//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 - Shipping Accident // Story: Flurry in Time // by DuvetofReason //------------------------------// The sound of collapsing masonry echoed through the crumbling halls of Nightstone castle, thick dust falling from the ceiling like snow upon the panicked ponies racing to escape. Terrified cries competed with the groan of the castle keep as the weakened structure slipped, causing a tremor beneath her hooves. Through the chaos, the brave hero Ultra-Mare raced deep into the keep, effortlessly deflecting falling stonework from the crowds with her magical power as she passed. She was not about to let something as trivial as a collapsing building stop her from saving the Prince. Ripping the double oak doors from their hinges with her telekinesis, Ultra-Mare galloped into the audience chamber. As she entered, she heard a colt scream, spotting his small form as he stared helplessly in blind terror at a falling column. With a blazing burst of speed, she appeared between the colt and the column, bravely facing down the massive collapsing structure. She was not worried; such things were nothing for a pony such as her. With contemptuous ease, she snapped the column in half, tossing the shattered pieces away. The colt stared up at her, wide eyed, the danger forgotten as he gazed at her brilliance. “W-who are you?” he squeaked. Tossing her mane back, she flashed him a smile. “Don’t worry, kid, you’re safe now. Ultra-Mare is here.” Suddenly, a strange voice seemed to boom from all around. “…formal protest today at military manoeuvres carried out by warships of the Pegasus Republic,” a mare announced, her voice unfamiliar. The world seemed to stop mid-motion, fragments of masonry and clouds of dust frozen in place. Slowly but surely, her surroundings began to evaporate away—first the walls, then slowly the floor. Flurry Heart looked around, watching the world disappear before her eyes into a black nothingness. She quickly turned to the colt beside her. He was still standing there frozen, his big opal coloured eyes staring up at her in adoration. "Wait!" she called frantically, as the ground beneath her hooves disappeared and she began to fall. Flurry's eyes flicked open, frantically searching her surroundings as she sat up straight. The blackness quickly passed, giving way to the dimly lit flight deck of her ship, the Fleeting Dream. Behind where she sat on her flight couch, the various crew stations sat empty, casting lonely shadows in the white light emanating from the edges of the floor. Ghostly shapes of familiar faces danced in her vision briefly before returning to her subconscious. The room felt so cold and empty, and even with the droning of the news agent in the background, Flurry felt so very alone. Something soft sat wedged between her chest and forelegs. A weak smile played at her lips as she looked down, remembering her ever-present companion in this otherwise solitary existence. Staring up at her, with googly eyes and a permanent grimace on his face, was Whammy. The battered snail plushie bore all the scars one would expect from being nearly two millennia old. His brown body and green shell were pockmarked with hurriedly repaired tears and loose stitching. Flurry suspected that every part of him had been replaced at one time or another. Like a champ, he had endured it all. "How long have I been asleep?" she asked, groaning as she stretched her legs. She peered up at the ship's chronometer and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh good, I didn't miss them." “Alliance warships sent to Dragon’s Head have been shadowing Republic moves along the nebula’s border during a tense five-hour standoff,” the news story continued. It was the same old news. Things like this had been going on since the war ended six years ago. Both sides would rattle their sabres like a pair of yaks at a dinner party, stomping around trying to convince everypony that they were the most dangerous Yak on the block. In the end, one side would blink and the other went home and patted themselves on the back. Just another day on the border, she thought to herself. As she shifted on the couch, she felt one of Whammy’s antennae press against her. She let out a sigh. "Yes, I had the dream again." The plushie simply stared at her. "You're not exactly the best person to be asking me about my mental health, you know," she scowled, pulling him close. "It was just nice to win for once." Flurry's ears flicked as she glanced sideways at the plushie. "I'm fine, okay? I don't ask you what's going on in that fluffy head of yours." Whammy's antennae bobbed slightly in rhythm with her