//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: The Shepard's Flight // Story: Mane Effect // by Quillery //------------------------------// Chapter 7: The Shepard’s Flight “Everypony’s counting on you, Shepard. No Pressure.” What makes a good leader? Courage? The ability to bite down their fear and refuse to show it in the face of danger? Wisdom? The ability to make calculated and strategically logical decisions on a battlefield? Maybe Tenacity? The absolute refusal to give up, to never surrender, to never back down. Maybe it is all these things and more. Traits that ponies of history have embodied in times of crisis, commanding those around them to battle, to victory. And somehow somepony thought I had those traits, and given me the rank to ‘prove’ it. Commander. That word seemed to be mocking me, laughing at me. No matter how many times I searched through the roster, or refreshed the Stable database, the same thing kept popping up unchanged. Commander Shepard. I had a ship of my own now, the greatest ship I could ever hope for. I had my own crew as well, a selection of soldiers and other skilled fighters at my side. We even had a mission, to find and apprehend a dangerous fugitive with dark and sinister motives. And I still couldn’t believe any of it. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t even aiming for this. I never considered myself a leader, having been much more of a loner as I grew up. I’d never waned to have ponies depending on me, and even when I did they were just foals. But now I had much more than mere children following me, and with greater consequences if I failed. Thankfully the announcement was kept simple, and the official ceremonies, if there were going to be any, would wait until much later. There were far more important things for me to be doing than accepting a medal. After the Ambassador had made his declaration, a few hearty congratulations were given from those in earshot so we could quickly returned to work and board the Normanedy to prepare her for launch. I wondered how many hooves the Ambassador had to bend in order to get this approved. A jump up the ranks to Commander was extreme, even with me being a Sleipnir now the whole thing still seemed poorly weighted. Maybe Quartermane vouched for me. He had been in the military for a long time, and despite his run in with Artemis in the past, he didn't appear to have lost any standing with his superiors. If I had known he had as much sway as I thought he did, I probably would have asked him politely not to, just to avoid all of this pressure. I was at least grateful that the ships crew were able to handle the preparations without me for the time being, while I muddled through my conflicting concerns. No doubt Navigator Westward and Pipsqueak were setting out our route to get to the Meridian Cluster, and everypony else was getting the ship ready for another Whip-Gate jump. I wondered how long a ship’s commanding officer could realistically hide away in their quarters until ponies started asking questions. I had to face the facts eventually though. I was a Sleipnir now, and a Commander of the Stable military. My eyes drifted around the quarters I had hidden away in since we had left the Corral. What used to be the Captain’s private room was now mine. The computer I sat before was mine. The ship itself, the Normanedy, was mine. The vessel I had helped build, the greatest project of my career, was under my command now, and that fact alone threw my head through a blender. I certainly hoped that bed was comfortable. The storm of errant thoughts came to a halt when I heard a knock at my door. I buried everything I could into the depths of my mind, and lazily plodded over to the solid steel door that had done well in hiding me from the rest of the ship. I pressed the button to unlock the door, and it slid open to reveal a startled looking South on the other side. She went stiff and immediately saluted. I noted a touch of intensity in her eyes. “Permission t’ enter, Commander?” she uttered. I groaned quietly, shaking my head. “South,” I began plaintively, putting up a hoof to stop her. “You don’t have to do that. Just call me Shepard, please. This ‘Commander’ business is just too much for me right now, and I don’t need you adding to it.” Her eyes arched in confusion. “S-sorry Command- uh, Ah mean, Shepard.” I sighed. “That’s a start. Was there something you needed?” I stepped aside and allowed her into the quarters. She trotted in stiffly, still sticking to her subordinate nature. She looked around slowly, then halted in the center of the room. She turned to me, and lowered her head sombrely, taking off her hat and holding it to her chest. “Ah want t’ apologise to you Shepard.” Bwuh? I don’t think even South missed the look of dumbfounded perplexity my face contorted into as the words left her mouth. My mind darted for a moment, trying to recall a moment where I felt South had reason to apologise for. She had caused a lot of issues, but none of them were explicitly her fault, or required her to apologise to me of all ponies. “Apologise for what?” She scuffed her hooves across the metal floor. “Well, Ah ain’t exactly been the friendliest of ponies t’wards ya Shepard, Commander or not. Ya saved my life, and others, and Ah keep making a mess o’ things for ya. You got a good head on your shoulders Shepard, an’ my pappy always told me to pony up to my mistakes, no matter what.” She returned her hat to her head, and swished her tail to her sides. It wriggled in a peculiar manner, before she withdrew a bottle from it and two small glasses. She smiled as she balanced the drinks effortlessly in her hooves before setting them onto the nearby table. “So Ah came with a peace offerin’.” I stared at the drinks incredulously. I realised now that it was probably a mistake to join South at a bar, and probably would have too look forward to this sort of treatment from now on. “Your dad taught you to make peace with your superior officers with alcohol?” I asked sardonically. Her face went pale in shock. “No!” she stammered. “It’s uh, Ah mean, Ah didn’t, um, what Ah meant to say wuz...” “South,” I said glibly. “Calm down. I was just joking.” Her panicked sputtering droned out, and she looked away shamefully. I rolled my eyes at South’s