Twilight Sparkle slouched into the bunkroom, heaving a sigh. In fairness, she had a lot to be grateful for. After an hour of hard labour, she was now free to enjoy the rest of the artificial, sunless day. She scanned around, considering the myriad of thrilling ways to occupy herself. She had already counted the number of floor plates; 24 altogether. She'd done that in the first couple of weeks. She had also previously catalogued the wall tiles, of which there were 53. It had been bugging her why it was an odd number, but she had recounted six times and come to the same figure, with one exception, when she had counted 55, which was even more confusing. The fact that they were all grey did not help matters.
Not for the first time, Twilight reflected that she was slowly going mad. Was this what alicorn princesses were supposed to do; sit round, wasting away in a marooned rust bucket at the end of the universe, millions of years from civilisation? If so, then what was the point, of anything? Perhaps another tile recount wasn't a bad idea.
Twilight was halfway through the second row, before a murmuring from behind made her jump and lose her place. The top bunk had been dormant for so long she would have almost certainly assumed it to be empty had it not been for the snoring that had kept her awake most of the night. Now she turned to find Trixie's face peering over the bed rail. "Morning," she yawned.
"Afternoon," Twilight corrected.
"Atoms," cried Doctor Whooves, leaning over his battered workbench intently, "the base ingredient of the entire universe. Everything you can think of it made up by atoms".
"But Doctor, you always say we should trust science".
"That is correct," said the Doctor, turning to address his assistant.
"Well if atoms make everything up, they don't sound very trustworthy".
This was what the Doctor admired the most about Derpy, thinking outside the box, asking the questions nopony else would even imagine, forcing him to consider things from a totally unique angle. He was just contemplating how to respond to this particular intellectual quandary when he caught sight of Derpy's hoof snaking across the bench.
"Don't touch that," he cried, "careful, these chemicals are extremely unstable, hence why we're handling them with highly advanced, state of the art, precision apparatus". With a pair of tongs he manipulated the chipped beaker, supported above a Bunsen burner by a rusty wire frame. "Why don't you make yourself useful and print me a label; Hydrogen Peroxide, 200 millilitres".
Taking care not to trip over the junk that littered the floor, yet somehow still managing to, Derpy made her way over to the new label making machine the Doctor had recently installed, having declared that writing them out by hoof, or mouth, was just not practical without the aid of a unicorn. He had explained how to use the machine and how it was really quite straightforward. Input chemical compound the display read.
"I just need to go upstairs, back in moment," called the Doctor.
Derpy returned her focus to the keypad and entered the chemical name she thought the Doctor had said from memory. Now the display was asking her to input quantity. 200 she typed in, remembering his instructions. Finally she hit enter, and a label popped out of the machine, followed by another, and another, and another, and then another. Soon there were a whole stream of them pouring onto the floor.
"Doct-"
"Where have you been?"
"If you want to know I've been washing the dishes, by myself, since Derpy's down in that laboratory with the Doctor again," said Twilight, firing an accusatory glare. "I did ask for your help, but all you did was tell me to send for a wizard and then stuffed your head back under the pillow".
"I don't remember that," said Trixie.
"Didn't think you would. You know how that reprocessed food sticks to the plates, it takes forever to scrub off".
"Is something bothering you Twilight? You seem, more irritable than usual. No offence".
Twilight shook her head and flopped onto her bed. "It's nothing. Just having a sort of, existential crisis at the moment".
"Having a what?"
"Trixie, does it bother you that all we do every day is sit around, sleep and eat reprocessed food?"
Trixie pondered the question for a moment. "Would you prefer some pretzels? I have a secret stash".
"Ergh, never mind," snapped Twilight, rolling over to face the wall.
Trixie sighed and assumed a mournful posture. "It's strange how bad things seem to always happen to good ponies isn't?" she said.
Twilight nodded. This she could relate to.
"I mean you're going along, doing really well in life, on your way to achieving all your dreams, then for reasons beyond your control, it all gets taken away from you. You end up in some stuffy corner of the universe sharing a bunk with deranged pony with psychotic delusions of grandeur".