breathing. "Yeah, more complaints. Seriously, Whammy, you're starting to sound like a broken record," she huffed. Her grip on him tightened. "I know, I'm glad somepony is." She held onto him, rubbing her chin against his antennae. He had always been there for her. Even when everypony else had abandoned and turned their backs on her, he had stayed. Sure, he was cantankerous, forever on her case about something or other, but at least he cared. This was more than she could say about her fellow ponies these days. "Just don't let it go to your head," she said, setting him down on a nearby console. With a sigh, she looked up, gazing through the Fleeting Dream's curved viewport at the silvery field of rocks hanging silently in the void of space. They stretched onwards and upwards, forming a shining ring around the aquamarine gas giant beyond. Save for the gently spinning mirrorgate in the distance, the ring system was still, almost like a painting. It was in stark contrast to the churning maelstrom of the gas giant itself with its swirling white clouds shifting across its surface almost as if they were liquid. It had been beautiful to watch—so beautiful she had evidently dozed off. This was why she hated waiting around; too much time standing still meant that things had a habit of sneaking up on her when she wasn't looking. Flurry climbed off the flight couch and gave her legs a stretch, feeling her joints give some satisfying cracks. Her back gave a little protest as it always did these days, but a few stretches put everything back where it should be. As she made her way about the ship’s bridge, there was a rattle as she kicked an empty soda can into the detritus that surrounded her like a besieging army. "Damn it, Whammy, why are you always leaving your junk around for me to trip over?" she complained, gathering a few empty cans into a bag. Honestly, couldn’t a plushie be expected to pick up after himself? Whammy simply lay on his side on the sensor console, his eyes gazing impassively at the floor. "Oh don't be like that," she soothed. "I'll clean up both our messes this time." As she gathered up some of the empty packets, the ship’s computer made a sudden announcement. "Incoming transmission. Caller: Ambrosia." “Amby? Put her through.” She grinned, dropping the bag and kicking it to the side as she stepped in front of the flight couch. The view of the planet beyond flickered and vanished, replaced by the image of a scrawny female changeling in maintenance coveralls. Her work station was a controlled explosion of paperwork and data discs. Coffee-stained plans and schematics were littered across it, along with a myriad of parts which Flurry could only guess their purpose. Ambrosia was quite a waif for a changeling. She had managed to make it work to her advantage, shifting into forms that could squeeze into crawl spaces and hatches most ponies couldn't hope to get into. This made her a highly valued technician on Broken Bow. "Hey! And how's my favourite customer today?" Ambrosia greeted, her green translucent wings buzzing excitedly.  Flurry smiled. "Hey, Amby, what's up?" The changeling grinned mischievously. "Oh, just a little courtesy call. The buyer of your last merchandise passes on his thanks." "I live to please," she replied with a theatrical bow. "I heard the Alliance had a whole battlegroup trying to catch you. That true?" Ambrosia asked, with a hint of concern. "Just a flotilla of frigates cordoning off the gate," she dismissed with a shrug. "No big deal." "You always manage to stir up a hornet's nest when you work," Ambrosia chuckled, though her expression shifted, becoming more serious. "You didn't hurt my baby, did you?" “Come on, have a little faith. The Dream's fine," she assured. "Was a tight squeeze slipping through their cordon but nothing to worry about. You should've seen the other guy.” The changeling let out a sigh. “And you felt you had to use the gate because…” “What can I say, I like a challenge.” “You know, if you’re not going to use that sweet piece of tech on your ship, I can probably get eighty-five million for it on the black market,” Ambrosia retorted with a scowl, crossing her forelegs. “Don’t you wish,” Flurry shot back, wagging her eyebrows. "Anyways, I have a little job for you if you're interested. Five hundred thousand…" Her tone practically laced the figure in honey. "Doing what, exactly?" "Briar Rose wants you for a simple cargo run, nothing complicated," Ambrosia replied innocently, putting on her best persuasive tone. Flurry's expression darkened, her tail flicking with irritation. Ambrosia was fairly innocent, as fixers went, but the same couldn't be said for her clients, especially Briar Rose. ‘Cargo’ had a very broad definition of legality in Dragon’s Head: Guns, drugs… ponies.  "Nothing's ever simple with the ponies you work with," Flurry said, eyeing her suspiciously." Besides, I'm busy at the moment." Ambrosia's blue eyes positively sparkled. "Oooh, anything nice?" "Just a little favour for a friend," Flurry said. "Nothing special." Ambrosia pouted, turning her nose up dramatically tossing her stringy teal mane back. "Fine, you keep your secrets. The job's not going anywhere." "I'll keep it in mind." "Briar Rose would love to have you on her crew, you know," Ambrosia said, her eyes widening at the prospect. "Could make a lot of moneeeeey." Her attempt at being enticing only served to irritate Flurry further. "I'm not interested, Amby," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Okay, okay, forget I asked," Ambrosia conceded, rolling her eyes in defeat. Then, she paused, taking on a serious tone. "Flurry, I want you to watch yourself out there. I heard a rumour that the Pegasus Republic just upped the bounty on your head. I've already had a few shifty types asking about you." Flurry tensed, her wings fluttering briefly. "How much?" "Fifty million," Ambrosia said, a fearful awe creeping into her voice. "The Emperor himself put the order out." Fifty million.  A pony could live comfortably for the rest of their lives with that much money. And there were plenty who would sell their own foals for a piece of that pie. Flurry grimaced, her expression souring. "Of course he did." "Are you okay?" Ambrosia asked tentatively.  This was going to make things a lot more complicated when she dropped off her cargo at Rynos. Her troubles with the pegasi were bad enough without having to worry about an army of bounty hunters lurking behind every corner. Flurry put on her best smile. "Hey, it's me. When are ponies not trying to kill me? Now there's just a few more." Ambrosia tilted her head skeptically, her wings now still. "This is different, Flurry." "Mirrorgate activity detected," the Dream's computer announced suddenly. Flurry hid her sigh of relief. "Looks like my supplier just arrived." Ambrosia's wings buzzed for a moment. "Okay, you watch yourself out there. I don't want my baby all shot up." "But fixing the Dream is your favourite pastime," she replied with a smirk. Ambrosia let out an indignant snort. "I have a life outside of fixing your ship, I'll have you know." She jabbed an accusing hoof at her. "Oh, and I am not your personal mailbox. Stop giving random stallions my address." "But you're such a good secretary," she replied with a grin, casting a glance to the Dream's sensors. Ambrosia let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe if you just picked one and settled down, you wouldn’t need to.” Flurry wasn’t even sure if her friend was being serious or not. “What, and retire?” she replied. “I’m not saying that. Maybe there’s a guy out there who wouldn’t mind your particular lifestyle.” She stared at the changeling’s image on the display, trying not to burst out laughing, but no words came from her lips. "Fine, I take it back. Now, you’ve got a job to do. Stay safe, you idiot." "Always." Flurry gave a salute with her wing, before the connection ceased. Flipping the main display back to the ship’s external view, she just caught a ship emerging from the mirrorgate. Her party guests had arrived. <=======ooO Ooo=======> The first ship to emerge from the mirrorgate burst forth like some kind of spectre, etherium wreathing its hull like ghostly vestments. The light-jade coloured gas quickly boiled away from the ship's hull, revealing the squat form of an Alliance Rose class frigate.  "See, Whammy, I told you they'd come here eventually," Flurry remarked with a triumphant grin at the plushie. From the amount of etherium coating its hull, the ship had been in mirrorspace a while—perhaps a day or so, by her reckoning. An Alliance warship had little to fear from the inhabitants of the Dragon’s Head nebula, but the risk of political fallout from being discovered meant they still had to be careful. Common practice was to make periodic jumps back into realspace so the etherium buildup wouldn't gum up the sensors. Restricted to gates, there were only a few places one could do this unseen.  