inability to maintain a straight face and instead trotted over to the table with the glasses. The bottle that South had brought looked similar to the one that Chalkdust had hidden away in her office, but it was a much darker red. The label had been torn off and at least half of the mysterious liquid remained in the bottle. As much as I didn't want to offend South or derail her apology, I think I had had enough burning sensations in my throat to last a week. “I appreciate the gesture, South, but I’m not certain I should be drinking when we are about to hit the Whip Gate.” She understood, thankfully, and set the glasses aside with the bottle. “Ah suppose yer right. Not sure why Ah thought this was a good idea.” She smirked slightly, and trotted towards the door. “Wait,” I uttered. “You mentioned your dad.” She looked at me strangely. “Yea, whut of him?” “Well, I still haven’t gotten that story from you, maybe now is a good time to tell me a little about yourself. You do still owe me one.” She smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head nervously. “Ah guess Ah do, don’t ah?” South paced around the room, settling on veering towards the chair in the corner. “Ah suppose a deal’s a deal.” She sat on the chair lazily, and she scratched her head thoughtfully. “Ah grew up outside of Trotter Valley on mah family’s farm.” I tried to look surprised, but probably failed horribly. “No kidding? What did your family farm?” “Rocks,” she stated. “R-rocks?” I blurted. “What kind of farm grows rocks?” “We din’t grow the rocks,” she scoffed. “We tended them! Where else do ya think we get gemstones from?” “I don’t know, the ground?” “An’ where do rocks come from?” she said pointedly. “The...ground?” Ok she had me there. I tried to look innocent, but I honestly had more pressing matters than looking up the origin of gemstones when I lived on the streets. How was I supposed to know that you could harvest them from tending rocks? It did bring a question to my mind. “How do you harvest them?” She tapped a hoof on the floor with a clang. “We buck em’ o’course! How else would we do it?” “Can’t you get a machine do it?” “Ya could,” she mused wryly. “But Ah ain’t see any contraption tuh date that cn’ hit a fracture point as good as a well trained pony. Most of th’ time, they end up ruinin’ them gems b’fore they dig up anythin’ useful.” “Ah grew up buckin’ rocks, an’ iffin’ Ah wern’t out here, Ah’d probly buck em’ till Ah couldn’t buck no more.” She lifted one of her rear legs, wiping some grime from the bottom of her hooves. I saw a glint of something shining under the muck and dirt. “An’ the diamond coated shoes don’t hurt nothin’ neither,” she said, smirking. I stared at the gem inlaid shoes on her hooves a moment, realising now how she was able to perform a certain feat that she did effortlessly not hours ago. “I guess thats how you can buck a manticore across the face without breaking a sweat.” She laughed. “Thats nothin’. You should see mah big brother buck rocks. He could cleave a rock the size of th’ Normanedy in half with his left leg trussed to his side.” “Brother? You have siblings?” She nodded happily. “Ayep, three of em. Ah’m the eldest daughter, and my brother is the only stallion.” “And are they all named after cardinal directions?” She shot me a sharp look, obviously irritated by my attempt at a joke. Then she started laughing again. “South is just a nickname my brother gave me. Ah always got in tuh the most trouble, a’n he thought it real funny to explain when ever I did somethin’ wrong as ‘goin South’. A’h called him North just to see if it would rile him up any, but he took it in stride, thinkin’ it a real appropriate name. Mah sisters didn’t wanna feel left out so they took East and West. The ‘Wayward Belle’s’ wuz whut they called us.” I tried to fight off a snicker, but South beat me to it. I don’t know why she had such an issue talking about her home life, she seemed to be enjoying the fond memories. “What do they all do?” “Well,” she continued. “North an’ Ah are th’ only ones that followed our pappy’s hoofsteps into th’ military. He joined two years before Ah did. Ah think he’s an L.T or somethin’ by now. Ah don’t get to talk t’ him that often.” “Oh.” My ears drooped a little. South sounded unbelievably fond of her brother, and the admission that she didn’t speak to him much struck a chord in her mood. “What about your sisters?” My further probing brought her out of her melancholy. “Well, little West is too young t’ leave the farm just yet, but East is a mighty fine mechanic. She could probably give you a run for your money one day Shepard. Ah think she’s got a job out on Sigma in the junkyards. She’s always sendin’ fixed parts pack to the homestead to help out.” “What about your parents? How are they doing with almost all their children out in space?” There was a slight shift in Souths posture as the words left my mouth. She didn’t appear angry, upset or irritated, but if I had not been paying close attention, a change could have gone unnoticed. I had no idea what subject I had tripped over, but South was lost in thought and I couldn’t be sure if it was a good thing or not. She rose slowly from the chair, and wandered casually towards the door. Before she got there, she looked at me with a sudden smile on her face. “Ah think thats e’nuff fer now Shepard. Maybe next time Ah’ll tell ya more.” Drat. Looks like she plans on toying with me. She definitely was as devious as she was dangerous. The door opened and she started to walk out. I would have let the conversation drop at that, but a sudden thought struck my mind, one that I hoped to avoid. “South wait,” I called out to her. “Just one thing.” She turned back to me with a confused look on her face. “About Firestorm...,” my voice trailed off as I watched Souths expression sour. “Whut about her?” she said acidly. I coughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about bringing her with us. But you saw how she handles herself. I thought she would be good to bring along, and she has the same drive to take down Artemis as we do. I just don’t want this bet you two have to get out of hoof.” South worked her jaw as she thought about what I had said. “Is that an’ order, Sir?” I smiled. “No South, that’s a request. As a friend. Please just try to get along