//------------------------------// // 12 - Lost and Found // Story: Cypress Zero // by Odd_Sarge //------------------------------// “Warden…?” A broad laugh came from the other side of the cell’s door. “I’m on duty again, but not on that duty. Thank Celestia for that.” Cold started to sit up, and he heard two taps on steel. “Don’t try that horn of yours, either. I don’t know why the marshall didn’t just leave you capped, but the colts down here in ‘D’ and ‘H’ don’t take kindly to violations in keeping.” “Officer Ripshot…” Cold coughed, just barely managing a dark chortle. “It’s real nice to see you.” It really wasn’t; a nosy chatterbox was the last thing he wanted. Regardless, he sat up all the way. “Not what I’d say, if I was in your hooves.” There was a pause, followed by some small movements. “You’re not looking too hot there, Captain Cold. What’d you do? Rob an armory?” “…Y’know, I almost wish I did.” “Huh.” Cold wished he could see the stunned muzzle of the pony behind the door. “Nopony’s told you?” “O’course not. But I know CSO when I see ‘em. And I only know one kirin within trotting distance.” Cold rearranged himself on the cot, resting his head on the pillow. He held his ears fixed toward the door. “So you came here to laugh, that it?” Ripshot halfheartedly gave him one. “Oh, wow. You’re real riled. Makes sense I guess. You’re the one in the cell, after all.” An almost dreamy sigh came from the other side. “No, I’m here because word of CSO deployment travels quick on the radio, especially when you’re up in Station Control.” He rapped a hoof against the door again. “Plus, I know the warden. At this hour… let’s just say inmates aren’t his priority right now. But don’t get any ideas.” “I’m hearing a lot of talk, and you still haven’t answered my question.” “Alright, alright, cool it, eh? You don’t even have a hoof to stand on, and—whatever. Look, I was curious. CSO wouldn’t bring somepony in on smuggling charges alone. What’d you do to get thrown in maxsec?” “Terrorism.” A guffaw rattled through the cell. “Wait, you’re serious?” “That’s what they said.” Ripshot went dead quiet. So quiet, that anypony else would’ve thought he’d run off to grab the warden. Cold knew Ripshot enough to know better. “When we cross paths out there, you’re always telling these little white lies, but now… now I’m feeling your honesty.” The door bolt cranked, and a red unicorn stepped in. His butter-yellow mane and tail were cut to an all-too-familiar short standard, but his black Concord attire was an effective indication of his allegiance. His eyes blazed with orange fire as he entered the room. He’d never seen the bucky stallion, but the look certainly matched the voice. Cold got his wish. “Nice to see you face-to-face, officer.” Office Ripshot snorted. “Likewise.” He pat his loaded chest-holster with a hoof, and cocked his head to the door. “Door’s self-sealing, and I’m quick on the draw. Take those hints as you will.” “Don’t forget the camera.” Ripshot didn’t look up. “Yeah, they’re watching. But not listening.” Cold laid out fully on his pillow, but made no effort to look at Ripshot. “I’m here all night.” He hoped so, at least. The officer sat down in the corner. “I didn’t take you for a terrorist, captain.” “They say I am.” Stepping into the cell of an untethered magic user was bold. What was Ripshot’s game, here? The unicorn had been looking to book him for a long, long time… “So, I am.” “Alright, Mister Finality,” Ripshot quipped with amusement. “Well, what event led to that?” “That ‘CSO’ team you saw planted an explosive of some kind in the clinic we were in. It didn’t go their way.” He paused, then sighed. “Doesn’t help that I played a part in setting it off.” Cold could feel Ripshot’s brows burrowed into his next question. “Why’d you say CSO like that? You don’t think they’re CSO?” “Not a chance.” Cold left it at that, and hoped. His ear whined, but it wasn’t from the still-present earpiece. He shook his head into the pillow, and— “Why not?” Sweet Blaze. He wasn’t going to let up, was he? “Look, Cold, I know we’ve had our differences—” No objections there. “—but this ain’t you. Not in the slightest. You’re some 1.0 security rating independent, with a shielded cargo bay, and an off-kilter nav history. You’re as suspicious as a diamond dog in a bank, but you’re no dang terrorist. What have you been getting up to since I last pulled you and your ship out of skip? Which corporation wants your head on a princess’ platter? Surely they ain’t local.” Cold sighed. He couldn’t tell if it was out of pure annoyance, or sheer disbelief at the next forced conversation pulled up for him to endure. “Right now? I don’t know.” “What I’m saying is that you’re hardly that bad of an egg. Look, I figured we had a good ‘ole rivalry going around, even got myself a little list of all our encounters—I’ll move myself up from a zero to a one someday—but c’mon, you’re a kirin! Your kind are supposed to be the nicest little lot around. You don’t