//------------------------------// // 27: Asaam Kiith'Sid (Part 1) // Story: Homeworld: Equestria - The Silent Hunters // by hiigaran //------------------------------// Amarok emerged from hyperspace in Hiigaran territory, near the remains of the Tanis derelict; the old construction site of the Pride of Hiigara. Soft blue and purple hues from the distant sun surrounded the destroyer, diffused in the sparse dust cloud it occupied. Crepuscular rays filtered through a colossal Progenitor derelict approximately half a light-year away, wherever the behemoth had decayed or broken apart. “Hyperspace successful,” Sierra announced. “Drives powering down to idle.” Azimuth joined in. “Location confirmed. We have arrived at Tanis.” “Specialist,” Quasar called out to the nearby unicorn. “Our contact around?” Crux nodded. “Affirmative, sir. One super-capital-class vessel detected on long-range sensors. Verifying drive signature … aaaaand it’s the Hiigaran shuttle.” “Broadcast our transponder codes and open comms.” “Done, and done. All yours, Captain.” “Fal Ro, Amarok,” Quasar transmitted. Several seconds of silence passed, before a low female voice replied. “Amarok, go ahead.” “We’ll be heading for your position shortly. Tracking direct.” “Copied. Your codes have been verified. Cleared to approach.” Terminating the comms link, Quasar raised his voice. “Lieutenant Azimuth, set a course for the shuttle, abeam port-side at one-five-zero metres. Ensign Sierra, ahead standard to midpoint.” Azimuth read her orders back, followed by Sierra. After finishing their work, the Ensign spoke up. “So, Eclipse. I was leaving the galley earlier on and overheard you ranting about the Infiltrators. Something about the pegasi. What was that about?” Eclipse groaned. “Those two are starting to become a pain in my flank now. They’ve been pranking crew, and it’s starting to get out of hoof.” “Why, what have they been up to?” “Let’s see … there’s the crew quarters where they covered the interior entirely in aluminium foil. Chefs weren’t too happy about most of their rolls going missing, either. Then there were the rubber mice left in random locations across most decks. A couple of times, they secured cling wrap over elevator doors. Once again, chefs were furious. Not sure how they’re obtaining those supplies. Next was an air horn stuck to the back of an inner pressure door in crew quarters, and the latest one was disguising duct tape as toilet paper.” Quasar snickered. “I like a couple of those.” Eclipsed pointed at the Captain. “You of all ponies should be expressing clear disapproval.” Quasar shrugged. “I’ll admit, one or two of those might be safety issues, but they remind me of my early years.” “I sense an incoming ‘back in my days’ story,” Sierra mocked, mimicking an elderly pony’s voice. “Hey, I’m not that old!” Quasar shot back. “Suuuuure.” “I’m fifteen years older than you, Ensign. If you want to call me old, you’re going to have to admit you’re in your middle ages first.” Sierra’s eyes bulged. “No, no, I’m good. On with your story then.” “That’s what I thought. So back during training, before any of this space travel nonsense, there were two pegasi batches,” Quasar started, reclining as he recalled the events. “We were essentially rivals, always trying to one-up each other. See who performs the best, who gets the highest grades, and so on. One day my batch returned to our dorms to find all the furniture had been turned upside down. The other batch took credit for it the next day.” “Boring!” the chief engineer shouted. “Shut it, rev-head. Anyway, it quickly escalated into an all-out prank war. I assume every pegasus remembers centrifuge training, right? Had it a few days later. My batchmate Sunspot had this brilliant idea of dumping our MREs into sick bags. Oh, which meal was it? You know, the one that tasted horrible.” “They all tasted horrible,” Arc Sabre quipped, eliciting a couple of laughs from the other command centre crew. “Too right. Well it was the one with corn,” Quasar continued. His face lit up a moment later. “Corn chowder! That’s the one! Anyway, I did my thing in the spinner, then flopped out, acting like I was ready to throw up. Sunspot takes his turn after me, so I sat in his place on the benches, holding the sick bag he so kindly prepared for me. He comes out acting all sick as well, and I pass him the second bag.” Eclipse rolled his eyes. “Oh, please don’t tell me you two pretended to barf, then eat from each other’s bags.” “Even better,” Quasar chuckled. “Points for creativity, though. So I said ‘oh I don’t think I can hold it any longer’, and Sun goes ‘no, don’t, you’ll set me off’, then we faked it. Me first, him next. All this time, our batch fought valiantly to keep straight faces, while our rivals watched, trying to keep their lunch down after their sessions. So we go past them to dispose of our bags, when I pretended to trip into Sun. We threw our bags into the air, and they landed on this poor sod. Completely saturated. He just looked at himself in horror. Raw, unrefined, horror.” Sierra giggled, snorting in the process. “I imagine he had an involuntary gastric expulsion after that.” “Oh he did, but it got better,” Quasar replied, an evil glint in his eyes. “His first instinct was to put a hoof over his mouth, and that only sent liquid to his left and right.” “No!” “Yes!” “No!” “Right in the faces of the two sitting next to him! It didn’t stop there, either. Once a few of them started, the rest followed. It was a fountain of bile at one end of the room, while our batch was ready to wet ourselves with laughter on the other end.” “What happened after that?” Azimuth piped up. “I guess somepony had to clean up that mess afterwards, huh?” Quasar nodded. “Yep. The centrifuge operator reported us, and after we got smoked for a good ten minutes, Sun and I went back to make those floors shine. With nothing more than a single bucket and a dish washing sponge. Worth it!” “So what happened with the other batch?” Eclipse asked. “Well, after a couple of days, they sneaked into our dorms while we were out on PT. That evening, we all found out the hard way that our toilet seats were pepper sprayed. When I went to find Sun, I barged in on him applying yoghurt to his ass, and … elsewhere. You know how it is. Once you touch a surface with pepper spray, or chilli, it's passed on to everything else you touch.” Sabre looked up at the ceiling, recreating the scene in his head. “Now there’s a mental image.” “Whatever you’re imagining is probably entirely accurate.” Amarok continued its approach, turning retrograde and decelerating. As