//------------------------------// // Chapter 72 // Story: Voyage of the Equinox // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Wake sunset after the prosthetics are implanted. 83% “And you don’t know of anything in the medical database that might explain it?” Twilight asked, exasperated. She was in the medical bay, beside the still-healing Sunset and Applejack’s empty bed. Several days had passed since she made the decision not to force Sunset to wake. Is there anything about twilight’s condition in the database? Critical no. Fluttershy gazed at her from across the table, shaking her head sadly. “I searched the whole thing, captain. There’s nothing here. I’ve… suspected for some time that Pinkie might be suffering something similar. When she thinks I’m not around, she sometimes responds as though there’s another pony there. And some of what you’ve described to me matches things she said after she woke.” “When she was insane, you mean,” Twilight said. “You’re saying I’ve lost my mind. “Possible,” Fluttershy said, without shyness. “But probably not more or less than the rest of us. I don’t think what Pinkie endured was… I don’t think it was natural. She was awake for many months during the trip. It’s true she suffered injuries because of not following the cryogenic procedures properly, but… that wasn’t the only harm. Something else made her… lose it. And I don’t know what it was.” She didn’t have access to alien machines. They can’t be connected. Twilight rose, nodding her thanks. “I appreciate your help, Fluttershy. How’s… Applejack doing?” “Anti-rejection medication seems to be working. Her bones are incorporating the titanium peg… but I don’t know how much physical therapy it takes to control a cybernetic limb. It’s Node’s design, you know. Our prosthetics are more primitive. They don’t have sensation, or get grafted into the nerves. I have no idea how long she’ll take to heal. And Sunset here…” she sighed. “I still think it might’ve been kinder to let her die.” “Maybe,” Twilight agreed. “But Equestria needs her too badly for that, injuries or not. She signed up to be a captain, she’ll understand that. Twilight left Fluttershy to her work, avoiding the voices that filled every corner of camp. Only Workshop N was peacefully silent, though there were three mechanical ponies in there now. The prospector was back where it belonged, with a few codes changed in the launch computer so Twilight wouldn’t be surprised again. But she walked past all that, carefully avoiding the fields of intention and emotion that signaled the presence of her crew. She walked until they faded into the background, like the waves of a distant sea. I might not be insane yet, but I will be soon. Twilight had a destination in mind—the Memorial. Now that the crew knew about the history room and its grizzly corpse display, they almost never returned here. Twilight didn’t plan on going there, though—she was headed to a lab. Apple Bloom had turned one corner of the elegant entryway into a makeshift research center, with a generator still humming quietly in standby mode and enough camp furniture to make a comfortable workspace. There was even a cot with bedding, still made. There was no sign Apple Bloom had ever used it. Twilight ignored all of that, going instead for the portable computer and opening her own personal files. There was the spell she’d been working on—a mind enchantment. The study of this arcana was nearly forbidden in Equestria. “Too bad you’re not here for real, eh Starlight? You could probably cast a little forbidden magic on me without even trying.” Twilight opened the perspective spell. Proper spell diagrams were in three dimensions and not two, which was why unicorns loved crystals so much. When drawn on a surface or displayed on a screen, spells had to be cut into slices. Twilight stared at the diagram, biting her lip as she concentrated. She’d been returning here whenever she had a spare moment, as much for the peace it would bring her as for the relief she needed in the moment. Does Twilight finish? No. Has she made good progress? Yes. Twilight has produced a working spell, but it is so inefficient that it requires concentration, instead of being something she can cast and forget. The printer hummed, beeping as the thermal head traveled across folded paper. It chimed, and the finished print fell into the waiting tray. Twilight picked it up, expanding the print in front of her. It was the best she could do, at least right now. Maybe I can’t just cast it. I think I’m doing this the wrong way. I need to enchant an object. Enchantments could cost enormous fortunes of magical power, but once complete, the artifact might last for a thousand years. Twilight concentrated on the spell anyway, and attempted to cast it. Can Twilight cast the anti-telepathy spell? Yes. She felt nothing different at first—the thoughts of her camp were so far away that they might as well be the wind in the strange trees outside, and she couldn’t tell them apart. But after a few seconds… she realized she was still hearing something. “I’m here,” the voice was saying. “I’ve been waiting.” Does Twilight resist it? No. She got up, and followed the whispers. They led her down, through a series of passages that she’d never used before. So much of the memorial existed beyond the four major areas—maintenance tunnels, and place staff had once lived. Maybe more. But the place she eventually found herself wasn’t anything like that. It was a little like an amphitheater, except that electricity arched from massive electrodes along the wall, curving down in regular rhythm towards… something. A round chamber, with ancient machines rotten to nothing around it. There was an airlock door set in the side, and the walls were all made of glass. Something like ash had been smeared on the entire thing, making the insides opaque to her. Except for a faint glow, moving around inside. Like a unicorn’s horn in the gloom. Twilight stopped right in front of it, realizing she’d gone somewhere she shouldn’t. But she didn’t turn back, not yet. Her curiosity remained. Unlike before, her crew had no reason to think she’d be in danger. The Memorial was already explored, and nothing in the entire area had been dangerous. Something moved inside, pressing up against the wall. Not banging their way out—it was a cloth. The smoke wiped away, and there was a figure inside. She couldn’t make out its features exactly, but it was definitely on four legs. It pointed with a hoof, or a claw, towards the airlock. When it spoke, Twilight realized her magic was gone. The concentration it took to keep thoughts from her mind was far too great. “Been waiting for you, Twilight. Too… hard to talk through the field. Hatch is there. Want to help you…” Twilight did want to be helped… 1. Open the hatch. 2. Searching the room, Twilight finds a ‘subject disposal’ switch, and uses that instead. 3. Run like hell.