. “How may I serve you?” Mister Bochra cleared his throat. “Rarity is worried about her other friends, Captain. Has there been any word on the others?” “Yes!” the captain exclaimed with a smile. “I’m in a text-only chat right now getting details on a rescue operation some civilians are planning.” Rarity’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “I— But, what?! Who have they found? Where are they?” The Toraxian glanced down to check her screen and her notes, an action which the hologram system hid. “A pony named Rainbow Dash went uncaptured, and somehow found her way into space. She’s currently serving on the Dawn of Destiny as a Xenohunter’s Squire and cook. She explained her friends were kidnapped by pirates in a livestream an hour ago and well, to put it very lightly sir, ODIN is angry.” A tear rolled down Rarity’s face. “Rainbow’s okay… Thank Celestia!” Mister Bochra smiled happily. “Good! Tell me of this rescue plan.” “Unfortunately, sir, it has little chance to succeed,” the captain sighed. “I’ve done some digging, and it appears as if a rogue Star League agent has supplied the general public with the locations of two ponies, or at least, their last known locations. This team is trying to refurbish an old Chernin Dreadnaught to cowboy up and storm the places. “Unfortunately, they are no one of real means, and while the crowdfunding is impressive, it won't be enough to pay for a rearm and refit of a shuttle, let alone a dreadnought. Not in enough time to prevent those leads from going dark. To say nothing of the crew costs and—” Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as she realized the problem was not a problem. Namely because she was the solution. Rarity cleared her throat. “Could you please transfer however much they need from my account to the project?” Mister Bochra smiled and knelt down to gently ruffle Rarity’s mane. “Atta girl! Beat me to the punch. How much does the warship they are working on cost? New of course. I assume they saved it from a scrapyard somewhere.” The Toraxian hummed and tapped away on her screen for several long moments. “They no longer produce that class of ship, M’Lord. An equivalent vessel is three trillion credits dry, and six trillion credits loaded.” Rarity’s ears drooped back. “S— six trillion?!” The mare gasped. Never in her life had she ever even imagined hearing anypony say such a large number in relation to the cost of any tangible item, let alone thought she would— Mister Bochra nodded and shook his head. “I know! That’s so shockingly little. But I suppose that’s Chernin engineering for you. Cheap, efficient, but inelegant and spartan. Why not give them fifteen trillion? It will be less work for your accountant to push the next day’s worth of your account’s interest to them than to have to work out the percentages and such.” Rarity’s jaw dropped. “I— I make trillions an hour?!” The Prai nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s not a very good interest rate, only six point eight per—” Rarity spun and faced the security captain, putting on a face which was at once relieved, elated, and determined. “Give them fifteen trillion right now! And I want you to include a letter with the money…” CNS Chebureki 749,567.92 A.H. Valiant Drive Yards Scrapyard, Rad-Shielded Orbit -- Chern, Noctae Sector The middle aged Eldiras known to ODIN as djthomp stood on the CNS Chebureki’s decaying bridge. The venerable dreadnought indices were bare, gutted of anything useful. Not one console remained in the ship. Not one gravplate which was functional could be found even in storage lockers. Because the lockers had been removed from the ship. The Chebureki was little more than a superstructure, armor plating, and old broken down guns. Dj had been appointed captain of the ship because he’d once served as the captain of a Star League carrier. The others were all nobodies, random people from across the arm who had been able to make it to the scrapyard to help. None of them were trained. Most of them had only ever worked in retail. They didn’t know how little chance this ship ever had of flying again. Dj hadn’t told them it was a fool's errand. He himself hadn’t known the ship was in this bad of shape until he’d gotten abroad. Dj sighed, grateful his vacuum suit would hide the sound from the three wannabee Chernin Gopniks who were busily installing a new helm console across the deck from him. A Mina who looked like a Chernin man, a Grosson of indeterminate gender, and a very synthetic vulpine shaped female android. They were dressed in vac-suits which were clearly made from mismatched Chernin surplus from a dozen different time periods. In spite of this, they each had the three stripes of Chern painted down their arms and legs to make the uniforms look modern. The three worked together with an intimate knowledge of the ancient hardware for a single unifying