Take everyone but Spike, leave him to make the repairs. 72%
“You’re sure you can handle this, Spike?” Twilight’s voice was a little muffled through the hazmat suit, but not enough that the young dragon wouldn’t be able to understand even without the radio.
They stood alone on the end of the docking arm, with the Prospector already packed to the gills. It was a merciful blessing from Celestia that Applejack had replaced all their deployment supplies, or else they might be stuck in a cave somewhere, eating purple grass to survive.
“I’m sure,” the dragon said, rolling his eyes. “I ran the numbers. I could sleep for ten years next to the reactor and I’d barely get sunburned. It’s fine! Soon as you’re out, I’ll get the whole thing vented. Repairs… well, might be a little harder, we’ll see. But Applejack and I will keep in touch.”
“Yeah.” She leaned down beside him, embracing him with a plastic-covered wing. “You’ve really grown up, Spike. We’d already be dead if it wasn’t for you. You’re our only hope of ever getting home.”
“I won’t let you down,” he returned the embrace, squeezing her so tight she worried the suit might burst. But it didn’t, and a few moments later he released her again. “I just… I want a promise from you, Twi. An honest one.”
“Anything.”
“Come back for me,” he begged, voice desperate. “And the others. Well, except maybe Cozy Glow. Want to leave her on ice for all eternity, that’s better than she deserves after all this. But the rest of us. Don’t leave us here, even if I’m not smart enough to fix the Equinox.”
Twilight nodded. “It isn’t conditional. We’ll come back for you.”
She turned, crossing through a foil-covered tube through the void, into the side of the Prospector.
Despite its repairs, it was obvious the interior hadn’t been treated with the love and care it deserved. There were little carvings in the wall, doodles and scratches that would’ve required every bit of interior plastic be replaced. But they hadn’t bothered with the effort.
The Equinox began to recede into the distance behind them, its massive metallic superstructure gradually shrinking until there were only a few sparkles of reflection visible in the sun.
The Prospector had only three real rooms—a miniscule cockpit large enough for only a single pony to cram inside, a larger living area, and the even bigger, depressurized cargo hold. It was a standard, modular design, and she’d seen plenty of interesting modifications. Like making the cargo hold into a passenger cabin, for short jumps between Equus and Luna.
But their ship hadn’t been configured for that, and so the quarters were… tight.
There were four beds, though two of them were on walls and not be useful if they needed to accelerate. There was no privacy for the vacuum-style bathroom, or any shower at all.
Pinkie Pie was already strapped into one of the chairs in the furthest corner of the living area, staring off at nothing in particular. Twilight emerged from the cockpit, shaking herself out. Her coat still felt stiff from the decontamination foam, and filled the air around her with the stench of antiseptic. Better a stink than cancer.
“Sorry we haven’t been able to talk much,” Twilight said, pulling over one of the other chairs. She didn’t strap herself down though, not when she still had her magic for that purpose. “Fluttershy told me you were responding well to your new medication.”
Pinkie Pie didn’t look nearly so glazed as she had the last time. Instead she looked a little sleepy, and maybe pained from the staples running up and down her body in various places. Her wounds were healing, though it would probably be years before she could be safely frozen again.
“Yeah,” Pinkie smiled weakly up at her, lifting one foreleg and waving it around with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “Thanks for… making her. She wanted to take it slow. Slow might be good when you’re at home, but think of how many parties behind I’ve gotten. You realize I missed forty-one birthdays for everypony? I can’t start catching up if I’m locked in a little room.”
It was the most awake thing she’d heard Pinkie say thus far. Now—with Applejack on the radio with Spike, and Fluttershy tucked away in one of the cots—might be her first real chance to get answers. “Why did you wake up?”
Pinkie Pie met her eyes, expression haunted. “Something… bad… was gonna happen. I could… feel it.” She gestured vaguely at her head.
“Your… precognition?” Twilight had barely accepted it when she’d first seen the evidence.
“Pinkie sense,” she corrected. “I just had to be awake, then I was. Your voice was there, screaming…” she shivered, clutching at her seatbelt with both legs, starting to shake.
Twilight reached over, settling one leg on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Pinkie. Whatever it was, it’s over. You… don’t have to tell me all about it now if you don’t think you can.”
Pinkie nodded, but then her eyes opened, and she went on anyway. “Something was on the ship with us. It wasn’t very nice. I… got rid of it.”
“Spike didn’t help?”
Pinkie nodded. “Never saw… him.”
Something? Did Pinkie mean she’d helped the eye avert a collision? Or… something stranger? Nothing could get onto the ship. We would’ve been traveling at relativistic speeds. What could fly that fast?
Another starship, maybe. There was the damage when we came into the system. Was some of it older than Spike thought?
She didn’t have time to speculate. It seemed her friend had said all she wanted to, because she’d started humming to herself. One of her old songs about ghosts. Twilight gave her one last reassuring pat, then let go, rising to her hooves.
That was about when Applejack joined her.
“You think he can do it?” Twilight asked.
“Slower than me, but yeah. I only got a quick look, but I’m guessing on the order of four months. He’s gonna have to rip out the whole thing. Melted right into the structure—that’s gonna leave an entire section in hard vacuum. It’s a whole buckin mess.” She shook her head. “But that’s not our problem right now.” Applejack gestured around. “We gotta decide what to do.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Twilight answered. “There’s no reason we have to let this slow down our mission.” Aside from the specifics of who was on the Prospector, they might’ve been about to do this anyway.
1. First deliver the probe. It’s time to make a new friend, even if it was a little annoying last time.
2. First set up camp down on the fertile part of Proximus B and start growing. Geneseed, real food… the sooner we get those crops in the ground, the sooner we can start making up for what we’ve lost, and get the rest of our crew awake.
3. Wait it out. [-Morale] That means four months living trapped in a tiny box burning through some of the last of our supplies, but the planet is just unacceptably dangerous to visit without the entire crew. We can orbit here within range of the Equinox, and be close in case there’s an emergency.
(Certainty 210 required)