just go blowing up clinics. There’s not a pony in this day and age would go that far, least not in Cypress.” “Then maybe it’s because the ponies responsible are non-Cypressean.” “…What are you saying, that those CSO fellas are Equestrian or… otherwise?” “What does it matter to you?” Cold replied. He sat up from his pillow, and stared flat-lipped at the seated unicorn. “You’ve got no business being here, and I’ve got no business with you. Not now. I’m caught. I don’t even know why I feel the need to respond to you, because I certainly don’t have to.” Where Cold expected a scowl, Ripshot just frowned. “I just felt it was a nice change of pace to have you talkin’ instead of keepin’ quiet.” “Well, you’ve got me. Tack yourself up with a win. I’ve talked plenty.” He gave up, and flopped back down to the bed, still aimed Ripshot’s way. “For Celestia’s sake, just leave me alone. I don’t need you getting involved in this. You were just doing your job.” “…If it means I can protect more ponies, I’d be glad to hear you out, captain.” “And I do want that,” Cold replied. “Ponies protected, that is. But getting another pony in the mix isn’t going to make that happen.” He sighed. “I’m no greenhorn, officer. You know that. So for just this once, take my word at full value. Less ponies’ll get hurt with me out of the picture.” “But I—” “Colt. Listen. At this point, I’m a dead kirin trotting. Truthfully, I don’t know why I’m still alive. Or how. Forget our history. Forget me. You won.” Cold sank into the pillow, and closed his eyes. “There’s real wars to fight outside of this cell, and that’s where you need to be.” Ripshot stood, his hooves clacking on the other side of the cell. “I don’t want you dead, Captain Cold.” Cold sighed. “What do you want me to tell you, officer? Because all I’ve got for you are warnings.” “Then warn me.” A glowing image of Fokienia’s face drifted by in the eigengrau of Cold’s eyes. “…You sure the cameras aren’t listening?” “They’re probably recording audio. But it’s not like they’re going to run it through. Not until the warden gets you pulled over to the interrogation room, and had his fix with you.” Fokienia appeared to nod. That was enough. Cold gave Ripshot his full attention. “There’s a rogue research laboratory on Cypress. They’ve got ponies pretending to be Concord, and it’s like they’re everywhere. The governor’s determined to go after them, said he’d start it up by tonight. And I don’t think he was lying.” To his credit, Ripshot didn’t laugh. “What kinda warning is that? Sounds more like a call to action.” “I’m being tactful. Implicit.” Cold rolled his eyes. “Things are about to go big. You need to keep your head down and out of the way.” “You forget I’m a Concord officer. I know a thing or two about keeping crime down.” “This isn’t crime, Ripshot. You’re on my level, all things considered.” “And how do you figure that?” “Because we’ve got no control over the storm rolling our way.” Ripshot appeared nonplussed. “What are these ponies researching, then?” “Things beyond us. Technology that could destroy Cypress.” The unicorn glared. “You should’ve opened with that.” “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Cold shot back. “I just had my flank dragged through Tartarus and back, and I end up getting airlifted to some isolated cell, a knife at my horn the whole time. I guess I’m thinking that maybe you’ll get wise, and get out there before things really kick off.” “Buried in all you’re saying, there’s truth. But you’re delusional.” “Maybe I am,” Cold muttered. “Maybe I am. All it’s been is questions, questions… too much.” Slowly, his mind cooled. “I’m just a pilot. A pilot who’s feeling way too old for their age.” “Put the crazy talk aside, then. Get real.” Ripshot sat down again. “Focus on the facts, captain. We can help you.” “’We?’” Cold tried. “You’re not getting the idea, are you?” “Yeah, we. As in, Concord.” “Concord is compromised. You can’t trust anypony.” “So why are you trusting me?” “Because you gave me the same faith.” The officer paused. He raised a foreleg, then stepped backwards and plopped back down. “I don’t get you, kirin.” “I could tell you more, but there’s no need to. There are stakes here, but they are well beyond the grasp of two ponies.” Cold tilted his head back into the wall. “It’s just a waiting game, now.” “Well what do you want me to do, then? With the way you’re acting, I can really take your word for once, but I can’t just keep my head down. Why shouldn’t I just talk my way up the rest of the chain and see what’s what?” “That’s how you get a target painted on you, like me. Innocents get involved, and we all suffer.” “So how’d you get into this, then?” Cold took a deep breath, and shuddered. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” For a long moment, it seemed Ripshot was done. Cold took solace in the downbeat, and held close to the wall. He didn’t know Ripshot well enough to watch out for the second silence. “Fine,” the officer started again. “You don’t want to talk about how you wound up here? Real fine. But now, now I feel like I’m owed some kind of story. Hay, I didn’t even get to board your ship. If you want me to notch you down, I need something bombastic.” Cold loosened his neck, and gave the stallion a deadpan stare. Ripshot shrugged, but he was quick to break into a light laugh. “Like I said, I’m curious about these things. How does a kirin end up so far out here, and without any other kirins to boot?” He grimaced. “You want my life’s story.” “Yeah. And you’ve got plenty of time.” Half of Cold’s mind wanted to shoot the stubborn officer with a mare’s tale. The other half was starting to see a little bit of his own reflection. The insane half, by all accounts. A sigh was all it took for the officer to turn all smiles, and for a kirin like Cold, that was enough. “I’ve been out on my own for ten-odd years. Was just breaking out of my roots in the homefleet when we came upon a quiet little sector of space. We always take jobs where we can to run upkeep, and Telfire was a nice hub of industry. Still is.” “Telfire? I know that body,” Ripshot popped in, his voice dripping with interest. “That’s right next to the Core Worlds.” Briefly forgetting who he was addressing, Cold grinned. “It’s a part of them. Two shifts away from Equus. You know the Telfire outfits?” “Yeah, I know the shipbreakers.” He leaned back, but said nothing further. Cold nodded. “Didn’t start with them, though. More than just shipbreaking out there. First work was on a forge station in-system. Got my fair share of experience repairing equipment from there… the kind of machinery that’s only gotten more antiquated. Fair bit of welding and circuitry, even spent some time in the metalworks doing diagnostics on the forges proper. Fleet was parked there for a few years, so I built up a little surplus of bits. Not enough bits to get my own ship, though.” “The call went out, and a couple months before the homefleet pulled out, me and some friends hopped on a shuttle for an old-fashioned transfer to Telfire itself. No shortage of work there, and shipbreaking paid a lot better than in-station work. But that’s not what I was there for.” Ripshot cocked his head. “You weren’t a Telfire shipbreaker?” Oh, he had no idea; this was going to be good. “I was a Telfire miner.” At first, the younger stallion just blinked. His brows curled deep. “You’re joking,” he said flatly. Before planet Telfire had ever been born, there was a star. A bright star that burned bright, just like its brothers and sisters. In the sky of the lunar princess, it had its place among those kin, but its pedestal was one treasured and highly prized by ponykind: it was so close, but still so far. Without the technology to bridge the gap between Telfire and Equus, the bridge remained sealed for many years. This star was named TSC 9007-5848-1. And its anomalous properties changed the galaxy forever. Ripshot’s jaw didn’t work for a few more tries. “H-hey, don’t leave me hanging, space kirin.” Cold barely restrained a shrug—he needed to keep that ego in check. “Yes, I mined telecrystals from the Telfire ‘roid fields. That’s how I got my start as a captain.” “Your ‘start’? You’re rich!” A pony stuck in a void habitat all their life wouldn’t have had the perspective to understand the value of space: Fokienia’s delusions of Cold’s grandeur were excusable. But a licensed Concord officer and pilot? Cold shot Ripshot a disappointed look. “Hardly. Most of my deposits went to the homefleet, my rentals, and my equipment. Plus, I didn’t stay in the business long.” The smart ones didn’t. “So what, after that you just went straight to flying that freighter of yours?” Cold rolled his eyes hard. “No, I had to go through pilot training, like every other pony.” He lightened up quick; Ripshot was lucky Cold was fond of memories. “But I wasn’t exactly a common case, being a member of the enclave and all, so I got privileges to do my running on a shuttle—which I bought and owned. An N-4 Lark, same model the outfitters rented to miners. Well, to my corps, at least. There are normal belts in Telfire, you know.” Ripshot tugged at his Concord uniform, totally aghast. “They had you running telecrystal ops in standard fighters?” “We certainly weren’t doing it in yachts,” Cold snarked. “We were forced to run fighters because of the conditions. Hay, you should know exactly why.” “Just made it clear that I do.” Again, disappointment came in droves. Cold shook his head. “Then let me renege on my last statement, because you don’t quite grasp the gravity of it. I don’t blame you.” Cold loosened up, and lightly laughed. “Yeah, you needed all the maneuvering jets you could get. If you wanted to live, you didn’t fly like normal in those fields. But if you wanted to thrive out there, you had to be burning a collision course with a ‘roid that hadn’t skipped yet.” “So why not interceptors?” “Telecrystals are too finicky with low-UV lasers, triggers their