purpose. The volunteers had more hope, faith, and drive than any of the Officers under his command ever had. It was at once a thing of beauty and sadness to see them work on the dead ship. Unless we get another thousand volunteers, and a few trillion credits, this ship will never fly. Dj  thought to himself as he checked the project’s credit reserves. At least we have enough credits to get everyone home via public transport once they realize we can’t pull this off after all. Dj’s hud chirped as a message came in. “On screen.” Rarity Belle has donated 15,000,000,000,000 credits. Letter attached. The reptilian Captain sputtered and stumbled backwards in shock, his mag-boots disengaging from the deck as he tipped over. Dj spun, flipping head over tail as he drifted up towards the ceiling, spinning in the micro-gravity environment like a first-time spacer. The vulpine android’s sensors detected her captain’s sudden tumble, prompting the vulpinoid to turn around, walk over to the tumbling Eldiras and gently grabbed onto his leg and pulled him back down onto the deck. Dj’s magboots renguaged with the deck, and he smiled. “Thank you, V-1X.” V-1X returned his smile, the plasteel plates of her face sliding and flexing as she did her best to mimic an expression her creator species couldn’t make. Her muzzle and ears were unable to fit in a standard Chernin helmet, so she’s simply cut holes in them through which her muzzle and ears protruded. After all, an android had no need of air, even if they did have an irrational love of old military junk thanks to their friends. “My pleasure, Captain. Did your boots fail?” The awakened android asked over the shortwave comms. “Negative, their operator failed… As well as the donation system. It gave me a donation that— Well, it’s bugged text,” Dj explained as he opened the project fund’s account one more time to check the balance. Total Funds Remaining: 15,000,000,030,739 Dj sputtered, his tail flexed, pointing straight up so much it pushed his old League uniform greatcoat tails up and away from his back. V-1X tilted her head. “What’s the matter sir? Are we out of credits already?” Dj shook his head, his gold tinted visor hiding a fair amount of the sheer surprise and manic glee on the old officer’s face. “Noooooooope! I uh… I don’t know how we can spend… Oh, my…” Dj extended his comm to the entire project via the chatroom. “All hands, this is your captain speaking. A generous donor, presumably a Prai noblewoman, has just donated fifteen trillion cretits. We will be hiring outside help to rebuild the ship. I want each one of you to scout the scrapyard for parts, equipment, and ships to stock the hangers with. “Assuming we gain enough crew, we will be purchasing other capital ships. Ash, I need you on the bridge. We need to get a more secure account established immediately!” Dj crossed his arms behind his back and began to pace the bridge, looking critically over the space and planning out how to remodel it into a functional command center. Thank you for the miracle, universe. I owe you one. Dj’s eyes turned to the spot he wanted his chair to be, and a personal fantasy blossomed in his mind. “V-1X, do you think you could find the command chair from a kakadu-class frigate in this scrap yard?” She saluted immediately. “Yes, sir!” “Then find one please. I have a letter to reply too, and a ship rebuild to oversee,” Dj turned to the chernin still working on the helm. “Pseudonymous, I want you to make some calls and see if we can't rent a dry dock. This job just became something we can do for properly instead of patchwork.” “Actually, sir… If we have that kind of money now, I’ve had this idea for a while for semi-sentient self-replicating fabricators… We could give this old girl a self repair system while we fix her up!” Dj blinked. There was only one thing to say to that idea. “Well, Cheeki Breeki, Comrade. Get on it, I’ll handle the Dry Dock.” The following morning, the scrapyard manager arrived at work only to discover everything in it had been purchased, and an orbital dry-dock had been relocated to where the scrapyard had once been. The CNS Chebureki sat within a technological web of repair drones, service vessels, logistics units, and space-dock arms. Her hull glowed as fresh armor was welded onto her skin. The brand new reactor core thrummed and rumbled, burning with power the old ship had never seen. The fresh stalinium armor had been painted a bright cyan in honor of Rainbow, and her hull had been given the three stripes of Chern in a dark obsidian black along her dorsal and ventral lines. Cargo ships delivered entire racks of power armor, each suit custom built for a specific crewmember (Yet still made to look mismatched in terms of time period, regiment, and even service branch from part to part.). The venerable dreadnaught’s recently repressurized decks reverberated from the sound