with her.” “Hmph,” she huffed. “Ah’ll try, Shepard. Fer you.” She left the room, and the door slid shut before I could even say ‘thanks’. Alone again. I paced around the room, the storm of thoughts trying to force themselves back to the front of my mind. There was still an enormous number of questions that would probably go unanswered for a long time, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t pursue then whenever I could. I found myself back in front of my computer, staring at my still open dossier, the word ‘Commander’ still attached to my name. A small sigh slipped from my lips. That one word merged all my thoughts into one single statement. Was I ready for this? My mind drifted back to South. She believed in me, and so did Poindexter. I wondered how the rest of the crew took my promotion, as well as the other new addition to my team. As Firestorm crossed my mind, I realised I had not spoken to her since she came aboard with us. I didn’t think she would have trouble getting along with the crew, but I was not sure if the crew would get along with the fiery pegasus. I closed the dossier file, and turned the computer off. I cast another glance around the room. Everything was as the Captain had left it, and I intended to do the same. I moved towards the door, and slipped out quietly to search for my flighty companion. Seven. I counted seven times that somepony had immediately stopped what they were doing just to salute to me as I passed them in the narrow corridors of the Normanedy. It was a little flattering I guess, but after seven times the novelty had long worn off. At least I didn’t have to remind them to return to their tasks after their were finished and none of them seemed keen on stopping to engage me in conversation. That left me all the time I needed to search the decks for Firestorm without interruptions. She was wasn’t in the crew decks outside the med-bay, so now I was in the cramped elevator heading towards the cargo bay. As the lift slowly descended the ten or so feet it needed to change floors, I contemplated looking for the pony in charge of installing the elevators and slowly strangle them for improperly installing the hydraulics. I wouldn’t have botched a simple elevator so badly. The cargo bay was mostly empty, or at least appeared to be as I stepped out of the elevator. I noticed the requisitions officer was still seated in the same place, leaning back on his chair. His head was reclined against the wall and his hat was tipped down over his eyes. He didn’t rouse as I approached him, but when I stopped at his table, he took a minor awareness to my presence. “Just fill out a requisition form,” he said without looking up. “I’ll get it done as soon as I can.” I looked at this lazing pony critically. The same pony who not days before was making fun of my equipment manifest was now lying here not performing his tasks. Worse yet, he didn’t even bothering to look up to see who he was talking to. It’s not like I wasn’t his commanding officer or anything. I doubted the Captain would have tolerated such insubordination, but was I the same way? It was technically my job to sort this out, but I was not all that comfortable lording over a promotion I had just received, especially one I wasn’t certain I deserved. But that didn't mean I couldn’t have a little fun with it. “And what if the Commander needs something right away?” I asked, speaking in an even tone. The stallion started to look up as he spoke. “Well then Shepard can come down and get it--” His eyes widened as his head finally lifted high enough to see me clearly. His mouth hung open, twitching slightly. He performed the usual acrobatics involved with the realisation that you just sassed an officer in front of them, bounding from his chair to his hooves and nearly smashed the side of his own head with a forceful salute. It was hard to fight off a smile, but I endured just to see what else he would do next. “C-commander!” he stammered. “I didn’t know it was you! Requisition Officer Depot, at your service, sir.” I dismissed his saluted with a wave my hoof. “At ease, Depot.” I smiled. “And please, just call me Shepard. This ‘Commander’ thing is a bit sudden for all of us.” He lowered his hoof and slowly returned to his chair, not yet comfortable to relax just yet. “O-of course, Shepard. Is there something I can help you with, sir?” I scrunched my face as his utterance of the word ‘sir’, but that was something that I was probably not going to get out of. “I’m looking for the Pegasus that joined the ship, have you seen her?” He stared a moment, shaking his head briskly in revelation. “Oh, Officer Firestorm? Yea she’s down here.” He pointed his hoof the the farthest corner of the room. I saw stacks of boxes and other junk that I expected down here. Behind one of the piles, I caught glimpse of a fiery tail flitting back and forth. I looked back at Depot. “Officer Firestorm?” “Well yea,” he responded, nodding. “Thats C-Sec armor she’s wearing isn’t it?” “It is...” I replied. “And the fact that she’s a Pegasus doesn’t bother you?” “No, why would it?” I shrugged. It was nice to know that it wasn’t just me on this ship that had difficulty in dealing with Pegasi, but I had other things to deal with. “No reason, just nice to know.” “Is that everything, Sir?” I nodded, letting him get back to whatever he considered ‘work’ and walked towards where Firestorm was. As I got closer, I heard clicking and humming. I peeked around the corner, seeing Firestorm still dressed in her C-Sec armor. She was standing at a work table, busily disassembling and reassembling her rifle with practiced and experienced care. I watched quietly as she performed the task multiple times in only a few short seconds, actually using her wings dexterously as a second pair of limbs. After the fifth time in under a minute, she whistled satisfactorily. She laid the gun out flat on the table and starting making adjustments to the lengthy weapon. Her movements and changes were precise. Even though I was not a connoisseur of weapons, I could appreciate the level of care she was taking with her equipment. A chuckle escaped her mouth. “Are you going to sit there and stare all day?” she asked without turning around. “Or are you going to come over and say hello like a normal pony?” I jumped