Twilight nodded. Again she could relate.
"Meanwhile other ponies have it all so easy, they get to become alicorn princesses and lounge around in castles that grow out of the ground while the rest of us do all the hard work".
Twilight was about to nod but stopped and sat up. "Wait, what? Oh, we're talking about you. I should've guessed".
"I mean you can't tell me that structure meets planning permission guidelines for a start".
"Hold on, delusions of grandeur? What are you talking about? As a princess of Equestria, I'd appreciate it if you showed a little more respect".
Trixie grovelled theatrically. "I'm so sorry to have offended your grace, naturally I will bow down before your greatness, oh glorious one".
"I think you might be forgetting which one of us habitually prefixes their name with the great and powerful," Twilight responded with a wry smile.
"That's different. Trixie is great and powerful. You may have been a princess in Equestria but that titles holds no weight here, millions of years out into the universe".
"Actually, as you are a citizen of Equestria, it does. We may have an, informal, relationship. I might even consider you a friend".
"You flatter me," Trixie interjected.
"But under article 17 of the sovereignty act, if I gave you a royal command, you would have to obey".
"Not true," cried a voice from across the room.
The eyes of both ponies bolted towards the defiant stallion stood in the doorway.
"Doctor, how long have you been there?" said Twilight.
Doctor Whooves rubbed his neck, "well, as a matter of fact I came to say the radar is clear of storms whenever you're ready to join me outside the pod. But then I didn't want to interrupt your conversation. As it happens I have a little first-hoof experience of Equestria's colonial era".
"Of course you do," muttered Trixie.
"And I happen to know that sovereignty law does not apply until a body of land has officially been claimed, and only Celestia can perform that ceremony".
"Doctor I'm a princess, if you've not forgotten. Part of my job is, was, to study Equestrian law and I've never heard of..."
"Then you'll have read all the footnotes I take it. I have spare copies of the amendment if you'd like another look".
Twilight thought for a moment. "Yes, actually, I would like like to see that".
"Something beginning with R," said the Doctor.
"Oh, I know this one". Derpy jumped to her hooves and paced around excitedly, kicking dust into Trixie's face, "rainbow, railing, rust, refrigerator, ribbon, river, riverbank".
Trixie sighed, staring out across the barren landscape. It had been a couple of hours since they'd left the pod, or at least that's what it felt like, even if the Doctor's fob watch stubbornly argued otherwise. "Do you see any rivers round here Derpy, or any refrigerators come to think of it?"
"No, I guess not," she replied thoughtfully.
"I'll give you a clue," said the Doctor, "it's to do with the ground".
"Dust, dirt, boulders".
"Think smaller".
"Stones, pebbles".
"Beginning with R," Trixie reminded her.
"Roof, relic, raft, robot, robot clone army".
"Robot clone army, where?" stammered the Doctor.
"I don't know, I thought you'd seen one".
"Oh for Celestia's sake," said Trixie, "it's not that difficult, they're all around us right now".
"That's right," said the Doctor.
"I think I have it," Derpy announced determinedly, "it's radon particles".
"Correct," the Doctor exclaimed.
"What?" snapped Trixie, "how in Equestria did she get that?"
"I saw it on one of those charts, in the laboratory," Derpy explained, "it says they come from rocks and soil in the ground".
"Very observant," said the Doctor, "you could learn a lot from Muffins here Trixie".
"Oh please, obviously I knew that was the answer all along, and anypony can read something off a wall chart".
Part of Trixie wished that Twilight could be here to distract her, though another part of her knew that distraction would probably involve a lecture on the finer nuances of crafting an itinerary or recategorising a bookshelf. Ironically that was why she had come out here, to get away from it. In any case she was still busy having her exponential crisis or whatever it was. When they'd left her, Twilight had been knelt on the bunkroom floor, encircled by reams of legal documentation provided by the Doctor. The chances of her making an appearance anytime soon were slim.
"Something beginning with A".