of people and tools working hard to get her fully online almost as much as they did from the thousands of small radios playing different hardbass songs on freshly blown out speakers. Disposal drones carried away load after load of broken parts, scrap metal, empty vodka bottles, and empty shashlik takeout boxes. Hundreds of workers in mismatched surplus equipment squatted atop the Chebureki’s hull, taking their lunch breaks while practicing their small arms skill by shooting at scrap-metal targets drifting by the drydock. The manager took a deep breath and briefly rubbed his eyes before sending a comms message to his boss. “Uh, sir? The scrapyard seems to have been overrun by gopnicks.” “Nyet, they bought it.” “Excuse me, sir?” “They bought it. All of it. Whole yard! Anything not put onto that dreadnaught was shipped to their homes. Did you miss the memo? We’re going to auction off the scrap from now on. There’s a market for it.” The manager paused for a long moment as he searched for exactly the right thing to say next. “Ey… The blyat I do now?” “Don’t know, call corporate, Comrade.” The manager nodded once and sighed. “Are we letting them fly off with that thing?” “You gonna stop them?” The manager looked back out at the dreadnaught and winced as he saw each individual cannon on each individual turret was having its own dedicated liquid cooling system installed. “Ey, nyet….” “See? They get to keep ship. You go call corporate. FInd out what they want you working at now. Me? I’m heading back on board the Chebureki. They know how to have a good time! Fix up old warship, go shoot at Nova Wing. Blyat! I’ve had worse vacations than that.” Twilight Sparkle - 25th of Faust, 1st year of Harmony 749,564.63 A.H. Livingroom, Subhive ruins -- Tustea, Noctae Sector Twilight stretched her wings and yawned. The couch creaked under her weight. It was ugly, being a simple beige couch with no pattern or dye present in the fabric. Zuul hadn’t yet figured out how to make dyes which didn’t immediately stain anything that touched the dyed object. She also hadn’t been able to figure out how to make springs that worked properly for a couch, making it somewhat lumpy and not too comfortable. However, the couch beat sleeping on the ground, almost beat sleeping on the soft organic mattresses Zuul grew for her drones to sleep on, and was a testament to how far the hivemind had come with Twilight's help in just a few weeks. By Twilight’s estimation, they had bypassed most of the tech tree moving straight into basic industrial scale processes thanks to Zull’s endless numbers working in assembly lines with perfect coordination. A few days of that and crude, inefficient, but functional mechanized devices had been created to produce basic materials. A few days after that, and everything had improved. Now, the entire dead world was an industrial powerhouse, part factory, part laboratory. When Twilight had laid down for her nap, Zull had been working on designing basic elements of rockets in order for them to try out several chemical fuels. In order to call the wider galaxy for help, a satellite would be needed. To get a satellite up there doesn't require anything fancy. A rocket would do. Too bad for Twilight, ponykind hasn't launched a rocket higher than Cloudsdale’s usual cruising altitude yet. Even more unfortunately, that rocket had not been one meant to carry a payload. It had been an eccentric businessman’s publicity stunt gone awry. Apparently a young filly with a flight problem had hijacked the rocket in an attempt to check and see if her problem was takeoff speed. Twilight opened her mind to Zuul, letting her friend know she was awake. Over the last few weeks Zuul had proven to be extremely trustworthy regarding the link. Not one violation of her privacy, not even one single telepathic message after Twilight asked for privacy. It was clear that Zuul simply hadn’t understood how to interact with things without telepathy. At this point, Twilight understood why. Twilight got up and took a few steps, her hooves clicked against the clay tile floor she and Zuul had installed together. After learning that Twilight wasn’t happy living in a cave segment, Zuul had carved an entire underground palace out for Twilight, then painted, furnished, plumbed, and ran power to it. Twilight had taken to spending most of her time in the living room, where one of Zuul’s drones had glitched out and carved randomly at the northern wall, creating a very interesting piece of abstract art in the wall. Twilight smiled as she looked at the swirling almost organic looking clawmark made fresco. I’ll miss this art when I am gone. Twilight greeted as she stretched. Her force-evolved body was finally under her full control. Twilight wished she had a better quality mirror or a camera while she had been changing. She had been short, chubby, cute, a nerd. Now she was