//------------------------------// // 4: INS Rainbow Dash // Story: Salvage a Better Life // by law abiding pony //------------------------------// Two ponies stood in a warm grand sweeping meadow. Green grass and golden grain reaching up to their knees stretched as far as the eye could see, with gentle rolling hills and a warm sun above. Laying next to the arguing ponies was a two-person lounge cushion that still had a depression from their usage.  All of it was visually realistic at least, but tactical, smell, even the sound of the wind upon the grass was off, artificial.  And it was that way by design, so not to allow those within to forget the scenery was nothing but an illusion of data and circuits. The mare of the two was fuming.  She paced around the stallion, mentally clearing the grass away from her so she could stomp around unimpeded.  She was so incensed that all she could manage was to feverishly grumble lest she turn and berate the hapless stallion.  Yet this effort to spare him her wrath fell apart when he raised a hoof to get a timid word in.  She rounded on him with a growl.  “What were you thinking, Wire?!  You tell me you might have to go dark while salvaging to avoid pirates. I thought ‘fair enough, we don’t have the numbers to escort salvagers anymore’.  But now you’re telling me it was to avoid activating a damned minefield?  Have you seen what a tractor mine can do to a ship your size?” “We did actually. Ah - sort of,” Wire offered sheepishly, which only served to spike Winter’s astonishment.  “Wiggly’s a bit insane sometimes, but madness and genius are two hooves on the same pony.” “Well apparently the two of you chopped off the hooves of common sense and rationality!”  Crying out in exasperation, Winter Gale went back to the cushion and heavily sat down.  “I told you flying a ship with no name was bad luck, but did you listen to me?  Nooo, ‘I’ll just name it when I get a transponder’. As if lady luck cares about that.” “Okay, you got me there.” “You really need to be able to put your hoof down whenever Sprocket loses her mind.” “I got some concessions out of it,” Wire replied with careful defensiveness. “Granted the whole affair was - egh - risky, but it worked out handsomely believe you me.” Leveling a flat glare at him, Winter huffed. “It worked out?” She started with sarcastic disbelief. “And just how close did it come to ending horribly?  You need to take fewer risks.” Live Wire matched her flat glare with one of his own. “Winter, my snow lily, love of my life,” he punctuated by blowing a sardonic kiss. “All this talk about risk is rich coming from the mare piloting an oversized engine whose job is to actively go after pirates.” “‘Love of your life’,” Winter pouted while chewing her cheek. “You wouldn’t go through a minefield for me would you?” “That-” he paused, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone and question. He sighed, briefly not knowing how to even respond. “Is besides the point.” Winter pulled away to stare at him in the eyes. “Please tell me you wouldn’t go after me.” Blinking in utter confusion, Wire opened and closed his mouth trying to decide how to proceed. “Wwwhy?” “Because then I’d at least know you have more than two brain cells to rub together.”  She looked away, her mood sinking fast. “Wire… The last three stallions I was with died in or because of the war.”  Closing her eyes, she did not shy away when he rested a hoof on her withers.  “I want to know my coltfriend is safe.” Quirking a side grin, Wire sat down and wrapped a leg around her into a warm embrace. “Given the explosion last month, I wasn’t safe even with a desk job.” The attempt at humor didn’t land. Winter pulled out of the hug and shuffled around so she could face him and hold Wire’s hooves in her own. “Wire. I - can you be honest with me?” “Of course,” he replied readily. “I haven’t broken any laws yet. To the best of my knowledge anyway,” he lied carefully, hoping he could still play ignorant about the missiles. Still unwilling to be baited by his humor, Winter closes her eyes tight to think. Why are you dating me instead of Sprocket?  She couldn’t bring herself to give voice to that question. She had known Live Wire for almost a year, and the best answer she ever got was ‘Sprocket’s my sister’.  I know she’s not your flesh and blood, so why? “Winter?” Opening her eyes, the bat pony sighed in defeat. “Sorry. I just worry about you.” “Well I’m safe now.  Or at least I will be once we come visit you.”  Wire magically pulled Winter over and gave her a crushing hug.  Snorting dismissively, Winter sank into his embrace and hugged him back. He wasn’t like the hotshots she had dated before. They had all died in the war, and she shied away from repeating that heartbreak again. It helped that he was a better hugger than any of them had been. Tears fell from her real face, but she willed them away here in cyberspace more out of habit during briefings and joining up with distant colleagues. “You don’t feel safe on Trireme?” she asked, worrying about him even harder now.  “Not so much that, but more like we want to rendezvous with the Rainbow Dash before we go back.” “Here?!” She pulled back to gauge his face, and her anxiety spiked upon seeing how serious it was. “Wire, my captain will never allow that.  We have to stay on the move and remain agile. If we get ambushed we won’t last long.” “Yeah, but I also know the Navy’s wallet is getting stretched too thin as it is. What do you think your captain would prefer? Trading parts directly from us, or letting Trireme take a cut?” Nervously biting a hoof, Winter Gale pondered over the idea. “Did you at least find a transponder like you wanted?” “We did, but we need a Navy license to activate it.” Ah, so that’s his angle. “Plus it’s a good excuse to come see you. We got some prime rib steaks still on the bone from the officers’ mess.  Just ignore the freezer burn.” Winter’s eyes expanded with predatory hunger. “You what?!”  She instinctively looked around, sudden paranoia if any of her fellows hacked into her lobby to listen in. “Okay, I will do what I can to convince the captain to let you over. You made a cargo list right?” “I’m glad you asked.  