//------------------------------//
// II: Desolate New Horizons 
// Story: Wonderbirds: Chasing the Darkness 
// by 8_Bit 
//------------------------------//

"Space. The final fun tier. These are the voyages of the starship... PFFFT, nope. Okay, there's no way I can keep that up!"

Readjusting the stance in her seat, something difficult to do in zero gravity, Pinkie Pie swallowed the urge to burst into a self-imposed giggling fit. She continued talking to the small camera mounted to the console, opting to drop the low, dramatic voice in favour of her regular speaking tones.

"So, daily log number ten! Yeah, tenth day on board Wonderbird Three, it's... pfft, hehehe... it's flown by! Which means I'm just a few hours away from Marecury. Going by the ship time, same time zone as Harmony Island, it's currently eight thirty in the morning. So it's all going super duper smooth, we're on schedule for the planned arrival, which should be in five hours and ten minutes. I can actually see the planet ahead of me right now, just out the windscreen, but it's still a ways off."

She paused to take a sip from a silver pouch. It contained a fruity yogurt, mixed with a number of vitamin supplements to counter the detrimental effects of space travel. Not exactly haute cuisine, but like all the other food rations on-board, it was sufficient to her needs. Nothing more, nothing less.

"It's a pretty straightforward plan. The gravity assist from Veneigh gave me exactly the slingshot effect I needed to catch up to Marecury, but now I've gotta slow down enough to enter orbit. Wonderbird Three's computer's can handle the basic course corrections, but I'll need to run some burns of the retro rockets to bring our speed down a smidge, just so I don't catapult myself off into deep space."

Taking another mouthful of yogurt, the thoughts of careening out into the empty black nothingness lingered just long enough to feel uncomfortable. She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind.

"So the first burn will be in... hang on." She tapped at one of the screens. "Three hours, thirty eight minutes. This will be the capture burn, which will insert Wonderbird Three into position for another burn about an hour afterwards, when we reach apoapsis. Oh, that's a big big word, umm, how can I explain it... well basically the first burn will put us into a sort-of orbit, but it'll be in an oval shape, and we don't want that. A good planetary orbit should be a nice, neat circle. So we do the second burn at the highest point of the oval, also known as the apoapsis, just to squish that oval down into an actual circle. Make sense?"

The camera, only filming and not transmitting a video call, didn't reply.

"Finally, once I'm in a stable orbit, I can locate the Duskwalker on the surface. Then it's just one last burn to get Wonderbird Three into freefall, down to the surface of the planet where I can get this rescue party underway! I'd kinda hoped by this point that Rarity or STEED would have at least heard something from the crawler, but nope! Not a peep, nothing from them. If they'd started moving again or called in to say they're all good, plan was for me to abort and skedaddle back home. Not even one of them stepping outside for a stroll, so I guess I just gotta carry on, see what's down there, and just... just do a rescue, I guess?"

Pinkie sighed. She hated not knowing what she was walking into.

"So that's the plan for today. It's been a pretty smooth trip, Twilight asked me to keep an eye on the ion accelerators, see how they stand up when they're going full power for days and days, and they're running just fine. She's still not too happy about me being away for so long, she says that when I get back, she wants to overhaul them and cut the trip time down to five days. Yeesh, she needs to slow herself down a bit. And the last I heard, Rarity's sunburn is finally healing up. I told her she needs to be more careful, but I made sure to bring an extra few bottles of pelt lotion when I dropped her off on Wonderbird Five, and she says it's helping."

She thought for a moment. There was one more thing she had wanted to get off her chest. What was it...

"Oh! And Twilight finally managed to talk to Dashie about her little 'outburst' before I left. They went for a hike up to the big cliffs in the East Reserve, just the two of them. She thinks that Dash is feeling a bit stressed and overworked, so she's bringing her shore leave forward a few months. When I get home, I'll be getting a refresher course on piloting Wonderbird One, and Dashie's gonna spend a few weeks in Cloudsdale. Twilight thinks we need a better solution though, a long term one. I asked if there's anypony else who could stand in as backup pilots when need be, and she's gonna reach out to ask Scootaloo once their racing season ends. I think it'll be good for Dashie as well, something about having Scootaloo around really brings out the best in her. Training a young padawan could do her so much good!"