teleportation with just a few seconds of interference. You needed the larger heatsinks and turret hardpoints to harvest anything. Not unless you fancied your odds of picking out the same ‘roid in a skip range of three-hundred gallops.” “They really skip that far, even unrefined?” Ripshot replied in disbelief. “My respect for you just went up tenfold.” “Funny, considering how—just a few minutes ago—you were happy to see an independent nobody thrown in a cell.” Ripshot snorted. “Yeah, well, ponies change.” “Sure do.” At least there was some reprieve to be found in the moment. “But after my time in the skip fields, I popped open some connections and started hauling TC on contract. Once I got my full pilot’s permit, I started moving it thirty systems out. I never did get tired of shuttling that stuff around—hay, I’d go back to it if I could—but now I’m a bit too established in assets out here on the border worlds.” “Assets?” “Stakes in a lot of exploratory corps.” He idly waved a hoof. “Nothing I need to actively keep up with, but I skip myself out their way from time to time.” Cold paused. “Outfits call me a lucky charm. I don’t believe that, I just know there's a whole lot of unknown out there, and we’re just barely skimming the waters.” Ripshot idly kicked a hindleg out across the floor. “So what, you got hooked on TC, and now you’re looking for the next big commodity to get rich on?” “Not actively, but it would be nice. No, what I’m really after are worlds full of magic like Equus—that would be the ultimate prize. So I have all to gain from investing in some exo-ships and ponies eager to split profits on anomalies and survey data. Cypress Station is proof of what a few bits in the right place can do. I understand the cosmic exchange, at least on the small scale.” Cold shrugs. “A businesspony, I’m not, but I do know my trade.” “’Like Equus’, huh? I didn’t take you for a colonist.” The kirin shook his head. “I just want a home for my tribe. Not all of us were made for the void, officer.” “…Sorry.” “You’re alright.” Cold took a moment. “Definitely not as bad in-pony.” Ripshot cracked a smile at that. “Fair enough.” “Beyond that, I’m just any other pony trying to get by. I’m not really one to stick my neck out there. Until recently, s’pose.” Cold breathed, letting the weight of it flow free. “I’ll admit, I’m on better ground than most, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s really like in the black.” “I never tried to imply anything against that.” “I know. I’m just making a point, here.” The officer nodded. “No need to, really. I’ve heard enough.” “Enough to say what, exactly?” “Enough to say that there’s no need for bad blood between us.” The officer stood, his uniform’s fabric creasing. He dusted himself off. “You’re an alright sort, captain. Hardly what I expected from you in-pony, too.” Cold relaxed. It was ridiculous how nice it was to hear those words straight from the pony’s mouth. “I appreciate that.” “Sure, sure.” The silence was warm. Ripshot laughed quietly, and Cold grinned back. It was then that Cold felt the atmosphere in the room change. He was glad he wasn’t curious about Ripshot’s own history: he was fine enough sharing his past aloud. As the camera in the corner swayed, he peered into its lens. It stared back silent, unbidden. Ripshot’s laughter died down. He looked at the camera, too. “…I’m thinking that’s my cue. I’d better get prepped for my beat ‘fore I’m missed too long.” Ripshot turned for the door, giving Cold a worried glance. “If anypony comes by, don’t let ‘em treat you too rough, alright? You’re a stand-up pony.” Again, Cold was left alone in the lukewarm cell, but not without the weight of an unseen gaze. Still stood in the center of the shop’s floor, the bat pony before Fokienia kept up her fanged grin. “Looking a little cold there. What happened to your suit?” Fokienia blinked. “I…” She hesitated. “Are you working with the retrieval unit?” The bat pony raised a brow. “Do you even have to ask?” Her voice was flat, but in the back of her throat, there was a little pep to the question. Fokienia let herself relax—not completely, but enough for the bat to gain her own bit of slack. She spoke lightly. “I guess not.” For some reason, the pony seemed surprised. “Do you remember who you’re talking to?” That extra little glimpse of character was all it took to confirm who she was. “Of course I do…” She bit down for a moment: Control was a dead name. “Sundown.” Sundown Periapsis smiled—not grinned—back at her. “It’s good to see you alive, Fokienia.” Behind Fokienia, she heard metal come crashing down. Her ears twitched, and she looked away from Sundown. “Holly?” She called out. There was a muffled reply, but nothing more. When she turned back around, Sundown’s smile had been joined by impressive eyes. “Holly, huh? Making fast… friends, I see.” “Yes.” “…Who else? The kirin, I presume?” “Yes. My friends.” More than anything. Sundown nodded. “Ha. Well, apparently they were friends