Which had led them straight to her. Flurry watched as a second frigate emerged from the gate, taking up position alongside its companion. The Dream's passive sensors lit up as a radar pulse radiated out from both ships. Methodically, the two frigates swept the area around the gate, their search radars like torches in the dark. Flurry wasn't worried; the asteroids of the ring had enough metal in them to hide the Dream at this distance. Ambrosia's little additions to her hull would do the rest. Satisfied the area was clear, the two warships took up a position on either side of the gate to await their charge. Soon, a massive form emerged, easily five times as long as the warships. As the etherium burned off, the lumbering form of a Centipede class freighter emerged.  "Looks like our intel was right on the money," Flurry said, licking her lips.  The war between the Republic and Alliance might have been over, but everypony knew it was only a reprieve. Both sides were preparing for a rematch, and Dragon’s Head was going to be the battlefield. Dozens of supposedly 'secret' bases and listening posts were scattered across the nebula, and these all needed supplies. Supplies that Flurry just happened to need as well. Behind the freighter, a third frigate emerged and quickly moved to join its compatriots. Together, they formed a broad wedge in front of the freighter, moving boldly forward.  "Getting sloppy boys," Flurry said with a predatory grin. "You think you're all alone, don't you?" A formation like this might have looked nice during fleet manoeuvres, but it was hopeless when it came to defending their charge. Evidently, they weren’t expecting trouble all the way out here. "Let's get to work, Whammy," she announced. "Computer: Engage silent running." "Affirmative, Captain." As she slid back into the flight couch, the Dream stirred into life. A low hum reverberated throughout the ship, signaling its core had powered down. “Switching to internal CAPS storage. Excess heat diverted to internal sinks,” the computer intoned. “At current draw, venting will be required in fifty-eight minutes.” A countdown appeared, which began to slowly tick down. Plenty of time, Flurry thought to herself as she lay prone onto the flight couch. A golden shimmer glinted across her horn as she caused Whammy to hover over from where he sat, and unceremoniously squeezed him between her forelegs. With a stretch, her legs sank into indents and slots in the side of the couch. A skeletal frame of silvery polished metal extended down from the ceiling, and she stretched out her wings to accept it. Her phalanges found their slots, liquid metal encasing them like a second skin. She grimaced as the frame clamped down on her back, the cold metal sending goosebumps through her skin. As it reached her head, a small skull cap pressed down and several enchanted rings slotted onto her horn one by one. "Link established," the computer announced, and Flurry took a breath to prepare herself. "Connection in three, two, one…" There was a bright flash of light, and as it faded, Flurry found herself standing on the surface of the asteroid. Behind her, the distant light of the system's two suns cast long shadows onto the rocky surface, plumes of frigid gas lingering within them. She looked around, her vision shifting through the electromagnetic spectrum as the Dream's sensors conveyed information to her. The temperature variations along the Dream's hull passed over her, causing a shiver. A few slow twists of her wings confirmed everything was functioning properly. She was the ship. Flurry turned towards the approaching convoy, occasional radar pulses radiating out from them in waves. They looked quite serene, gliding above the surface of the rings like boats on a calm sea. Though as they got closer, Flurry was once again reminded of the unique design philosophy of the earth pony tribe. The Rose class was not a pretty ship by stretch of the imagination—such was not the earth pony way. They were the ultimate expression of function over form, not a single curve or arch blemishing their utilitarian hulls. At the bow, protected on either side by huge armoured wedges angled downwards, was the bore of the frigate's railgun. To say the ship was built around that gun was no understatement, as it ran along the whole ship's length, ending only at the enormous drive section. The stepped flanks of the ship were festooned with dozens of turrets and missile launchers, all thankfully idle. The hull was painted a dull olive drab, with only a zebra glyph on the ship's bow breaking its spartan form. As Flurry surveyed one of the ships, something caught her eye that made her blood run cold. A sharp dorsal wing rose from the spine of the frigate like a jagged tooth, and attached on either side, were two unwelcome surprises: a pair of Tumbleweed class corvettes. These were designed to hunt and slay the fighters favoured by the Pegasus Republic. Blunt and simple, the Tumbleweed was a wedge covered in turrets in arcs that gave no ship respite from any angle. "Looks like the Alliance is starting to up its game," she commented, zooming in to get a better look. Those things would be a real problem if she was spotted. Thankfully, they too sat idle, clinging onto their parent’s neck like sleeping children—very heavily armed children.  