//------------------------------//
// Chapter 14 
// Story: Hand of the Ancients 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Lyra heard knocking against her quarters door. She wasn't sure how long it had been—long enough that she was in bed now, with the better part of her uniform now hanging on a hook. Technically speaking that might be a bad idea—a proper captain from the Equestrian army would probably not have stopped fighting until everything was resolved and they were all safe at home.

But Lyra was an archeologist, not a general. If she didn't get a chance to rest, she would probably just keep breaking down. If she lost her focus when more ships tried to kill them, everypony else might die with her.

She sat up, then tapped the wall to turn on the lights. "You can come in."

Beside the bed, Bon Bon sat up too. Lyra couldn’t tell at a glance if her marefriend had really been asleep, or just pretending to rest so Lyra would feel more comfortable. She was fully alert now, anyway. 

The door slid open, and light streamed in. Time Turner and Muffins stood in the doorway. They dressed very similar to the way they had for their trip down to the surface of the homeworld, with thick fabric around every limb and a transparent helmet over their faces. 

She didn't remember Time Turner looking so embarrassed last time. His eyes settled on her chest, more obvious since the spotlights on his helmet followed his vision. He turned just as swiftly to the side, rocking backward and forward. "Muffins and I were going to, uh... ask for your permission to begin some repairs. Computer says we can patch some of the leaks from inside. Evidently the ship has not fully depressurized—but the sooner we act, the less damage we sustain."

Lyra followed Time Turner's glance down to her bare chest, momentarily confused. "Is there something wrong with my breasts?"

"Do not answer that question," Bon Bon said, sounding almost as intense as during the battle. "It's probably him, not you. The computer transformed you into new creatures. Your minds work differently now."

"R-right," Time Turner answered. He turned deliberately towards her, keeping his attention focused on her face. It took visible effort, enough that even Lyra began to feel self-conscious. "The computer has explained the procedure to us a number of times, and we have the tools. Once we secure the Horn of Celestia, we should be free to move about the vessel. Muffins and I would prefer our own quarters to sleeping bags on the bridge."

She nodded once. "Go ahead. If you see any sign of danger, get right back up here and wait for Bon Bon and me to help. Understand?"

"Perfectly." He spun quickly on his heels, vanishing out the way he'd come. 

Muffins lingered for a few seconds, eyeing Lyra's chest. From her was only confusion, so not much of a change from the mare. "That's all it takes. Huh." Then she was gone, and the automatic door slid closed.

Lyra rolled out of bed, slowly enough that she didn't fall forward onto her hands and knees. No matter what her memory said about the proper way to move, present reality disagreed. "What was that about?"

The mare touched one hoof on Lyra's leg. "If you're asking me to explain how stallions think, I'll disappoint you. I can say—this new body has larger—flashing those things right there every second—it could be distracting. For him, I mean. I assume that must be natural for your kind, though I can't imagine how uncomfortable it would be if you had those as a pony. How would you walk anywhere?"

"As entertaining as listening to this is," Computer said, speaking from the nearby console. "There are more important problems to solve. Allow me to skip the intermediate steps and provide you with some cultural context. Though clothing is not required for a healthy life aboard a spacefaring vessel, it was still the expectation. Females typically wear supportive garments in addition to external practical or fashionable accessories. I suggest not altering the practice until you fully understand the likely consequences."

She nodded along, then picked up the various pieces of her uniform from where she'd left them. She hadn't even intended to bother with them now, given the other stresses facing the Equestria.

Now she bothered, even though it all seemed pointless and unnecessarily complicated. All that trouble to cover up, when there wasn't even a special occasion. Maybe a fancy jacket to wear while talking to other ships, and of course she would dress up if they had guests, but why bother while they worked?

Maybe until they all adapted to their new instincts, it would be better to just accept the decisions of their ancient ancestors.

Bon Bon watched her from the floor. She pretended not to, but wasn't very good at it. Whenever Lyra looked, the mare was there.

"Computer could change you too," Lyra said, when she finally got the jacket comfortably in place. "Then maybe you could help me... figure out all these changes together."

Sweetie Drops stuck out her tongue, though whether playful or defiant Lyra wasn't exactly sure. "If I didn't think the computer would use that to manipulate us. But doesn't it feel... weird? Wouldn't you rather be a pony?"

Lyra nodded. "Obviously. Eventually. But experiencing the ancestors’ ship the way they did... it was made for ponies who looked like this. With these... little hand things. And all this other stuff. Looking like them helps me see it the way they did, understand it better."

"Do you want to? If their computers want us to fight all the time... maybe that's why there aren't any of them left. Maybe they were too violent. The galaxy hated them for a reason."

Lyra shrugged. Without a word exchanged, she felt Computer's attention settle on her, intense. It wondered whether or not she agreed—was she going to turn against their directive so quickly? 

"The records of all that are probably right here," Lyra said. "Once we get everything fixed, maybe we can dig them up. Decide if... decide if this is a fight we should be part of. If we don't agree, we don't have to participate."