a little, taken aback at her awareness of my standing here. “How did-” She turned her head, a smug grin plastered on her face. She tossed her hair aside, pointing out the visor device attached to her ear. She walked towards me wordlessly, removing the device and placing in my hooves. I studied the device with care, bringing it up to my own eyes. The device fit snugly into my ear and it immediately sprung to life. It brought me into a whole new world of colors, lights and sounds. Various signals and other vital statistics flashed on the tiny screen, including body heat, movement and even sound levels of all nearby life forms. Glancing around, I observed Firestorm through the visor and even Depot on the far side of the room. The mountain of information it was displaying quickly became too much, and I removed the visor quickly to avoid a photosensitive seizure. This technology was impressive, but I doubted that C-Sec could or would afford to give this sort of equipment to all of its officers. “I’m guessing that’s not C-Sec standard issue.” I asked, nursing a budding headache with a rub of my hoof. She took the device and quickly popped back it into place hastily, as if she missed the precious time that it was gone. Another smile flashed across her mouth as she readjusted it. “Nope. Dad always told me that standard issue is nothing but issues.” “Your dad, right...” The argument between Firestorm and her former superior officer came to mind. “He’s the pony you were arguing with back on the Corral wasn’t it?” She laughed weakly. “Heh, that obvious huh?” Her hoof came up slowly to cradle the back of her neck, rubbing it slowly. “I can’t wait until mom gets wind of what I pulled. Gonna be a hurricane of epic proportions.” She looked at me with a sidelong glance. “I bet your parents aren’t as insane.” “Actually,” I began slowly. “My parents are dead.” I watched her reaction change subtly. She looked away briefly, her blank expression not changing in the slightest. “Sorry, I didn’t know.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. Just one of those things that’s best to get out of the way early.” “I guess so...” The silence wasn’t as awkward as it was when I told other ponies about my orphan heritage, but there was still something about how Firestorm’s mood had changed that told me she didn’t want to dwell on it. The hull of the ship gave hummed quietly, and Firestorm saw fit to tap the metal floor with a hoof. “This ship is pretty impressive, even for Pegasi standards,” she observed. “Yea, it really is.” I looked around, taking in the sleek metal housing of the underbelly of the ship. “I’m pretty sure I helped build half of it, and now its mine.” “Is that so?” She walked away from the table and began to pace the length of the room. I followed beside her as we walked around. “I didn’t spend much time on frigates much when I was training. Spent more time in the Talon Squadrons.” “What’s that?” I asked. “Oh just the standard Pegasi fighter companies. Talon Class fighters are skirmish ships built around the movements of our wings.” She lifted one of her wings, tilting it forward. On the crest where muscle shifted into feathers, there were small metallic discs implanted into the flesh. “Talon fighters are essentially mechanical suits built around us. They read our wing movements and fly just as naturally as we do. Way more effective than any other steering system.” The Pegasi really went all out in making sure that they were dominant force when it came to flight. Even I was impressed at the level of technology and innovation of the Talon fighter. It was enough to make me want to see one in action. “Just don’t say that to Pipsqueak’s face,” I mentioned. “He might be a bit upset that somepony can fly the Normanedy better than he can.” “Heh,” Firestorm chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that. There’s no way a Talon config would work on a ship this size. It would take years of conditioning to get the motions of the ship and pilot to sync up to the level that the Pegasi would demand. Your pilot’s skills are safe, though I am very interested to see how an Earth Pony flies regardless.” “He seems pretty confident about his abilities. I wouldn’t worry about it.” She shot me an impassive stare. “Who said I was worried?” She smirked. We circled the room slowly, making our way back to the elevator. Firestorm halted briefly, taking another look around the room. “What I’d really like to see...” she continued. “Is your weapon systems. I tried to get in there, but the guard wouldn’t let me. He was actually kind of rude about it.” Ugh. I knew that someponies were going to voice a negative opinion about my bringing a Pegasus aboard, but I hoped they would have at least done so to me before taking it out on her. When Nimbus was here, it was as if she had snuck onboard. Nopony seemed to know about her until she appeared in front of the crew as we disembarked onto Equestria Prime, so it wasn't much of a problem. The fact that it was under Captain Quartermane’s jurisdiction probably helped too. But now, everpony knew about Firestorm, and it was my show, not Quartermane’s. She wasn’t a secret, and someponies weren’t making much of a secret of their disapproval. “I’ll have a word with him if you want. I have to excercise my rank at least a bit, don’t I?” “Heh, yea. Wouldn’t be much of a commander if you didn’t. But don't go out of your way on my account. I was just curious to see exactly how much of a hoof the Pegasi had in it. If its anything like what I’ve seen before, the weapon systems would have to be a work of art to match the rest of her.” “I certainly hope so.” Firestorm chuckled. She leaned against the wall, crossing her hooves casually. “We’ll just have to wait and see then.” Suddenly the radio crackled to life, Pipsqueak’s voice calling out. “Hey, Shepard?” Firestorm and I looked up to acknowledge the voice. “Yes Pipsqueak?” I replied. “You’re needed on the Command Deck. We’re almost ready to leave.” “Alright, I’ll be right there.” The radio went silent. Firestorm stood up and walked back to her corner. She looked back at me before she got too far. “I’ll talk to you later, Shepard. Go give em’ hell.” She punctuated her farewell with a wave of her wing, and walked away. I watched her disappear back to her