See, I have a good feeling Wiggly and I are about to come into a lot of bits.  Even with the Navy discount.”  He waved a hoof and a glowing blue envelope materialized in front of Winter. Still dubious, Winter made to grab the envelope in a hoof only for a translucent red box to surround it.  “Gah.  The ship’s got to scan it first.”  Soon enough the box winked green before vanishing.  Now that she could, Winter snatched up the envelope and it disappeared into her internal storage. It proved to be a ledger of the freighter’s cargo. She saw it as an old style blue book with white paper. Instead of turning the page, she simply waved a mental hoof to scroll the text. She grew distracted for only a moment due to the item on the top of the list. “Three thousand idents?!”  Winter jerked herself out of the file to stare at him in disbelief. “You took that many?!” “Recovered,” he clarified with a raised hoof. “We recovered that many.”  Wire flashed a proud grin. “I figured the Navy would want them before any Trireme hooves touched them.” She refocused on the ledger with another surprise waiting for her. “You recovered the high admiral?!” She covered her mouth with a hoof. “No way.  You’re joking.” “Not about something like that.”  Wire’s stern expression brooked no argument. “Didn’t realize who we had at first. The other bodies will have to wait, but I suspect the Hero of Shattered Sword shouldn’t be left behind without the proper respects Wiggly and I are ill suited to offer.” Winter stood up, holding the ledger close. She produced a compass to float between them. “Here’s our coordinates. I think the captain will forgive this breach to claim the body.  How soon can you reach us?” Taking the compass, Wire thought it over, and was helped by his implants. “Ten days hard burn.” Winter nodded, mulling it over. “Our flight path should still put us in sensor range of you by then. I’ll let the captain know to expect you.”   In her haste to share the news, Wire tugged her into a hug.  “Hey now, you’re forgetting something.”  He gave her a light peck on the lips. Giggling, and forgetting the news for a moment, Winter Gale pulled him in for a longer, loving kiss.  They fell back onto the cushion, falling deeper into each other.  With no need to breathe here, they remained locked together.  They tumbled off the cushion as they explored one another, causing Winter to break first.  “You know, the captain can wait another hour or so.” Not too long after, Winter Gale was holding onto a wall conveyor on her way to the captain. In this living warship, the halls were lined with mag-railed conveyors allowing personnel to travel rapidly while the center was reserved for any cargo movement. She kept one hoof on the conveyor and tried to keep her crisp uniform smart and proper. She didn’t know the captain well, so she wanted to make a good impression.  The Central Information Center was coming up quickly, where a single earth marine stood guard. In front of sensitive areas like this, a scanner checked everyone who approached. She let go of the conveyor and used her leathery wings to slow down.  Upon arrival, she dutifully stepped through the scanner much like she did for the launch bay. Unlike there however, the marine held out a hoof. “Hold up, fly girl. You don’t have business here.” “I need to see the captain, Corporeal.  It’s important.” “Did you make an appointment?” He remained calm, but resolute. Squaring herself up, Winter tried to project a resolute posture.  “No, I just found out about an important resupply fifteen minutes ago.  But the captain will need to approve it first, and I’m worried if I go through the proper channels he’ll ignore my request given I’m a pilot and not a logistics officer.  And that could end up with the freighter getting blown out of the stars.” Fixing her with a steady gaze of suspicion and disbelief, the marine checked Winter over in search of any weapons. A pilot’s uniform was as skin tight as fur allowed, but it had multiple pockets that could hold any number of things. “Hold still.”  With a mental command, the scanner switched from simply scanning her ident to a more thorough search.  When she came back clean without so much as lint in her pockets, he popped in a plastic toothpick to chew on. A new marine popped in from a door beside the scanner while the earth pony waved her inside. “This way.”  He sent a warning to the captain as well. “Thank you, Corporal.”  She waited for the earth marine to take the lead as followed after him. The CIC was cramped, so much so that hoofholds were all that was needed to move around. The room itself was triangular, much like the ship itself, with a point directed to the bow. Three stations lined the two angled sides each with the helm at the fore. Two more stations sat on either side of the entrance. The captain and executive officer’s chairs were close to the helm while a holographic map filled the remaining space between those chairs and the entrance.  Everything was well lit and manned. Presently, the captain and his executive officer were hovering around the map. Winter instantly recognized it as future deployment plans for her air wing.  The captain was the first to look away from the map to fixate on the intruding pilot. “Ahh, First Lieutenant Winter Gale.  Here to comment on your next deployment?” he offered with a curt, yet friendly disposition. The unicorn captain was young for his rank, barely halfway past his thirties. Yet he both distinguished himself and survived his immediate superiors, so the promotion stuck. He kept his bridge as spotless as his uniform, crisp and ready for inspection.  In spite of his age, Winter Gale was enamored with him as a hero in his own right. If anyone did the name Rainbow Dash justice it was Captain Howling Tempest. “No, Sir!” She saluted sharply after approaching him. “I received word of a salvager wishing to offer us a resupply directly.” He returned the gesture just as sharply.  “Is that so?”  He mentally dismissed the plans drawn up on the map.  He glanced at his comms officer, who only shrugged.  “How did you come about this?” So far so good.  Winter did her best to keep the nervous thread in her voice from surfacing.  “I recently got in contact with them, and they’re carrying cargo that I don’t think either one of us wants passing through Trireme.” Arching a curious eyebrow and glancing back at his executive officer, Tempest rolled his neck. “Alright, I’m listening. What is it? They found an intact bomber?” “No sir, they…” Winter grew a bit nervous. “They managed to break into Sword Fall and poke around inside the old flagship.” “They what?!” Tempest nearly yelled, suddenly silencing the CIC as everyone focused on what could cause the captain distress.  He cleared his throat and made a conscious effort to keep a poised exterior as was expected of a naval officer.  “Aye sir, they got into Sword Fall and recovered a small freighter’s worth of parts and equipment.  I’ve already run the list by the quartermaster, and he’s made annotations on what is in desperate supply.  But the biggest thing they found were a few thousand idents, and… High Admiral Gleaming Light’s body.” A chorus of gasps surrounded the CIC, and Howling Tempest who looked as if he had been struck in the face.  “The-?!  I wasn’t notified anypony would be salvaging within our patrol areas.”  He briefly wondered how she was contacted by them and not his comms officer.  “Did this mystery freighter of yours send their ident code?” Winter grew nervous even though she expected this reaction, the pilot tried to keep calm. “I know who they are, but they have no naval code.”   “No code?”  He closed in on her. “Are you telling me some no-pony salvagers managed to canter right into a minefield and did as they pleased?  Did they mention how?” “No sir.” Heavily rubbing his jaw, Tempest grumbled irritably. “How can they be sure it was Gleaming Light?” “They sent me a ledger, his ident number, and complete with multiple pictures of the body. They’re transporting him with what care they’re capable of, sir.” “They’d better be!” He flashed with fuming anger. “The last thing they need is mishandling the high admiral’s body.  That aside, if they could break into a minefield, so can the pirates.”  He despised making a scene in front of his crew, and upon realizing he was doing just that made him even more irate.  So he stopped himself and took a long breath.  “All of you, not a word of this leaves the CIC, am I clear?”  After a full round of acknowledgments, he jabbed a wing to a door. “In my office, now.” Howling Tempest gestured for his second to remain in the CIC as he moved through a door at the starboard corner of the room. Beyond was more of a conference room than an office as the stallion rarely used it, preferring to work in the CIC itself. He pulled himself over to the front of the tight room, and left Winter at the entrance. “How do you know these salvagers?” “The pilot’s my coltfriend. The only other crew member is his sister.  Both are civilians from Trireme.” “Where are they now?” “They’re just leaving sector J12, sir.”  Winter was nervously sweating bad enough to stain her flight suit.  She had hoped the news would elate Tempest, and his aggressive mood was entirely unexpected. “I told them our position was in G7, and they’ll be there in ten days.”  In actuality, that was four sectors off, but still well within intercept range should Tempest so choose. Tempest watched Winter closely, debating on how loyal she was to this alleged coltfriend over her ship. “Do you vouch for them?” Winter answered without hesitation or doubt.  “Completely sir.  The navy pulled both of them out of escape pods after the Sundering of Trireme. They see us all as heroes, Captain.” Not quick to let his ego be played up, Tempest held firm.  “Winter Gale, just as many ponies see us as failures for allowing the centauri to destroy as much as they did.  The populace only see Gleaming Light as a hero because he was the best of us and died a hero’s death. Not by his character or sense of honor. By Terra if I was half the commander he was, we wouldn’t have a pirate issue.” “I’d like to think he’d approve of you, sir.” Tempest wasn’t about to let flattery lower his guard. “Give me the pictures of the body.” She offered up the whole ledger which pinged him for acceptance. “Yes sir. They’re included in the back of the ledger.” Wary of any viruses, Howling Tempest had the ship AI run multiple deep scans of the document before accepting it.  He mulled over it repeatedly.  “I see. Very well, we’ll meet them at G7.  Do you have the transponder code they’re using?” “About that…” Aboard the sibling’s freighter, Wire was allowing the freighter to drift as he watched the sensors for the Rainbow Dash. A virtual hoof hovered over the command to activate the long range radio.  Sprocket was leaning over his shoulder gnawing on a stick of jerky, and watching the empty view outside. G7 was completely empty space, making any sort of ambush difficult at best. “Anything?” “Oh yeah, I see a big return on the limits of my sensors, and a bunch of smaller ones on the way over.  In fact…” He flicked a mental switch to allow the radio to play over the speakers.  “Unidentified vessel, activate your transponder immediately,” came a stern voice that promised a swift death if the command was ignored.  Live Wire got a bit nervous and spoke both aloud for Wiggly’s sake, and mentally over the radio. “Ours doesn’t work, but I was given a clearance code. Transmitting it now.” There was a prolonged pause until the same voice came back. “Acknowledged. Come to a halt and prepare for inspection.” Exhaling sharply, Wire tried to keep calm. “Alrighty. Let’s hope the Navy’s feeling generous.” “It’ll be fine.  I’m sure they just need to make sure we’re not pirates, and then we’ll all be fast friends thanks to all the cargo we can sell them.”  Wiggly squirmed her way back into the hallway wearing a massive smile. “This is awesome, broham, all those years of the Navy watching our backs, and we get to give a little back.” Wire turned his head back to watch her sonder off to the airlock.  “Just don’t expect them to kiss your moldy hooves if you offer up some chocolates and a good time. The Navy’s the one place ponies still regularly get that sort of thing.” “Booo, who’s going to get the smell out of them then?  Your lazy tail is why they stink in the first place.”  