enough to warrant throwing out the only one who ever put faith in you.” And that was the problem. Quick on the bit, Sundown’s smile swiftly sank: her façade collapsed to unveil her true feelings in a way that made Fokienia feel so small. “The site engineers wouldn’t have had any grasp on who introduced the flaws. It was some of my finest work. So, day one was one-for-one. This morning, I turned that two. And neither of us would have benefited from throwing names out, especially not one of our own, and definitely not to station authority.” By now, the bat’s lips had warped into a dead, flat line. They curled across her fangs, which protruded ever-so slightly. It was a look that most bat ponies seemed to shy away from: any other bat pony carefully maintained their teeth for length. “You shot high, and you hit good, you know? Not everypony leaves a politician with the bad side of the deal, no less a station governor.” Fokienia knew better. A green, bioluminescent hue lit the fine points of Sundown Periapsis’ fangs. “You sold me out good.” The true cyborg breathed. “I didn’t want to. But it was the safest choice I had.” “Safe? For who? You?” It was clear Sundown wanted to say more from the way she stepped about, but she shook her head, and took up a sterner pose. “While you’ve been out here—” again, Sundown looked over Fokienia’s still-drying coat, “—bathing, I’ve been blowing all my routes. You think they want you bad? Right now, they’re looking for the ones who actually know what they’re doing.” In favor of circumstance, Fokienia let the insult slip by. It was just the truth, anyway. “W-what did you do?” Sundown’s lips twitched. “Don’t you think it was convenient that all the tech was so easy to break? Of course it was convenient. I set it up just like the good old days: with training wheels. I loosened the proverbial wires for you, Fokienia. Even some actual wires.” The electronic locks. The faulty panels. The unjammable gone jammable. ”When I gave you the word that it was about time to go, I wasn’t advising you, I was ordering you to leave. Now, they’re looking to sweep this up before pulling off all the stops. That leaves me, you, and your friends, right on the edge of a black hole.“ She stopped, voice caught sharp, and eyes analyzing. ”You don’t know about black holes...“ Still muffled, but just barely audible, Holly’s voice rang from the back room. “Are you okay?” Fokienia glanced back. The shimmering motion scan showed Holly with her side pressed up against a wall. One ear was flopped high. “Tell your friend that you’re having a private conversation.” Sundown pulled Fokienia back in with a click of her tongue. She pat her breast with a hoof, or rather, as close as she needed to get: the front-facing pattern of Sundown’s jumpsuit shimmered with blue, and the air hummed with the low vibration of a charging disabler. “Or is Holly going to be a problem?” “...I’m having a conversation.” She paused, then finished. “And I need to keep it private.” The reply took a moment. Fokienia couldn’t check on Holly through the wall, and so she was left to her Sundown staredown. “Okay, I’ll be here.” Sundown’s fangs ceased their silent glow, and the mare herself stood straight. “I don’t want to hurt you, Fokienia. But right now, I really, really want to.” The bat pony’s withers relaxed after a decade of tensing, and she fell apart in an instant. “They found out about the leak from the retrieval ops. We were still close enough to hear them call it in. The governor isn’t going to stop digging. And they’re going to keep looking. Somepony’s going to find us. And then... I don’t know.” For the first time since she’d been a filly, Fokienia watched Sundown Periapsis give-in to her emotions. She couldn’t blame her. Not when they’d spent a lifetime in espionage. A part of her heart twinged. But it wasn’t safe to make a move. Sundown sat there with her mane draped low. She breathed deep once. Twice. Then, she raised a hoof. She lifted the cuff of her jumpsuit to her muzzle. Her voice was soft, but thrummed with intent. “We’re clear.” The pneumatic door to the shop opened, and instead of worry, Fokienia’s heart panged with black dread. Sequoia’s grays very nearly matched the door as it shut behind him. Fokienia immediately wished she’d let Holly come in. Standing her ground with as much resilience as she could muster, she turned back to Sundown. “You are with the unit?” The bat pony lifted her head to meet her eyes. “Fokienia. You—” “Rogue.” The big brute spoke again. “You went rogue. Now, we’re going rogue.” Sundown sighed. “Thank you for that, C1.” Casting his shadow across the shop-room floor, the cybernetic pegasus nodded firmly. “Yes, Control.” “Wait, so you’re both...?” Glancing at Sequoia one last time, Sundown nodded. “We’re with you, Fokienia. Even with as bad a bind that puts us in, the reserve ops are going to take their sweet time gathering up intel. That gives us a little while to run loose, get our bearings on the current