//------------------------------// // Chapter 98 // Story: Voyage of the Equinox // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Take the chance to get them out intact. 48% “I don’t understand why I shouldn’t just let them decide,” Spike said, meeting Node’s eyes with a flat stare. “Why would I bet the one to make this decision?” “Because some of them don’t want to leave,” Node said. “I am one of those. But I am as unreal as you are, so I do not have the luxury of an excuse.” She tugged towards Spike, forcing him to listen. “Just imagine for a second what your farmer would say. The perfect excuse for her to stay in virtual space while we devise a solution. We never will, by the way. The ancients—we were way smarter than you are. Maybe a thousand years ahead. By the time you get advanced enough to understand how the Contingency works, you and all your other friends will have long died without the help you needed. Or that would happen, if there was any civilization left to be advancing. But you and I both know that might not be the case. The Hunger will just swallow the living, leaving those hiding down here to wonder forever when you might be coming for them. Never.” Spike looked away. Twilight had always told him that command meant being the one to make difficult choices. He had spent much of this mission free from that, though he was often forced to live with the decisions she made. Now, after he was dead, he was the one making choices for his friends. “I don’t think it would be right to pick and choose what we bring,” he finally said. “We’re getting them out completely, alive. Do it.” “I’ll try,” Node said. “But you pulled the trigger, not me. No memories are worth this risk.” She turned away, reaching up to the panel. “I’ve got a program ready. Let’s see how this goes.” She pressed one key with her thin fingers—and the world went black. Spike had made it quite clear that she would see the results of his attempt right away, and now she saw for herself that he’d been telling the truth. One by one, Twilight saw her friends begin to stir, the monitors suddenly beeping like crazy. Fluttershy ran in from the side of the room, her coat damp and a towel wrapped around her mane. “How is he… done… so fast?” Spike’s voice answered a second later, echoing from the speakers over her shoulder. “Time is different in there. But it took less than I would’ve thought. A week. I don’t know how easily it was to get them out.” Node was the first to rise, climbing up from her chair and shaking out her plastic body. She lurched forward a few steps, hooves ringing hollow with empty plastic sounds. “Goodbye body.” “Don’t complain to me,” Spike snapped from overhead. “You have one.” “True.” Apple Bloom was up another moment later, with a little more dignity. “Well that was interesting.” Her eyes regarded the room, before settling on Twilight. “Captain? Where are we?” “On the Equinox,” Twilight said. “I’d rather not explain. Wait for the others.” On some level, Twilight already knew it would be simple to wake up the ponies who were already somewhat electronic themselves. Their ‘bodies’ were ready for this kind of control. Organics were far less so, however. One by one, they rose. Applejack’s artificial leg twitched, then she sat up, scratching at the sensor on the back of her neck. “Is this thing really necessary?” The other soon followed, going through the same string of predictable disorientation, wondering what had happened, and how they’d come to be aboard the Equinox. It was hard to miss the lack of gravity, and the straps holding them down. Twilight dismissed questions about what had happened for the moment, searching for any sign of mental damage. Minds were a delicate thing, and they weren’t exactly made to be transferred into a metal ball and back. Is Applejack intact? Yes. Is Rarity intact? Yes. Is Rainbow Dash intact? Yes. Is Pinkie Pie intact? Yes. Curiously, she could see no sign of damage from any of them. She asked a few casual questions to each of her friends, confirming their mental acuity without ever formally asking them to prove they’d made it through. Once she was sure of that, Twilight teleported the Contingency back into cargo, where nopony would accidentally slip back again. She didn’t send it away or destroy it, however. In a way, it had saved them from being killed by robots, maybe it would save them from something else down the line. “You’re all confined to sick back for observation for the next day,” Fluttershy declared. “Don’t think about arguing with me. Spike will be on my side, won’t he?” “Yes,” Spike answered, sounding flat. “So long as you explain what happened, so I don’t have to.” “The captain will,” Fluttershy said, facing her. “That’s her job.” Was it? Twilight did it anyway. She started at the beginning, when she’d discovered their limp bodies on the surface of Proximus B, under the pressure of their stowaway finally breaking all the stops to take final control and destroy the Equinox. She described Spike’s heroic death, and Cozy Glow’s near victory by means of her final explosives. Right about the time she’d finished explaining Sunset Shimmer, the pony herself walked into sickbay. Well, what was left of her did. Sunset Shimmer might still be alive by some definitions, but she hardly looked it. With all her legs replaced, and her torso stitched and sliced, ‘morbid’ was about the only word Twilight could think to apply to her. She didn’t seem embarrassed about how she looked, or to even care that everypony stared. She marched straight up to Twilight, then spoke in a low voice. New Scene: Altered “I’m getting energy signatures from Proximus C. Something out there is waking up, captain. Are we going to get out there and meet it, or let it leave us behind?” 1. The crew’s awake, set a course. That should give us a few months in transit, with enough food for a year if we need it. We can fix the rest of what Cozy did on the way. 2. Salvage camp first, then set a course. We can’t leave those weapons behind, not after what we’ve seen. 3. Ignore the signal, the ring is where the real information is hiding. I can’t trust you, Sunset. I don’t care about your signal. (Certainty 200 required)