The console trilled and beeped, and Pinkie felt the seat jostle against her as Wonderbird Three tilted. It was a course correction, a brief burst from one of the external manoeuvring engines to keep the rocket on the correct path.

"Blah blah blah, spacey space space, I've got my checks to run before we get there, so I'm signing off. Later, taters!"

Over the next few hours, Pinkie kept herself busy. Even after days of travel through space, she never found time to waste on things like boredom. She ran her diagnostic checks on all the on-board systems, radioed her morning report through to Rarity on Wonderbird Five, had a brief spacewalk to inspect the exterior of the ship, and then finished with a morning run tethered down to her treadmill. Zero gravity made movement and lifting a lot easier, but she had to adhere to a strict exercise routine to avoid suffering from atrophy.

By the time she'd washed herself off post-workout, she found herself back at Wonderbird Three's controls with a few minutes to spare before she needed to carry out the first burn. Marecury was a gleaming celestial jewel, hung in the black void ahead. The polarised windscreen just about managed to dim the brilliant glare of the sun bouncing off the rocky surface. As an added layer of precaution, she had already donned her full uniform, helmet and all. Pinkie's heart raced, and she pulled her seat harness tight.

"Ready to burn retros for insertion orbit... burning in three, two, one..."

A powerful roar filled her ears as she felt herself thrown forward in her seat. Wonderbird Three jolted and juddered, vibrations coursing through the frame of the entire ship, and transmitting the fiery intensity into Pinkie's chair. What a wild ride, this put the Poney Island rollercoaster to shame. Despite the deceleration underway, Marecury grew and grew through the window, The surface became clearer, as indistinguishable masses of grey evolved into rugged craters and long scarry trails carved into the surface. Realising she'd been holding onto a breath, Pinkie let out a loud gasp as she cast her eyes over her gauges and dials. Despite the rocky ride, she was on course. Though forceful and not especially gentle on her tailbone, the descent proceeded without incident. 

She completed both burns to bring Wonderbird Three into a stable orbit, and it was soon after that she caught her first glimpse of the Duskwalker. It stood out against the bleak, rocky terrain. The crawler was built out of three modules, each the size of a city block, painted in neon orange, and shaped like a long, thin triangular prism with rounded edges. Connecting each module were chunky black tubes that no doubt contained pipes, wires and cables wrapped in heavy insulation, as well as airlocked walkways to get between each section. All three modules sat on gigantic caterpillar tracks, ones that must have been several stories tall by themselves. Pinkie had seen the computer renders of Duskwalker, but seeing it for real, she could see it was on another level to anything else that STEED had built before.

Letting Wonderbird Three make one more orbit, Pinkie programmed the computer to plot a course to bring her down to land in close proximity to the crawler. It obliged, calculating a landing just a short distance from the frontmost module. The time spent waiting ticked by at an agonising pace as the rocket floated high above the craggy planet. It took a great deal of patience, and constantly squinted eyes against blinding sunlight, but following the guidance, she waited until she was about halfway around her orbit before she initiated a gentle burn of the retros. In sharp contrast to the violence of the deceleration, the engines purred gently against the vacuum of space. Pinkie's hooves made delicate movements on the controls. Crater shadows on the ground grew longer and longer, until she passed back into the relative shelter of the night-time region. Surface details became larger and clearer, Duskwalker came back into view over the horizon, and with a loud humming noise as Wonderbird Three's landing skids extended, Pinkie settled her rocket down with a gentle poof onto the dusty surface of Marecury.

She clicked switches, pulled levers, and ran through a quick checklist as the whining engines ticked down to silence. For the first time in over a week, there was not a single noise to be heard. As she worked through the list, she couldn't help but be aware of the renewed presence of gravity. Previously she'd been harnessed to her seat to stop herself floating away, but now with Wonderbird Three sat upright on the rocky surface, Pinkie could feel the effect of the gravity pulling her downwards. Or, from her perspective facing up into the black sky, backwards into her seat. When she was satisfied that the checklist was complete and that everything was in order, a flash of adrenaline rushed into her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised she was moments away from setting hoof on an entirely new planet.