The frigates were large, with a crew of several hundred ponies and zebra each, but they were dwarfed by the enormous ship following in their wake. The box-shaped bridge of the Centipede class freighter looked comically small compared to the array of vast house-sized containers that clung to its segmented spine. These containers were all painted in the same olive drab as the frigates and stretched along for two kilocanters, all the way to the ship’s massive drive section at its rear.  Slowly, the escorts passed by, oblivious to her presence. They were close… so close the Dream and the asteroids around her were bathed in a blue light from their engine exhausts. Above her, the freighter coasted along at its own leisurely pace, blissfully unaware of the predator hidden below and waiting to pounce.  With a thought, a light blue reticle appeared in Flurry’s vision, with a small icon of the ship’s tether launcher beside it. Although unseen, she could sense the launcher rising out of its bay and readying itself to fire. Slowly, she brought it to bear towards a section of containers. Briefly, the turret became stuck, and she felt resistance through the link before it gave way and the launcher swivelled into position. "One more thing for Amby to look at during my next visit," she grumbled. She extended a foreleg out, taking precise aim at one of the containers straddling the massive ship’s belly. It was important not to hit the ship itself, as that would set off an impact alarm and alert everypony that something was up. Once it was lined up and the range was set, she let loose. A silvery thread silently streaked up towards the freighter, the ‘remaining cable’ indicator on her display spooling rapidly down. She waited with anticipation for the impact and was rewarded with a ‘tether attached’ announcement appearing in front of her. “Check it out, Whammy,” she said, grinning broadly. “Latched on with the first try. Maybe I should try fishing.” She didn’t need to see him to know his response. She let out a sigh. “You’re such a downer, you know that?” With a twitch from her forelegs, she released the landing claw that was holding the Dream to the asteroid's surface. Then, lowering her wings very gently, she watched as her hooves lifted off the surface of the asteroid with a puff of disturbed dust. “Okay,” she said. “Let's reel this big boy in.” <=======ooO Ooo=======> E.V.A. always gave Flurry a bit of a thrill and was entirely different from the experience of piloting the Dream. The physical sensation of hard vacuum directly against her skin was something few ponies lived to tell about. But for jobs like this one, it was often necessary to personally secure her prize. She tread carefully across the surface of a container, the magnetic shoes attached to her hooves slowing her progress to a crawl. Slow and steady, she thought to herself as she neared the divide between one stack of containers and another. On the enchanted air bubble surrounding her head, her remaining time slowly ticked away. She had already used up fifteen minutes reeling the Dream in and searching for a place to clamp on. Any time wasted now would increase her chances of getting caught. Teleporting was out of the question, as such a sudden burst of magic would be picked on the freighter's thaumatic sensors. This meant she had to do things the earth pony way for a bit. At least she wasn't stuck inside an awkward pressure suit. Such were the benefits of alicorn physiology. Turning off her magnetic shoes, she kicked off from the surface of the container, floating gently over to the next row. After gliding silently past the gap, she opened her wings, firing off a careful burst of flight magic to slow herself. Clicking her magnetic shoes back on, she gracefully set down. "Alright, let's see what's inside," she muttered to herself. With a thought, she activated the spell matrix ring, which rested on her horn, causing it to begin scanning the container. As she moved over the cargo container, a cross section of its contents was displayed just in front of her face. Stacked neatly inside, in rows of crates, was every toy a militant despot could ask for: pulse cannons, armour frames, zebra liquid metal ammunition tanks. This one container had enough small arms and explosives to equip a platoon of soldiers with whatever high-tech weaponry they saw fit. Flurry could imagine Amby drooling