its destination approached, Eclipse left for the fourth deck, where the Infiltrators and their prisoner waited. Nearing the shuttle, Amarok made minor adjustments and slowed to a halt. Once more, Quasar opened communications. “Fal Ro, Amarok ready to transfer the prisoner and our Infiltrators when you are.” “Copied. Receiving crews are standing by. I assume this will be one of those teleporting transfers?” “Affirmative. They should be aboard your ship in the next few minutes. Take care of our guys.” “Will do. See you in a few days. Fal Ro out.” “Welcome aboard,” greeted the officer who had communicated with Amarok prior. She, like the other crew, wore the red and black uniforms associated with one of Hiigara’s fiercest clans. “I am Captain Aava Soban. You three are Swift, Shift, and Sparky, correct?” “That’s us,” the pegasi replied in unison. Though they wore their NSUs like the other Infiltrators, it was clear the twins had neglected to iron their attire. “And that must be the Gaalsien,” Aava stated, the shift in her tone apparent. Giving Khamari a look over, her gaze returned to the three Infiltrators. “I’ve assigned an escort to each of you for the duration of your stay with us. If you’ll follow them, they’ll lead you to your quarters.” Shift turned to the other three Infiltrators. “Guess we’ll see you fellas later. Have fun while we’re on foalsitting duty.” Wheeling around, the pegasus nearly lost balance from the momentum of his overfilled side bags, saved from toppling over by a nudge from Sparky. The diamond dog shook his head, picking up his duffel bag and following the escorts out of the compartment. Aava watched her escorts disappear with Swift, Shift and Sparky. She then barked orders to her nearby crew, pointing at Khamari as she did so. “Last osaaksa er lon’giirvalkvard.” “Mor, Aklast’liin,” several of the crew replied, before leaving with Khamari, pushing him in the direction of the exit. “You three would then be Shadow, Glare, and Obsidian,” Aava addressed the final three. Like Shift, Shadow’s bags bulged, though to a lesser extent. Glare levitated an additional bag alongside her, while Obsidian carried the absolute minimum. Turning suddenly, Aava made for a different exit. “Follow me,” she called out. “We’re about two hours out from Hiigara. You’re welcome to stay in the wardroom while you wait.” “I’m unfamiliar with the term. What’s a wardroom?” Shadow asked, trotting behind Aava. “Considering it’s the mess for senior officers, I’m surprised you as an officer have no idea what one is.” “Equestrian branches of military never segregated officers from those below them,” Shadow explained. “What about yours, Obsidian?” “I’d say we’re in line with the Hiigarans on this matter,” Obsidian began. “I know Equestria loves to breed familiarity, but changelings go in the opposite direction. Helps prevent emotions, and conflicts of interest from getting in the way of things.” “Hypocrite,” Glare ribbed, failing to think about the implications of her comment in time. “Why?” the zebra enquired. “Just because of our Canterlot outing?” Glare stared vacantly ahead, the pause in the air threatening to become suspiciously long. “Yes. Exactly that.” Obsidian commenced damage control. “I’ll admit, despite my reservations about Equestria, you ponies have … grown on me. As much as I hate to say it, even Swift and Shift. They might be the annoying little brothers, but they’re my annoying little brothers,” he finished, looking Shadow directly in the eyes as he added, “Under no circumstances are you to tell them I said that.” Shadow chuckled. “How sweet.” “Shut up.” “How cute,” Glare joined in. “Don’t you start!” “How adorable!” Shadow teased. Obsidian was not amused. As the four came to a halt beside a service elevator, he turned to Aava. “Captain? Are you accepting applications for Kiith Soban?” “You joke, but we are. Actually wouldn’t mind having a few of your kind as Sobani.” “You’d take anyone? Even if they aren’t your species?” Aava led the Infiltrators into the elevator before answering. “Technically, yes, but while it’s easier to join Kiith Soban, compared to any other Kiith, it’s not a decision to be made lightly. It’s a never-ending life of military service. Sure, it’s rewarding in more ways than one, and there are few greater honours than being Sobani, but it comes at a price. Let’s just say the weak are weeded out within days.” “How do you join?” Obsidian asked, catching a glimpse of Shadow and Glare giving him looks. “Relax. Like she said, I wasn’t being serious.” “Traditionally one would tear the colours of their Kiith from their clothes, as a way to signify abandonment of loyalty to their past.” Watching the elevator’s display indicate a foreign symbol, Aava added, “This is our floor.” Glare moved up beside the Captain as they left the elevator. “I’m guessing there’s a history to that ritual?” “There is. That same history ties in to the origin of our Kiith. On Kharak, we were originally known as the Grey Brotherhood. It was by no means a noteworthy Kiith back then. The story goes that its territory had come under attack, and became partially occupied by a more powerful Kiith. The survivors were led away by one known as Soban the Red. When Soban brought news of the attack to the Brotherhood’s Kiith-Sa, he was shocked and enraged when the Sa refused to retaliate, and intended to ally with them instead.” “This Sa sounds like he was trying to preserve the lives of his people,” Glare commented. “This Sa sounds like a buzzing coward,” Obsidian retorted. Aava replied with an agreeable hum. “Hearing this, Soban ripped the Brotherhood’s colours from his body, declaring he’d never belong to a Kiith that ignored the ‘blood of children crying from the ground’. Soban and the survivors broke away from the Brotherhood, and their first act was to strike back at those who attacked them. It is said that not a single blade of grass was left green in the aftermath. From that day on, Kiith Soban was born as an almost nomadic Kiith of pure mercenaries, and were considered an invaluable asset to any military.” “That explains why you’re revered as fierce combatants.” Glare paused, as another thought brewed. “But as mercenaries, doesn’t that mean you’ve sometimes had to fight on the wrong side? With respect, it seems a bit odd to go from the blood of children speech, to contract killers.” “Sobani won’t pretend that part of our history never existed. After all, on Kharak, no one had the luxury of not having to worry about survival. However, after discovering our origins, our people were mostly united in the goal of