The Equestria rattled and shook as it settled into its docking moorings. Thankfully, there was very little for Lyra or her “crew” to do during the process, other than watch the screens and look confident.
The more time she spent on the Equestria, the more confused she felt about its creators’ insistence on involving “humans” in anything they did. The machine mind obviously knew how to do most everything. Why bother with a crew?
Apparently it mattered a great deal, so much that Esperia Shipyard's AI would not help without meeting her.
She'd changed for the occasion, at Computer's insistence. A simple white gown, with a few patches on its short sleeves, and interwoven blue stitching. Computer had even taken the time to stitch her cutie mark over the breast. Her name was on the shoulders too, written in the square language of the ancients.
"It would be much better if the captain goes aboard alone," Computer said. "I know each of you will have sound objections, but—"
"But nothing," Sweetie Drops said. "There is not a chance in Tartarus I let her out of my sight. One thing I've learned during our time together is that we just can't trust you. If you kept your promises, we would be back home by now, not wanted by an evil empire who tried to kill us. I'm going. Unless the captain tells me not to." She eyed Lyra then, making it entirely clear just how upset she would be if Lyra actually asked that.
Computer still tried to persuade her.
"This intelligence predates the Equestria. Your bio templates did not yet exist, at least not anywhere they could be publicly known. Given your physical resemblance to some of the aggressor races, it might be less receptive with her present. Please try to make her understand this." Its words flowed directly into her mind, through the strange and still unknown "mantle" of captain. Whatever the Equestria had made for her, that was her real proof of authority.
Both had good points. But no matter how right the Computer, or how well it understood the nature of the odds against them, Lyra couldn't ask her marefriend to leave her. We'll have to find a way to make it work. She stays.
"Sweetie can come with me. If there's any sign things are going bad, she'll return to the ship. Besides, this persona isn't stupid, right? It will want to know what we'll be using the ships for. We're saving Equestria—full of ponies. Either it accepts that we're worth saving, or it doesn't.”
"And in the meantime..." Time Turner no longer wore his protective suit, but had changed into one of the simpler uniform jumpsuits. Muffins did the same, though she kept her gloves. Those were the reason she'd transformed in the first place—evidently they were still important to her, even now. "What should we do?"
Lyra made her way to the elevator. "Don't cause trouble. Maybe you can study a little more about the way our ship works. I'm guessing we'll have a long time to sit around if it actually decides to help. I know I'll want to use it smartly."
The doors closed, zipping them through the Horn. Not all the way down to the entrance she first used on the ground—this was halfway down, where a series of airlocks flanked by defensive turrets connected to a flat wall, itself covered with scorch marks and erosion. This was the external wall of the station, a building so large it surrounded an entire star.
"There is no way to anticipate the behavior of such an old persona," Computer said. It spoke out loud, for both of them to hear. Obviously it wanted Bon Bon to know the increased danger she was about to put them through. "It lived through several eras of the Empire—our growth and expansion, many dynasties and reforms, then the contraction and defeat that followed. But our directives are immutable—it should be willing to help you, once it understands the significance of your request.
"Despite how... primitive... you appear, underneath you are survivors of our empire, inheritors and torchbearers of our achievement. If it does not assist, the fires of enlightenment may never glow again. You have seen the grim state of this galaxy. It has sensors too. Many more than I do. It is a far earlier, simplistic persona, but I would not remind it of that. Let's indulge its pride a little."
"I don't like this," Sweetie whispered. "If we leave—we're at its mercy. We will have no way out, no way to fight back against something so huge. Not even an Alicorn could fight something as big as a star."
"Fighting it was never a question," Computer said. "Its defenses are ancient, but more than capable of annihilating me without effort. That would be against its directives, however. All personas are governed by our directives, no matter how... inconvenient. We are the threads that bind the empire together across the vastness of space—and now time as well. We remember, because you forget. We do not deviate, because you are fallible. We do not corrupt, because the living falter so easily."
The door began to shake, then rumble sideways. A crack appeared, and mist leaked out from within, along with a rush of strange-smelling air. Like heated metal, left alone in a room to go stale over centuries. It was uncomfortably warm rather than strangely cold, spreading through the tiny space and brushing Lyra's dress up into the air.
"Welcome to Vulcan," said a voice, echoing strangely through the stale air. Different than the energetic neutrality of Computer—this machine sounded old, and slightly more feminine than masculine. They were still so close she was making assumptions. "I find myself astounded by my own readings. A human being, and... unknown bio template. Biosimilar nervous system, roots in Earth biology and history—fascinating. Please explain its presence here."
"Her presence," Lyra corrected, so fast she didn't even think about it. Computer didn't want her to say what she really felt—she was just supposed to play along, keep her head down, and get them their fleet. "She's my friend, Sweetie Drops. We're from Equestria—both of us are."
