Return to Sender

by Starscribe


Chapter 9

The anti-acceleration chamber wasn’t exactly a comfortable place to spend the afternoon. As soon as Felicity crossed the doorway she began to float—or rather, to drift in a straight line given her initial entry vector.

She struck the far wall a second later, colliding with something soft and padded before drifting off again at another angle. She spread her wings, and there was barely enough time to use them to catch herself without smacking into the walls.

Light glowed from strips running out from the doorway, as if to remind anyone inside where they would be leaving from. She watched and waited a moment, expecting Escape to be only steps behind her. Yet as she finally turned, she saw only the doorway sealing closed. You didn’t come with me?

Her crewman did have a body that could survive the conditions outside, certainly. But Felicity had expected her not to want to spend too much time with the aliens. Maybe they didn’t give her a choice. This might have side-effects on Varch’nai.

There was no furniture in the sphere, only a few padded sections with straps along the outside that she took for simple zero-gravity chairs. But once she’d used her wings, those weren’t necessary anyway. They meant it when they said there was no acceleration in here—Felicity felt no hint of motion, despite the mechanical rumbles that echoed in from outside. Probably her body was blasting forward at speeds that would dizzy her comprehension, yet she felt nothing.

“Your responsibility on this assignment will be high,” said a chorus of voices from nearby. “But we believe you will be equal to the task before you.”

Felicity’s eyes snapped open, and sure enough there was Harmony directly in front of her. The metallic pony stood on nothing, yet its wings remained comfortably folded. It didn’t seem to care about the lack of gravity here. “How are you here? I thought there wouldn’t be magic on this ship… wasn’t that the whole point? The enemy that destroyed us developed to fight our technology, not the Varch’nai’s.”

Harmony nodded absently. “Your body relies on—magic—in ways you can scarcely understand. You cannot be deprived for months or years and survive the experience.” It advanced on her, touching one hoof to her torso. “You have been implanted with a portable emitter, biologically integrated. It should grant you the same abilities you’re accustomed to, with one important caveat.

“Its maximum range is fifty meters, and while not in use that will be further reduced to your body alone to conserve power. You will not be able to teleport out of danger, only make short jumps. We thought it would be best to inform you of this limitation in advance.”

Felicity shuddered, glancing down at her belly with a renewed sense of dread. Maybe she should’ve got a new body too, if Harmony was just going to… “How does that even work?” she asked, awed. “There’s no way there’s enough energy in what I eat to fuel magic, right? It’s all physics, there’s no shortcut.”

“Correct.” Harmony settled back on its haunches, looking amused. Or maybe it was impressed with her insight? She could never tell. “An antimatter reaction cell powers the generator. At nominal use, it should last a year before reaching full entropy. Should you use magic less conservatively, it will decay faster and require replacement. The machinery to do so is aboard this ship if it is required, and this vessel survives long enough.”

She considered that a moment, before spreading her wings again and pulling away from the… projection? Or was it really here with her? “I thought I was just going to be here to advise. Why put”—a bucking bomb in my guts—“so much effort into me? I don’t need much magic to answer questions about what I saw. Tartarus knows the Alcyone was dead in less than a day anyway.”

Harmony was suddenly inches away from her face, without the flash of a teleport. Its shiny metallic body showed no signs of emotion she knew, yet intensity radiated from those eyes. “You are here to guarantee our citizens are recovered. The Varch’nai are ruthlessly devoted to pacifying hostile regions of space—every aspect of their culture revolves around it. They keep digital backups of every soldier and pilot, and care little when they are destroyed.

“But we view consciousness differently, which is why they call us Evokers. There is more than patterns and data, Felicity. There is something to the continuity of consciousness—an origination that cannot be replicated and must not be lost. This is why the Varch’nai will do little to recover our dead, if you let them. They believe we should do as they, and simply recreate with what data we have.

“This is unacceptable. The Fleet Admiral has been instructed to defer to your authority in all cases. You are the citizen of Equus whose voice will stand for us all. Bring back your crew. Recover the Alcyone’s root quanta. Pacification is meaningless, revenge is meaningless. Bring that back to us, and we may leave the Varch’nai to make what future they will.”

The words settled against Felicity like a physical weight. Harmony’s form might be strange and its mind beyond her comprehension, but that desperate need was familiar.

Maybe it was only because she was one of Harmony’s own creations, or at least one of its citizens—but she agreed. Simply recreating her crew from the data saved before they left would not be the same as having them back. “What if…” She lowered her voice to a respectful whisper. “What if they really are dead, Harmony?”

Those metal eyes flashed, its body tensing. “Then we will take vengeance so terrible that no force will ever harm one of our citizens again.”

Felicity turned abruptly at the sound of grinding metal. The sphere began to open, and a shaft of bright light emerged from the other side.

Escape’s face appeared in the opening. “Hey, cap. Ready to make history?” She thrust a long, slender hand through the hole, offering it to her. Felicity glanced over her shoulder, but Harmony was gone.