Wiggly swung by her quarters and grabbed some smart glasses off the charger. She had picked them up from the graveyard, and they weren’t the worst model on the market. Most smart glasses offered crisp augmented reality, but these were fuzzier and indistinct if you paid too much attention.  With some effort and mistaken commands, Sprocket managed to peer out of the freighter’s sensors and see a small marine shuttle closing in on the port side where the only airlock they had resided.  Upon arrival, she made sure the space suit locker was closed right. I’d rather not have them think we pulled these straight off a corpse. Now that I think about it, we probably should get rid of the navy markings on these. Resolving to remember to do that later, Sprocket waited with eager anticipation as the shuttle arrived and the air locks connected. Once the lights turned green, she slapped the button.  The airlock cycled open to reveal a stern faced lieutenant marine backed by two more. A few others were in the rear, but she couldn’t make them out. “Welcome aboard, good sirs.” The officer stepped up to the mare. “Citizen Wiggly Sprocket?” “That’s me.” He inspected her closely for weapons before moving his gaze to the ship at large.  Both the airlock and the rear ramp led straight into the cargo bay. “Before you can be allowed near the Rainbow Dash, we must inspect your vessel for any undeclared personnel. Direct me or my team to any explosives you are carrying as well.” “It’s just me and my brother in the cockpit. All of our explosives are on the gangly looking containers welded to the outside hull. We are carrying the body in the freezer though.” The marines behind the officer shared bewildered looks while the officer mentally assessed the mare as a higher potential threat, but decided to remain a firm guest. “The body?  Dare I ask who it is?” “Youuu haven’t been told?”  Wiggly eyed the marines for any hint of a clue.  “Uh huh.”  She coughed to clear her throat.  She placed a hoof to her ear. Instinctively nodding, Wire was wondering just how much he should say. Seeing how the marines were getting impatient, Sprocket backed out of the way and dipped her head and wings placatingly. “All in good time I guess.  We’ll fully comply with your inspection. Which do you want to see first?” The inspection team did not share the lieutenant's manners. They were absolutely thorough, going so far as to pull Sprocket’s drawers off the wall to inspect the wall behind them whenever the scanners could not give a clear enough picture. Multiple boxes were opened and the contents roughly moved about as the marines checked everything with both eyes and scanners alike. Not even the snack drawer was safe.  When at last the lieutenant was brought to the freezer, Sprocket’s feathers would have been utterly ruffled if she had any. “Lieutenant, was it really necessary to break the stove trying to get behind it?” The earth pony was mildly irritated that he had to be the verbal punching bag the whole time, and his patience was thinning at her constant nagging for the last two hours. “Miss Sprocket, you’re carrying thirty eight class four missiles and torpedoes.  The chances of you being pirate saboteurs must be ruled out.  This is all precautionary.” “I’d buy that if one of your goons hadn’t nosed around my sock drawer.”  Sprocket was completely done with the inspection team, and the hapless junior officer would get no mercy from her.  “I would like to think most mares don’t keep a bottle of pear food flavoring in their drawers either.  Now, the body?” Wire chimed in with vengeful glee.  She Grumbled fiercely at the officer’s unrepentant attitude, and her stash of pear flavoring being outed.  Wiggly unlatched the freezer and dragged the heavy door open. It was a small part of the cargo hold, still making it quite sizable for its purpose of only servicing the needs of two ponies.  Tied down in the middle of the freezer was a metal box that was too big to be a coffin, yet it’s location made it too conspicuous as to what it was. “I take it your superior still hasn’t told you who we’re carrying?” Letting a slight scowl marr his lips, the officer claimed the scanner from a nearby marine and pressed forward. “I was informed to verify the identity, not the who of it.”  Turning away from her, he kept from opening it in the off chance it was a bomb. As the readings were fed into the officer’s cybernetic HUD, his eyes widened completely open.  The reading was clear, the body was a pegacorn stallion, and buried in the right front hoof was the admiral’s second ident. “You-?!”  He shut the scanner off and gazed at the pegacorn with utter shock. “You have the…”  He forced his mouth shut upon remembering his cohorts were close by. “What is it, LT?” asked the marine from behind Wiggly.  He was ignored as the officer contacted the Rainbow Dash. A short bit later, he addressed the marine. “Inspection’s over. Clear out and return to the Dash without me.  I am to remain here until this vessel docks with the RD.” The other marine shared a questioning look between his superior and Wiggly. He desperately wanted to know, but he had been in the service long enough to know when he didn’t need to know. “Understood, sir.” “Very good.”  The lieutenant waited for him to leave for the airlock before facing Wiggly. “Inform your pilot they are to permit the flight operations officer remote control as soon as my boarding shuttle departs.” This was feeling increasingly like a mistake, but Wiggly was in too deep to back out now. “Sure, I’ll let him know.  Are you - uhh - just going to float there?” The officer was still in shock at such a find, and resorted to moving on autopilot. So he didn’t have the wits to soften his tone. “Gleaming Light must be escorted until he is laid to rest. I - I’m sure the captain will have more formal words for you, but… thank you.” I’d prefer a new pear flavor spray can at this point. Wiggly looked around with bemusement.  “I get the sentiment there, buddy, but I think the admiral would understand you doing that outside of the freezer.” His inexperience in such situations bled through the young officer’s attempt to remain in charge.  