at the sight of all this. Weapons such as these would bring in a fortune on the Black Market. It wasn’t only the major factions gearing up for war; everypony and their mother was stockpiling, making it the perfect seller’s market. Shaking her head, Flurry pressed on, finding more containers loaded up with armoured vehicles, CAPS, fuel cells, and explosives—lots of explosives. It was no wonder the Alliance was being careful; there was enough ordinance here to level a city. Eventually, her spell matrix highlighted several crates that glowed red in her visual overlay, indicating she had finally found what she had come for. "There we are," she said, tapping on her holo brace to send a few commands to the Dream. A hundred canters or so away, the Dream's cargo ramp opened up in response, like a ugly chick awaiting its meal. Slowly, she climbed down to the container doors and got to work on the lock. The Alliance had evidently improved their security systems since her last raid. A few more complex spells had been added on top of the usual stout earth pony locks. This ate up several of her valuable minutes while she dispelled the enchantments and cracked open the physical locks. With a slow telekinetic pull, she tugged one of the container’s massive doors open and made her way inside. The interior was frigid and dark, frozen oxygen crystals dancing about as she entered, making it feel like some kind of alien tomb. Light from her horn revealed rows of pressurized crates neatly stacked on heavy-duty shelving. She quickly undid the cargo straps on one of the stacks and levitated a crate down. It was painted a drab green, the layer of frost coating its surface making it sparkle slightly in the dim light. With a swipe from her hoof, she wiped the frost away, revealing a script of zebra glyphs. Flurry grinned as her spell matrix confirmed her discovery. "Gotcha." The small countdown timer on her display now read twenty-seven minutes remaining. She was pushing it close, but there was still enough time to grab her spoils and drift away undetected. With a portion of the container’s crates carefully grasped in her telekinesis, she headed back outside, cargo in tow. She could have taken more, but she had learned only to take what could easily be hidden. Wings outstretched, she drifted around the container until she was perched on its side, level with the Dream off in the distance. It would have taken too much time to walk back the way she came, but she had planned for this. She quickly tapped on her holo brace and a small reticle appeared as it worked out the angles. Taking aim, she gently tossed the first crate towards the maw of the Dream, throwing the rest of the crates one at a time until she had a steady convoy drifting slowly along. After all the crates were on their way, she glanced back towards the container door, locking it in place. She then released the magnets on her hooves and gently pushed herself off the container. As she drifted alongside her captured booty, she gently tugged on each crate, slowing them down as they were swallowed up one by one in the Dream's open jaws. The last thing she needed was a mess of split open containers having smashed against the cargo hold’s far wall. With all the containers settled ahead of her, Flurry drifted beneath the Dream’s sleek nose and into its open belly. Once inside, she brought herself to a stop, voicing a command into the bubble of air around her head. "Computer, close cargo ramp." "Affirmative," the computer replied, the ramp closing slowly behind her. Despite having no sense of up or down in zero gravity, Flurry was experienced enough to orient herself so that her hooves were brought near the metal cargo deck. Soon, both gravity and air would be restored. After the ramp had finished closing, there was a slow hiss as the bay began to repressurize. She felt the rush of warm air passing over her feathers, causing a shiver to run down her spine. The contrast from the hard vacuum was still incredible no matter how many times she had experienced it. The cargo bay’s lighting strips flickered to life, bathing everything in harsh fluorescent light. Her stomach dropped as gravity returned to normal over several seconds. That was probably the only part she disliked. It was like that disappointing feeling after taking off a set of hoof skates. Along with the gravity’s return, the crates of her newly acquired stash suddenly took on their own weight, producing a light tug on her horn. Gently, she eased them down into a semi-neat pile in the centre of the bay. Sixteen crates in total. Not a bad haul if I do say so myself, she considered. Thirteen for her job, plus a little extra