situation.” The other cyborg added on in his idle, gravelly tone. “We evaded their preliminary scout patrols.” Fokienia took a closer look at Sequoia. The big cyborg brute looked as sidelong as ever: the noticeable slant to his idle stance, and the faint, ceaseless twitch of his wings by his side was a clear tic that his wings were all but naturally healthy. Even from the way his barrel rose and fell, Fokienia could see every curve of metal and wire that made Sequoia the stubborn wall of flesh and metal he was. Still, even with two close-encounters under her belt in the last few days, she had no idea what state he was in. He had always been such a hard read. “Sequoia, you okay?” He blinked. It was a long, painfully slow moment. “Okay?” Sundown looked on with an unreadable look, and said nothing. “They put us under at the same time. What’d they do to you?” Fokienia tapped the side of her head. “They gave me these new eyes. They didn’t do the same for you, so what did they do to you?” Sequoia stared at her, no doubt attempting to dredge up ‘normal-conversation protocols’. Not that he had any kind of brain augment, save for stem reinforcement. “Why do you care?” Fokienia’s heart twinged. “I... I’ve had a lot of time to think after leaving the Facility.” She cast her eyes away from his—the only way she could continue to talk to him. “We never asked for any of this.” He didn’t reply. She didn’t expect him to. “I always thought this was the right way. And I still think it is, all the progress with augmentations, bioengineering. Ponies deserve to have control over their body. The right to be alive. We just never had that control to begin with.” She stood a little straighter, and convinced herself to meet Sequoia’s eyes. “Now, we have that chance.” For the last ten years, Sequoia had only ever been a thorn in her side; he was the other fixation for site engineers and Sundown. Built to compete with her, counteract her strengths where she met his own. Yet, they had still shared that time together, grown in the same all-too-familiar ways. Whether he liked it or not, Fokienia finally had a word she could describe him with. He wasn’t an opposing force, a hound-dog built to track her down, a cyborg existing solely to act as her polar opposite. Sequoia was a pony who was so close to her that they both scarcely realized it. Fokienia had intended to communicate that in some way to the big brute. But Sequoia had never been one for words, not the ones outside of training, and especially not the ones employed during normal ponies’ cafeteria down-times. She traced her way toward him, hooves paving along the warm wooden flooring. The juxtaposition of wood with the steel they shared wove her closer and closer, and still, all Sequoia could manage was a mindless stare. No, now she could see the life he still clung to: his ears swiveled, naturally poised, and his lungs slowed to a cadence he’d hardly come close to since his respiratory augmentation. There was more to this brute than metal and machinery. Fokienia stepped close, not quite matching his imposing stature, but closer than anypony else in the whole of Cypress Station could ever get. “Fokienia?” Sundown whispered from the sidelines. But it was a fading question. “Sequoia...” They were only a few comfortable hooves away, but she could feel his breathing quicken at her hushed voice. Gently, she lifted a foreleg, curled it, and held it out before her. His gaze drifted to it. A multitude of words flashed through her mind. A thousand apologies, a thousand reaffirmations, a thousand hopes and dreams. Fokienia trained her yellow eyes on Sequoia’s greens. In a body built of gray steel, gray coat, and gray hairs, they were what kept him vibrant. He lifted his own foreleg, still flesh and blood, and brought it to hers. Tentatively, he met her touch. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, and feel the deep-bound anxiety swelled within him. Fokienia pulled on his hoof with her own, and swung close enough to set her head aside his own. Rested close to his withers, and pressed to his neck, Sequoia’s sidelong gait drifted. He rediscovered his balance as their hooves met the floor in unison, and straightened with her support. His head held its ground up high, with his neck tensed against her own. And then, he dipped his muzzle down, and sank into Fokienia’s mane. She held her emotions at bay. “I’m sorry.” His even, rhythmic breathing puffed into an unsteady barrage of breath after breath. “I love you,” she whispered. And the world fell still. Breathe in. For a long time, Fokienia held their hug. The feeling swelling within her was unrivaled: she’d been right, this had been what he’d needed. She’d done right. She’d done well. She’d done something far more important with her training than scoop up information for violence, she’d done it for peace. The hardest, and most easily misread pony in all her life. She’d done it for him. Breathe out. They stepped down from one