He looked at her, the impromptu coffin, and then to the steady flow of steam from the door.  “I-um, I think that’s for the best.” Leaving the freezer behind, Wiggly arrived at the cockpit to find Live Wire had already let the carrier take over their ship. The two were largely silent after idle greetings. As the Rainbow Dash came into view, the siblings drank in the rugged majesty of the warship.  As was tradition for every vessel to bear the name, the Rainbow Dash was painted sky blue and white instead of the more traditional colors. The escort carrier was more or less a tiered wedge in space.   The armored center line bore one cruiser sized pulsed laser triple turret on the dorsal side with an equally sized missile launcher behind it.  The edges of the wedge’s points bore defense turrets that had to be cannibalized from other ships. The launch bay was buried into the forward starboard quarter of the ship. Presently, an armored flap was open, allowing flight operations. Sensor masts were concentrated just forward of the hangar opening and in a larger sensor package sitting above the engineering section. Directional shield emitters created open points in the armor concentrated mostly amidships along the port side.  Proudly displayed along the starboard side of the bow with a floodlight illuminating it was the ship’s name. She was the last deployable warship of decent size left in the system, and she was stunning to the siblings. Sprocket plastered her face into the canopy, leaving a smear. “What I wouldn’t do to be chief engineer on that beautiful lady.” “Hey now,” Wire warned while gently rubbing the console. “There’s no reason to besmirch our little lady like that just because she hasn’t got a name yet.”  Wiggly rolled her eyes while Live Wire kissed the closest piece of the freighter. “That’s right, girl, I won’t let that idiot talk bad about you.  Once we get your transponder working you’ll get a great name.”  Sprocket let off an annoyed huff.  “A wonderful name.” She eyed him with a scowl. “A better name than she concocted, I promise.” “Pah, the list I gave you had some seriously good ones.” Pushing his need to tease his sister, Wire waggled his head.  “I suppose a few were decent enough.”  Mentally pulling up the list, there were multiple ones that were clearly jokes. Stripped Wire, crass even for her.  Outlaw Star, sounds like it would invite trouble.  The Long Shot, sounds kinda accurate, but feels a little defeatist.  The Cloud Jumper. “Cloud Jumper… What brought that up?”  The name sounded haunting familiar, but Wire couldn’t place it. “I don’t know…” Wiggly Sprocket fell silent as she tried to put her feelings into words.  “The words kinda just - they pull on me.  Like how you being my sunshine just feels right.”  She looked away to some far off star.  She knew what a cloud was of course, but Trireme only had facsimiles of them, and she had never set hoof on a planet before.  So she only knew of them from movies and vid-novels.  And yet, deep down, she felt a connection.  “Please, let’s use that one.” With one ear flat and a wiry grin, Live Wire snorted a bit of a laugh.  “Well if you’re that dead set on it then sure.  Cloud Jumper it is.”   Tittering off a short laugh, Sprocket hugged her brother tightly.  “Thanks, broham.” The freighter proved to just barely fit the mid-deployment resupply airlock which was able to wrap itself around and seal against the rear loading ramp.  With the freighter on standby, both siblings stood at the loading ramp as it opened wide. The flexible tube was wide enough for whole pallets of supplies to be moved with ease. Floating in from the escort carrier was none other than Captain Howling Tempest in his best dress uniform. A pair of honor guard marines escorted him. The resplendent sight of them stilled any sort of light mirth the siblings possessed. Surprisingly, not one other crew member was behind them. He surveyed the impressively well organized cargo bay before him. At least if he ignored the obvious signs of an inspection that went a little too drastic.  His gaze quickly found its way to the owners of the freighter, who he found the mare of the two trying to hide her irritation behind a respectful mask. “Forgive my inspection team. One has to be extremely cautious these days.  I am Captain Howling Tempest, at your service.” Bowing respectfully, Live Wire was the first to speak. “Name’s Live Wire, sir, out of Trireme. I’m the skipper.” “Wiggly Sprocket, same place.  I’m the engineer and quartermaster here.” That explains the irritation. “I understand you are escorting the fallen admiral.” “Yes sir,” Wiggly offered quickly.  “This way, please.” Guiding them through the once well organized cargo bay to the forward ventral corner where the freezer was. The lieutenant saw them coming and saluted nervously as the situation was well beyond his pay grade. “At ease, lieutenant.  You’re dismissed.” The stallion hesitated, unwilling to leave his charge. “Y-yes, sir.” The junior officer’s departure gave the captain a long moment to stare at the freezer door with muffled derision. Ultimately, he decided not to comment on it and waved Live Wire forward. “If you please.” Leading the way, Wire and Sprocket stepped inside and flanked the makeshift coffin. His manners were certainly strained at seeing a crate for coffee serving as the casket. “I - I realize you most likely had no access or reason to have a proper coffin on hoof, but wrapping Gleaming Light in a flag would have been sufficient.” Sprocket wrung her hooves and mumbled with an unsure tone. “We wrapped him up in the most intact flag we could find and a bed sheet, but captain, we thought this was still better. He…” Live Wire followed up where Wiggly went quiet. “He took a huge amount of shrapnel all over the front of him. I’m no doctor, but it looked like he lived long enough for the void to finish him. We thought you’d prefer to clean him up before the cameras started rolling.” Giving a contemplative hum, Tempest recalled the pictures given to him by Winter Gale.  I’d still prefer to see him with my own eyes.  