seeking out our homeworld. Nowadays, our ‘side’ is simply Hiigara’s.” Glare continued with her volley of questions. “But the Kiith system still exists, so there’s still some sort of segregation there, right?” “On Kharak, and in the early days after reclaiming Hiigara, that was the case. Nowadays, it’s more of a status. Yes, there will always be some form of discrimination between Kiithid, but most of it is typically benign. You won’t see employers refusing to hire Manaani on some stereotype about their ancestors being … ahem … ‘free-spirited’ nomads with an affinity for thievery. However, you would still see some less common examples of discrimination.” “Such as?” “Well, we have this thing on Hiigara, where anyone with an artistic degree is considered to have a useless education, and Kiith Manaan is typically known for creativity. Compared to the scientific mindset of Kiith S’Jet, the industrious Kiith Nabaal, or the unmatched military capabilities of Kiith Soban, some would scoff at the Manaani, forgetting that while science and technology keep us alive, art makes us want to stay alive.” “I’ve never really thought about it like that,” Obsidian commented. “I’ve been guilty of looking down on others for that a few times.” “Glad to provide some enlightenment,” Aava replied, as the four approached the doors to another compartment. As the doors to the wardroom slid open, the Captain entered first. Two other officers seated around a small coffee table immediately stood upon sighting the newcomers. After a nod from Aava, the officers sat back down, while the Infiltrators deposited their bags near the door, and took a seat at a round dinner table. As the Captain took a seat beside Shadow, Obsidian spoke up. “You know, after everything we just talked about, I’m surprised that a warrior Kiith is crewing a non-combat ship.” “Sobani require mass transportation, just like any other,” Aava stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, what makes you think this vessel isn’t equipped for combat? Didn’t notice the twin ion cannons above and below, as you came in?” “Never had a visual. Just going off the standard design,” the changeling commented. “Suffice it to say, the original designs still had room for improvement. We’ve lowered the ceilings to bolster internal supports, removed some quarters and hot bunked crew to make a little more space in the hangars, and removed heatsinks to fit larger reactors, at the expense of ship-wide cabin heating.” “Huh. That explains why it’s comfortably warm in here.” “Glad you like it. You and I have different definitions of comfortable, though.” “Figured spending an exile on a desert planet would get a species used to that sort of thing.” The very air surrounding Aava seemed to change. “You might want to keep comments like that to yourself while on Hiigara.” “Duly noted.” An awkward silence followed, before Aava rose. “Right, would anyone like some breakfast? We’ve got eggs, hash browns, and an assortment of pastries. Had the chef make something just before you arrived. I’d recommend the poached eggs with avocado.” Glare followed. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.” “Not a fan of eggs, but I might take a few hash browns,” Obsidian spoke next. Shadow was the last to rise. Following others to the minuscule galley adjoining the wardroom, they each took trays and their respective meals, with the zebra helping herself to Aava’s recommendation, and a pair of pastries filled with apple sauce. Seated once more, the four continued to converse between bites. As usual, Glare enquired about the history of Aava’s people, listening intently to her responses. The occasional sarcastic reply from Obsidian broke up the history lesson, with his latest observation a remark about how all the ‘bad guys’ seem to enjoy voice modulation. “It’s not so much that they enjoy changing the sound of their voice. Rather, it’s a way to mask their identity,” Aava explained. “A secondary benefit, mind you. Much of the personal protective equipment used on Kharak which covers the face contains respiration equipment that causes the voice to deepen and resonate.” “Just like with Khamari,” Glare stated. “Well, he certainly tried to fool us aboard the Vindicator,” the changeling commented. “If Sparky wasn’t around, we might have taken the wrong one.” The Captain set her finished meal aside. “That has been our biggest challenge with finding high-value Gaalsien targets. Getting a positive ID on one is usually impossible without a spy. I envy the different abilities your species have, and I’m sure glad we’re on the same side.” Glare looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve always wondered where we’d be if that frigate never fell out of our sky.” “Who knows. Maybe you’d have remained hidden in the galaxy. Maybe the Raiders would have found you first. Maybe life in our Galaxy would have ended without the fleet of Harmony.” Shrugging, Aava stood once more with her tray. “Well, I think we’ve waited long enough. If we leave now, we should be above Hiigara by the time you’ve secured yourself aboard the transportation we have arranged for you.” After the rest of the group left their trays in the scullery, they retrieved their bags and followed Aava to one of the lower decks, via the elevator. Moving past compartments, they made another turn and headed down one of the hangar’s long corridors, passing several airlocks at regular intersections. Aava came to a halt beside one, and gestured toward the thick door. “Your pilot is already on board. Secure yourselves, follow his instructions, and you’ll arrive at Hiigara in no time.” Shadow bowed her head. “Thank you, Captain. It was a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully we’ll meet again.” Entering the airlock last, Shadow latched the door behind her. Sensing no pressure differential, the airlock immediately opened the next door, which led to the side entrance of a gunship decorated with Sobani livery. Upon closer inspection, the vessel appeared to be built with armour capable of withstanding atmospheric entry. As soon as they boarded the vessel, the pilot, already seated at the controls, welcomed the three. “How’s it going? If you want to just pop your bags in that locker on the side, that’ll be great. Whenever you’re ready, strap in. We’re exiting hyperspace in less than five minutes.” Without giving any of the Infiltrators time to reply, the pilot flipped a guarded switch on an overhead panel, and watched the side door close. Ensuring nothing but green lights illuminated on his annunciator panels, he proceeded with his checklists, muttering occasionally as he read each line displayed on a side screen. A few minutes after the pilot finished, he received his departure clearance. Having exited hyperspace just seconds prior, the gunship emerged from the shuttle in orbit above Hiigara. Though difficult to make out the view from their seats, the Infiltrators saw glimpses of a planet remarkably similar to their own, in terms of terrain. The most striking difference was the sheer intensity of the numerous city lights, as they passed over a part of the planet that would have been experiencing sunrise. Glare could see clouds above a landmass that seemed to be their destination as they descended. “Any of you feel like this is Enigma all over again?” Shadow shrugged. “Those look like cirrus clouds to me. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about lightning strikes tearing wings off in that weather.” “Even if we did fly through a storm”—the pilot raised his voice—“we don’t have any wings. It’s pure engine power keeping this craft airborne in atmosphere. In thrust, we trust!” Compared to the Forge flown by Shadow and Sparky, the gunship was sturdier by orders of magnitude, allowing for a steeper descent. As the minutes passed, the gunship successfully completed atmospheric entry and descended rapidly, passing the cirrus layer and entering a thicker layer of stratus that obscured their destination. Piercing the final cloud layer, Asaam Kiith’Sid dominated the view. Running north-east to south-west, a wide river split in two, combining again to form a wide holm saturated with numerous skyscrapers. At the centre stood the tallest of the buildings, with others progressively shorter, the further out they were. Beyond the rivers, the land took on a more suburban appearance, though the passengers could not tell what lied beyond, as the morning fog had yet to be lifted. The pilot made a succession of turns towards the holm, descending to an altitude in line with other airborne traffic. Reducing speed to maintain safe separation, he adjusted his heading while zooming past the outer towers. Eventually he began navigating between them, until they reached their destination. Breaking off from the rest of the traffic, the gunship slowed to a hover and approached a tunnel running through one of the inner-most skyscrapers. A lane of marked landing pads lined each side of the tunnel, and the pilot closed in on the nearest, where several figures watched from below. Manoeuvring through, the gunship slowed to a stable hover less than half a metre from the ground. A set of passenger boarding stairs moved into place at the gunship’s side door, and after receiving the all-clear from the ground staff, the pilot flipped a switch to open the door. The roar of the gunship’s engines quickly entered the cabin. Cleared to disembark, Obsidian, Glare, and Shadow stepped off, their manes thrown into chaos from the gunship’s thrusters. As they reached the base of the stairs, they were greeted by a member of security. Dressed in a sleek tactical suit of black with red trim, he offered his salutations to the newcomers. “Welcome to Hiigara,” he shouted over the engines, awkwardly attempting to shake the newcomers’ hooves. “Isak Soban. I will be in charge of your security during your stay here. This way. We need to process your documents before proceeding.” Following Isak, the three proceeded into a small office and seated themselves near the door. Presenting their documents, Isak handed them over to a similarly dressed officer behind a counter, who did not even bat an eyelid at the three aliens as he scrutinised their identification and travel documents. Satisfied with their authenticity, he returned them to Isak, who in turn returned them to their respective owners. “Everything is in order. If you’ll follow me back to your transport, we can get you settled in to your accommodation.” Returning once more to their gunship, the pilot departed the tower. While he manoeuvred through the busier areas of the city, Isak busied himself with a small, hand-held device containing paragraphs of text, and Glare and Shadow attempted to smooth out their manes and tails. Giving the screen a quick scroll through with his finger, Isak eventually turned the screen off and cleared his throat. “While we’re flying to your hotel, it might be a good idea to brief you on the events over the next four days. Since it’s now … almost eleven hundred local time, you three will have the day to yourselves to get settled in. You’ll have individual rooms, and an allowance provided by your Navy. I’ve already taken the liberty of inspecting each room before your arrival.” “That’s kind of you, though I’m sure whatever we’re given will be fine.” Glare commented. “He’s security. Quality control isn’t his priority here,” Obsidian clarified. Isak shrugged. “While true, I figured I might as well do both if I’m there. In any case, your meeting with the New Daiamid will be held after tomorrow. This leaves tomorrow free as well. Should you wish to leave the hotel, I am to be informed, as I’m under strict orders to escort you personally at all times outside the confines of the hotel.” “We can go wherever we want?” Glare enquired. “Like tourists?” “If you so wish, yes. Provided the location is somewhere in the city, of course. Now, for your meeting with the New Daiamid, the day will be straightforward. We’ll gather in the lobby at zero nine hundred, and fly out. During the meeting, you’ll be asked a few questions to confirm and follow up on certain events, and to assist with confirming some of our own suspicions. We may ask for your opinions on certain matters if we deem it necessary, then have a few discussions with certain key figures from both of our Navies.” Shadow hummed. “Sounds simple enough. And the fourth day?” “We’ll leave that open for now.” Pausing, Isak looked outside, to find their transport coming in to land on the street outside their hotel. “If we need the extra time, we may have to bring you back on that day. Otherwise”—he moved toward the opening exit, where another set of stairs appeared—“your departure will be set for the evening. Shall we?” Following Isak off the gunship, the group descended to street level, once again blown about by the gunship. Entering the hotel’s lobby, the three took in their surroundings. Ahead was a large floral arrangement surrounded by white and sky-blue seats. Additional seats were found to the right, with several curious individuals eyeing the newcomers. At the opposite end stood a concierge, assisting an elderly couple at his counter. He too, frequently