The computer laughed through the speakers, so they could both hear it clearly. "That choice will not be present, captain. It never was. You could free your homeworld, or you could flee in terror—but you will not get to walk away. The Griffon Republic is hunting us now. They will never cease hunting us, until this vessel is destroyed. Return to your world, and it will only be a matter of time until their warships appear overhead. You would be powerless to defend yourself, only accept whatever punishment the Republic sees fit to inflict on your world. It might mean total extermination—there is no depths of brutality they will not reach."

Lyra strode through the doorway onto the bridge, as though she could somehow leave the computer behind. It didn't work—the voice followed her. She could not hide from this creature while living inside its body. 

"Later, Computer. For now, I want to know... how we fix the ship. You said we could do that here."

The bridge was more or less the way they left it, with one exception. The external display didn't show a distant solar system anymore—they were moving now, very quickly.

Their target was obvious—the englobed star, with blue flame emerging from a single jet near its center. A thin mesh of metal surrounded it on all sides, what must be a dockyard of truly terrifying proportions. Only now it was empty, waiting for them.

"The shipyard refuses to acknowledge my requests for a tow. Its persona will not accept that I now have a captain, and instead believes I've gone rogue. It will not render assistance until it meets with you. The existence of living humans is... shocking. Even many mechanical minds believed it would not happen."

"You couldn't send pictures?" Bon Bon argued. "You must have them; we've been walking all over your ship. We could call it up right now, let Lyra talk to it."

"Attentive, but no. There is no truth inherent in digital information. I could falsify the appearance of a crew, and the Esperia Shipyard knows it. But once you step onto the deck, they will see the truth irrefutably. At that point, you may have a bigger problem refusing its requests than convincing it to help. This poor installation floated here, slowly rotting in its obsolescence, for thousands of years. But here you are, offering it a chance to make another contribution—perhaps its last."

Lyra circled around the bridge, eyeing each of the complex stations. As before, she felt the purpose of each one just by passing close to them. The computer conveyed everything she could possibly want about the functions of this vessel. The real limit was not reticence from the machine, but the capacity of her own mind to contain all the information at once. It had to be more careful, sharing only little pieces at a time.

She found the one she was looking for, Engineering. She pulled out the chair, settling down in front of several screens. They came to life one by one, displaying rendered views of the Equestria from various angles. Many sections were highlighted in red, with little notes about the damage to each one. 

It all made little sense to her, at least when taken individually. She could see the pattern of their attackers, leaving a patchwork of holes across one section, while the rest of the ship remained more or less intact.

Computer had said something about the differing abilities of its defenses. If Lyra had just decided what to do a little quicker, then they might have escaped the damage entirely.

And if I took longer, everypony would be dead. I can't be too harsh on myself. 

"What did you send Time Turner and Muffins to fix?"

A few little patches turned green. "The crew section suffered a few leaks. These openings here—ultra dense rounds passed through on one end, then out the other. I prioritized intercepting projectiles to critical sections, since none of the crew was down there at the time. Sealing these simple leaks works as a meaningful trial of their ability to operate basic repair equipment. Any crew can be made useful eventually, but I don't believe we have the time for a remedial education. Besides, you would object to further biomodding."

Lyra didn't know what that meant, though she knew she probably didn't want to know. She could only focus on what was within her control, one mountain at a time. "I do object to it. Whatever it is. Time Tuner is one of the smartest ponies I know. And he's excellent with machines—I'm sure he'll master yours quickly." 

"He will, yes. The other one is less certain. Either way, we should arrive in another few hours. You two could occupy yourselves with some cosmetic repairs here on the bridge while you wait. Or just find somewhere comfortable, and prepare to meet the Forge Persona. Its responses all obeyed standard protocol during our conversations—but this does not mean it will be a pleasant experience for you. If you need to perform any preparations before an important social encounter, go ahead and make them now."

"An important social encounter—with a bunch of metal in space," Sweetie said. "Lyra, how much longer until life makes any sense again?"

"I... have no idea," she admitted. But based on what Computer planned for them—destroying an occupation fleet, breaking a gate, and freeing her home—Lyra imagined it might be a very long time indeed.

The repairs didn't take much longer, or at least not the simple ones Time Turner and Muffins had been doing. A few hours later the elevator opened again. The pair stumbled out, looking exhausted and slightly the worse for wear. Muffins's suit had a few fresh scorch marks, and some chunks of foam clinging to it around the arms. But otherwise, they were both intact.

Time Turner reached up, folding back the plastic hood to open his head to the air. "That was an... enlightening experience," he said. "It might have been enjoyable, under different circumstances. What ponies could do with some of these tools, I can scarcely imagine. But we were successful. The computer says it will be a moment, but then we should be able to traverse the ship freely. If it's to be our prison, at least we will make it a favorable one, eh? Better to work than... think about what we had to do to get here."