He looked to the honor guard. “Let’s see him.” Both marines stepped up with the siblings making way. They quickly found the latches and popped them open. Within was a body wrapped and completely obscured by green fabric with a tattered and slightly burnt Initiative flag draped on top. The silver and gold flag with the silhouettes of three ancient heroes never looked so somber.   The thin layer of ice powdered and cracked as the marines pulled the flag and fabric off the body’s face. Both they and Tempest were both saddened and appalled by the sight. It was indeed the admiral, but his face was deformed by large pieces of metal and the decompression of the void. His once purple fur was caked in frozen blood.  Tempest nodded to the marines and they returned the fabric and flag. He gestured for the two civilians to join him outside of the freezer while the two honor guards took the body away. He remained silent for a moment as the gravity of the situation took its toll on him in a way the prolonged deployment couldn’t do. “You have done the Initiative a great service. I’ll admit it is embarrassing that the Navy did not have a chance to recover the body ourselves, but you have my deepest gratitude.” The siblings shared a quizzical look with Sprocket giving voice to their thoughts. “I mean no disrespect, sir, but why didn’t you?” If there was offense to be taken, Howling Tempest was not one to take it. He paused for a long moment, an explanation was the least he could.  He studied the siblings’ faces. “I suppose you two would’ve been too young to pay attention at the time. If I had to blame any one thing it’s be complacency. From the beginning, the Ruby Navy made it a point to raid our logistics. Naturally we took the necessary precautions during the war, but once the civilian government of the Ruby Alliance capitulated, we grew complacent in our victory.  “We had sent our surviving logistic ships out en mass, against my advice, to salvage parts for Faraway station’s restoration. As if to spite us, the Ruby Navy set upon these ships with wild abandon, naming themselves as privateers. With only token escorts, the manticore’s share of our logistics vessels were annihilated. We made them pay for it naturally, but the damage was done.” He shook his head, unwilling to dwell on it further. “But enough of that. How many people know you reclaimed the body?” “Aside from that lieutenant you sent over, only your pilot Winter Gale.  Full disclosure sir, she’s my marefriend too.” “So I’ve been told. I thank you for your discretion regarding the high admiral, as I must ask you to keep this quiet even longer. We will indeed be ‘cleaning’ him up before an announcement is made. It will not do to have his visage immortalized like this.  But we can’t do that here, so we will have to wait until we return to Felscia Shipyard.  “As for the rest of your cargo, I will have my quartermaster discuss such matters with you within the hour. As payment for your service, will have your transponder activated and I grant you special permission to salvage whatever miltech can acquire provided you deliver it to me or to Felscia Shipyard.  If there is anything else you need within reason, bring the matter up with my quartermaster.” “It was an honor to deliver the admiral to you, captain.”  Wiggly Sprocket was both elated by Tempest’s accolades and morose over their somber duty. “I only wish we could have done more than the indignity of his impromptu coffin.” “You did what you could, and that was enough. I wish we could offer you a prolonged stay as guests of honor, but every second we remain docked to each other is another moment of weakness the Centauri could exploit.”  Howling Tempest dipped his head in respect to them. “That being said, there is one point of contention that I can not leave unaddressed.”  His face grew dark.  “How did you defeat the minefield?” Giving each other a troubled look, Wiggly spoke up.  “Sir, I ah - I would like to tell you, but I’m afraid if we do, you’ll patch it, and then we can’t go back.” Exhaling slowly, Howling Tempest allowed himself to show thinly restrained hostility.  “You’ve done the Navy a great service today, but I must insist.  Once word of this gets out, others will look to you to repeat your exploit.” “Can’t we just say we had a navy access code?”  Live Wire offered. “I can grant you a code, but I need to know how you got in first.” When Live Wire looked to his sister, she flinched under both sets of eyes.  “Okay, okay!  I found out how to spoof their IFF frequency using the running lights.  Since light is light, it doesn’t matter if we have mounted comms lasers or not.” That only made Howling Tempest even more distressed.  “And how did you learn how to do that?” Sprocket started nervously playing with her long mane.  “Well, I was a shipbreaker for years, and I - I um, may or may not have jailbroke my scanner and when we were given mines to deconstruct I maybe sort of kinda took a little peek into the mine’s code.” Every ounce of Howling Tempest wanted to throw the mare into the brig right then and there.  “You played a very dangerous and illegal game.  Fortunately for you, the need to make an example of you does not outweigh our need for salvagers.  You will have your code to reenter the minefields, one that will destroy itself should you ever be boarded or lose power. Forward your method to my quartermaster when you speak to him, and as far as anypony else is concerned, you had this code all along, understand?” he ended with sheer iron. It was more than enough to cow the siblings into hastily bowing their heads.  “Yes, sir, I’ll have it all ready for him in an hour!” “Good, the Navy once again thanks you for your cooperation.  I look forward to your next rendezvous.” Yet before he could leave, Wire spoke out. “Captain. My sister can handle the trades. And since the whole matter with the mines is behind us, may I come aboard and visit Winter Gale?  Or she could be given leave to visit me?” “While you may have toured the pride of the fleet, I would rather you not poke around inside my ship.”  Howling Tempest eyed Wiggly Sprocket intensely as he spoke.  Slowly though, a cheeky grin spread over his muzzle as he refocused on Wire. “I’ll let her know she is free to board your vessel until the transfer of supplies is complete. Good day.”  