tall, nearly the same height as Luna. She was lean and athletic, her body rippled like a cat when she moved, hidden muscle and grace under a smooth coat of silky fur. The cuteness had gone. In its place, Zuul had provided bucking adorableness. Or maybe Twilight’s tallness was directly related to her cuteness. Zuul kept joking that Twilight looked like she’d grown up, molted, and gotten her wings. The hivemind replied, it’s voice sounding male at the moment. Twilight looked into her mirror and opened her vision centers to Zuul, letting him see her reflection. Zuul promised. Twilight smiled. “Well, I—” Twilight blushed as she forgot to think instead of speak. Twilight focused her will on the alien magics her new body gave her and directed it to her wings. The feathery appendages twisted and melted, flowing together to form a pair of leathery bat wings. <— bat?> Twilight finished. Zuul sent Twilight a vague feeling she’d learned meant ‘hummm’. Twilight smiled shyly. Zuul informed, its voice switching to a more female sound. Twilight asked. The sound of a hoof knocking against wood filled the living room, making Twilight jump. Her still new wings flapped on impulse, managing to carry her into the air a fair distance before she landed back on the ground. Twilight grumbled playfully as she reached out with her magic to open the door. Zuul apologised with a giggle. The crude brass doorknob turned, and the door opened with a creak. Twilight blinked as she saw a creature in the doorway. It was most definitely a drone, it had the same sleek armored look of the raptor-like creatures Zuul preferred using, but it had been ponified, for lack of a better term. The drone had been made much smaller, it stood as tall as Twilight. Its body had been reshaped to match a stronger mare or an average stallion, but was still oddly curvy for something with visible muscles. It had four legs with hooves, a horn, wings, only two eyes, a white tail and mane which hung long, and flowed like spider silk… But retained the shark-like mouth, alien eyes, and armored skin. The Drone had a pair of simple leather wings, which were somewhere between a bat’s and a dragons, but no horn. Its wings looked fairly large too, as if they were meant for minimal magically assisted, or maybe even non-magical flight. Twilight smiled. “As best I could, yes,” Zuul replied verbally through the drone, showing it to be female, or at least sound like one. “I know you’re a herd species, and you need people like you to be near you… I hope this isn’t an uncanny valley situation.” Twilight hummed and looked Zuul up and down, then shook her head. The drone frowned. “Oh, would you prefer telepathy?” Twilight tilted her head. “Uh, wait, are you trying to accommodate me now?” Zuul nodded. “Yes, It’s your turn for a social favor.” Twilight blushed and swished her tail. “Thank you… Are you replacing all of our drones with these?” Zuul smiled. “Awww! You called them ours!” Twilight’s cheeks burned red. “W— well I can control them too so… You know.” “I do know, that’s why I like it,” Zuul waved for Twilight to follow her and began to trot out of the Friend’s Palace and into the hive proper. “And no, I have reserved these for your use, Twilight. Recall when you asked me to implant drone production organs in you?” Twilight nodded once as she followed along behind Zuul. “Yes, do I make ones like that?” “Yes. I also grew a small squad of them for you. If they fall in combat, you can replace them. If you decide we need more forces offworld, you can make an army. Given time, food, and shelter, of course.” Twilight sighed. “Thank you… I don't want to have to do that, but it’s a good backup plan.” Zuul turned the corner and began to lead Twilight up to where the radio station had been built. It wasn’t much further up the tunnel, the buzz and hiss of radio static would already be heard faintly at the end of the tunnel. Zuul shook her head. “No, it’s a pretty bad plan over all. The Galaxy won't like a creature like me on the loose. But… It’s worth the danger under two conditions. First, it saves your friends. Second, this drone comes with you.” Twilight raised an eyebrow, “What’s special about this particular one?” Zuul grew silent for a few seconds, and as they continued to walk, Twilight’s suspicions grew. “It’s me,” Zuul admitted at last. Twilight stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. She hadn't been expecting that. “Beg pardon?” Zuul turned around and tapped her hooves together. “I… Added extra parts to this drone. It’s a full backup of my consciousness. Everything I am fits in here, and seamlessly updates in real time. I… Made a mind for personal use. This is me, as an individual. As much as I can be, at least. So long as I survive, I survive. See?” Twilight wasn’t sure what she could say. All she could do was process her way through what had been said again. She frowned. “I