glanced at the three who headed towards the receptionists. Isak gestured around him. “This is Lon’Kassar Khontala, or The Shimmering Mountain. You’ll have free access to any facility in this building, and discounts on meals and services.” Pausing, he approached one of the ladies behind the counters and flashed his ID card. Without a word, the receptionist nodded and produced three envelopes. Distributing them, he continued. “You’ll find more information inside, along with your room keys and allowance, plus my room number and contact details, should you require my assistance.” Reading the hand-written text on her envelope, Glare looked up at Isak. “Umm, sorry, I don’t understand your language.” “Ahh, a minor oversight on my part. Forgot to let the receptionist know you only understood Common.” Taking the envelope from Glare, he discretely read the numbers. “Seesee-bez-vavar. That would be nine-zero-four.” Returning the envelope, he read the numbers nine-zero-nine and nine-zero-one for Obsidian and Shadow respectively. “The contents should all be in Common, though. Now then, lifts this way.” The group made their way around a corner, where nine elevators were found in a triangular arrangement, with three to each side. Pressing one of the buttons to call an elevator, a high-low chime sounded, and the middle set of doors near the four slid open. Entering last, Isak pressed the numerical symbol for the ninth floor. Glare analysed the different buttons. “I hope I’m not offending by saying this, but your written language is so … peculiar.” “No offence taken, ma’am. Our letters and numbers look the way they do because they originated from our people’s time on Kharak,” Isak explained. “In those vast deserts, it would not be uncommon to write large symbols or text in the sand, so letters, numbers, and to an extent, our entire language, had to be kept simple. You won’t find many captivating novels written in Kushan-La, I’m afraid.” “What about the language used before Kharak?” Isak shrugged. “That was lost a long time ago. All we know is that our spoken language was mostly derived from it, but the writing is pure Kharakian.” The four looked up in unison as the voice in the elevator announced, “Sha seesee.” “That’s our floor,” Isak stated. “After you.” Exiting the elevator, the group followed the signs on the walls to their rooms, going their separate ways after some direction from Isak. Reaching his room, Obsidian inserted the key card above the door handle. After a click and a green light, he pushed the door inwards and entered. Immediately to his left was a wardrobe. As soon as the entrance door closed, Obsidian locked it and dropped the disguise on his wings. Removing his wing blades, he placed them carefully on the bottom of the wardrobe. To his right was a bathroom. The tub seemed large enough for a changeling, however the toilet was completely foreign to him. Tilting his head, he frowned, wondering how he’d position himself on such a thing. Opting to worry about it when the time came, he continued further in to his room, past the minibar adjacent to the wardrobe, stocked with miniature bottles of alcohol, and a vast assortment of snacks. A king-sized bed was found against the right side of the room, just ahead of a wall-mounted headboard made of wood and leather. Several white pillows leaned against it, while a sky-blue throw draped over the sides at the foot of the bed. Mounted to the opposite wall was a large screen, which displayed a welcome message with Obsidian’s name on it. Moving past the bed and screen, Obsidian set his envelope and room key down on a desk at the far corner. Ignoring the room service menus strategically placed atop the polished white marble surface, he stood at the window, drawing the thin, sheer curtains open, until they were hidden behind the blackout curtains. Obsidian’s wings shot out defensively as a sudden succession of shrill rings blared from a device on one of the nightstands. Approaching it, Obsidian assumed it was some sort of communication device when he sighted a detachable part. Removing it, he held it in front of his face. “Obsidian.” A voice could be heard from the top half of the device, though it was too faint to understand. He brought the device closer to his good ear. “Hello?” “Yes, Obsidian, I’m here. It’s Shadow.” “I see you’ve managed to figure this device out already.” “It’s called a phone, and I’ve used these before. They’re just civilian comms systems. You’ve got instructions on how to use yours on the phone itself. Anyway, I’m looking through some of the hotel’s facilities, and there’s a restaurant on the third floor called Gambirata. Dinner in five hours?” “Sure. Glare going, too?” “Of course. See you then.” After a click, the sound in the phone cut out. Placing it back in its cradle, Obsidian climbed onto the bed, rearranging the pillows behind him, and feeling himself sinking through the blankets and mattress. Looking at the screen ahead, he read the contents and found some instructions. Press … red circle? Red circle for movies and series. Standing on the bed, he flew down and landed in front of the screen. Though there were plenty of entertainment options available using the bunk screens aboard Amarok, Obsidian had heard a lot of praise for the vast selection many other technologically advanced races boasted. Tapping the red circle, he waited. When nothing happened, he tapped it again, to no effect. “Huh.” Looking around, something caught his eye on the other nightstand. As he drew nearer to the object, he found multiple protruding buttons from its top surface. Most were labelled with single numbers, letters, or symbols, though some were distinct colours. One was red. Picking the object up, he pressed the red button with his other hoof, and a menu appeared on one side of the screen. Obsidian huffed when most of the menu selections were in the local language. Using the directional buttons on his controller, he scrolled down the list and picked a random movie titled ‘Lon’Kvard’. Lacking the patience to wait for the movie’s introduction, he skipped through large sections to get an idea of what he would watch. “Yeah, can I have a dozen red roses please?” “Somebody had better do something around here!” “I did not hit her! I did naht!” “Meh.” Obsidian returned to the movie menu and selected another in the list labelled ‘Lamon Yewon-Da’. A smaller sub-menu appeared with additional selections, each starting with the same name. Selecting any, he continued to skip through different sections. “There's a meteorite that hit the ground near here. I want to check it