"Alicorn," cried Derpy, "incoming".
"What?" Trixie looked up to where the pegasus was pointing. Through the haze of dust that obscured the pod emerged Twilight, a vortex of rock fragments and no doubt countless radon particles swirling in her wake. Flapping about in her telekinetic field was a scroll.
"Listen. There's a clause" she panted, coming to a stop, "which states in special circumstances the colonisation ceremony may be performed by another appointed princess besides Celestia".
"Let me see that," said Trixie. She snatched the scroll from Twilight. "Ah, very interesting," she muttered, trying in vain to hide her discovery that she could not make any sense of the legal jargon. One sentence had caught her attention however. "There's something here about a member of the royal guard needing to be present".
"Oh yes, I hadn't thought of that," Twilight gasped.
Trixie saw her opportunity. "Guess we'll just have to not have the ceremony then, what a shame".
Doctor Whooves cleared his throat. "I might have served as a royal guard for a while, as a matter of fact, if that counts".
"Wow Doc, I never knew," said Derpy.
"Do you just believe every word he says without question?" asked Trixie.
"Why not? We're talking about the same pony who fought on the front line during the third great parasprite uprising".
Trixie glared at the Doctor.
"Okay, so maybe I wasn't on the frontline as such," he laughed nervously, "more of a reserve".
"So we have a royal guard, what else do we need?" Twilight took hold of the scroll again for further examination. "A native relations delegate. Derpy, you have a new role". Derpy responded with a gleeful smile. "Now all that's left are the ceremonial gowns".
Trixie had worn some ridiculous outfits before. Quite a number in fact. It came with her job. If this had been the most extravagant, overblown, radical magic show in Equestria then what she was wearing now would be considered too excessive. The gowns were not technically the correct ones for a colonisation ceremony, but they were the closest Doctor Whooves could find in his wardrobe. In other words they were suitably uncomfortable and impractical for such a formal occasion.
"They were designed as symbol of strength and stability," the Doctor explained when Trixie complained for the twenty-third time, "that's why they are so heavy. It's said during the first frontier sixteen ponies were hospitalised after wearing these gowns".
"So they showed their strength and stability by injuring themselves," said Trixie.
"Don't worry, he's just exaggerating," gasped Twilight, sweat pouring off her as she strained under the oversized metallic horseshoe which adorned her collar. "Now can we get on with the ceremony please. The native relations delegate has yet to make her speech".
"This is ridiculous. There are no natives on this world," said Trixie.
Twilight leaned in close and whispered "that's why I gave the job to Derpy". She raised her voice and continued, "and anyway, technically we don't know for certain there is no life out here".
At this the Doctor's ears perked up. "Exactly," he boomed, "there may be aliens around here we've not yet discovered".
"You mean like the last alien evidence you found?" said Trixie, "that turned out to be a crate of your old junk".
"We agreed never to speak of that again," replied the Doctor gravely.
"Can we please focus," cried Twilight, "it's vital this ceremony goes to plan. Now as I was saying, before we conclude, the native relations delegate will offer support and solidarity to the indigenous life forms of this colony".
She made a gesture with her hoof and paused. There was silence. Twilight cleared her throat again. The Doctor prodded Derpy.
"Oh, that's me," she said, "I'd like to make a short speech to all the indigenius life forms out there, wherever you are. I know you have to be very clever to be a genius, so I can only imagine how clever you must have to be to be indigenius. It is my hope that one day we will meet so we can share our own great wisdom with you, and then together we can both be indigenius".
"They don't know what they're missing out on," Trixie remarked.
Twilight cleared her throat. "Now, as princess and leader of this colony I decree that from today things will be run more efficiently around here".
Twilight strode into the bunkroom. Head held aloft, she peered around and nodded with approval. The wall could do with a few propaganda posters, but that could wait until the morning. Where was that funny smell coming from though?
"Twilight".
Startled from her thoughts, Twilight turned to find Trixie stood in the doorway. "I do not recall you being permitted to enter the royal quarters".