Tipping his hat, Tempest made for the exit.  Once out of earshot, Sprocket rounded on her brother. “You putz!  Not only did I nearly have a heart attack just now, but you put all the work on me while you and Winter stink up the place?  You could at least help me fix the cargo up before you disappear.” Wire used a hoof to tousle her hair, only to make Sprocket pull back and bite the air as a half playful warning. “Tell you what, my little sunshine, when you get a coltfriend, you can dump the work on me one day.” Giving a sisterly unholy scowl for the ages, Sprocket shoved her muzzle into his.  “You’re the worst.” “Love you too, kisses.”  He faked trying to kiss her muzzle, only to make Sprocket jump back in disgust.   “Just you wait until I find more pears!” In spite of the blackout Howling Tempest put on news surrounding the fallen high admiral, word still got out. Within days, rumors that the Rainbow Dash was carrying the body spread across the whole system. News this big traveled from the star to the outer planets in record time, and arrived at the pirate stronghold within a week.  Built into a large moon, the hidden pirate lair was a haven for the corsairs that ruled the midnight sea past the inner asteroid belt. It would be hard to spot the base from above the moon, as it was all buried into the crust.  The facility dated back to the first days of colonization and had survived the war intact,  It was filled with vast stores of food and supplies, both produced and stolen alike. Fast corvettes modified to carry short ranged fighters, three frigates, multiple small freighters, and a lone destroyer were docked within an enclosed hangar.  Almost every species from Equiss was present under the surface, ranging from traitorous ponies to drakes, kirin, griffins, yaks, and to the undisputed masters of the lunar domain: the centauri.  Nearly a decade after losing contact with the wider Ruby Alliance, the once proud military base had lost almost all sense of civilized discipline. The lines between the base itself and the surrounding civilian structures had blurred completely.  Out along the surface near the docks were a number of bars and saloons. The small domes had not survived wartime bombardment, and post war reconstruction barely made them airtight again.   Now there was a simple hierarchy. Captains were untouchable, trusted and successful officers came next, followed by the crews and civilians, with slaves far at the bottom. Presiding over it all was the Commodore, ruler of the base itself. The Slit Neck pirate gang was the lowest of the low. They were unwanted in other crews, and had to regularly replenish their ranks with slaves because no one else could be hired. The captain was rarely afforded any manner of respect befitting his station.   Here, in the Blackhole Bar, Captain Thaddeus drank away what remained of his coin in miserable remembrance of his glory days. He was a runt of a centauri.  Where his race normally towered over any pony save a fully grown alicorn, he was a head and shoulder shorter than that having grown up on a high gravity world. In his hay day, that mattered little in space.  Now it was just one more avenue of mockery.  Thaddeus was face down on the bar, a half-drunk bottle of moonshine sat close by. His graying red hair spilled around him. He no longer bothered with a glass. “I used to be an admiral,” he muttered to nobody. “I was the grand admiral that broke the ponies’ backs!” He slammed his fist on the bar and leveled a scathing glare at any of the patrons who might be unfortunate enough to meet his gaze. Blackhole was an unpopular dive already, and none of the regulars wanted to have his fury directed at them. “I killed the damn high admiral!” He slammed the bottle away, causing the metal thing to bounce and spill. “I see your stares,” he growled, still searching for a hapless victim. “I hear your mockery!” “Captain!” Barked the griffin bartender. “Either sit down or clear off.”   Thaddeus lifted a warning finger, but even in his drunken state, he did not challenge the bartender in his own bar. No one did. Instead, Thaddeus wobbled his head around, looking for his bottle of rot gut. It had rolled out behind a familiar female drake.  The black scaled reptile with sharp emerald eyes was dressed in a threadbare Centauri naval uniform she had carefully maintained.  Hard times and no possible resupply had nearly degenerated it into rags.  “Captain, may I have a word with you?” “Ahhh, Commander, there you are. Come, come have a drink with me.” “Felin,” the bartender called out while wiping down the bar. It may be a miserable dive, but the proprietor was at least going to keep the bar itself clean. “He’s had his last for the night. Drag him off woulda?” “I need him sobered up anyway.”  If Fein was bothered by her captain’s drunken state, she made no show of it.  Thaddeus waved her off like the plague. “Oh no. Don’t you dare!”  He lost his footing and fell to the floor and vomited.  The half decent gravity offered by the moon made the refuse stick to the ground.  Now that he couldn’t offer resistance, Felin circled around him. She grabbed Thaddeus by the rear hooves and dragged him out to the exit. “See you next time, bar keep.” “Next time he better pay his tab!” He shouted back as the doors closed. “With interest!” Once out onto the dirty street, the drake withdrew a syringe from a pocket and jabbed it into the centauri’s arm.  “Ah damn you, Felin.”  Thaddeus curled in on himself as the medication burned his veins as it broke down the alcohol and shocked his blood with more oxygen. After a few more minutes and two vomits later, the now mostly sober disgraced officer looked up at his first mate with seething anger. “What could possibly justify ruining my buzz, Felin.”  He spat to get the foul taste out of his mouth.  “Sir, you and I both know that was far beyond a ‘buzz’.  If I left you in there any longer you’d have started drinking our fuel money.” Still a bit wobbly, Thaddeus used the wall to climb to his hooves. “You’re the only one who still calls me ‘sir’.  I lost even that honor a long time ago.” “Yes, well, there may be an opportunity to earn it back.”  