//------------------------------// // Chapter 34 // Story: Voyage of the Equinox // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Keep a pony with it at all times to be ready to talk 78% It wasn’t like they were in any kind of rush—crops would take time to grow with only hydroponics. They might very well be talking to one of the Signalers, wherever the message was actually coming from. Twilight occupied herself helping around medical when she could, and when there was nothing there to do, tinkering around the probe. It couldn’t be coaxed into communicating again, no matter how polite she was—but she could surround it with equipment that would let them monitor what it was doing. Was it trying to communicate along other spectrums? Only one—a band of the radio spectrum so low she wasn’t sure how a tiny antenna could produce it. The signal was attenuated, and directed straight down at the planet below. IT seemed to be firing only once every orbital period. Like we’re orbiting around a control station. Maybe there was more life down there than it had first appeared—hidden bunkers perhaps, or otherwise underground ecosystems. Maybe the life down there was of a form she couldn’t see, and was actually thriving. That last thought was not comforting. A civilization that thrived on the corpse of one that built cities and orbital rings would probably want for Equestria what they had created here. A desolate, near-lifeless place. Except for the single square of life, uncannily preserved near the equator. This was not where the signals were coming from, though the Equinox’s own sensors could pick up faint EM readings from around it. Possibly low-power radio transmissions, or the evidence of working machines. Maybe that’s our invitation. The soil there looked healthy, and the green grass and gravity would do wonder for her crew’s morale. But landing on an alien planet would be an unacceptable risk, unless they could verify conditions were safe first. So Twilight ordered the preparation of another probe—a real one this time, not something to be gutted and replaced with unknown alien computers. They fired down at the planet on their next pass. The whole crew gathered together to watch—except Pinkie Pie. The earth pony never left medical, and from Fluttershy’s description was rarely awake for more than a few minutes at a time. But she hadn’t died, which was the important part. So far as anyone could tell, she was healing. The probe passed through the atmosphere without incident, and they all watched from the bridge as its camera flickered briefly under the stress of a hard landing. Its parachute blew, and another few minutes later, they got confirmation it had landed. Mechanical eyes sent back images of green grass, and gently swaying trees with faintly purple leaves. There were flowers in the distance, though the bushes were hard to make out from the low angle of the rover’s eyes. “Is our friend doing anything?” Twilight asked. Spike had brought the whole thing up here on a rolling cart, no longer connected to the portable computer or the database. It hadn’t protested at being moved, so… “No sign,” Spike said, his voice distant and a little hopeless. “Must still be thinking.” “How are the bio readings, Fluttershy?” The pegasus shifted behind the science console. “Looks like… good temperature, oxygen is a little low, but enough so long as no pegasus flies too high. No sign of… hostile bioagents. I’ve told it to take soil and plant samples, see if the microbiome will be hostile. But even if I don’t find anything, we’ll probably need to transport samples back and test them against some cell cultures. And that still won’t be proof it’s safe, just a stronger suggestion. We’re flying in someone else’s sky, Twilight.” “I know,” she frowned, rising from her chair. “Applejack, I want you looking at the nearby structure. See what you can tell me about the ponies who built it.” She rose. “Spike…” she didn’t even finish, just waved a wing at the probe, riding the lift down. There was no more direction the probe needed from her, and apparently no response from the machine they’d built. Not yet. But it was about noon now, ship time. And every day at noon was when she visited Pinkie. Medical had been transformed halfway into a prison, with a section divider of clear plexiglass isolating a single cot and the space around it from everything that could be touched. The walls had been scribbled on with marker, or else needed a good wash near the bottom. Pinkie Pie herself lay on her belly on the cot, with enough tubes and wires running into her to make it seem like she were an organ of the Equinox itself. Her scars were… gross, but at least they weren’t leaking pus anymore. “Hello Pinkie,” Twilight said, opening the little slot near the empty counter and sliding a foil-wrapped packet inside. “I brought you something sweet.” It was her weekly dessert ration—for several weeks from now. She was running low, would have to start stealing from her friends if she wanted to give Pinkie any more. There’d be no more shortbread for Twilight, not for the rest of the voyage. But she couldn’t think of any other way to get through to her friend. When all else had failed… what was left? Pinkie Pie opened one eye pulling the foil close. She didn’t unwrap it properly, but held it down and tore it with her mouth. The two dried crackers inside were hardly the sort of thing Pinkie could’ve made herself—but they were sweeter than paste. “Twilight,” Pinkie said, with a mouth full of cracker. “I thought you wouldn’t come.” Twilight froze, stiffening in her seat. Her friend had sounded… almost like herself. Like the dreary, drained version she sometimes became. But at least she wasn’t insane. “I come every day, Pinkie,” she said, forcing her voice to stay calm. She managed—but her heart raced so loudly that Pinkie could probably still hear it. “Yeah,” Pinkie said, closing her one eye and stretching out on the cot. “I guess so.” “Are you… okay, Pinkie?” “No.” The earth pony didn’t hesitate. “It hurts everywhere. I think I’m more stitches than pony right now. And when Fluttershy gives me the drugs, everything kinda… goes out of focus for a while. I wish you’d tell her to stop. I don’t need to sleep forever…” 1. Stop the anti-psychotics and release pinkie from mental-health arrest. Pinkie Pie has obviously recovered enough to be part of the crew again, but she’s still badly hurt. Not keeping her in a cell will do as much for her healing, even if she can’t actually leave the medical bay. 2. Ignore the request. As tempting as it is to listen to Pinkie’s own assessment of her mental health, Fluttershy is her doctor and she knows what she’s doing. I can inform Fluttershy of this conversation, but I shouldn’t override her. 3. Begin reducing her dose, but don’t release her from confinement. Maybe Fluttershy missed her recovery, but we shouldn’t jump to letting her out all at once. She’s as much a danger to herself as others if we let her out too soon. (Certainty 210 required)