"Wonderbird Three calling Duskwalker," she called out on her radio. "This is Wonderbird Three calling Duskwalker. Do you read me? Over."

No reply. 

"'Three to 'Five, do you read me?"

There was a brief pause before her headset crackled to life with Rarity's voice. "This is 'Five reading you loud and clear, 'Three."

Pinkie sighed, her shoulders releasing tension she hadn't been aware she was carrying. "Okay, good. I've successfully landed on the surface of Marecury, about half a kilometre in front of Duskwalker. No response when I'm trying to hail them, so I'm gonna head on over and see if I can't slip in through an airlock."

Another short pause preceded Rarity's reply. "Copy that, 'Three, keep us updated."

Huh. Pinkie frowned at the radio as a thought occurred to her. "Hey 'Five, stand by a sec, I wanna run a latency test." She cleared her throat, and sang. "Come on, everypony..."

Lo and behold, the pause before Rarity's reply of 'smile smile smile' was consistent in length to her previous two messages. 

"Okay 'Five, looks like we've got about an eight second delay on voice comms. I think the radiation from the sun might be causing some interference. It shouldn't be too big a deal, just bear it in mind."

Pinkie's lips silently mouthed numbers one through eight before Rarity's voice sounded a "Copy that, 'Three."

Steeling herself, Pinkie unstrapped herself from her seat, and made the slightly awkward journey from the cockpit to Wonderbird Three's main outer airlock. The adrenaline still danced in her chest. With a hiss and a click, the outer door swung open, and in an instant she felt the temperature plummet. A chill ran over her whole body. Her suit would protect her from the extremities, but at a balmy one hundred and seventy three degrees below zero, she wasn't surprised to feel some of the cold. As the access ladder began to lower itself to the ground, Pinkie couldn't help but take in the view. Though shrouded in darkness, she was awestruck by the dusty canvas of scorched rock, cracked and desiccated by the merciless fury of the sun. Just a short distance away, the hulking mass of Duskwalker seemed comically out of place in the desolate wasteland.

A chiming alarm signalled that the ladder had extended all the way to ground level. Not needing any further invitation, Pinkie began her descent. As she lowered herself down, the difference of gravitational strength between here and home became more apparent. She knew from her studies that Marecury gravity was roughly one third the strength of Equis gravity, but feeling the difference was what really hit home. She didn't feel quite as light as she had on lunar excursions, but it was still a huge difference. Pinkie decided she didn't need to do the ladder one rung at a time. She held the outer support with all four hooves, and let herself slide gracefully down to ground level.

She yelped in surprise as she slid down into a cloud of grey dust. Then she kicked herself, Marecury had no atmosphere and very little gravity. Of course the dust that Wonderbird Three had kicked up during landing was going to just linger in the... Pinkie's gut instinct was to say 'air', but there wasn't any of that here. So her first steps on a new world lost some of their significance as she put greater focus on making her way out of the haze. Her hooves brushed the ashen surface as she walked, every step feeling like she might accidentally push off the ground and float away. She tried some running jumps. And as she sailed forwards in slow bounds, she couldn't help but let out snorts of laughter as she drifted off the ground with ease.

Losing herself in the experience for a short while, she came back around to her senses when she realised she had long since cleared the dust cloud. Heck, she'd closed most of the distance to the Duskwalker. She looked back for a moment, admiring Wonderbird Three. Though the lingering ash obscured most of its lower half, Pinkie couldn't help but swell with pride as she took in its sharp lines and its slender form. Her Wonderbird, a crimson arrowhead that had soared across the cosmos in a little over a week. 

"Jeepers," she muttered, a lump forming in her throat. "I really love this job."

After a few more minutes, Pinkie found herself approaching the caterpillar tracks of the Duskwalker. Her assessment from above had been right, the tracks alone were at least two stories tall. She couldn't begin to imagine how STEED had managed to build this thing. As she got closer, she spotted a small ladder hanging alongside the tracks. Glancing upwards, she could see it rose up to a small platform embedded into the side of Duskwalker's main fuselage. Pinkie grinned when she spotted an access panel, a telltale sign of the presence of an airlock.

"Welp," she said to herself, moments later when she stepped into a gloomy corridor. "At least the power's on. Sorta."

