Before the Equestria floated three gigantic warships, each one bigger than most Equestrian cities. They loomed closer with every passing second, bristling with unknown destructive power. In her chair weighed life and death—for them, and many strangers.
The ship promised freedom for Equestria, relief from an endless future as a prison planet to unknown powers from above. If Lyra fired the first shot in that war, it might escalate into a conflict that nopony at home would even agree to start.
"We can't tell them where we really came from," she finally said. "That's the most important thing. If they find out about Equus, they might want to go back there. Maybe they would do worse than just keep us prisoner. Maybe they'd be upset that we left, and punish everyone for it."
"Oh." Time Turner pulled back from the controls, expression darkening. "You make a solid point, Lyra. Or... Captain Lyra, I believe might be the term. Informing them of our origins might convince them to return us home—or it might precipitate something much worse. We must consider the needs of many, not just our own."
He glanced away from his station, across the room to where Muffins scrutinized another panel. He sighed, retaking the controls, but pressing nothing yet. "I find myself somewhat relieved it is not my decision to make. The chair is yours; the vessel is obedient to you. I believe you should be the one to decide our response."
Unhelpful. Lyra looked down at her marefriend, expression desperate and pleading. "What would you tell them? So they let us go, I mean."
"The truth probably isn't the best of Harmony's virtues this time." The mare paced back and forth beside the seat, her tail whipping into Lyra's leg with every pass. "Protecting you was my first priority—but protecting Equestria is part of it too. That's why they send us, to keep the country safe from all kinds of supernatural threats. This isn't the first time I've seen something I thought could end the world."
She stopped beside the chair, staring at the screen and the approaching vessels. "Equestria can't resist power like this. I'm not even certain a dozen Alicorns could, all fighting at once. We can't lead these monsters home with us, no matter what it costs."
"They will not follow us anywhere if we reduce them to smoldering rubble in space," the computer said. It spoke with no particular anger, but a calm more disturbing than any bloodlust. "As I have no weapons officer, I should warn you that their approach does limit our tactical engagement options. Many of their weapons rely on magnetic linear acceleration, dispersing flack across a wide area. Our inertial dampeners allow accelerations and course corrections that their vessels cannot replicate—but the closer they get, the greater an arc of space they can potentially cover. By contrast, the Equestria relies on energy weapons and smart munitions with cross-system accuracy if required."
When Lyra didn't react, it continued, speaking louder. "Captain. The longer we sit here, the worse our odds of escape become. If we delay for long enough, they could guarantee a kill."
The computer was right—everyone was, really. Lyra was the one who insisted the mission continue. Now she had the captain's chair, instead of a much more qualified pony like Princess Twilight. Equestria deserved a better pony than her to make these decisions, but it wouldn't get them. She had to act. "Open the... voice thing," she said. "Just sound, nothing else."
"Done," Time Turner said. Then he fell silent, expectant. They all watched her, even Bon Bon. Evidently, she didn't plan on taking regal authority over the mission.
"Ships," she said. "We are... from very far away. We found this ship and don't know how it works. But the computer on it... seems not to like you. I'm afraid if you don't back off, it's gonna attack you. You should probably get away from us, before it does something bad. I don't want anypony to get hurt."
Seconds stretched in agonizing silence, without so much as a crackle of static to answer her. All the while the ships drifted closer, spreading around the Equestria like ravenous predators about to tear apart a kill. Which was exactly what they said they would do.
Finally, an answer came, in the same voice as before. Instead of replacing the whole display with the projection, the bird and his bridge appeared off to one corner, apparently glaring at the camera. "Trespassing Relic vessel. You will disengage your defensive systems, or you will be fired upon. If you cannot control the renegade persona, you should not have boarded. Any harm your ship inflicts will be judged against you in the court of justice. Stand down and prepare to be boarded."
The signal clicked, and his image vanished. "Our connection is terminated," Computer said, amused. "It sounds like he actually believes that will make a difference. Penetration systems ready, captain. So are the antimaterial warheads, incidentally. I prefer the latter, but I'm not a weapon's officer."
"You're so... destructive!" Bon Bon yelled at the walls and screens but nopony in particular. "Those aren't ships out there, they're people! If we shot them, they'll get hurt! They could die!"
The computer answered her instantly this time. "Your world is peaceful—the product of your forebear’s success. The universe around you is not. If I had any hope that the Divine Republic would have grown more civilized in the intervening centuries, those hopes have proven themselves vain.
"Their weapon systems are already charged. They will murder all of you and destroy this vessel without a second thought. They might decide to do so anyway, even if you comply. If they take this ship, you can expect only torture and death at their claws.
"Captain, I am sorry this is the universe you inherit. I am only a computer, bound to tell you the truth. If you want to live, you must fight. If you want a future for your homeworld, you must escape. Without the Equestria, your world will never break free of its occupation fleet. Your technology will never be allowed to advance far enough—the fleet will destroy your civilization over and over again for the rest of time, until political winds shift far enough, and they decide that exterminating you is simpler."