if more were required. Of course, all these crates would need to have their markings removed as well as any tracking enchantments that might have been cast on them. All that would have to wait until after she was safely away from here. The familiar tangy scent of rust and plastic greeted her as the breathing bubble dissipated with a satisfying pop. Sighing in relief, she removed her collar and kicked off her magnetic shoes. With a good shake, she tossed her head back, ruffling her mane to get it in some form of order after its time in vacuum. A nice hot shower would be perfect once this job was over. She checked the timer once more. Twenty minutes left, more than enough time. All she needed to do was cut loose and she was free and clear. <=======ooO Ooo=======> When Flurry arrived back on the flight deck, she found Whammy just where she had left him, sitting comfortably on the flight couch. "Any movement from our friends outside?" she asked, looking over to the plushy. "Good, the sooner we're gone the better." As she lay down onto the flight couch, the computer suddenly announced, "Mirrorcom transmission detected." Flurry frowned. "Is it going to the Alliance ships outside?" "Negative, incoming transmission is encrypted using standard Commonwealth military protocols." A Commonwealth warship? Out here? Equus hadn't bothered sticking its nose in colonial affairs since the war. Intelligence gathering, perhaps? "Can we get a bead on the transmission origin?" she asked, feeling unease in her stomach. The transmission was weak so they must be close. "Approximately ten light years away. Best estimation is the Huerth System," the computer replied, displaying the coordinates. "Huerth?" she queried, tilting her head. Even stranger, there wasn’t even anything important out that way, as far as she knew, save for a few wrecks left behind from the war. Most of those had been picked clean years ago by scavengers. "Can we decode the transmission?" "Encryption cypher or access key of General or higher required." "What do you think, Whammy?" she pondered, her curiosity tugging at her. She wasn't even sure if her passkey still worked, it had been a long time since she'd needed it. Not to mention, she was technically a wanted felon. Whammy's antennae bobbed in agreement as she levitated him up to her eye level. "Well, this is unusual. You don't usually take interest in other ponies’ business." A sly grin crept onto her muzzle as she decided to listen in. "Okay, begin decryption. Authorisation key: Thunderstreak." "Standby." While the computer processed the request, Flurry took the opportunity to link herself to the Dream’s neural interface and prepare the ship for departure. "Access granted: Princess Flurry Heart. Decode commencing." As she lay plugged into the flight couch, her vision once again taken over by the Dream’s various sensors, Flurry couldn't help but smile. In the sixteen years since she had left Equus, there was no chance the Princess Council would have missed cancelling her access codes. It meant one of them was watching out for her, and she had a good idea who it was. "Thanks Luna," she whispered. "Decode complete." There was a shriek of white noise that assaulted her ears, a small vid window filled with static appearing in front of her. "Apply filters. Let's see if we can clean this up," she said while readying the Dream to detach from the freighter. "Compensating for interference." Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed in her ears. "This is the ECS Orion… requesting assistance… immediate… please respond." Flurry's eyes widened, a tiny gasp escaping her muzzle. That was her cousin Nyx! Even through the static, she recognised Nyx's voice anywhere. Suddenly, everything else fell by the wayside, and questions clamoured inside her head. What was Nyx doing on an Equus military ship, all the way out here? Was it a covert mission? Anything requiring Nyx to be a part of must be pretty serious. Flurry's blood froze at a much darker thought: what if Nyx was coming after her? Did Nyx know she was out here? Was this just bait to lure her out?  