//------------------------------// // Chapter 32: The Fraying Thread // Story: The Warp Core Conspiracy // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// “Lieutenant, pseudosolar output has dripped twenty three percent in the last minute--” “Lieutenant!” Chekov nearly jumped out of his seat. “Detecting a point surge of radiation on the planet’s surface, radiation on multiple bands, the neutriono flux alone--” “What is it, Mr. Chekov?!” snapped Uhura. “I—I have no idea!” “That isn’t very helpful, now is it?!” Uhura looked through the viewscreen and at the data on Arex and Chekov’s consoles. While she was not trained in how to interpret the data presented there, she knew enough to understand that the situation had suddenly grown much worse. The unknown object had suddenly ignited from the previous point-source of neutrinos and immediately teleported hundreds of miles across the surface of the planet. To where Kirk was. Which was, apparently, in the middle of a battle. There were signals. Mixed ones, from various sources. Whatever had been blocking their sensors had shut down suddenly, and the Enterprise had immediately detected a warp signature—a weak one, probably of a downed ship rather than an active one—but one that was most certainly of alien origin. But that was hardly all. There was passing evidence of nuclear reactors—and a great many of them. And, even more strangely, an exceedingly powerful and intermittent quantum signature that according to every sensor existed in a dimensional state that was theoretically impossible. And, of course, Kirk was standing in the middle of it. “Lieutenant, its frequency array matches the pseudosun, I think whatever is down there is, well, part of the same system—” “Lieutenant,” said Arex, looking up at the viewscreen. His voice had gone quiet, and Uhura felt herself shiver, and not only from the ridiculous shortness of her skirt. There was a sense of awe in his tone that made her heart sink. She looked up, and she saw it. The surface of the pseudosun had grown dull red and chaotic, which was in its own right terrifying—but its storming surface was not what concerned her. Rather, the cloaked ship in close orbit near them was unable to compensate for the shifts in light. Its Klingon cloak had never been intended for use in a plasma storm—and although the ship was still invisible to the sensors, Uhura could see it visually. The way the light shimmered and shifted through it, delayed by a fraction of a milisecond. She saw its shape. And the size of it. Its tail and its spire, and the fact that it by far dwarfed the Enterprise. A ship that would need the energy of an entire fleet to power a cloak that size—and yet released absolutely no detectable warp signature. And as she watched it, she could not shake the feeling that something was watching back. “Those aren’t Klingons,” she said. “Put the ship in red alert. Shields up!” Arex flipped the switch. “Aye, Lieutenant.” Kirk was thrown back and slightly seared by the explosion. For a moment, he was sure he was dead, but quickly dismissed this notion upon finding himself laying uncomfortably on robot parts. And the dead, as far as he was aware, did not get uncomfortable. He felt hands picking him up rather sharply, and did not even need to look to know that they belonged to Spock. Kirk’s vision was blurry, but as it cleared, he saw that they had not been hit by an incoming projectile or beam, but rather that Celestia had appeared a no more than ten meters away, the ground being reduced to a pool of molten rock in the crater that had emerged where she had arrived. Except that Kirk was not entirely sure that the pony was, in fact, Celestia. Her mane was no longer completely tri-color, but had begun to merge in toward its edges into a single homogeneous orange, retaining its original color only near the roots. Her golden clothing dripped down her body, having been melted, but even her body seemed different. It no longer seemed so soft and squishy and vaguely motherly, but instead hard and rigid and somehow unnatural. Her head tilted slightly, facing Kirk. Her schera had blackened, and her pupil was a brilliant round dot of light. Kirk took a step forward. “Celestia, what are you--” Spock pulled him back. “Captain, her body is releasing lethal amounts of theta radiation, you cannot approach her in this state.” “Theta? But she...” Kirk suddenly understood what Rarity had meant, even if he had not believed it at the time. About a thin, ancient skin wrapped around something far more terrible within. That the reason why Celestia seemed so strange to him now was that he could more closely perceive the silhouette of her true nature. The robots also seemed to notice Celestia, charging their particle cannons and advancing toward her position. Celestia, after regarding Kirk for a moment, faced the robots. The tip of her horn flashed. All robots present were lifted into the air, then in a single motion ruined. Then her magic released and they dripped to the ground, their bodies reduced to piles of boiling tungsten. Suddenly the battlefield was utterly silent—and Celestia began to walk forward, the molten bodies of her foes parting in before her as she walked. Kirk