out.” “I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.” “No. I am your father.” “Maybe another time,” Obsidian said to himself. Trying a movie in another sub-menu called ‘Bezakpart’, he adjusted the volume and continued skipping. “There is a clause in the contract, which specifically states any systematised transmission indicating a possible intelligent origin must be investigated.” “Bones are bent outward, like he exploded from inside.” “I think it's safe to assume it's not a zombie.” Piquing his interest, Obsidian removed his NSU, hanging the clothing in the wardrobe, before settling back on the bed and starting the movie from the beginning. Checking the time on his nightstand, Obsidian took a quick bath, foregoing the use of the lavender-scented shampoo and shower gel tubes that were presented alongside various packaged toiletries beside the bathroom sink. Drying off with one of the neatly folded towels nearby, he approached the desk and fished out his allowance from the envelope. Expecting notes, or coins like those of Equestria, he instead found a rectangular card, similar to his room key. A long string of numbers were embossed along the lower edge of the card on one side, which had the emblem of Hiigara printed on its surface. On the opposite side was a picture of a young female, her arm outstretched against the backdrop of the galaxy. Putting his NSU back on again, he retrieved the allowance card and his room key, and slid them into one of his pockets. Heading out, he called an elevator and waited, analysing the sculpture on the triangular pedestal between the elevators. Three granite cones bent and twisted around each other to form a flame-like shape, while a small spotlight at the three corners made various shadows against the ceiling. A familiar chime announced the elevator’s arrival. Entering, he located the button displaying the numerical symbol for his floor, and ran his hoof down six buttons. Pressing what he assumed was the button for the third floor, the doors closed after a short delay. Descending toward his destination, the elevator came to a halt early, and Obsidian could see that he had stopped a couple of floors above, with the voice in the elevator announcing, “Sha gaf.” As the doors opened, a member of the hotel staff stepped in, pressing the button for the next floor down. Giving the changeling a polite nod, she stood in front of the doors as they continued. “Sha vavar.” Left alone in the elevator once more, Obsidian waited for the doors to close again. Looking up at a screen to the right of the doors, he watched as the symbol for four turned into a three. “Sha see.” The sound of voices flooded the elevator as its doors parted, and Obsidian stepped out to find a large, open restaurant to his left. At the opposite end, a function was being held, with a small crowd gathered around a pair of booths flanking a set of double doors. Heading in the direction of the restaurant, Obsidian confirmed the name. He soon caught sight of Shadow and Glare amongst the bipedal beings, waiting in line to be seated. The former sported an unzipped brown bomber jacket with a lighter fur collar, and the latter a knitted ultramarine jumper over a light blue shirt. Approaching, Shadow made eye contact and waved the changeling over. Obsidian gave the pair a look over. “I see no one bothered to tell me this would be a fancy dress dinner.” Shadow shrugged. “It isn’t. I was just cold.” “I assumed we’d have to be well-dressed here,” Glare mumbled, hiding a light blush. “Had I packed a dress, I probably would have come down wearing it.” “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I can always wear something else,” Obsidian suggested. The unicorn raised an eyebrow. “What? The complimentary bath robe from your room? You didn’t exactly pack much, compared to us.” “Who said I needed physical clothes?” In a flash of green, Obsidian’s NSU was replaced with a red and black plaid shirt. “There. Now we all look silly,” he proclaimed, ignoring the Hiigarans queued behind him, who jumped back and maintained their distance from the alien who appeared to spontaneously combust. Glare stared at the changeling with envy. “You need to teach me that spell. The mares back in Canterlot would give their left hooves for that.” “Hmm. I think you’d look better if that red was blue instead,” Shadow critiqued. “Red and black doesn’t suit you at all.” “Why doesn’t anyone like red and black? It works for those Sobani. Eh, fine.” Another flash of green later, and Obsidian wore Shadow’s suggested colours. “Better?” “Much.” Shortly after, a member of staff greeted the three and led them to a recently vacated table. Handing out three menus, she returned to the entrance of the restaurant to seat other patrons. A waiter soon approached the group’s table while they quickly scanned through the menu’s contents. “Good evening. My name is Crissal, and I will have the pleasure of serving you this evening. Shall I start you off with anything, or would you like me to give you a few more minutes?” “I think we might need a translator,” Obsidian replied. “I’m assuming gehul’forj is appetisers and lak’forj is main course?” he asked, well aware he had likely butchered the pronunciation. “Those would be our lunch and dinner meals,” Crissal explained. “However, if you turn to the second half of the menu, you’ll find everything in Common.” “Understood. Thank you.” Obsidian and Glare turned to the appropriate section of their menus. While they read through the options, Shadow seemed to have already decided on her order. “I’ll try the chickpeas in the tomato and onion gravy. Does it come with rice, or should I order that separately?” Entering the order into his hand-held device, Crissal nodded. “It already comes with the meal. We’ll also have a complimentary selection of bread sent out with your meals. Would you care for the wine list, or shall I put you down for any other drink?” “Just some water for now, please. That’s all for myself. Glare?” Glare pointed to one of the main courses. “Is this one with the spinach and cheese spicy?” “Not particularly. There’s some green chilli, but we can adjust it per your tastes, if you prefer.” “That’s alright. If it’s mild, I can still eat it. I’ve just heard stories of your food being notoriously spicy.” Crissal laughed. “A slight exaggeration. To be fair though, some of our dishes do fit that description. If you’re still worried about your meal being too spicy, might I suggest a glass of lassi? We have a few variants on the last few pages of the drinks menu.” “Let me have a quick look, then. Go