"I sleep in here," Trixie replied.
Twilight groaned. "Very well, but if you wish to speak with me in future you must first obtain an appointment through the appropriate channels".
"And what are the appropriate channels?"
"Make way for the princess's guard," thundered a voice from behind her.
Trixie jumped to the side involuntarily. "Doctor, what are you doing, and why are you wearing that ridiculous uniform?"
"I have appointed the Doctor as my personal bodyguard" Twilight explained.
"Twilight, don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously?"
"Whatever would give that idea?"
"Any trouble your highness?" said the Doctor.
"No trouble, I'm just dealing with it," answered Twilight. "Actually..." She moved towards the bed, all the while sniffing the air. Then she began levitating the corner of the duvet on the top bunk and rummaging underneath.
"What are you doing?" cried Trixie, "hey".
"As I suspected," said Twilight, holding a bag of pretzels in her magic aura, "an unauthorised consumable, not declared on your ration allocation".
"Ration allocation?"
She passed the bag to Doctor Whooves. "Place these under strict quarantine would you". He moved to follow her instruction.
"Now that's enough Twilight," snapped Trixie, "this has to stop".
Twilight turned and paced towards her, "I will let you off with a formal caution, just this once, but be careful. The princess is watching you. Ooh, I'm going to have that on a poster".
By now Trixie was backed up against the wall of the bunkroom. "Twilight, are you okay?"
"More than okay. I'm better than I've felt in a long time. You are dismissed".
Trixie nodded and slumped out into the corridor. Having crossed the threshold, she paused and looked around. "Can I come back in now?" she said after a few seconds. She decided to take the absence of response as a yes and re-entered the bunkroom with a sigh. Whatever it was Twilight was going through she would have to just accept it for the moment. It would surely be over in a few days anyway and things would go back to normal.
"Zone 61, 50 hoofsteps north, 35 hoofsteps east. Geological report please".
Trixie groaned. The ground below her hooves was made up of dust and rocks, as was the ground in front of her, and either side of her, and behind her as far as she could see. "Dry sediment".
Twilight scribbled in her notebook, then marched five steps forward. Trixie slumped a few steps forward. "Zone 62, 50 hoofsteps north, 40 hoofsteps east. Geological report please".
"Dry sediment," said Trixie, staring off into the distance.
"You weren't looking. Remember accuracy is critical. What if you said the ground was dry sediment and it was actually something completely different? How can I, as the princess, plan for the future of this colony if my survey data is all wrong?"
"Ugh". Trixie gave the earth below a hard glare then looked to Twilight to check she was satisfied. "Dry sediment".
Twilight paced forward again. "Zone 63, 50 hoofsteps north, 45 hoofsteps east. Geological report please".
"Twilight, I'm bored now".
"Zone 63, 50 hoofsteps north, 45 hoofsteps east. Geological report please," Twilight repeated.
"How long is this going to go on for? It's been three weeks now, I can't take any more".
"Geological report please".
"Can you stop saying geological report please".
"Geological report please".
"This is silly".
"On the contrary," argued Twilight, "this is extremely serious. We don't know how long we may be stranded out here, therefore it is absolutely vital we are prepared, and for that we need precise geological data. Now let's try again shall we? Geological report, please".
"Dry sediment," muttered Trixie.
"Speak up, I can't hear you".
"Dry sediment," she yelled, "are you happy?"
"Thank you, now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
The coast was clear. Twilight had sent Derpy to the cargo bay to do another stock take, removing and meticulously cataloguing each individual item from every crate. Doctor Whooves was down in his laboratory working on a new chemistry experiment, trying to create an invisible stealth paint which he insisted would help protect the pod if they encountered hostile alien life forms. Twilight had reassured him there would be no hostile alien life forms but it made no difference. Trixie meanwhile was sleeping off the afternoon's work, so there would be no sign of her for at least the next twelve hours or so. More than enough time to do what she needed. Another quick glance behind her and Twilight slipped into the cockpit, unaware that she was being watched.