watched her go, now as terrified as he was aroused—and, despite being a man of action, he had no idea how to deal with this present situation. Which was when the second teleport activated. This one was far less dramatic, with a sense of cold and a strange metallic taste to it as numerous ponies emerged from space. An entire herd emerged, dropping to the ground, with several immediately collapsing and retching from the nausea of being shot across space so violently. The two at the head, though, managed to stand—even if Luna herself was forced to take a knee. “Ye gads,” she groaned, spitting a thick black fluid. “That was tempestuous.” “I know,” said Tempest, bracing herself and assisting her princess to stand. “It isn’t designed to move that many ponies at once. Not without Moondancer guiding the path.” “She has more pressing duties to attend to.” Luna stood, brushing herself off. Her body was clad in strange armor, ornate and swirling and carved with ominous shapes, made of an naturally pale metal that stood out brilliantly against her black-colored skin. Tempest, likewise, was dressed in an armor of a similar consistency; the ponies behind her were also heavily armored, and many among them carried spears and swords. How a pony was meant to use a sword, Kirk had no idea. “Princess!” Luna nearly jumped out of her armor in shock of suddenly being called from the center of an apocalyptic battlefield. “GAH doth not provoke us!” she cried, levitating the point of her silver sword to Kirk’s nose. Which immediately explained to him how they used their weapons. “We could have cleavedest thou in TWAIN!” “Something’s wrong with Celestia!” Luna’s expression softened, and Kirk was able to see the fear behind her bravado. A fear that made him distinctly uneasy. “Our sister is...of a sensitive disposition. In that our society exists in a specific, carefully controlled manner as to not provoke her. To prevent the manifestation of her...baser emotions.” “As in...the good kind of baser?” “No,” sighed Tempest. “As in unquenchable rage. Directed, mostly, inward. And in this, the collateral ruin is unspeakable.” Kirk nodded. “How do we stop her?” “You do not. We do. By keeping her from making a mistake. Preventing the final conversion and the death of this world. At any cost.” She raised her sword to signal her addled soldiers. “Forward!” She then began to run after her sister, her armor apparently making her far too heavy to fly. The other ponies fell in line as best as they could, leaving behind the most addled to catch their breath. Tempest, though, stayed back, joining Kirk as, of course, he followed after them. “What happened?” “Our FTL ship used her favorite student as a power source. It’s bad. I saw her.” She gestured to her own severed horn. “And when I say it’s bad, it’s bad.” “Wait, you mean the one from all her windows?” “Yeah. Other than Luna, Twilight Sparkle is probably the being she loves the most.” “In a mother-daughter way, or...you know, romantic?” Tempest grimaced. “Don’t make it disgusting. Celestia is the mother to all ponies. She’s inherently a nonsexual being.” “Yeah...about that...” Celestia—or what was almost Celestia—was not moving especially quickly. They caught up to her just as she was reaching the door to the facility. It was a very impressive door indeed, perhaps a hundred feet tall and made of reinforced metal. “The door is made of nine hundred metric tons of reinforced duranium alloy,” said Spock, suddenly appearing at Kirk’s side, and somehow having managed to find his tricorder. “SPOCK don’t sneak up on me—” “I may be able to discern the access code,” said Rarity, at his feet. “Rarity, where did you come from?!” Rarity sighed. “Starfleet, we’ve already been over this, I had explained it to you in all the emotional detail—” Celestia, standing nearest to the door, looked up at it. Her horn flashed. The quiet of the battlefield was interrupted with the scream of bending, tearing metal as the door was crushed inward. Then, with a slight flick of her neck, she tossed it backward, tearing it from its hinges and raining debris down on the ponies that had gathered behind her. The force of the throw was so great that the door immediately vanished from sight, arcing smoothly and no doubt landing somewhere outside of the facility. “I hope that didn’t land on anyone,” said Kirk. “It didn’t,” replied Celestia, calmly. Her voice did not sound like it had before. Kirk shivered, even as he began to sweat from the heat her body was producing. “How do you know that?” “Because vermin are good at scurrying.” Kirk frowned. “They’re not vermin, they’re PONIES.” Celestia winced, if only slightly. She shook her head. The roots of her mane seemed to expand slightly, the color driving back the burning orange. “Ponies...yes. They’re my little ponies, I...why did I...” She looked back at where the door had gone, but then was distracted by something else. And instead of concerning herself anymore with it, she entered the facility. The others followed—at a distance. Something was wrong, and, much to Kirk’s dismay, it involved something beyond the obvious things that had already gone wrong. Everything was too quiet. There were no guards, robotic