worktable as the elevator finally arrived behind me. It was nice to know that I could have at least one normal conversation on this ship, if I could find the time in between my new duties. I sighed and entered the tiny box lift, wondering what I’d have to look forward to on the command deck. “Commander on deck!” The sound of synchronised hooves stomping to attention rang out through the room. Everypony stood stiff, hooves raised in a respectful salute. I stepped tentatively out of the elevator, trying to keep my worried glances short and subtle. The entire room was standing at attention and all eyes were on me, including Dexter and Westward. They were both standing next to the large holographic map in the center. I walked as calmly as I could towards them, praying I didn’t trip over anything. All this attention made my heart race and skin crawl and all I could do was try and not screw up and fall onto my face. The two motioned me to the raised platform above the galactic map. I stepped up onto the dais with dozens of eyes watching me. It was difficult to not briefly indulge in the sense of power that this entailed. I observed the gathered crew as they held their salute. While I might be able to get used to this role in time, it was hard not to feel a little imposing with the crew and ship that was now under my command. I raised my hoof into a salute of my own. “As you were,” I ordered, trying not to sound as meek as I was feeling. They complied, relaxing their postures. They returned to their duties automatically, the chorus of beeping and chatter filling the room once more. I turned to my two officers. They were working on a computer terminal of their own, wrapped in a rapid discussion. Dexter broke from the conversation briefly to beckon me over. I stepped down and walked towards them, glancing at the computer behind them. It showed an image of a large nebulous cloud, dotted with smaller solar systems. I started hearing details of their conversation once I made it beside them. “No, I doubt they would have gone to the Tyrias or Vestid systems, Lieutenant.” Westward disagreed. “There’s nothing in those systems except dead planets.” “Dead mining planets Westward. What other kind of worlds do you think technology of an ancient, all powerful and now extinct race would be found then, Westward?” Dexter argued. “A dead world now might have been a hub world for the Alicorn fifty thousand years ago.” The navigator grumbled quietly to himself. Dexter noticed my eavesdropping and invited me into the discussion. “Shepard, glad you could join us. Westward and I were just trying to figure out what part of the Meridian Cluster we should look through first for Artemis.” Dexter stepped aside to let me see the entirety of the monitor. I strained to look at the little lights that signified systems and words on the tiny screen. I looked at the computer dubiously and waved my omni-tool towards the galactic map. With a flick of my hoof, the map that once showed a small scale rendition of the known galaxy now showed a larger scaled version of the Meridian Cluster. Four shimmering lights stood out in the nebula, each marked with a designation: Tyrias, Vestid, Bolaris and Fenrir. “Now as I’ve been explaining to the Lieutenant, Commander.” Westward continued. “Tyrias and Vestid are mostly dead worlds, mining facilities and the like. There’s nothing at all worthwhile in those systems.” “But if Artemis is using the Geld,” Dexter countered. “Bolaris and Fenrir are both well populated and enforced. If he had to use force to find anything there, we would know about it.” Dexter pressed a few buttons, removing the two latter planets from the list, and bringing the formers into a larger scale. “But these two systems are only used for mineral harvesting. Yeah they’re dead, but it's also easier to get around undetected while he finds what he’s looking for.” I stared at the two systems, pondering on what facts had been discussed. Dexter’s point that the two populated systems would not go unnoticed if they were attacked was feasible. But I had seen first hoof how the Geld operated when it invaded worlds. They would be fast in disabling communications, making a call for help impossible. Maybe we could use that to our advantage. “With what the Geld did on Equestria Prime, we know that if they invaded any world, they would cut communications with those jammers.” Dexter and Westward both nodded in agreement to my statement. “What are you suggesting then Shepard?” Westward asked. “If their target was either Bolaris or Fenrir, any planet that they go to would go dark. If we were close enough to keep an open line of communication with all of the systems there, we would notice.” “Hmm,” Dexter mumbled. “Thats not a bad idea. And while we kept an ear open from a distance, we could search either Tyrias or Vestid without worry if Artemis does approach the other systems.” “I suppose that could work.” Westward stared at the two highlight systems. “But what if the relic isn’t in these systems? We would be wasting our time and letting Artemis more time to consider his options.” “That might have to be a risk that we have to take.” Dexter’s muzzle scrunched contemplatively. I tapped on the first system. The Tyrias sector widened into full view, showing three planet sized worlds and a large asteroid belt as its prominent features. I noticed something odd about the largest world. “What’s on this planet here?” I asked, pointing my hoof. Westward brought up a different screen, bringing up the planet into a larger view. “Trawlis. It's the largest mining world in the sector. The Granite company has a base of operations on the surface.” “How long have they been there?” “About a decade. It doesn’t say they’ve ever found anything interesting though.” I stared at the rocky surface of the planet’s image. The satellite image showed the large mining complex encompassing nearly a quarter of the planet’s surface. A planet that size, it was easy to guess that if one were to find an Alicorn relic, it would be hidden well beneath the surface. “Artemis seems to have a way to locate relics, so he has an advantage over us. While it would be a good plan to find out how, we’re better off trying to at least beat him to the relic. And if I had to guess, I have a feeling that the Granite