The airlock hissed shut behind her as she took in her surroundings. Emergency power, clearly, judging by the darkness and pulsating red beacons at regular intervals down the corridor. The spinning lights cast an eerie, crimson hue that washed over the industrious corridor. Dark metal walls and flooring that still had a little too much shine to them, a very clear indicator as to exactly how new the laboratory was. Extruding pipes, wires and vents cast erratic shadows in the dancing light, as if phantoms in the walls were struggling to free themselves. And despite the sub polar temperatures outside, it was stuffy and warm inside. Then Pinkie realised how heavy she felt. At least, compared to outside. Experimenting, she jumped up and down on the spot.

"Huh, artificial gravity," she noted. "They didn't mention that in the specifications."

Pinkie checked her wrist-mounted computer. First and foremost, she wanted to confirm the air quality. She'd had ten days of travel to study the Duskwalker's schematics that STEED had provided, and she knew that even in emergency power mode, the oxygenators and the carbon dioxide scrubbers should still be running. The tiny screen built into her suit would be able to give her a yes or no about whether or not it was safe to remove her helmet. Air pressure was fine, oxygen levels stable, carbon dioxide levels were about normal. But for airborne contaminants, the screen was showing an error message. She frowned.

"'Three to base, I'm on board Duskwalker now, I think something's going loopy loo with my suit. Can you see this?" Pinkie said, holding her wrist up level with her helmet camera.

After the irksome pause, Twilight replied. "Yeah we can, 'Three, we're not sure what to make of it either. For now, just proceed onwards and keep your helmet on. It could just be a faulty sensor, but we'd rather play it safe."

"Copy that."

With nothing else for it, she reached up to her helmet to flick on the inbuilt torch, and proceeded down the dark corridor. Owing to the incomprehensible size of the crawler when viewed from outside, and despite all the time she'd had to study the layout of the inside, Pinkie struggled to navigate the labyrinthine sprawl of passages. There was little to differentiate one hallway from another. Dozens of windowless doors led into unseen sections, each one labelled with an identifying code that Pinkie had more or less managed to memorise. Research laboratories, storage rooms, crew quarters, access hatches to engine rooms below. Poking her head into any that she passed, Pinkie only found glimpses of life in the vicinity. Unmade beds in the quarters, still-lit bunsen burners in the labs, half empty boxes of food on the shelves in the storage rooms. 

"Hello!" she called out from time to time. "Is anycreature there? Can anycreature hear me?"

Only one sound seemed to join the unsettling echoes of her hoofsteps on the cold metal floor: a consistent muffled hum that permeated from the level below. The noise became louder whenever she opened a doorway that would lead to a ladder down to maintenance areas. At least some of the engines were still working. After about fifteen minutes of searching, fruitless in the attempt to find any of the Duskwalker's crew, Pinkie decided to check the lower levels.

Her hooves crashed on the grated floor as she dropped onto the raised platform. Spread out before her was a towering expanse of gleaming pipes, colossal turbines, and a network of catwalks that crisscrossed through the heart of the mechanical leviathan. It was too quiet. In an engine room of this size, she'd have expected to be overwhelmed by the deafening thunder of machinery. Instead, only a high pitched whine. This had to be the backup turbines, giving it their all to keep the basic systems going. The main engines loomed below her like titanic monoliths, with colossal pistons sat woefully stationary.

Though her search was for survivors, Pinkie figured she could take the opportunity to have a closer examination of the engine setup. She'd formulated a theory on the journey here, but she needed to confirm it. Now as as good a time as any. One of the backup generators was sat resting against a bulkhead about fifty feet in front of her. As she walked over to it, she noticed the air above it rippling and distorting in the torchlight. She found out why when she got closer. The heat it was producing was incredible. Her suit even sent a warning chime to her earpiece, such was the increase in temperature. Air circulation was a critical system that the backup generators could power, but air conditioning wasn't.

"That's why it's so warm," Pinkie gasped to herself. "These generators are cooking themselves alive just to keep the lights on."