um… Y— you want me to always be with you then?” Zuul nodded. “Yes… I… I can’t go back to being alone,” Zuul closed her eyes and hung her head in a perfect mimic of Twilight’s own body language. “I know that’s clingy, and not something considered healthy by your people to be so attached to someone but… We’re so similar! But different. It’s nice and I… I think I love you.” Twilight’s cheeks flushed. She shuffled her hooves against the cave floor and sighed. “I… I think I might love you too,” she admitted. “But! But I need more time, okay? At the very least, we’re best friends.” Zuul finched. Twilight rolled her eyes. “Zuul, while I do admit that I like you a lot, and that body you’re in is cute, I’ve only seen it for a few minutes. Give me some time, okay? At the very least,” Twilight stepped forward and gave Zuul a hug. “You can live with me when I go home. We’ll be roommates and besties no matter what, and maybe more—” Zuul blushed. “I’d love that… Oh um, question. Do you prefer stallions? This body can be fleshwarped, just like yours.” Twilight giggled and shook her head. “No, this is fine.” She promised then shook her head. “I uh.. You’re not making me think you’re cute, are you?” Zuul frowned, her cheeks puffing out. “You know I’m not! You’d feel it.” Twilight took a deep breath and bit her lip. Unable to say her thoughts out loud, she directed them at Zuul instead. Zuul giggled. “Oh! Okay, no problem! I fully understand that. We should get to the radio room. I want to show you how everything works so you can control the drones manning it if you want too.” Twilight nodded and gave Zuul another quick hug, then stepped past her, deciding to playfully brush her flank against Zuul’s side. “Okay.” Zuul’s tail swished happily at the affectionate gesture. Twilight froze in place again and sputtered. “I um… M— Mab— Maybe later!” She said with a shaky smile. Zuul giggled, turned around and skipped ahead of Twilight. “Only if you want too. So the radio room is right around this corner. We needed to put it up near the surface so the dish could be—” The background static clicked and popped. A loud almost angry shriek blasted from the speakers, making both mare’s ears lay flat against their heads in pain. “Aaaa! What was that?!” Twilight demanded. Zuul whimpered. “Ow… Hearing way better, ow!” Unknown to the two mares, a starship had arrived in the system. The noise having been the wave of Tachyons dispersed to the void when the ship dropped out of FTL. Twilight ran ahead, barging into the radio room. “We need to make sure nothing broke!” “Agreed! Check the vacuum relay, you designed it. I will look at the signal amplifier.” Twilight looked around the small room. The center was mostly filled with a large radio tower and power equipment, while the items needed to operate the radio sat around the side. The radio served a dual purpose as a transceiver and a space facing radar, to try and catch sight of any ship passing by. Checking the equipment was hard. Few items had a case, and everything existed in a state which would horrify an engineer while arousing a steampunk enthusiast. Brass pipes used for grounding. Big coils of wire everywhere. A large boiler to power the radio equipment that hissed and leaked steam… The system worked, but checking it for problems was slow going. The two mares spent nearly five minutes looking over the radio equipment. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Zuul was just starting to check the last of the broadcast equipment, when one of the speakers beeped. Twilight looked up, her wings flaring slightly at the beep. “Uh, was that the rad—” The beep sounded again. The two raced over to the crude crystal screen which was their radar display. The crystal was dark for seemingly an eternity. Then a pale green dot flicked into existence overhead, and the machine beeped. Twilight frowned. “We can contact them right?” “Yes, but they may be more pirates.” “Good point,” Twilight said, hanging her head slightly. “I wish we had an observatory… We could get a look at the ship and then decide if we should con—” The radio crackled, sputtered, and sparked as it came to life. Music began to play over the radio, a cheerful tune with alien lyrics and a militaristic cadence. Along with the music came a voice which Twilight swore was artificial, yet it sounded normal and organic, almost as if it belonged to a robot. The voice was female, and spoke broken equish. A fact which made Twilight’s jaw drop. “Privet? Is CNS Chebureki calling Twilight Sparkle. Indoors let, Twilight Sparkle?” Twilight’s jaw dropped even further and Zuul’s joined her’s in hanging open. A slightly annoyed male voice speaking perfect Equish groaned. “V-1X, you’re an android. Why are you even trying to speak her language as if you had to learn it normally?” “F--Fun, tovarich…” “Use the language files, please,” the male voice