Felicity took the offered hand with one of her hooves, letting Escape Gear pull her across the threshold. Though as soon as she was on the other side, she collapsed to the floor. Her legs buckled against her weight, at least for a moment. Long enough for her to remember how to work her body in gravity again, and finally straighten.

“I could’ve used your help in here,” she muttered, eyeing the sphere behind her. It was already sealing, its interior entirely dark. Except, she imagined, for a pair of shining metal eyes.

Escape Gear had no eyebrows, but Felicity could somehow still read her skepticism. Could little patterns of ink under her skin somehow translate directly for her? “Help with what, captain? You were the only one in there, for… less than five minutes, according to the chronometer. Don’t ask me to explain their technology, I’ve only had a few days to read myself.”

It did feel like about five minutes. Should she tell Escape Gear about Harmony? Felicity glanced around them, at the half-dozen armored soldiers waiting by the door, or guarding other entrances. Not right now I won’t. “I’ll explain later,” she said. She was more than a little curious about how time could be manipulated in reality instead of Upstream, but if Escape Gear was sure it had happened, that was good enough proof for her. “If I’m getting out, does that mean we’ve arrived?”

Escape nodded. “We’re on the edge of the system—the real edge this time, just outside the heliosphere. I thought it was a little paranoid to come in from so far out, but the captain just quoted some regulations at me. Apparently this is the way they always do it.”

“Do they want us already?” She glanced back at the doorway, and the soldiers waiting there. None were holding their weapons, if anything they looked like they were on parade. Or at least, their suits were. I have to remember that there aren’t usually any living creatures inside. They’re moving them around remotely. 

Escape Gear nodded again. “There’s already signs of movement from in-system. They want both of us with Fleet Command during the first engagement.”

That was apparently a sign to their escorts, because one of the soldiers stepped forward. His darkened helmet illuminated with the screen within, projecting another alien face. But the more of them she saw, the less distressing they became. At least they were vaguely human. “We’ll need to properly integrate both of you into flight pods this time, in the unlikely event that this ship is forced to engage. There is special hardware waiting in your private quarters. If you’ll follow us, we’ll escort you there.”

Pod. Felicity had seen several of those by now. “Can’t I just meet Fleet Command wherever they actually are? Can’t we talk in person?”

The solder laughed, though at least he didn’t sound spiteful. “Its members are spread across all the ships of the fleet, Ambassador. Fleet Command only exists where you’ll be going.”

“Not to mention the acceleration,” added another soldier. “We don’t know the tactical abilities of this enemy—what if they’re able to detect this vessel and we’re required to make flight decisions? Even at sub-interstellar accelerations, your primitive alien body might be crushed.”

“Don’t call it that,” reprimanded the first. “She’s an ambassador.”

Felicity cleared her throat, getting their attention again. She wasn’t sure if she found them endearing or offensive, but the difference probably didn’t matter. “I’m ready to see my quarters now. I suppose a primitive like me will just have to adjust to the way you do things in such an advanced society.”

She was hoping to get some kind of reaction, or at least an indication from her escorts that she’d managed to embarrass them. But no such luck—their helmets switched off again, in exactly the same instant. 

“Please follow me,” said the first soldier, as mechanical as New Canterlot’s elevators. 

Felicity did. The Pandemonium was far more active this time—every deck seemed to be a swarm of activity, with armored figures of various sizes hurrying backward and forward with cargo, weapons, or just running to their next assignment. In a way it reminded her of New Canterlot’s construction areas, with one minor difference. Forerunner built drones specific to the situation at hand, often devoted to a single task. Miners had bodies that could only mine, cargo robots were really just floating pallets with eyes to navigate, cleaners were rolling mops.

The Varch’nai used only humanoid “drones” for every task, and in a way that made their ship seem more old-fashioned than anywhere in New Canterlot. There were “people” everywhere, using tools built for their 2-4 hands.

They clearly didn’t give their soldiers personal space as Felicity knew it, just rooms with racks and racks of stacked pods. But then they reached their destination, and she was relieved to find they’d made an exception for her.

“This area is yours. If you require additional accoutrements, they can be provided,” the male soldier explained, gesturing around. “And my name is Marcus. I’ll be your, uh… diplomatic envoy. You can make any requests you have to me or my communion-partner Tomoe.”

And why do I get the impression that you’re just soldiers who drew the short straws, and not trained diplomats? Then again, she wasn’t even sure the Varch’nai had diplomacy.

“If you’re serious about learning the ways of a more advanced society, you should focus on personalizing your digital space,” Tomoe added, gesturing at the far wall. There were only two pods here—one identical to all the others throughout the ship, the other at least four times the size, with various tubes and metal cylinders running in and out. 

Felicity didn’t have to guess which one was waiting for her. “I’ll think about it,” she said flatly. “For now—you said Fleet Command was waiting? Why don’t you show me how to meet them.”