“It’s simple,” Twilight said to Spitfire. “We repurpose the magnetosphere’s shield generator to briefly emit nullwaves instead of the usual radiological shields. Since they cancel out magic, the nullwaves will disrupt the changeling swarm’s hive mind for long enough to essentially permanently lobotomize them. Since they depend on magic for their biology, it might even do more than that. But even in the worst case, it’ll render the changelings harmless.”
“Just like that?” asked Spitfire skeptically.
“Just like that,” Twilight replied with a nod.
Spitfire didn’t look all that convinced. Applejack couldn’t blame her. How often had they run around chasing simple fixes in… the past hour alone? How long could you chase nonfunctional solutions before you just gave up entirely? And, unlike them, she was also working to keep all the ponies in decent mental shape. She was juggling so many things at once, it was a miracle she was still functioning at all.
But, eventually, she sighed. “And the science works out?” she said in a tired voice. “You looked at that grenade for barely a minute.”
“The science absolutely works out,” Twilight said. “Nullwave theory’s actually pretty well-studied down on Equus, it was just that Golden Oaks was the first place to produce them with such miniaturized emitters. They discovered it’s actually not that different from an arcane mana pulse or even the radiological shields around the station, they just needed to use a different catalyst for the-”
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Spitfire vaguely.
“But the fact that they did use simple catalysts means I know how to reconfigure the shields, at least for this one-time use,” Twilight forged on. “As long as we keep the duration low enough, we won’t be in any danger from cosmic radiation — and since ‘low enough’ is on the scale of days at the bare minimum, a minute won’t be a problem. We won’t even be harmed by the nullwaves, outside of some headaches, since they only work with magic and we don’t depend on magic the same way changelings do.”
“Good, good,” Spitfire replied, nodding automatically. “And what about your new friend?”
“You mean Thorax?”
“‘Thorax’? You named- Who am I kidding, of course you did. What about it? Won’t it get killed, too?”
Twilight rustled her wings. She looked over her shoulder, to where Thorax was in deep conversation with Trixie about… something Applejack couldn’t remember. “He might,” Twilight said quietly. “But if the changelings get to Equus, the pony species is gone. Every species down there is gone. And I can’t put an entire planet in jeopardy for one person.” She turned back to Spitfire, her eyes wet but also set. “I won’t like it at all. But if he dies, he dies.” A pause, then her voice sped up dramatically. “I was actually thinking, if I know the nullwaves are coming, I might be able to-”
“Don’t need to hear it,” grunted Spitfire. “You’ll save him somehow, I know it.” She popped her lips a few times in thought. “So what all do we need to do?”
“You don’t need to do anything,” said Twilight. “Not yet, anyway. I am working on reworking the nullwave grenade tech to be compatible with the magnetosphere generator. So sit tight, and I’ll be with you as soon as I can be.” She strode away, whistling some folk tune.
“Good,” said Spitfire to the air. She glanced at Applejack. “I want to sleep,” she mumbled. She rubbed her face. “I know it’s only been a few hours — stars above, I don’t even think it’s 7 o’clock yet — but… Holy Thrones.” When she put her hoof down, she was blinking a lot. “This posting was a reward for me. Did you know that? Over a decade of pristine service, so I get assigned a cushy job up here. Worst thing that can be expected is some drunken spats, and I didn’t even see any of those. Then suddenly, aliens, and in just one sunblasted night…” She sniffed and looked away. “I’m doing everything I can, and…”
“Yeah,” said Applejack. Spitfire had been concerned with the whole station while Applejack had been running back and forth, concerned only with herself and her immediate friends. It was hard to imagine what she was going through, what she had been going through.
“Do you want some coffee?”
Applejack twitched while Spitfire spun around. Blueblood was standing behind them, ragged and beaten, yet self-assured and… humble? It was a strange look on him, not entirely unbecoming. He probably looked more like a prince than Applejack had ever seen him. “What?” asked Spitfire. But although she growled the question, it sounded like she was genuinely surprised.