Her worst fears were realised when she reached the diagnostic screen mounted next to the generator. Each module of the Duskwalker had four backup generators, spaced evenly throughout the engine rooms. As she could see on the screen, all twelve generators were flat out, burning themselves up to keep the crawler a habitable environment. They were all constantly at maximum output. Pinkie had hoped that she'd be able to use them to jumpstart the main engines, but they wouldn't be able to produce enough power. Not without cutting off the life support. If there was another way to get the crawler moving again, she'd need time to brainstorm it.

Her ears flicked. "Huh. Hello? Is there anycreature down here?"

She turned around, casting the beam of her flashlight across the catwalks. There'd been a noise, she could have sworn it. Like hoofsteps. Her heartrate accelerated as a distinct pinching sensation spread across her knees. Even over the heavy thrum of the backup generator, a disconcerting stillness settled over the cavernous space. Like a mechanical behemoth pausing to bear witness to whatever lay ahead.

There was a jolt of pale blue as the torchlight flashed around the room. Pinkie turned back to it. There, stood right at the ladder that Pinkie had just descended, stood a pony. A stallion, as far as she could tell. Her eyes picked out the silvery grey mane, the blue coat, and the distinct cutie mark of a toolbox. A name formed in her mind, one she'd obtained from the crew manifest.

"Well hi there!" Pinkie called out, forcing a cheery air to her voice but unable to suppress a quiver. "You must be Steel Wrench, assistant engineer, right? Well, you can call me Three, I'm here with Equestrial Rescue and we're here to help you guys get moving again. It's super great to meet you!"

Steel Wrench didn't reply. He stood there, staring at Pinkie. 

"Uhhhh... you doing okay, buddy?"

His eyes, vacant and hollow, bore into her with cold indifference. His head sat at a slight tilt as he seemed to be considering her presence. A sliver of drool hung from a gawping mouth that drew rattling breaths. Then he stepped forward. His movements were clumsy, uncoordinated, as if he was a giant marionette being pulled along by unseen strings. A gasping moan escaped his mouth as he moved quicker and quicker, fixated on the newcomer.

"Nope, heck to this!" Pinkie yelped, turning tail to run away.

With an other-worldly, guttural howl that echoed through the chamber and sent shivers down Pinkie's spine, Steel Wrench broke into a sprint. The crazed stallion charged in pursuit, his hooves crashing heavily down on the meshed steel floor. Answering cries seemed to call out in reply from somewhere else in the darkness, as if being summoned from the depths of Tartaurus. Pinkie dared a glance back as she ran. With his teeth bared like some wild animal, and foam pouring from the corners of his lips, there was absolutely no sign of the calm, collected and fiercely intelligent mechanic that Pinkie had read up on.

"'Three to base, 'Three to base," she screamed into her headset. "What the heck is this guys problem?!"

For the next eight seconds, Pinkie fought back the urge to shriek every obscenity flowing through her head. She focused on winding her way through the sprawl of raised catwalks, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and Steel Wrench. Despite the initial clumsiness of his movements, the stallion was fast. Very fast. 

"We don't know, 'Three, we don't know! Just get out of there!" Twilight finally replied, an answer that was frustratingly unhelpful.

Sharp corners and precipitous ledges occupied Pinkie's entire mindset. She didn't know what would happen if Steel Wrench caught her, but it couldn't be good. She had to win this battle of agility. The metallic whine of the engine room had transformed into a terrifying opera of adrenaline and frenzy, and she couldn't let herself stumble. More howls emanated through the room, but not just from behind Pinkie: they seemed to be reverberating all around her. The backup generators, the crazed stallion, her heart pounding in her ears. The noises all combined in a nightmarish symphony that urged Pinkie onwards.

But then there he was. Another stallion, emerging from the darkness right in the torchlight right front of her. From the purple coat alone, Pinkie's head produced his name: Star Searcher, captain of the expedition. A brilliant pony, one of the most famed astronauts in Equestrian history. Here he stood, silhouetted in the erratic dancing of Pinkie's flashlight, his body lopsided and convulsing. As Pinkie skidded to a halt, she heard his frenzied gibbers and screeches. His wild eyes settled upon her.

"Oh, crab-apples," Pinkie moaned.