The urge rose within her to simply cut off communication—to walk away and never look back. Yet Nyx was family, and she was in trouble. Even from this brief communication, her cousin's voice sounded strained and anxious. Nyx was the toughest pony Flurry knew; for her to call for help, it must be deadly serious. Without hesitation, Flurry made her decision. Regardless of the consequences, she would never abandon her family when they needed her. Swallowing to ease her drying throat, she hesitantly connected to the transmission. “Nyx, this is Flurry Heart. Are you receiving me?” Flurry perked her ears, hearing only scant chatter between the Alliance ships. They were still none the wiser of her presence. There was a long pause before the reply. “Flurry? Is that really… ” There was obvious surprise in her cousin's voice and what sounded like relief. The transmission faded away quickly and was replaced with static. “Nyx?” she called, feeling anxiety grip her as the ship’s computer attempted to compensate for any interference that might be fogging the transmission. There was a burst of unintelligible sound just before Nyx’s voice returned, much clearer this time. “…I’ve hooked myself up to power the signal directly. Can you hear me now?” “Yes! I'll try and boost my receiver," Flurry said eagerly, making the necessary adjustments. Gradually, the static began to clear, and the image of her cousin appeared. The jet-black alicorn looked like she’d just come out of a bar fight with a pair of minotaurs and then been struck by lightning on the way home. Her deep purple mane was dishevelled, frazzled, and actually smouldering in places. Her whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and each breath came as a heaved gasp. In those turquoise eyes, Flurry could see the fight to simply stay standing, her muscles taut and twitching. Flurry felt her heart begin to pound in her chest as she stared at Nyx’s image on her display. What could have done this to her? A thick haze of smoke swirled around the alicorn, and her horn was wrapped in a flickering indigo light. Four golden spell matrix rings adorned it, each festooned with cables that ran down to the floor and out of sight. These magical interfaces occasionally arced with pulses of energy that made Flurry wince just looking at them. "Nyx, are you alright? What happened?" she asked, anxiety slipping into her voice. "I'm fine, but my ship is dead in the water. Main power is out and we're running off emergency reserves," Nyx replied, wincing as another jolt ran up her horn. "It's taking all I have just to get this message out." "How long do you have?" "Ten hours, at best. But that's the least of our problems." Nyx grimaced, turning to somepony off-screen. "Flurry, I need you to relay our distress call to Harmony Station. Tell them we are disabled and in need of urgent military assistance. I'm sending you all the information you need." Military assistance? Then that would mean… "Are you under attack?" Flurry asked, her wings bristling. "Not at the moment. We managed to destroy a houndrathi pirate vessel, but we detected another contact," Nyx explained as the data packet was being transmitted. "They haven't answered any of our hails, and there’s no I.F.F. either, so we’re assuming it’s hostile. It's only a matter of time before they realise we're disabled." "Nevermind Harmony—I'll come to you. We can face them together," Flurry volunteered, her expression souring. "You don't need those Initiative clowns. The Dream can take on your crew if necessary." Nyx let out a weary sigh. "The Orion has seven hundred crew aboard. There’s no way you can fit everyone aboard the Dream." Seven hundred! The Dream could fit fifty ponies at most, and that was cramming them into every available space. Even going as fast as she could, doing round trips, she could only save a hundred or so before the rest ran out of air. Even this didn't take into account the hostile ship, whoever they were. "Flurry, I don't think I can keep this up for much longer," Nyx said through clenched teeth, beads of sweat running from her brow. "Just hold on," Flurry urged, her thoughts racing as she tried desperately to find something, anything, that would extend her connection to Nyx. Running fast out of options, the desperate realization began to dawn on her that there was nothing she could do to maintain the link. "There's still so much I need to say to you." "Warning, internal temperature reaching critical levels," the Dream's computer announced. "Stealth systems compromised. Ejecting heat sinks." The Dream shuddered as the white-hot heat sinks were jettisoned from her wings, drifting away in a pyrotechnic display. Warnings flashed before Flurry’s eyes, but she tried to ignore them. “No no, not now.” "Alert, hostile scans detected," the Dream's computer warned. "What's going on there?" Nyx asked, her weary expression hardening. "It's nothing," Flurry assured with a smile, trying to give a semblance of calm for her cousin.  Suddenly a bright light bathed the Dream, making Flurry gasp. "Attention, pirate vessel: surrender your ship and prepare to be boarded," a stern stallion's voice boomed over a comm channel. "Oh…" She knew there was something she had forgotten.