another, releasing their grip in a tailing, remorseful way, one matched by both sides. Fokienia gave him a reassuring smile, and from the way the corners of his mouth twitched, she could tell he felt it. “Well... They didn’t do anything worse than your optical augments.” Both of them turned to Sundown at the same time, disproportionately knocking her off her tempo. “What I mean to say is that, well—” “Engineers performed musculature modification.” Sequoia looked back Fokienia, then nodded. “Advanced ligature augmentation.” “They told you?” “No, I told him. But before then, he’d already figured out the specs on his own, as with standard protocol.” Sundown gestured her head his way. “He’s a lot better on the ground, more stability, strength. Not quite your level, but still, for a pegasus? Not bad at all. The real kicks of improvement were in the wing department.” Fokienia started to ask, but Sequoia was already moving faster than ever before. “I can keep up with other pegasi.” Her eyes widened. “You can?” “They let me work with active ops.” She should’ve known better: the all-pegasus teams were pegasi for a reason. And now, he was the perfect fit. “I see. That’s why they sent you with the initial unit back at the ship.” He had to think for a moment, but again, he was already talking at a pace she’d hardly heard before. “Yes. The ship.” A pause filled the air between the three of them. Outside, the city was rumbling to artificial night-time: even with the shop-front window’s shield sealed, they could all feel the darkness coming as the sun-lamps began to cool. “But why did you leave the ops?” “Because I gave him an order.” Sundown gave Fokienia a look, but it was remarkably less-harsh than she remembered it. “Shortly after your explosive soiree at the clinic, the initial retrieval ops pulled out for resupply. You took them down one unit member, but I called in and filled the gap. Team lead wasn’t too happy about that, given the situation you left on-site, which happened on my ‘watch’, and he was right to be.” She laughed broadly. “I had contingencies in mind, but I didn’t expect the cover to last long enough for me to get in and out of triple-C. In a way, it was a good thing you name-dropped me, otherwise I probably would’ve overstayed my welcome.” She idled back, pulling into her own thoughts. “The kirin is safe, too.” Fokienia swung quickly back to Sequoia. “He is?” “Yes. We escorted him.” “Oh.” “It was more than an order.” Sequoia swung his head to Sundown, who appeared to take on a grimace. “She told me what she did. But not why.” Again, they both stared at Sundown expectantly. “You wouldn’t understand.” “I would.” Fokienia blinked, surprised that the words had even left her mouth. “I can see the world a lot more clearly, thanks to you.” “...Aw, to Tartarus with it. You both need to know.” Waving them on, Sundown moved toward the shop’s counter. Fokienia followed first, then Sequoia. “Bring your friend in here, we’re all in this, now.” “Are you sure?” “Now or never, Fokienia.” Alright... She glanced at the walls leading to the backroom. Holly was still there, back to her boxes and inventory, albeit moving slow. “Holly! We need to talk!” Fokienia tried to not let the anxiety get to her, but something had felt terribly off about Sundown’s response. It was as if... no, they’d all get their answers soon enough. Holly Rain stepped in from the backroom, and was surely surprised to see not one, but three ponies at her counter. “Are these your friends, Fokienia?” Sundown shrugged, and shined her fangs. “Might as well be, sister. Sundown Periapsis. Mercenary.” She pointed a hoof at the brute between her and Fokienia. “Sequoia. Also a merc.” “Neither of them are a mercenary.” Sundown leaned slightly over the counter to glare around Sequoia. “You don’t even know what a merc is.” “No, I don’t. But I know that you care about Cypress, and not just the law. That’s what separates Concord and a mercenary.” She glanced about at the looks she was getting. “That’s what I gathered, I mean.” It was probably best that she didn’t mention it was a groundskeeper’s view of things... “From my experience, you’re about right, Fokienia.” Holly sighed, then took a better look at Sundown and Sequoia. “I take it you’re the other cyborgs?” Sundown blinked. “Uh... just Sequoia, here.” Again, she tried to get a good look at Fokienia. “You told her?” “Yes. I didn’t want to, but she trusted me, so I trusted her.” “Well it’s certainly the pony thing to do,” Sundown grumbled. “Guess it can’t be helped. I was going to give her the rundown from the start, but I figured she wouldn’t need all of it.” “We’re all at risk right now. That’s ultimately why I decided to tell her.” “Just rubs me the wrong way, is all... but it’s fine, Fokienia. I don’t blame you.” Sundown rubbed her eyes with the back of her foreleg, then took a breath. “This was never just about the augmentations and technology. The reason I helped Fokienia break containment wasn’t just for her