or otherwise. There was no hum of machinery, no factory floors—if anything, it looked like the inside of a boring, modular office structure, the kind that might be prefabricated and dropped on some marginally inhabitable M-class planet. He had expected something more like a factory, but, knowing what had been done to the pony that he imagined was essentially Celestia’s daughter, he also expected some sort of macabre surgical setting. Instead, there were just hallways. Long, empty corridors filled with still, stale air. This gave way to a hallway lined with, for some reason, exotic wood paneling. With many shades, all mismatched and strange, placed with no regard for aesthetic purpose but no doubt extremely expensive. All of it burned and warped as Celestia approached the final door at the end. Before it, there was a desk. For a secretary. Kirk, having his own personal yeoman, of course understood the need for a secretary in modern life, but was dismayed—although partially relieved—to see that it was not staffed by an attractive small-horse, but rather with a holographic representation of one. “I’m sorry, Miss, but Flim and Flam are in important discussions with Twilight Sparkle concerning the status of her design for the next engine syst—” It was destroyed as Celestia vaporized its projector and shattered its desk into splinters, never breaking her stride or even turning her head. Celestia threw open the door, knocking it from its hinges with an oddly silent blast of energy. Both fragments continued to float, slowly carbonizing as Celestia stepped past them into a large, ornate room. Kirk blinked at the sight of it. Of the architecture, but, more importantly, the numerous paintings of nude mares in various poses. Which, considering that they did not usually wear clothing, was somewhat perplexing but still vaguely sexy. Except that, as Kirk looked closer, he realized he vaguely recognized the depicted mare. She was violet, a real-life version of the one he saw in the windows. In various stages of undress, posed in various ways awake and unconscious in various stages of surgery to remove her horn and organs. In those where she was conscious, strapped to the table or posed in provocative ways, she looked so very afraid. At the far end of the exquisite carpet was an enormous oak desk, festooned with various fountain pens and other accouterments of stereotypical early 20th-century stationary. Behind it, in his oversized chair, sat a tall unicorn, his hooves pressed together, smiling as Celestia entered. His non-mustached brother was also present, but immediately ducked behind the desk in fear. “Don’t bother, Flim,” laughed the pony with the mustachio. “He won’t hurt us. Because she can’t.” Celestia paused, looking up at one of the paintings. Her lips twisted into a snarl, revealing her exceptionally long fangs, and her pupils began to increasingly narrow into a pair of luminescent slits. The desk shattered, revealing the pony beneath it, who promptly squeaked. The other, though, was completely unperturbed. He slid off his chair and pulled a scotch glass from the wall, tossing it on the ground. Then, using his teeth, he extracted a golf putter from an ornate leather umbrella stand. Ignoring the rage-goddess preparing to quickly and efficiently strip him free of his mortal coil, he set up a shot. “A desk isn’t terribly useful without hands,” he said. “Hardly any point in keeping it. I can’t exactly expect to export it offworld, now can I?” “Why?” demanded Celestia. Kirk could feel her barely-contained rage as well as he could feel the heat coming off her. “Just answer me that, at least. She was just a little pony. She was innocent and she—she could have been so much. Why did you take that away from her?” Flam looked up, smiling. “Why does anybody do anything? Although I suppose your primitive species hasn't advanced enough to realize the fundamental truth of civilization. That the only thing in life that truly matters is MONEY." He tapped the golf ball, sending it into the glass with a clink. “How could I turn down a deal like that? They gave it to me for almost free. Build the reactors. Use the ponies. Make the machines. And you know what?” He grinned at Kirk. “Imagine it. They don’t use antimatter, they don’t use fusion. They barely take any power at all, and even with this primitive planet’s technology a half-dead prototype unit could break warp nine. With virtually no warp signature for your enemies to detect. You have to understand what the galaxy is willing to pay for that technology. Don’t you, Captain Kirk?” “And the dilithium? The element zero?” Flam laughed. “I aim to make dilithium obsolete, captain. With a resource that comes only form a planet that I own. As for that other thing, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Brother, stop taunting her! She’s going to boil us!” “Stop being overly dramatic. She’s a soft, fluffy primitive. Ponies can’t kill. You know that—ERK!” He and his brother were levitated by their necks. Celestia, her mane now almost fully orange, stared at them. “I am not, in fact, a pony. I am a god. You do not own this world. You do knot own its inhabitants. I do. And I will, indeed, be boiling you. So