She was cornered. Steel Wrench was only seconds behind her, and Star Searcher had begun to stumble forward to lock her in with a pincer movement. Desperately she looked around, her eyes scanning for something, anything that could get her out of this. The section of catwalk she was on sat was resting against the hull. In the centre of the room, another catwalk dead-ended at a ladder that rose up into an access hatch. No way to get across, there was at least fifty feet of open space between the two platforms. Except, her torchlight flicked across the hulking shadows of the Duskwalker's engines, hiding in the dark.

There wasn't enough time for Pinkie to consider any other options.

With a scream, she leapt over the railing of the catwalk. Her hooves slammed painfully down on the uneven top of the gigantic engines, as behind her, the two mindless stallions careened headfirst into one another. She skidded on the slick, angled top of what she guessed was the manifold, teetering over the dark abyss below. Her heart skipped a beat as she scrambled her hooves to regain balance. Desperately Pinkie pulled herself steady, and lunged forward into the darkness a second time. Her leap of faith paid off, as she found herself prepared for the uneven shape of the next engine block. The platform and the ladder was now just one more jump away.

As Pinkie made her final vault through the void, ending up clung to the side of the catwalk handrails, she heard frustrated grunts from behind her. Loud clanging hoofsteps pierced the air. Steel Wrench and Star Searcher had recovered from the tumble, regained their footing, and were making their way around to intercept her. Pinkie hauled herself over the railing, landing right at the base of the ladder. Gasping for breath, and with a bead of sweat trickling down her muzzle, she grabbed at the rungs with trembling hooves. Frenzied hoofsteps on metal grating drew nearer and nearer as she climbed.

She reached the hatch at the top, and pulled at the locking wheel with all her might. Her blood turned icy cold. It wouldn't budge. Desperation clawed at Pinkie's chest as she screamed, pounding on the hatch with every ounce of strength she could muster. Her relentless pursuers were bearing down on her, barely even a breath away now, their incoherent howls ripping through the surrounding air. Then the hoofsteps stopped. Pinkie looked down. The two stallions stood side by side only ten feet away, their breaths ragged and gargling as foam gushed from their mouths. They were looking up at her. Their eyes were rabid and vacant as before, but something about their expressions had taken on a monstrous glee. Satisfaction, almost. As they had cornered their prey, savouring the last moments before victory.

Pinkie was frozen with terror. She'd fought fires atop skyscrapers. Dove headfirst into a typhoon. Helped bring down a Timberwolf the size of a battleship before it could reach Manehatten. But something about this was worse. These two stallions, mindless and beyond reason, looked like all they wanted to do was tear Pinkie to shreds. And she wasn't sure if she could fight them off. She winced as Star Searcher took a slow, juddering step forward.

Then with a sudden creak, there was light. Gasping as she looked up, she saw the hatch sitting open as a beam of torchlight ripped down through the darkness.

"Aye, dios mio!" shouted a voice from above. "Los caballos estúpida!"

Pinkie yelped as a clawed hand reached down through the hatch, and yanked her upwards. Whoever it was had tremendous strength, as they didn't seem to struggle at all with lifting Pinkie's entire weight up through the hatch. Then she was thrown across the corridor, rolling painfully and landing in a heap against the opposite wall. As what little remaining breath she had was knocked from her lungs, she squinted over at her unexpected saviour as they slammed the hatch closed again.

It was one of the griffons. Her back half, where most griffons were part-lion, was yellow, spotted and ended with long, striped tail. Her bird half was varying shades of dark grey, her beak was stocky and crooked, and she had a line of feathers rolling in a long mohawk that extended from the top of her head to the middle of her back. Around her neck was a white bandana, and a pair of old-fashioned aviator goggles. She was a rare subspecies of griffon, part ocelot and part falcon. Once again, having studied the crew manifest, Pinkie was able to pull a name from the depths of her memory.

"F... F... First Officer... Kamryn?"

The griffon turned. "Sí, caballo. Now come on, we've gotta move. Comprende?"

"Yep, yes ma'am..." Pinkie moaned back. "I comprendo a-okay, just... just gimme a sec."

"No time, ese. Get up," Kamryn insisted, pulling Pinkie to her hooves.

"Wh... what's the heck is going on here?" Pinkie wheezed, her lungs struggling to catch up as she followed Kamryn down the corridor.

"What's happening, caballo, is you rang the dinner bell. Now we gotta get to safety."