ahead, Obsidian.” “For me, I’ll take the tandoori chicken, and a mango juice.” Crissal blinked. “Uhh, can I just confirm … You wish to order the tandoori chicken? From our non-vegetarian options?” “Yes.” “And I’ll go for the savoury lassi, please,” Glare finished. Confirming their orders, the waiter retrieved the menus and left the three to themselves. After a moment, Shadow chuckled. “You know, the last time I went to a dinner like this with those under my command, I thought I was going to wring some necks.” “I assume you’re not talking about us Infiltrators, right?” Obsidian asked. “Or was I not invited to some dinner before?” “No, no, this was with my former squad.” “The Nightcasters, right?” Shadow froze for a moment. “I’m not even going to ask how you know of us.” Glare looked between the two, unsure what they were talking about. “What are the Nightcasters?” “Classified, I’m afraid,” Shadow replied quickly, before Obsidian could open his mouth. “Suffice it to say, however, that for all my squad’s abilities, none of them knew how to act properly in public. I once invited them to a restaurant, on a night much like ours. Food was great, we spent a few hours chatting away. Seemed like the perfect group, until the bill came along.” “What, do they not pay members of secret military organisations in Equestria a decent salary?” Obsidian ribbed. “Quite the opposite, but that didn’t stop some from being tight with their money. Half of them wanted to keep things simple and split the bill evenly. The other half wanted to pay for what they ordered.” The changeling frowned. “Isn’t it better if everyone just pays for what they order? Seems the most logical to me. Otherwise, those who eat less pay more than those who eat more. It’s only fair.” Shadow nodded. “In a way, I agree. Some of them made the point that they only had a couple of drinks, or that they skipped one or more courses. The problem was that it was seen as rather petty. As tight-knit as we were in our line of work, a simple dinner bill is what got between us.” Glare hummed. “I see where you’re coming from. Me, I wouldn’t mind paying either way. Money isn’t something I hoard. What’s the point in having it, if not to enjoy life with yourself and others?” “Yeah, but if you want to pay for your own order, why should that be an issue?” Obsidian argued. “The issue came down to how my group conducted themselves,” Shadow explained. “Those who wanted to pay for their own orders took out their pens and added up their totals on napkins, while passing the bill between each other. I felt truly embarrassed from the looks others gave us.” “Alright, yeah, that might be going too far,” Obsidian conceded. “So you’re a bill splitter, then?” “I wouldn’t consider myself either one. I’m happy if everyone else is happy. You?” “Not that I do this often, but if I’m inviting someone anywhere, I’d pay for the entire bill.” “I’m surprised to hear you say that, Obsidian. Aren’t you a … minimalist?” “Hey, I may be cheap to myself, but the most disgusting you can do in a social setting is to be cheap to others.” “Even in a large group? How can you afford that?” “Whatever I save from myself can go to others. Besides, it’s not like I’d be out in large groups on a weekly basis. It’s me, after all. Even back home, I was considered … well, not anti-social, but somewhere near that. I can do the extrovert thing, but I don’t like making a habit out of it.” “I guess I’d be the bill splitter,” Glare nudged herself into the conversation. “I mean, I know some ponies like to order a lot and split the bill to pay less, but I’m not one of them. Besides, I’m happy to pay a little extra if I’ve ordered more. In the end, I’m out having a good time. The food is just a bonus.” The three continued to converse, swapping tales of their social lives. Shadow seemed to be an endless repository of anecdotes, though Glare managed to get a few stories in on occasion. Obsidian contributed the least, lacking more than a couple of appropriate stories. Eventually Crissal returned. In one hand, he balanced a seemingly oversized round tray, while he set down the bread basket in his other hand at the centre of the table. As he finished setting down each meal, Shadow bowed her head at the waiter. “Shaan haaka.” With a smile, Crissal replied, “Haaka Ya’terumdar. Please enjoy.” Obsidian and Glare stared at Shadow. “I see I’m the only one who made any attempt to learn a few phrases,” the zebra remarked, after the waiter disappeared. Shadow let out a contented sigh half-way through her last dish. “It’s nice to have some proper food every now and then.” “What’s wrong with the food on Amarok?” Obsidian asked between bites. “The food is fine, but after the first few months from a resupply, the variety drops. Not anyone’s fault, of course. It’s just that fruit won’t last long, and frozen vegetables lose much of their quality. What are you left with? Pasta, pulses, and spices. Which, given what I’ve ordered, is a little ironic.” “You think that’s bad? I prefer what’s offered for the griffons. You’d be lucky to have supplies lasting more than three months,” Obsidian ranted. “I’m not a fan of the long-lasting ingredients. Lentils, peas, chickpeas, kidney beans, broad beans, black-eyed beans … I’m amazed the air filters can cope. I guess there’s always pasta, but still.” “I’d have thought somepony would have included hydroponics equipment in Amarok’s design,” Glare commented. “I’m sure we still have enough space across the decks to set some up. What did we get instead? A couple of pools.” “Those pools are more important thank you think,” Shadow explained. “They’re technically our main water tanks.” Glare scrunched her face in disgust. “You mean to say we’ve been drinking the same water we swim in? Gross!” “The water we drink is still potable. Reverse osmosis pumps, ultraviolet purification, multi-stage filtration. If anything, it’s cleaner than household water. Almost nothing gets wasted on Amarok.” “Still, I don’t think I’ll ever look at a glass of water on Amarok the same way again. Why couldn’t the ship be designed with water tanks, anyway?” “Well, we do have some on the utilities deck, as well as the contents of the water-beds,” Shadow pointed out. “Helps keep everything decentralised, in case of a hull breach. Though the pool is the first source used, so we could keep the tanks and beds as backups if reclamation systems fail.” Pushing the half-chewed chicken in his mouth to the side, Obsidian suggested, “Hey, so why don’t we throw some seafood into the pool to extend our supplies?” Shadow hummed. “Something tells me the crew would