sighed. The female voice cleared her throat. “CNS Chebureki calling Twilight Sparkle. Come in Twilight Sparkle.” Zuul looked over to Twilight. “Answer it. I have drones ready with ground to air weapons. We can repel a drop, we will survive a bombardment.” Twilight nodded once and picked up the microphone with her magic. She pressed the button and cleared her throat. “Hello. Twilight Sparkle speaking. Who is this?” “This is the Gopnik Armada’s Flagship, the mighty dreadnaught GA Chebureki!” V-1X answered proudly. “Our captain has a message for your form Rarity Belle. Ahem! ‘Twilight, Rainbow Dash sent a ship looking for everypony. So you know the people are here to help, I am telling them your favorite tea is Ginger with two sugars and a squirt of lemon, and that she knows you hide math books inside Daring Do dust jackets so you can read them at conventions and not get weird looks.’” Twilight hummed. “Well, that’s not information you’d get by torturing her…” “Ey blayt!” V-1X swore, her electronic voice distorting with anger. “Hurt a pony? Nyet! Everyone here wants to find a Nova Wing member and shoot them so full of holes you start to get less holes. We watch Blue Fast on Penny’s stream. No one hurts the ponies and gets away with it.” Twilight smiled, she could hear the sincere outrage and indignity in the android’s voice. The radio crackled as a second channel joined in. “Miss Sparkle, I am the captain of this vessel. You may call me DJ. We knew you were sent here in a drop pod to die due to Rarity’s letter. “The Chebureki is a warship, old, but upgraded. We can take on a Nova Wing ship and live to tell the tale. We are going to rescue them, we have one point five thousand hands aboard, all of them have power armor. Lady Rarity is safe. Rainbow is Safe. We have two plausible locations for your friends Pinkie Pie and Applejack. “Would you like to come aboard and join the fight? If you are safe down there, have food, water, and shelter, we won't force you to come with us. But up here… We have vodka, semechki, shashik, plumb in potato, plov, company… What do you say? Do we come back for you, or should I pick you up in a shuttle?” “Where’s Fluttershy?” Twilight asked skeptical. They forget her… Not a good sign. Captain DJ coughed. “Fluttershy is… Well, we’ll save her last. She’s mostly safe. She’s happy, apparently. Rarity knows where she is, don't worry.” Twilight looked over to Zuul. “Should we trust them?” “Do you trust them?” Zuul asked with a weary frown. Twilight nodded. “Yes. That’s not the kind of information you’d get from torturing someone. Sci-fi stories say robots are ponies too, and she sounded genuinely upset when I insisted she was a pirate. I think we should take the offer.” “Who is with you? Another stranded survivor?” Twilight nodded to Zuul. “Hello. My name is Zuul. Twilight’s been staying with some friends of mine and I. This world isn’t dead. It’s just… Nearly baren. We would like to go with Twilight. You’ll be gaining some potent psionic and biological warriors.” “Opa!” V-1X exclaimed. “More hurt for the space jerks!” Dj chuckled. “Excuse my comms officer, ladies. How many people need transport, do you have personal items?” Twilight looked over to Zuul. Zuul answered immediately. “Six, including Twilight and myself. We have nothing to take but ourselves.” “Six?” Dj mused. “Not quite enough to warrant trying out the captain’s yacht… We have the location of your radio antenna, I’ll be right down. Life Beat! Ready a Lada for reentry. We’ll be down to pick you up in a few minutes, comrades.” The radio went silent. Twilight shrugged her wings and looked over at Zuul. “Well, that was easy!” Zuul smiled, flashing her razor sharp teeth and making Twilight blush. “Well, we both knew getting off the planet would be the easy part and—” Zuul blushed and closed her mouth. Twilight nodded and shot Zuul a playful glare. Zuul laughed and shook her head. “Come on, Twi. Let’s get to the surface. It’s time for the hard part.” Twilight nodded and trotted after Zuul as she headed for the surface. As she walked she reached out for the other pony-like drones and with a simple act of will directed them to head to the radio antenne. Twilight asked curiously. Twilight asked worriedly. Zuul stopped, turned around and shook her head. “No. I chose five because I lay eggs in clutches of five to thirty.” Twilight blushed. “Oh. Minimum batch for testing?” Zuul nodded. “Mhm! And the cutest one with the most endurance is this one!  I don't mean to replace your friends. I mean to help you get them back.” Zuul smiled, her teeth flashing. Twilight smiled back. Zuul blushed. Twilight knew Zuul well enough by now to know when she was telling the truth, and when she was lying. The flight was a lie, not wanting to replace anyone was truth. Twilight’s smile widened. “I’m glad I met you. Come on, let’s fix my old life so we can share it.”