company is about to make a discovery that won’t end well for them.” Dexter and Westward seemed to agree, though the navigator was more hesitant. “It might be a good place to start at the very least to head to Trawlis. It will get us to the Cluster so we can check in on the adjoining systems for and suspicious activity.” Dexter shrugged. “It’s as good a plan as any. I don’t like guessing much either Westward, but we’re running on limited intel. We’re lucky we got a system name out of that recording.” “I suppose you’re right, Lieutenant.” Westward approached the console and typed a few commands into the screen. “It will be a few moments to get the navigation system ready. Somepony will need to let Pipsqueak know that we are almost ready to go.” “I’ll do it,” I volunteered. “Alright then. It’s about a seventeen hour jump so at least we’ll have time to get some rest before we get there. I’ll see about getting those communication channels ready once we arrive.” Dexter nodded and trotted away. I lingered a moment with Westward before I turned to do the same, but the grizzled stallion stopped me. He had a sour look in his eyes, and the jovial attitude I remember from my first encounter with him seemed to shrivel away. He glanced behind him, apparently waiting for Dexter to be further away. “If I may have a word, Commander,” he said hushedly. He led me aside, far from the center of the room where anypony might eavesdrop. “Is something the matter Westward?” He searched again from prying ears and eyes before looking back at me. “I thought it might be important to let you know that the newest addition of the crew was caught snooping around.” I gave him a confused look. “Who, you mean Firestorm? Was it you who stopped her from getting into the weapon systems?” He seemed relieved at that, his face relaxing slightly. “Oh, so you know already. No it wasn’t me, but one of the guards was quick to alert me that the pegasus was acting suspiciously.” “I hardly call a Pegasi Weapons expert wishing to see our ships weapon systems as suspicious Westward.” I said pointedly. “She may be an expert, Shepard, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that she was attempting to enter vital ship systems with no authority whatsoever.” “She has my authority.” Westward was taken aback at my plain response. Whether he was outraged or just offended I wasn’t sure, but he was going to lengths to ensure this conversation did not become a scene. “Are you certain that is wise Shepard? We have no idea that that Pegasus’ motives are, or her intentions.” “That Pegasus...” I said curtly. “Has a name. And I trust her with my life, Westward. She’s saved it twice at least already, and done more for this ship, this crew and our entire race than the council races combined in the past day.” Now I was finding it hard to not get angry. I expected a level of restraint from a seasoned officer like Westward, but apparently everypony that was alive during First Contact had wounds far too deep to heal. “I understand your reasons of distrust, Westward. But I’m hoping that the time you spend with a Pegasus here on the Normanedy can change your opinion of them, in time. They are not all evil.” I briefly remembered the reason Firestorm was with us, and the reason were were going to all his trouble in the first place. “Only some of them are. We’re going to catch Artemis, with her help. And maybe then we can start to finally move on from all this hate.” Westward looked like he tried to respond, but his mouth only opened and closed slowly, not a word leaving his lips. I wanted him to think on what I had said, and hopefully some of it would dig in. “Now you have duties to attend to, Westward. As you were.” I saluted dismissively, and he returned the gesture. “Of course...Commander.” He trotted away stiffly, returning to his work. I sighed in relief that we both managed to keep that conversation from boiling over. Just like South, it was probably going to be a lot of work to keep everypony in line regarding Firestorm. But simply being Commander wasn’t enough. I wasn’t going to be able to just enforce compliance in all of them. I was going to have to show that she could be trusted, or she was going to have to do it herself. Either way, it was going to be a long time before anything changed. But I had other things to worry about now. We still had a mission to do. I moved towards the door into the cockpit. The door slipped open silently revealing the darkened pilot’s nest. I lingered in the doorway a moment, casting a quick glance back into navigation. Everypony was still hard at work, making all the necessary preparations to get the ship ready for departure. It was satisfying that the crew could function perfectly fine on its own. It definitely would make my job easier in the long run as I slowly learned to full nature of my new responsibilities. One of those responsibilities, however, was going to keep the rebellious pilot in line. I sighed glumly at that encroaching reality as I entered the room and the door slid shut behind me. The first thing I noticed once the din of the previous room had quieted down was music. A gentle cadence of melodious rhythms were steadily rising to a crescendo, woven with a repeating chorus of electronic bell like noises. The beeping of the consoles grounded the ethereal melody back to reality, but the harmonious wind sounds brought it to a level of serenity that I did not imagine possible. The song continued as I moved towards Pipsqueaks pilot seat. The music was loud enough to mask my approach, for he did not seem to notice me as I stepped up beside his chair. He appeared to be lost in the music, leaning deeply into his chair and swaying his hooves gently with the rhythm. Even I could not help but get lost in the sea of sounds that he was broadcasting throughout the room. The music eventually slowed and steadily winded down into silence. Pipsqueak reached forward with a leg, tapping on the console to halt the music, never leaving his state of relaxation. “That was some interesting music.” I said. Pipsqueak sprung forward. “Whoa!” he shouted. “You don’t sneak up on a pilot when he’s at the wheel!” He looked at me with an irritated expression, before he realised who exactly he was talking to. He didn’t repeat Depots expression, returning to