slowly...” She tightened her grasp, but before Kirk could even attempt to stop her, Luna interposed herself between Celestia and the twins. Celestia stared at her. “Sister. Stop being moronic. You saw what they did to Twilight. You, of all ponies, know they deserve this.” “I am aware of what they have done, dearest sister, but I cannot permit you to do this.” “You can’t really stop me. You’re too weak. So very...small. So far away. Your sun never even ignited...” “I am aware of this. Aware of how little of my body made it back to the moon when you finally defeated Nightmare Moon. But that’s the point, is it not? Even Nightmare Moon. Even me. You even gave me a chance.” “I did. But they are not my little sister. Why should I suffer them to live?” “Because you are not Daybreaker any more than I am Nightmare Moon. Did you never once regret sending me to the moon? This, if you go through with it, you will regret far, far more. They are not gods. Just ponies. Who made a mistake.” Celestia’s resolve seemed to falter, if only for a moment. Her eyes grew less depraved, and the heat coming off her decreased. “Twilight...my student...” “She would not want this. Do not throw away what you have left with her. Sister, please. Do not make me hurt you.” Celestia smiled. “I doubt you could. But that’s not the point, is it?” “No, sister. It is not.” Celestia nodded, and Luna stepped aside—but only partially. Celestia then addressed Flim, who was clawing at the strangling light around his neck, and Flam, who awaited his fate calmly. “Perhaps I have been swayed,” said Celestia. “Slightly. Or perhaps I’m becoming sadistic in my old age. You will be given a proper, fair trial, and you will be found guilty. Then you will both be hung. By the ankles, in Canterlot square...and the beatings will be unending. My magic shall ensure that.” Flam smiled. “How gracious of you. There’s just one problem that you're just too thick to see.” “Really?” Celestia pulled him closer. “And what would that be?” Flam’s smile grew. “I’m not even here.” He raised his hoof, and the skin erupted, splitting down the middle and exposing the mechanical joints beneath. The end of his hoof expanded, revealing the mass-effect rifle concealed in his own body. He held it out, taking a shot directly at Luna. Before Kirk could even draw his phaser, Luna’s body was vaporized into a plume of black smoke. “SISTER!” Celestia tore Flam in half, spraying his robotic innards on the wall—but in her rage, she missed his brother, whose torso tore itself open to reveal a number of rocket ports that immediately began firing. Several of the rockets twisted, targeting Celestia—but most flew instead toward the guards who accompanied her. Kirk was tackled to the ground, Rarity casting a shield spell around him. A plume of uncontrolled blue energy erupted from somewhere, traveling in random directions and arcing through the rockets and ponies alike, and firing with such recoil that Tempest was knocked several feet backward. Celestia slashed Flim in half, his hollow robotic parts melting to the floor. She dropped both of them, just as the smoke of her sister began to reassemble, resuming its pony form—only for Luna to collapse, grasping her shoulder. “Luna!” “We did not...phase expediently...this is...unexpectedly painful...” “How bad is it?” “We are immortal, as are you, sister.” Luna grimaced and forced herself to stand, although she was unable to put weight on one leg. “We shall live.” “Yes. But they shall not.” She turned slowly toward Kirk. “James. Find me them. FIND ME THEM SO THAT THEY MIGHT BURN.” Kirk shivered. “I—can’t do that—” “Captain,” said Spock, apparently oblivious to the situation, holding his tricorder to the wall behind the desk. “The disruptive quantum signature appears to be origination from behind this—” The surface of the wall was instantly evaporated by Celestia’s magic, revealing a disturbingly black surface behind it. Black to the point that not light at all seemed to reflect from it. “What manner of sorcery be this?!” “...wall.” Spock held up his tricorder. He raised one of his eyebrows. “Fascinating. This surface is constructed of a form of isometric carbon existing simultaneously in eight dimensions and at least four temporal phases, much in the same sense as dilithium but with a geometrically increased degree of complexity. It appears to be both a form of quantum scintillation as well as a barrier.” “Spock, you’re not helping!” “On the contrary, Captain. This surface is theoretically indestructible by reasonable means. It would take a dilithium carving drill well over two thousand years just to penetrate the finest layer of its surface it, let alone cut it. Entering through here is functionally impossible.” “Not to me it’s not.” Celestia shoved past him, holding up her head. Then her horn ignited with so much force that Kirk felt himself sizzle slightly. The explosive force of her energy was then focused into a single, blinding beam—and she shoved it through the door, drawing untold amounts of energy to cut her way through. And, as Kirk watched, she began to succeed. He was, for the first time, truly afraid. Of what might be on the other side of that wall—and for them as well.