For a single, eternal moment, Lyra sat suspended on the deck of the Equestria. Her friends scattered across the bridge, though not all of them moved.
Time Turner and Muffins huddled close to each other in their seat. Muffins abandoned all pretense of using her own, and instead rested in his lap, both arms thrown over his shoulders. Lyra wished she could do the same with Bon Bon, but the mare didn't move. "Sweetie?"
She wasn't just sitting still, but totally frozen. She didn't blink, and her mouth was open, frozen in the moment between one word and the next. "What is this?"
"Frameshift," the computer answered. "Organics cannot normally perceive this moment, or interact with it. This once gave our enemies a decisive advantage over us, since our vessels were helpless upon entering normal space. Modern gene prints offer immunity to its effects at the level of implants, perception filters, and what you would call magical—"
The moment ended. "Normal space." The impact struck up against Lyra's whole body at once, smacking her into her seat with far greater force than she felt during the entire battle around the Homeworld. Muffins stumbled onto the ground, catching herself against a control panel.
"—ready for whatever you think is best," Bon Bon finished. Her pony body offered her no resistance against whatever a “frameshift” was, but it did grant incredible strength, such that she could remain sitting up in her seat despite the sudden blast of force.
Black screens vanished, replaced by a strange, desolate outline. A faint blue star shone in the far distance, as though obscured by fog. Fog, and a metal ring, broken by long spokes like a wheel. The cloud at its center was not quite so thick as the one in the other system, but otherwise the similarities were obvious.
"Alarms are... still blaring, ma’am," Time Turner said. He stood up, offering one hand down to Muffins for her to right herself. She did, with minimal injuries despite the fall. "I thought we were out of danger."
"It appears that way," Computer said. "I detect no Griffon ships in this system. But tell me, dear Bioform template EQ2.04, when did you make it downstairs to repair us? Oh, never? Right, I'm still leaking my guts into space. Hence the alarm."
"That's not a nice way to say it," Muffins whispered. "You should try to be nicer, Computer."
Lyra ignored them both. She squinted at the distant blue light, and the screen responded, zooming dramatically on that point. There was a star in there, surrounded by thousands and thousands of metal shapes. Aside from little glimpses of blue, the huge sphere actually glowed a faint red, blurring together when she looked at it from anywhere but straight on.
"Where are we?"
"Esperia. I believe I mentioned it already, or perhaps the node did. This was an ancient manufacturing center, constructed long before the conflict escalated to galactic war. It was among our most primitive outposts, and never received a gateway of its own. It does not even possess a consensus node."
Which meant something important, somehow. Those nodes were the entire reason they had to visit the Homeworld in the first place—it definitely wasn't for the infested and rotting corpses or the awful weapons their cousins used to "salt the earth."
Bon Bon slid out of her seat. She circled past the screens, then advanced over to the elevator, albeit now protected by a thick plastic seal. "I know I'm still trying to figure all this out, but I thought... I thought you said that we were trying to win a war. You are, not us. Why would you want to come somewhere primitive to do that?"
You're just looking for an excuse to argue. Lyra couldn't exactly blame her marefriend for it—the computer was the entire reason any of them were in danger in the first place! If only they'd been allowed to stay in Equestria and study the tower, they might have had decades to prepare for whatever war the griffons and other creatures wanted to fight. Maybe centuries!
"The best weapon is the one you can wield," Computer answered. "In any case, repairing my systems should be our primary goal. After that... we'll see what resources are available. Though I admit, this system does give us the best chance of success. It was intact when last I left it, and no humans had any reason to reveal its existence. Still, I would prefer something better—if it existed. But discovering it could take years, with each jump subjecting me to the danger of identification capture."
"When you say damaged..." Time Turner said. "Should I take the volume of those alarms to suggest the severity of the danger?"
Computer had no limbs to shrug, and no other ways to express its feelings on the subject. Lyra could sense it even so, emotions fed directly into her mind. And it can probably feel the same things from me.
"The hit was minor in that none of my crew were impacted. I consider it quite major, as they soon might be. Captain, I'm negotiating docking protocol with supersystem repair node 117. Docking trajectory is authorized. It might be... a bit of a bumpy ride."
Bumpy ride or not, they didn't actually start moving yet. The ship still needs my permission. For all that the computer lied to her, she really was the captain. It hadn't fought without her permission, and had more or less done what she told it during the battle. It wanted to just blow up those griffon ships, and instead it had only disabled them.
"I guess sooner is better," she said, gesturing forward. "They can see where we went. We attacked them. That means they'll be following us."
The ship began to move, and this time Lyra felt it. Pressure held her down in her seat. It resembled the many times she had ridden in an elevator in Canterlot, albeit none of those pointed directly backward. That, and it never seemed to stop. Seconds turned to minutes, and the view outside barely changed. It was nearly the opposite of what she felt during the battle.
"Do we have to stay up here?" Bon Bon asked. She resisted the acceleration with little apparent effort, rejoining Lyra at the captain's chair. “If there's something we could be doing to get home quicker, I want to be doing it."