his mirthful grin and reclining his chair again. “Oh its you, Shepard.” he said passively. “What’s up?” I was glad that he was another pony that was kind enough to not beat me over the head with my new promotion, but I guess he was doing it for reasons other than altruism. “How did you make it this far if thats how you act around superior officers?” He laughed. “Sometimes being the best has its perks. I didn’t bust my rump in flight school to get bossed around by a bunch of grouchy drill sergeants.” “Then how did you get assigned to Quartermane?” I asked wryly. He chuckled again. “Quartermane is exactly the kind of pony who understands and recognises talent. He picked the Lieutenant, Chalkdust and Westward because they are the best of their fields, just like me and you. The Normanedy couldn’t accept anything less.” “But even he calls you Pipsqueak.” “Well Pipsqueak sounds a whole lot better than Flight Lieutenant Piper.” He made a few stiff motions with his hooves as he spoke, mimicking robotic arms. “And even Quartermane doesn’t have a pole sized stick up his rear like South.” He spun in his chair to look behind us, making sure that his comment wasn’t heard by an unintended audience. “Now that mare has some issues.” “Tell me about it.” I added. “Oh you want some suggestions?” He grinned. “Cause I was working on a few theories...” I shot him a look that gave even him a reason to shut up. But it didn’t completely stop him. “Fine, fine.” He waved his hoof in a little circle. “Maybe later, I’ll have something more concrete.” I rolled my eyes, but I knew the sentiment was lost on him. It was nice to know that not everypony had issues onboard, and Pipsqueak was a little bit amusing I suppose, not that I would ever admit it to him. I wondered why his Cutie Mark wasn’t a jester instead of that old tiller wheel, or why he purposely used a name that insulted his own size. “How did you get your nickname anyways?” He looked at me with a deadpan stare. “Seriously?” He wasn't fooling me. Pipsqueak was somepony built on his sarcastic wit, and I hardly believed that he would allow anypony to call him by that name unless he had some story built behind it. “Seriously. I doubt your size is the only reason you have that name.” He smiled again. He tapped on his console, bringing up an image of what looked like a historical document. It was a centuries old article, written about somepony named Pipsqueak the Pirate, who lived more than a thousand years ago. He too was an abnormally small stallion, at least evidenced by the ancient looking drawings and images accompanying the article. But his size did little to detract from how terrifying he looked. He was gaunt and looked like he reeked of death. His clothes were torn and ratty, caked in blood and dirt. He had an eye patch laced with a skull and crossbones and his right foreleg was replaced by a wooden peg. A chipped cutlass was clenched in between his teeth as he fought his way through ancient foes. “Pipsqueak the Pirate basically owned the era of pirates,” the pilot began. There was nopony on Earth in those days that could rally against him. He was small yea, but he had presence. His crew was the nastiest bunch of lowlifes you could imagine, but none of them came close to his level of cruelty and bloodthirst.” A few images cycled by, depictions and renditions of bloody naval battles. All of them had the miniscule pirate in the thick of battle, wading through his enemies in a sea of steel and blood. Pipsqueak chuckled at the images as they whizzed past. “And you know the best part?” He smiled amusedly as he looked at me. “He wasn’t even the captain. He was just the pony that steered the ship.” I didn’t know what was more worrying; that a pony like that ever existed, or that my pilot idolized him. He closed the files and brought up the controls for the ship, spinning his chair to me. “We all have our idols, Shepard. Not all of them are the cleanest of ponies, but they can have an affect on you in the weirdest of ways.” Pilot, jokester and now philosopher. It was almost eerie how philosophical his statement was. He was perfectly content in the fact that his hero was a bloodthirsty pirate and I guess if it made him better at his job I couldn’t really fault him for it. His stance of zen broke when he crossed his hooves in boredom and gave me an equally bored look. “So where are we headed, anyways?” At least he had some professionalism. I stepped forward right up to the chair beside him. I stared outside the window at the large nebula of clouds and dust that surrounded us. The Corral was well behind us as we moved towards the Whip Gate hidden within the mists ahead. “Trawlis. I got a feeling that that’s where Artemis will be heading.” “Got it.” Pipsqueak turned back to his console, bringing up the navigation information that Westward had completed. ”Sheesh,” Pipsqueak groaned sarcastically. “Seventeen hour jump. Long trip.” “Plenty of time for some rest then.” “Heh, I guess you’ll be needing a lot of it, commander.” I was an idiot to think that he wouldn’t poke me with that at least once. He spun back to his console with a chuckle. He padded at his controls expertly and I hear the ship spring to life as it began to move. I glanced outside the window. We were steadily moving back into the thick clouds that encircled the Corral Station towards the Whip Gate that lay beyond. Shadows and dust obscured my vision, but Pipsqueak wasn’t hindered in the slightest. His hooves traced along the control as if it was an intricate dance of motion that only he had mastered. The Normanedy broke through the clouds into a field of empty space. It was like the epicenter of a hurricane, with large swirling masses of clouds surrounding us. At the center of it all sat the Whip Gate, churning its core of otherworldly power. Another wave of peace washed over me as I surveyed the scene. The ship swayed smoothly through the void quietly as the looming construction we floated towards slowly grew larger in our view. “So what do you think will happen when we run into Artemis?” For once, Pipsqueak had asked a completely serious question and had a look on his face to match. “I have no idea.” “Do you think we can handle him? I took a look at some of the things he’s done. He’s not going to be a pushover.” Pipsqueak had