Tie it down 49%
Spike chewed nervously on the edge of his claws as he listened to Applejack’s running commentary on her work. He really would’ve rather been out there with her, to be the extra pair of claws if something went wrong. But Twilight needed tending, and they might need someone on the Equinox.
“That’s three high-tension lines straight into her belly,” Applejack said. “If she tries to take off and fly away now, all she’ll do is be our little tugboat.”
Spike had spent almost no time at all in medical during their voyage—there was no one to get him sick in the Equinox’s sterile environment, and he was too tough (or just not stupid enough) to get himself seriously hurt. As a result, while the crew quarters and some of the common areas had been worn down by his occupation, Medical had been sealed. It still smelled like new plastic, the counter tops were still white and not slightly yellowed with age.
Twilight was tucked safely into bed now, with the best medical care spike could give her.
Spike attempts first aid on Twilight. Success. Twilight will recover her magic in 1 week.
He was fairly sure the glue bandage he’d used on her horn was setting correctly, since the computer said there would already be signs of infection otherwise. Her monitor beeped in regular rhythm. “Guess we both get to test out the facilities,” he said, resting one claw on the edge of the bed. There was only one other bed in here, which for space doubled as the surgical table.
Their surgeon was asleep, of course. Like almost everything.
“Those… boarding spikes you’re using…” Spike said into the radio. “Are they going through into the ship?”
“You betcha they are,” Applejack said. But whatever air they had, it’s gone now.”
“So what happens?” Spike asked, walking over to the tiny circular window. It was on the wrong side of the ship, so all he could see through it was unfamiliar stars. I wonder which one of those is ours. “We, uh… k-killed them? Like they tried to kill us?”
Applejack was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry you have to see this, Spike. I know you aren’t—”
“I’m older than you are,” Spike interrupted, before she could get any further. “I can handle it. Are we trying to kill them or not?”
“It would be easiest,” Applejack replied. “You’d think that out here in the cold, with space itself tryin’ to kill us, ponies would have more reason to work together. But as it turns out, that’s backwards. Bein’ nice and kind and forgivin’ is a luxury of grounders. Out here, a pony who lets a filter go out, well that might be the day that the whole station dies of carbon monoxide. Shoot a hole in the water tank, that’s what the foal next door needs to drink. If the pony on that ship is alive, it means we’ve got a prisoner to deal with. Equinox doesn’t have a brig.”
“Spiiiiiike—” mumbled a voice from the other side of the room.
Spike nearly dropped his radio, hurrying over to Twilight. “Twi, you there?”
Twilight attempts vigor check to return to consciousness. Critical Success
She nodded, eyes going perfectly clear. “Sorry, I was dreaming about something.” She reached up, clutching at her horn with one hoof and groaning loudly. “Why did you… test all the ship’s hammers on my head?”
Spike hurried over, opening one drawer and then another in search of the medication he wanted. Cryogenic vapor filled the air in a cloud as he went through, before he found what he was looking for. He unwrapped the plastic capsule, kicking the drawers shut all at once with one knee and sliding it into the nitrogen injector. “Hold still, computer suggested something for the pain.”
Twilight extended a hoof with surprising force, keeping him away. “Not yet. I… ugh… I think I know what the computer wants you to give me. I’ll go right back to limbo if you give me that.” She eyed the radio. “Stowaway?”
“Still a few hours before their engines come back,” Spike answered, holding out the radio with his other hand. That must hurt terribly, are you sure you don’t want—”
“Put it on the desk there. No, I’ll…” Her horn glowed for a second, then fizzled. She screamed, then melted back onto her bed in a wave of shivering protest. Spike didn’t wait for permission, he just hurried in and pressed the injector to her neck. There was a hiss, and Twilight stopped struggling. Her expression went placid, eyes glazing over.
“Uh… Spike?” Applejack’s voice came over the radio. “I think I see someone in the window.” There was a pause. “Yeah, that’s a pony for sure. Looks like they’re… wavin’ something. Maybe a radio?”
“I’ll try the prospector’s band.” Spike said. “Hold on.” Shame he’d just doped his captain. Twilight wouldn’t be making any more decisions for the next few hours at least.
He twisted the little dial, and instantly a voice resolved on the other end. Not a pony he’d ever heard before, a mare that sounded about the same age as Twilight and her friends. But what was age when every one of them had been in cryosleep caskets for decades?
“Equinox, can you hear me? Stop shooting those spikes into my ship!”
Spike couldn’t help himself—he laughed. “You mean the ship you stole?”
The voice made a frustrated sound. “I want to talk to the captain. Put Twilight on.”
He hesitated. Sharing what had happened to her probably wasn’t a great idea. “Twilight is too busy with important things,” he said. “You get me instead. Now surrender peacefully, and Applejack doesn’t have to blow up our prospector. Everyone lives.”
“Alright,” the voice didn’t even hesitate. “Running out of backup air for the suit… no point going down with the ship. Tell Applejack to hold her fire, and I’ll EVA across. You can arrest me.”
“Who are you?” Spike found himself asking. “Why did you try to kill us?”
“I’m running out of air,” the speaker answered, her voice increasingly annoyed. “I’ll be more willing to talk when I’m not about to die.”
It was Spike’s decision to make.
1. Accept the pony’s surrender. I don’t care what Applejack says, we can’t leave a pony to die. I’m the one who she hurt the most, and I say let her live. We can just throw her into stasis or something when we’re done interrogating her.
2. Wait her out. If she really only has a few hours left, then she won’t get engines back before she’s out of air. It’s cruel, but it’s no more than she could’ve done to us with a bomb on the hull. Maybe as the time runs out she’ll get more talkative, too.
3. Distract her. If I keep her busy, Applejack could try the EVA to disable the ship properly. Might be dangerous, but it was her idea. It will only get safer.