sake, it was for Cypress’ sake. She’s already figured that out, but C1, both you and Miss Holly here didn’t know.” Holly shuffled in place, her wings flittering nervously. “What’s at risk?” She gave Fokienia a worried eye. “This is sounding like a lot more than ponies chasing you.” “What isn’t at risk is the better question.” Sundown shook her head. “I’ve had so many leads crop up all at the same time, but nothing is definitive. Nothing except the fact that there are multiple hooves in play, and that all of them have conflicting interests.” “On one side of things, we have the dilemma of the Facility. The blacksite researchers and admins, they want things quiet. Thing is, that quiet isn’t coming back. Ever. A lot of ponies want what we’ve got, and there’s been too many little leaks. So, the corporations know. They have known. And they’ll do anything they can to get the tech in their hooves, even if that means openly crossing legs with other corps. At the Facility, there’s been an increase in the number of hired ops, so it should go without saying that things aren’t going to go well when the corps go dark-side up.” “On the other, there’s station authority. The governor wants the blacksite reclaimed. What he plans to do with it is beyond me. From his history, my best guess is that he at least wants to hide it, but it’s clear from Concord’s movements that they’re more than ready. They’ll tear their own station apart at a moment’s notice, all for the good of the ponies, of course. But with the retrieval ops on the hunt for us, and parading themselves as high-ranking Concord to do so, it’s only a matter of time before the infiltration network breaks down.” “Then, there’s the third angle... The Griffonian Conflict.” Sundown licked her lips, and took her last chance to breathe. “The princesses are distracted. The station is rife with covert ops. Mercs are being called in faster than the transports can refuel. You wouldn’t find a better ground for war than Cypress Station.” “What do you mean?” Holly whispered. “Are we going to be invaded?” “It’s possible. Unlikely, but possible.” Sundown chewed the inside of her cheek. “But the way I see it, there’s two options. Somepony is going to to try and take over the station. Or somepony is going to try and destroy it.” “Why would anypony destroy Cypress?” Fokienia asked. “Cypress has made all kinds of technological advancements for the ECW, but we’re out on the edge. Practically our own sovereignty. Hardly any support from them comes our way, unless we’re trading tech. It’s been another Telfire situation in-development for the last half of the century. It’s hard to not see why so many ponies support an independent Cypress. There’s ponies like the governor who’d rather pursue that independent role, but in the wide-wide galaxy, there’s going to be at least one pony who wants to make sure nopony else can have that good thing. But... I don’t think that pony’s going to be here to do it.” Holly finished the trailing thought for all of them. “...Because we’ll do it ourselves.” A pregnant pause pursued them. Fokienia looked around at the sullen scene. “What are we going to do, Sundown?” The bat pony was leaned deeply into the counter by now, sharp pupils trained elsewhere in the galaxy. “There’s not much more we can do from here. We’re going to have to wait.” “Well... you’re all free to stay the night.” Holly tapped her hooves against the counter. ”I’d like to get to know you both better, Miss Periapsis, Mister Sequoia. But from the way you’ve laid out your thoughts, I just wish we had more time.” “Trust me, I wish I wasn’t so close to being right.” Sundown rolled her head to face the rest of the ponies. “I’m clocked out of my intel networks now, but everything I just talked about? It’s all up-to-date. It’s happening right now. It’s only a matter of which big actor steps up first.” She sighed. “Sorry, I appreciate the offer. I think we’ll take you up on it.” “Of course. And if it’s any consolation, I hope we can all make it out of this safely. I don’t want anypony to get hurt.” Sundown started to say something, but wound down. “I hope so, too.” “How about I make you something to eat? That’ll give us a chance to talk more.” “Sure.” Standing, Sundown stretched. “I’m not too shabby in the kitchen, if you need a hoof.” “I would appreciate that.” Holly gave Fokienia a purposeful look as she led Sundown to the dining room and kitchenette. But Fokienia was already on it. Staring at the wall behind the counter, it was clear that Sequoia was in his deepest thoughts. She pat him on the withers. “You’ve never slept outside of containment, have you?” “No.” He turned slowly. “Why?” “The first night is the worst.” She smiled weakly. “But if you don’t want to be alone, I’ll be here for you.” It was a long, long moment, filled with one last look at the wall, and one aimed at Fokienia. But at the end of the long road, Sequoia spoke, and for the first time in her life, she saw his tiny smile. “Thank you.”