“Coffee,” repeated Blueblood. “I can make some, if you so desire. I do have some skills, after all.”
“And it’s one of the important ones,” Spitfire half-mumbled.
“I know I am responsible for… everything,” said Blueblood, his voice both smaller and firmer than it’d ever been before. “Lightning’s involvement does not excuse my own. And I know I can never make this right. But if you’re tired, I can at least make you some coffee.”
Spitfire glared at him for a long moment. He didn’t quail. Then she grunted, “Black. No sugar.”
“Black,” repeated Blueblood. He glanced at Applejack.
“Nothin’ for me,” Applejack said.
“I see. Very well.” Blueblood nodded to both of them, then walked off.
“So, uh… how’s he been doin’?” Applejack asked.
“Ufh. Fine,” said Spitfire. “He’s mopey, but now he’s been doing what I say, and…” She rubbed her head. “Look, can we not talk until he gets back? Tired.” She loped over to a nearby table and collapsed into a chair.
“Sorry.”
At the very least, when she got her coffee, Spitfire seemed to perk up. She chugged the first gulps down like somepony desperately in need of caffeine, but the next few sips were those of somepony who genuinely liked the taste of the coffee itself rather than drinking it because they needed to finish it off. “This is actually good,” she said to Blueblood. Sip. “Where’d you learn to brew coffee like this?”
After a moment, Blueblood shrugged. “Experience. After one particularly long party, Mother deprived me of morning food servants in the hopes that a lack of coffee made by them would prevent me from sleeping in until 11. I simply learned how to work the machines myself.” He laughed bitterly. “It wasn’t like I had anything to get up for, nor any obligations to fill my evenings.”
Spitfire suddenly became even more interested in her coffee than before. Applejack swallowed and stammered, “I- I’m sure she didn’t mean-”
“I already feel abominable,” Blueblood snorted. “It is not as if you can make things any worse.” He glared at the bulkhead, in the general direction of Equus. “When I get down, I shall have some choice words for Mother.”
And Queen Celestia would have some far, far choicier words for him, but Applejack suspected he didn’t care, and that his words would hurt her more than hers would hurt him. Lacking anything to add, Applejack looked down and fidgeted in her chair.
Blueblood looked over at Spitfire. “If I may ask, how were you able to keep yourself together after you learned the truth about me? After all, I did…” His voice trailed off.
Spitfire briefly pulled her muzzle from her cup. “Until the situation on this station is under control, that ain’t my problem,” she said. “Too much else to worry about. Stay in line, and I don’t care who you are.” Sip. “Step out of line and I’ll blow your sunblasted head off faster than you can blink.” From the tone of her voice, that wasn’t hyperbole in the slightest.
“Duly noted,” Blueblood said. He said it dryly, of all things.
Suddenly, Twilight burst in their little group, grinning from ear to ear. “IIII goooot iiiit!” she singsonged, waving a sheet of paper at them. She slapped the paper on the table; Applejack quickly pulled it over for examination. “The magnetosphere!” Twilight declared. “Totally ready for reworking into a nullwave emitter with just a few easy steps!”
“Easy” was overselling it, but only by a little. It was a jury-rig that wouldn’t last for long, but they didn’t need it to last for long. Applejack could… mostly understand it, and the bits she couldn’t understand were all cutting-edge, PhD-level physics, so she wasn’t too worried. Even the physical parts were simple to perform. She could do it herself if she needed to.
Downing the rest of her coffee, Spitfire sat up a little straighter. “And you’ve got all the materials you need?” she asked, wiping her mouth down.
“Aaaaand to spare!” Twilight said. “We can get going as soon as you’re ready.”
Applejack and Spitfire looked at each other. Applejack shrugged and Spitfire nodded. “Let’s do it,” Spitfire said, standing up. “I’m tired of sitting around.”