not appreciate getting snapped by crustaceans.” “The pool is four metres deep. You’d have to put some effort into reaching the crabs and lobsters. Besides, I was thinking more along the lines of fish.” “Still, you have to consider who’s going to feed them, plus the extra maintenance required to keep the water filters in check.” “Alright, fine. Wasn’t a serious idea, mind you.” “I do like the idea of hydroponics though.” Turning to the unicorn, Shadow added, “Why don’t you make a suggestion?” Glare let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, right. Like anypony will listen to a Deckhoof.” “I’m happy to suggest it on your behalf. Come up with locations where equipment could be added, without affecting operations, figure out how many crew would need to maintain it, and we’ll see if it’s a viable solution. You’ll definitely have at least one other officer supporting you. Lieutenant Azimuth is big on gardening, if the plants in our quarters are anything to go by.” “I guess I could try drafting something in my free time. Who knows, maybe it might get me out of cleaning duty.” As the night came to an end, Crissal delivered a raspberry sorbet for Glare, a tiramisu and cappuccino for Shadow, and another mango juice for Obsidian. Asking for the bill, the zebra signed with her room number and waited for the waiter to leave. Turning to Obsidian, Shadow wore a hint of a mischievous grin. “So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now.” “Okay, shoot,” Obsidian replied, leaning back in his seat and taking a large gulp of his juice. Shadow’s expression intensified. “How long have you two been together?” The effect was instant. Obsidian exhaled sharply through his straw, splashing a bubble of the thick juice onto his face. Glare nearly fell out of her seat as she coughed up a spoonful of sorbet that went down the wrong way, attracting the brief attention of nearby customers. Obsidian recovered first. “How the buzz do you know—” “Oh come on, Obsidian, it might not be obvious to others, but it is to me.” Shadow passed the dumbfounded changeling a napkin, before continuing. “Before you start worrying, I’m well aware of the Navy’s stance on such matters. I don’t care. I’m happy for you both, and as far as the Navy is concerned, I know nothing. Now, details!” “I, uhh”—Glare cleared her throat, coughing a few more times—“I guess it started back in Canterlot, after the Ghost Ship mission.” “At least, that’s when things came out into the open,” Obsidian clarified. “I think it actually started after Enigma.” Shadow furrowed her brow. “Oh. Oh, that explains why you were acting so strange.” “Yeah.” Looking down at his glass, Obsidian stirred the contents with his straw. “So that means you’ve never had a proper date yet, correct?” “I guess not,” the changeling mumbled. “Can’t do much on Amarok, and it’s not like there was much time off in Canterlot anyway. Can we—can we talk about something else?” Ignoring Obsidian, Shadow continued. “You know, Hiigara’s national museum is in the city. Why don’t you two go for a visit tomorrow? Glare loves her history, and from what I can tell, you are in desperate need of some history lessons.” “What about yourself?” Glare enquired. “Me, I’ve got a day of pampering planned out. The in-room massages seem popular, so I’m looking forward to that most of all. There’s also a pretty decent spa a few floors up.” “Didn’t think you’d be one for that sort of stuff,” Obsidian remarked. Shadow shrugged. “Might as well make the most of my generous allowance. I just tipped eighty percent.” Obsidian rose and stretched. “That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” Pushing her chair back under the table, Shadow waited for Glare to get up, before leaving with Obsidian. “I’ll still have plenty left over after our stay. I might just donate the rest.” As the three waited for an elevator, Obsidian hummed. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with the rest of my allowance. Might send Void a gift with it, or something.” “Who’s Void?” “A cousin of mine. Closest relative I have. We were together during … never mind. Just need to figure out what he’d like. Something space-related, no doubt.” Stepping into the arriving elevator, Glare asked, “Does he like jewellery? Could get him a necklace made of resource units.” “I think that might be a little too expensive.” Pressing the button for their floor, Obsidian added, “Besides, he’s not a jewellery ‘ling. Necklaces are certainly not his style.” “Telescope?” Shadow offered. “He’s got one. Also, if the prices here are anything like back home, the necklace would be a cheaper option.” “How about …” Glare paused. “How about some posters?” “Maybe. Seems a bit lazy though.” The voice in the elevator interrupted Obsidian’s conversation. “Sha seesee.” Getting out on the ninth floor, Shadow covered her mouth as she yawned. “Well, at least we managed to see this night through to the end, unlike Canterlot. Good night, you two. I’ll probably see you again after tomorrow.” Turning away, she headed down the corridor to her room. Obsidian and Glare headed in the opposite direction to their respective rooms. Hearing Shadow’s door close behind them, Obsidian spoke up. “So, I guess we can check out that museum, then.” Arriving outside Glare’s room, he added, “I’ll speak with Isak and get all the details. Will keep you updated.” “Sounds good,” Glare replied, attempting to open her door. Realising her key card was inserted upside-down, she made a final, successful attempt, before the door unlocked with a click. “Sleep well, Obsid— … Obsidian?” Looking around, the changeling was nowhere to be seen. Before Glare could investigate, she felt a pair of lips press briefly against her own. Shortly after, the unicorn noticed the door to Obsidian’s room open and close seemingly by itself. Blushing, she proceeded into her room. After speaking to Isak over the phone, Obsidian read through the details he had written on a complimentary notepad found in his desk’s drawer. Before he could jump off his seat, the room lit up with a golden flash, accompanied by the sound of somepony teleporting behind him. “Hey Glare”—Obsidian swivelled around in his chair—“I was just about to pass you tomorrow’s deta—” he stopped, sensing something new from the unicorn. Glare wore the faintest hint of a smirk, as she slowly advanced toward the changeling. “You still have your NSU on under that disguise?” Obsidian looked down at himself, forgetting he still had his illusory shirt. “Uhh, yeah.” Dismissing his illusion, his NSU came into view. “Wh—” “Lose it. Now.” “… Yes ma’am.”