Over and over again. Lyra couldn't verify the truth of what this computer said, not about almost anything it claimed. But she knew more about Equus's ancient civilizations than anypony. From all evidence, her ancestors had been greater than Equestria was now, at least three times. Growth, prosperity, then dramatic collapse, as far back as history went.
Most, including her, thought the Windigos were likely responsible. Maybe there was another explanation. "Can you get us out without destroying them, computer?"
Hesitation. "Uncertain. I can attempt to disable them from this distance. However, success cannot be guaranteed. They will begin firing on us as soon as they detect the signal. If we don't shoot back, we'll certainly be destroyed."
"Everypony, hold onto something," Lyra said. "Computer, can you aim at their engines? Try to disable them, then... use that to stop them from following. We have to get far away to teleport out of this system, right?"
"At least two AU," Computer agreed. "Very well. Commands ready. Warning, this strategy has decreased odds of victory."
"I don't care. I want to hurt as few of them as possible—just shoot the engines, so they can't follow us. However any of this works."
She settled into her seat, gripping the strange controls with her bizarre limbs. She had already adjusted to moving the not-hooves with precision, at least physically. Mentally, keeping her focus on the manipulation of so many digits at once took as much concentration as a complex spell.
"Come here, Muffins. You should sit beside me." Time Turner gestured at the empty chair at the neighboring station.
She hurried to obey, plopping awkwardly down into it. "Like this?"
Bon Bon climbed into the seat beside her, then strapped a seatbelt awkwardly over her chest. "Sure, hope you know what you're doing."
"Infiltration successful," Computer announced. "Very interesting. Minimal countermeasures. I'm not even certain they're aware of my presence. Let me just encrypt their databanks, and lockout reactor control..."
Something opened on the ship before them, and a hundred little lights flashed. It wasn't the only one—on either side, more metal blocks twisted, flashed, then twisted again.
"I think they know," Time Turner said. "That looks..."
Lyra's whole world reacted at once. The view outside tilted and panned, blurring into sudden motion. The disorientation came not from her acceleration, but the utter lack of movement. They might as well be stationary, and she wouldn't know otherwise.
"Evasive trajectory engaged! Interceptor mechanisms engaged. Maximum acceleration. Sunbeam cannon... locked!"
The screen dimmed, as though someone had covered the window with thick black cloth. A hum rumbled through the ship beneath them, louder than any machine Lyra had ever seen. In an instant, a straight line connected with the lead vessel, near the rear section of its stretched bulk. For an instant, a second sun brighter than the real one cut through the darkness of space.
Light faded, leaving a slow-growing explosion on the enemy vessel. Its back section tore away, with a glowing trail of jagged metal floating behind.
Lyra could barely follow their path now, an erratic arc that changed direction at random, though always further from the attacking ships.
Those two that weren't exploded lit up with bright blue from behind, trailing after them.
"That was... brief," Time Turner said, reaching across from his seat to where Muffins still rested. He took her hand, then squeezed. Whether to comfort her or take some himself, Lyra couldn't say. "I can't tell, how is the battle going? Did we win?"
"That is... not yet certain," Computer said. "Their projectiles haven't caught up with us yet. My worm should prevent them from effectively projecting our course. If we survive the first volley..."
Seconds later, the ship rocked violently to one side. Far beneath, something exploded, filling the air with a blaring alarm. Air hissed, and a thin film slid down over the elevator door.
Then the lights lit back up. "Looks like we're still alive. Sunbeam has a targeting lock on the second vessel, firing."
"Wait, I'm not so sure we—" Lyra couldn't finish before another flash of light dimmed her view of the retreating ships. A second line appeared, connecting them to the pursuing vessel. This one took the hit less directly, and didn't get sliced off at the back. Even so, the whole ship stopped glowing, and the beam of bright blue coming out its back section abruptly went out.
"The remaining ship is reducing speed, captain," Computer said, a few seconds later. "It appears to be altering course. I could disable it now."
"Don't," Lyra snapped. "We're not trying to start a war! If they aren't following, just get us out of here! How long until we can leave?"
The computer hesitated. In its silence, distant alarms still blared, and air hissed out from unknown damage. "Charging superliminal frameshift. Warning: the Equestria has sustained damage. I advise against a course of many random jumps to avoid tracing our path. We may not get a second jump."
"Meaning..." Sweetie Drops finished for it. "If we go back to Equus now, we could lead them straight there."
"Affirmative," Computer answered. "Unless you wish to double back and eliminate these vessels. Their absence will eventually be noted by Republic authorities, but that will likely take weeks. By then, no trace of our passage will remain."
And kill how many griffons? Lyra's orders might have already taken lives. Unless there were no birds near the engines, some were surely hurt to disable the other two ships. She could make peace with that decision one day—but not if she ordered the systemic extermination of the survivors.
"We need to go somewhere and fix the damage," she said. "Do you know somewhere we could make repairs, Computer?"
"I cannot be certain. However, I can select the most likely candidate. Charting a course... done. Ready on your order."
If she did, they might not be able to fix the ship on the other side. She could be damning her friends to never see their home again. The alternative was so much worse.
"Do it."
Colors filled the screen in a blinding rainbow, taking Sector 00 with them.