Spitfire called together all the ponies in the cargo bay. Golden Oaks had once held over two hundred ponies; here, where most of the survivors were, there couldn’t’ve been more than thirty. The station had never felt quite so empty.
She laid out Twilight’s theory and plan, sounding confident and sure all the while. Applejack caught a few ponies not looking quite so morose as Spitfire’s speech went on. Even when she acknowledged she didn’t know the science (“…now, I sure as hay don’t know what she’s talking about, but she sure does, and she says the math works out…”), she managed to sound like she knew what she was doing.
Finally, she said, “So here’s the plan. We’re going to take some ponies to the magnetosphere generator, Twilight’s going to install her doohickey, and then…” A pause, and Applejack saw Spitfire’s brave mask slip a little. “Well, we’ll see. Wings crossed. Now, is there anyone here who knows how to work with the generator, on the off chance Twilight bites it?”
For a long time, nothing. Someone coughed. Then Applejack slowly raised her hoof.
“You’re kidding,” Spitfire said flatly.
“Engineerin’ neuromods,” said Applejack, almost guiltily. Knowledge of Golden Oaks’ magnetosphere was right there, had been there for ages, waiting patiently to be accessed, and Twilight’s changes were simple enough. Relatively speaking.
“It’s always you,” Spitfire mumbled, rubbing her temples, “why is it always, always you?”
“Believe me, I’ve been askin’ that myself.”
Spitfire shook her head, then raised her voice again. “So that’s where we’re going. If you’re not involved in this, you can go. I just needed to update you all on where we stand.”
Slowly, ponies dispersed. Applejack caught some mutters, but they weren’t the angry, rebellious sort; just the anxious, stress-filled ones she’d been expecting. Once they were gone, there were only eight or nine ponies left, plus Thorax. Not much, but it could still be enough.
Spitfire paced back and forth for a long moment. She was moving oddly; Applejack wasn’t sure whether that was because she was so tired or because she was so tense she was barely keeping herself in check. Then she took a deep breath and said, “Alright, I’m gonna need some volunteers for this mis-”
Every single pony put their hoof up. Spitfire grinned a little. “Heh. Can’t fault your dedication, I’ll give you that. Alright, you three.” She pointed at three guards. “Hate to break it to you, but you need to stay here, keep everyone else safe.” With drooping ears, the guards stepped back.
Spitfire nodded at the guards, then frowned at Thorax. “So what’re you doing here?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory, just blunt.
“I…” Thorax shuffled its weight from foot to foot. “I… can help. I have… experience from the Swarm. I… I want to help.”
“Really?” Spitfire asked. “It might be best if you stay back.” Then her ears twitched and she looked at Twilight. “Unless you think you need it for… something,” she said. Applejack’s mind went back to the question of whether Thorax could survive the nullwave. Maybe Spitfire was…
“That might not be a bad idea,” Twilight said quickly. “Just in case.”
Huh.
“You’ll let me come?” asked Thorax. “But… I thought you might…” Its voice trailed off.
“I’m well past caring by now, and Twilight trusts you,” said Spitfire. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Thorax smiled and what might’ve been its wings buzzed.
Spitfire looked at the remaining guards and nodded. “Well, you all know what to do. Princess Twilight is VIP 1, Applejack is VIP 2. And since VIP 1 is an alicorn, focus most of your protection on VIP 2.” (Applejack thought she heard a few snickers in the audience.) “The magnetosphere isn’t far, but anything can happen between here and there, so stay alert.”
“Yes’m!” said the guards.
“Alright, let’s-”
Wham.
It wasn’t loud, not very. But it had the dull tenor of a sound that had bulled its way through thick walls and was still loud enough to make everypony freeze.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
They were deep, impactful, the unmistakable sounds of heavy footfalls. And they were getting louder.
“It’s coming from the door…” somepony whispered.
Then something big knocked on the doors, those big doors to the cargo bay that could keep out anything. “Oh, ponies!” the changeling queen warbled. “We think it’s time we all stop playing, hmm?”