"Easy," Computer answered. Lyra winced as she heard it, but the computer spoke anyway. She hadn't ordered it to stop. "You lack the manipulating organs to effectively utilize any of our tools. That could be easily corrected, however—by the time we arrived, you would be capable of lending your assistance. I could provide instructions on the technique while you slept."
Bon Bon groaned. "Captain Lyra, can you tell the computer to stop asking that? I'm not changing my mind just because it was annoying."
"Yes," Lyra said, loudly. "Stop offering her that, Computer. If she asks you, that's one thing. But otherwise, leave her alone. She's not interested right now."
"Very well, captain." Its tone went back to perfectly flat, emotionless. That was as close to resentment for an instruction as Lyra was likely to get. "Perhaps you should attempt to persuade her. This ship would be more effective with a crew. She's the only available candidate with past combat experience."
"Thank you for your input," Lyra said, exasperated. "Can we leave the bridge? I'd like to clean up after..." Technically it was the decontamination procedures that got her feeling gross in the first place. That stuff got into every pore.
"The bridge deck is hardened against damage, with redundant power and life-support to insulate you from harm. Wearing the mantle, you may leave and wander the ship freely, even to the sections exposed by hard vacuum. Given the presence of your companions, I suggest the captain's quarters. They should be adequate for the four of you until we dock. Let me divert power to the inertial compensators..."
The ship tilted sharply, and the pressure holding Lyra into her seat lifted. As it did, a section of wall between two stations slid open. She hadn't even seen the door there moments before. Maybe that was intentional. "I would volunteer to prepare you something to eat, but those systems are elsewhere. You will need to rely on emergency rations in the short term."
Through the open doorway was... a comfortable apartment. It was surprisingly spacious, several connected rooms that together stretched larger than the bridge. First came a conference room and living area, a private office bigger than anything Lyra had at university, and finally a spacious bedroom.
All the furniture matched what she saw elsewhere on the Equestria, tailored for the oversized body Lyra now wore. Lights came on automatically as they entered, illuminating paintings and photographs and art covering every wall.
She had seen into the office before, when Computer showed her the record of the Equestria's last captain. He had not seemed very much like a monster. Strange that his ship was so violent, when the stallion seemed so dignified.
"This is the captain's quarters?" Time Turner asked, rapping two fingers up against one picture among many. It resembled Equestria from above, or maybe another world—bright blue and green, seen from far away. "I would guess it belonged to a scholar, not some military commander."
"He was... more the former than the latter," Computer said. All its coldness vanished, replaced with something tighter. It was pain, the kind that only real ponies could feel for each other. "But now this space belongs to my current captain, Lyra Heartstrings. When we are docked for repairs, that should present you with an opportunity to make alterations, if you wish to. We could also synthesize additional furnishings or replace any of the decorations. I saw no need to take any of this down without a captain."
"We'll leave it for now." She stopped in the room she took for the kitchen and started opening things. It had a fridge, albeit one constructed of strange metal that made no sound. Inside were rows and rows of silvery packets, labeled in Old Ponish. She lifted several from inside, then scattered them on the counter. "I assume I'm not the only one feeling hungry?"
"Nope!" Muffins agreed. She scanned the packets, then her hand jumped to the one labeled "Popyseed." She took it, then tore it open using a perforated line along the side. Within was something slightly greasy and rectangular, albeit smelling like lemons with little black dots all over it. Across the vastness of space and time, across cultures and ancient wars, Muffins could still find something familiar. "Mhmm."
Time Turner caught her arm before she could take a bite. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea. The Horn of Celestia waited in the north for thousands of years. Nothing would remain edible for that long."
"Correct," Computer agreed. "These were synthesized when we launched, from raw materials held in suspension. You will probably enjoy them more if I do not explain the process. It should be sufficient to inform you that they are safe."
Time Turner let go, watching nervously. "I would volunteer to taste it first then, Muffins. You shouldn't subject yourself to danger."
She giggled, then took a gigantic bite. She chewed for a few seconds, then grinned wider. "No reason to be worried! It's great! Thank you, Computer."
"At least someone appreciates me."
Lyra picked one for herself, then slid over another towards Bon Bon. "Here, this one says 'honey and oats.' Something familiar, yeah?"
"Yeah." Her marefriend took it, and they wandered over to the sofa. Lyra just didn't feel right taking a flat snack bar over to that fancy wooden table.
They sat in relative silence for the next few minutes, eating. Lyra's own tasted like berries—but not any berries she had a name for. They didn't make her feel sick, that was the important part.
Her own actions would do that all on their own. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she could see a line of light in the darkness, then the explosion that followed. How many birds were dying in real time? Griffons just like the ones she'd seen across Equestria her whole life, competing in Buckball every year. Dead, because of what she said.
She wasn't sure exactly when it happened—but Lyra started crying. Silent tears, tears that made her body shake and her hands clench into fists. Without a word, Bon Bon climbed up next to her, hugging her in the way of ponies. She held her there in silence, for as long as Lyra needed.
A long time.