As Pinkie was struggling to walk, Kamryn turned back around and threw one of Pinkie's hooves over her shoulders. Then she led Pinkie off at a brisk pace, ditching her own torch in favour of the one on Pinkie's helmet. Though the dark sprawl of hallways was still a bewildering mess to Pinkie's eyes, Kamryn walked hastily but with confidence. Then far ahead of them was something different. A large airlock, with glass windows set into the centre. Pinkie could just about make out further corridors beyond, leading into a large open space. It took her hazy mind a moment to register that this must be the airlock between the Duskwalker's modules. As huge as the lab was, Pinkie had barely even seen one third of it.

"Andele!" Kamryn shouted suddenly, as she glanced backwards. "Más rápido!"

The stumbling pair sped up as Pinkie cast her own look behind them. Another pony, a mare with a pale green coat, had just emerged from a side corridor. Though initially unaware of the presence of Pinkie and Kamryn, the mare's eyes had been drawn their way by the shouting griffon. Pinkie watched for a third time as realisation made way onto an irrational face. Hungry eyes sighted prey. Stumbling hoofsteps grew into a predatory sprint. And once again, Pinkie was a target in the crosshairs.

"Get ready, toro!" yelled Kamryn "We got company!"

They had barely made it halfway to the airlock. In the doorway ahead, illuminated by the occasional flash of red from the beacons, Pinkie saw the hulking mass of a minotaur lean out. He looked from them, to the pony giving chase to them. Realisation dawned on his face as he took up position at the airlock controls. Behind them, the same heavy, rattling breaths sounded from the crazed mare as she bore down on them. As Pinkie and Kamryn inched closer and closer to the airlock, the mare closed the gap by entire meters. Approaching hoofsteps echoed. Kamryn's beak clacked. Pinkie dug deep and drew on her last reserves of strength.

With one final heave, Pinkie and Kamryn hurled themselves through the airlock, apparently at the exact moment as the minotaur closed it. The opposing doors raced at each other as the pony and griffon launched through the air. The doors slammed shut with inches to spare, and the mare in pursuit collided facefirst into the glass cutout. It didn't seem to hurt her. If anything it steeled her resolve. She pounded at the window, gnashing her teeth and foaming wildly. The minotaur could only look on at her with a sombre expression.

"I'm so sorry, Melody," he whispered, his eyes turning glassy.

"Ah don't get your pantalones in a twist, Granite," Kamryn berated as she sat up to her haunches. "We got another mouth to feed here, somehow. No idea where she came from."

As if noticing Pinkie for the first time, Granite's eyes widened. On closer inspection Pinkie noticed he was rather slim by minotaur standards, and a silver grey streak ran through his hair that he wore in quite a dignified manner. "B-bloody hell, that uniform," he gasped. "You... you're with Equestrial Rescue..."

Pinkie rose to unsteady hooves, her breaths coming in shaking heaves. "Y-y-yeah... here to help..."

"Help?!" Kamryn screeched, although it might have been a laugh, Pinkie wasn't sure. "For a rescue agency, the only thing you've done so far is be rescued. Oh, and muy bien on stopping me from getting more food so I could save your trasero. Dios mio..."

With a huff and with a ruffle of her feathers, Kamryn stomped off down the corridor towards the other airlock.

"Sorry mate," Granite said, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's been in a right state ever since all the ponies went crazy."

"Since... since what now?" Pinkie asked, cocking her head. "Please tell me you know what's going on here..."

"Well let's just say it's a good thing you've got that helmet on. Our best guess, we think there's some kind of pathogen going through the air. And it's turned all the ponies into savage, mindless monsters."

"Just the ponies?"

"Just the ponies. We managed to confine them all to the first module, but that means we can't get in there to restart the engines. So... yeah, let's just say tensions are a smidge off the charts right now. Come on, let's find you somewhere to sit down for a bit."

As Pinkie stumbled along next to Granite, a minotaur she recognised as being the head engineer on-board, her mind raced. Airborne pathogens? Crazed ponies? She'd flown here for a straightforward, two-option scenario: fix the crawler, or bring everycreature home. This was way, way worse than she'd prepared for.

"Base from 'Three," she called into her microphone. "We have a pretty bad situation up here."