a point. From the story Quartermane told me and from outset of First Contact, Artemis had proven himself to be nothing less than a ruthless and merciless soldier. In the two decades or so since, his skills would have only gotten better. He managed to kill Nimbus, evade suspicion from those who oversaw him and now was hiding who knows where in the galaxy. My assumption that we would find him on Trawlis was far fetched to begin with. There wasn’t even a guarantee that he was there himself. He had hired gangs from the Corral to handle his dirty work, there was no reason he wouldn’t hire others. But it was all we had. “You know what I think?” he continued. “I think when we find him, we’ll give him the flank kicking he deserves.” “Heh. Here’s hoping.” We were about halfway to the Whip Gate by now. I could hear the engines beginning to whir in preparation for the impending space jump. Pip idly pressed at his controls as the ship began to hum from the surge of energy. “This is the start of something big, I think. Big enough to warrant a speech.” He took one of the holographic screens floating in front of him and moved it in front of me with a wave of his hoof. The screen shifted slightly into an image of a microphone. A small light was flashing, a light labeled mute. I stared through the hologram at Pipsqueak incredulously. “Honor’s all yours, Commander.” He grinned, probably the biggest grin I’d seen all day. “What should I say?” He shrugged. “I dunno, something inspiring, something that shows that you know what you’re doing, something that shows confidence.” “Confidence...right...” My mind raced at what would be the best thing to say, if there was. Of all the skills I probably wasn’t suited for in my new role, public speaking and inspiring confidence in others was probably not one of them. The only thing I could think of was our goal of stopping Artemis and all that served was bringing Pipsqueaks worries to the front of my mind. Here we were, on an experimental ship, chasing a well known and deadly fugitive across the Galaxy, with no idea where he was or what he was doing, all by the seat of our flanks. The crew was probably as well versed on Artemis as Pipsqueak was too and knew exactly the kind of psychopath we were chasing. They were probably as wary in hunting him as I was. But maybe that was enough. Quartermane believed in me. The Council believed in me. Firestorm, Dexter, South, even Pipsqueak believed in me. Why couldn’t I believe in me? I could make the argument that I was way in over my head, but it was too late to turn back now. All that was left to do was go forward. I had ponies backing me, and a ship to take us where we needed to go. We were out here to do the right thing, and for me that was enough. I cleared my throat, glancing once more out the window. We were less than a minute away from the Gate now, the outer shell of the ship now pulsing blue. The shields undulated loudly as the engine began to make its final preparations before the tendril of energy would connect to the ship and launch us forward. There was something majestic about how it all was starting to come together around me, and that enough to give me the courage to give my words a voice. I tapped the screen, ending the incessant blink of the mute button. A new humming noise filled the air, signaling that the entire ship was wired in. Here we go. “Attention Normanedy,” I began. I heard my voice spread through the room, and by extension, the entire ship. “This is Commander Shepard.” I paused a moment, my mind lapsing slightly. I felt that waiting to ensure that everypony was paying attention would be a good idea, but now I just felt a rising panic. Pip turned in his chair to give me an encouraging gesture and an assuring smile. Surprisingly, it worked. “There has probably been a fair amount of concern over the events over the past few days. I share your concerns. What started out as a simple shakedown run has certainly been taking a strange turn, but I knew that I was signing up for something big when I joined the Normanedy.” “Things have changed, but that doesn’t mean we are any less ready for them. Just as always, we have a mission, and we will see it through to the end. Artemis knows we’re after him, and we’re going to give him the chase of his life.” “He may be hiding now, but sooner or later we’ll find him, and when we do we’ll give him the punishment he deserves for his crimes. He has been an antagonist to the Earth Pony race for far too long, and he let his biased hatred of us get the better of him. That was his first mistake.” “We won’t be doing it alone either. We have talented individuals among us that all wish to see him brought down. I know the crew I have chosen will do what needs to be done, and I trust each and every one of them to get the job done. I hope all of you can show them the same respect and trust as I do. They have each saved my life and the lives of others in their pursuit of Artemis. I owe them much more than a simple thank you, and I hope that you can all appreciate their part to play.” “So I say this to you all. We will find him, wherever he is. We will stop him at whatever game he’s playing with us. And when we do, the galaxy will know that it was the crew of the Normanedy that stopped him.” I could hear the chorus of cheers through the door as I returned the screen to Pipsqueak. He had a fond look in his eyes and failed at trying to hide it. “Well said, Shepard. Quartermane would be proud.” I flashed a victorious smile back at him. “Lets give him a reason to be prouder, then. Let’s go catch a criminal.” “Aye, aye, Commander!” Pip took hold of the ship with almost childlike glee and excitement. The Normanedy swerved wide as it moved along side the massive structure. She trembled slightly as we connected with the Whip gate and the ship began to lurch forward. A corona of blue light began to coalesce around the hull as the ship vibrated with intense energy. The world outside began to bend and twist as the engine core sang its song. I grabbed hold of a nearby wall, preparing for the initial jump. With one final chorus of humming, the tendril of energy snapped, and we propelled into the black unknown. End of Act One Love and Tolerate! Redux: Paragon Points Earned. Codex Entry Added: Sergeant Major Southern Belle