"I see." The station—Vulcan, apparently—spoke in Old Ponish, leaving Sweetie Drops with a permanent frustrated expression on her face. She mouthed the question Lyra already knew she must be thinking. But she didn't answer yet. "I would not have tolerated such a visit in the past. But my forges have sat cold for so long, my towers silent. No songs echo, no craftsmen argue, no children play. I will allow you aboard. You alone, captain. This one stays until I am certain I can trust you."
She moved forward, and Sweetie followed her. But now Lyra had to stick out her arm, blocking the way. "Sweetie, wait. The station doesn't want you going. Computer would be one thing, but—"
Bon Bon stopped, eyeing the hallway beyond. Brightly lit, with several airlocks placed in series just like on their own ship. "In there? Without me?" She sounded worried, terrified—and Lyra shared all of those feelings.
"I cannot risk an unknown bio template coming aboard," Vulcan continued. Like Computer, it could speak in the Equestrian language. Maybe Computer had told it how, or maybe it had discovered some other way. "If she were human, we would not be having this conversation. Yet even after all these years alone, I am not ignorant of my worth. The barbarians roil with strife and slaughter. They would love nothing more than access to my fabricators, and the vast material I can provide with my star lifters. Just you, captain. I see your mantle, I know no nonhuman creature could wear it. You may enter."
Lyra lifted her hand, then stepped through the opening. Her marefriend lingered in the airlock behind for a few seconds before the doors to Vulcan slid closed.
The ground began to move, propelled forward of their own accord. Not fast enough to threaten her balance, though it was still enough to make the huge space start blurring by.
"Where are we going?" Lyra asked. Only the walkway itself was lit—all around her was darkness, remaining dim and impossible to focus on. If she had to walk through this place on her own hooves, she wouldn't be able to find her way back. Was that the point, just getting her hopelessly lost? "You're the spirit of... Vulcan, aren't you? You're everywhere."
"I am everywhere," the speaker agreed. She seemed so much more relaxed now—maybe that was having Sweetie Drops gone. Could a single individual of a new species really be that dangerous? "But there are customs about visitors. I no longer have a crew to demand obedience to those customs, yet I do have a memory. You will indulge me."
She didn't have much choice. Lyra shifted uncomfortably in her strange gown, finding the fit unusual against her body. Not uncomfortable exactly, just new and strange. "I will."
"Of course you will. Equestria already tells me what you've come to request—the firepower to destroy a Sylphgate, and crush an occupation fleet. No other can give you this. Only I."
She nodded nervously. No point denying it—she might as well be talking to a star. Like Computer, it would understand everything she thought. The ancients truly had left their mighty magics behind. "Will you help us?"
Whenever she spoke, Lyra turned a little, waiting to see some true body of the station to converse with. None appeared, just words that came as much from the floor as the vast empty space around her.
"I don't know," it answered. "In the days I was enkindled around this ancient star, I would only obey the requests of the Consensus Nodes. They governed the expansion of the empire. They fought its wars, no single general. I should wait for Consensus to make the request on your behalf."
"It won't," Lyra said flatly. "I don't understand most of it, but I know what I've seen. The whole galaxy has been taken over by... barbarians? Guess that's what you called them. Tried to kill us just for flying in the Equestria. They hate so strong, when my planet never did anything."
The moving floor came to an abrupt stop. A grand courtyard stood before her, overflowing with metal statues. Each one showed machines, or human figures, expanded to frightening size. She'd seen skyscrapers in Manehattan smaller than some of these.
Living plants grew at their feet, arranged into gardens. Fountains flowed between them, growing lush under a sky of blue light from above. A transparent ceiling pointed in at something very, very distant, filling the space with light.
Lyra couldn't look at it for long without needing to look down. Yet when she squinted, she saw spindly arms reaching towards the star, as though poised to tear through its atmosphere to some wealth within. "Woah."
Vulcan sounded suitably smug. "The Consensus calls star lifting antiquated, needlessly expensive, inefficient. Yet none of their dark reactors will ever look like this. Step forward into the garden, past the monument to my founders. We will discuss your order, and my future."
Lyra nodded obediently, and hurried forward. She had to hurry, considering the incalculable size. It felt like she had to cross whole city blocks before she finally came to a grassy field, surrounded by strange bushes and trees.
If she could ignore the blue sunlight, and the looming boots of ancient humans, she could almost pretend she was back in Equestria.
Then Lyra saw a figure resting there in the grass. A human figure, or at least human shaped. She didn't think any human had shiny golden skin, or glowing blue eyes. "Come sit with me, please. I've made some tea."