She pulled out a transfer stick. It was effectively an invitation to a private lobby, one that instantly made him nervous. “Who is that from?” “The Commodore.  There’s been a shake up.  It’ll be announced tomorrow, but the Commodore wants to speak with you immediately.  He wouldn’t elaborate as to what that entailed exactly.” “Now?”  Thaddeus looked around.  The dome they were in was poorly rebuilt and badly run down, and the buildings and people around them were little better.  Petty thieves and desperate beggars that were too weak to work the factories or unwanted on ships all landed here.  Diving into a lobby was asking to be killed, captain or not.  “There’s a flophouse a few blocks down.” A few choice words and a stern look from Felin led to the pair stepping into their temporary abode.  Four bare and cracked walls were all that greeted them.  The concrete floors were obscured by a layer of rock dust and refuse, but it would do. Thaddeus kicked away some wrappers and moldering paper to sit down.  As low as he was, he could at least boast his quarters on the corvette were in better shape.  Felin shut the door and further inspected the walls, making sure there was no threat of collapse.  “I’ll watch the door, you should be safe here, sir.” Spitting some leftover vomit, Thadeus wished for a drink.  “Hopefully, this is just another, ‘we killed some people, be glad you’re too unimportant to do the same’ or some such nonsense.” He tried to fix his jacket, but it was smeared in filth. The once resplendent maroon threads were torn and damaged. His old rank stripes and stars had been forcibly ripped away. His expanded gut forced him to leave it unbuttoned.  Felin remained contemplatively quiet and moved to the door, preparing for a long vigil.  When she failed to say anything, Thaddeus gruffed and took the transfer stick, moved his greasy black hair out of the way, and slotted it into the back of his neck. His consciousness left his body and his world became a kaleidoscope of blues and reds as he was sent through the network.  A looming sphere of indigo and black closed in on him.  Gateways more akin to angry red screens as opposed to physical gates rounded the sphere.  As he closed in, the nearest gate turned green and vanished, leaving behind a white void.  Upon crossing the threshold, Thaddeus materialized into a lavish office.  Easily the size of a decent house, the single room was decorated in trophies.  Pieces of Initiative vessels with the names still clinging to it, heads or whole bodies of vicious xeno beasts, artifacts stolen from various places, and the crown jewel that sat behind the desk was the plaque of Faraway Station, the one responsible for FTL travel out of the system. The overall décor was opulent gold and silks, the red and whites were holdovers from the days they used to belong to the Ruby Alliance.  The desk was a mirror to the real one owned by the Commodore: polished steel with a red cloth thrown on it.  The seats in front were all shoved aside and five people laid dead on the floor: two centauri, a minotaur heifer, one kirin, and a griffin.  Each of them either had a weapon drawn, or was in the midst of pulling one out.  The Commodore himself sat behind the desk enjoying some throat burning amber whisky.   Thaddeus did not appear in his ragged state, instead he looked like he did the day before his humiliation.  His resplendent white and maroon uniform complete with admiral insignia gave a sharp look. He was clean, well groom, and his clothes still fit.  He approached the Commodore who snorted in derisive mockery.  “Well well.  I invited you here so I wouldn’t have to suffer your stink, and yet you come here looking like that?” Looking down at himself, Thaddeus grumbled.  “I prefer the old fashioned bottle over drug lobbies, and you have never invited me before, so I never felt the need to update myself.” “Perhaps it is for the best.”  The Commodore wafted the heavy scent of his whisky before continuing.  “Cutting off my sense of smell would make this a half hearted experience.” Thaddeus came to a stop in front of the desk before glancing around at the bodies.  Even if he couldn’t place the face, he saw the signs of their rank.  “I never took you for someone who entertained revenge fantasies like this.” “That’s because it isn’t a fantasy.”  Downing his shot, the Commodore poured himself another one.  “I’ve grown tired of their incompetence.  They continued to waste time drinking and bickering amongst themselves instead of reaping what we can from the Innies.  They should have focused their efforts on eliminating the Rainbow Dash. Without that ship, the Innies would have broken at least two years ago.” Thaddeus took a closer look at the bodies.  He recognized a couple, and wouldn’t shed any tears over any of them.  “That is a formidable ship for its size, I recall nearly destroying it at least three times, but it always managed to limp back for repairs. Even so, how is it the lynchpin of Initiative resistance?  It pales in comparison to Fiery Reckoning or even the Scythe of Terra.” Flashing a dangerous smile, the Commodore pulled out a long dagger and laid it onto the desk.  Death was a real danger, even in a lobby.  What appeared as a simple blade could just as easily be an ice spike, a virus of sorts that would cause an electric shock in the user’s own body.  “You surprise me. I thought you'd condemn it for being the final brush stroke of your great failure.” “Why should I? The RD was defending its people as would any sailor.” Thaddeus poignantly glanced about at the corpses surrounding them. “Something lost on us these days I think.” Scowling at him, even the Commodore felt lesser than he once was. He gripped the knife, his hands straining against the hilt for a few seconds as the Commodore wrestled with himself. In an instant, he let it go, and a casual grin fell over him. “You always were too much of a navy man. That is not the world we live in, not anymore.” ”So I have seen.” Thaddeus felt the drink calling to him again, and he eyed the liquor on the desk with envy. The Commodore stabbed the knife deep into the table. ”Come, let us not dwell on what was, but focus on what is. Our work against the Innie’s supplies and scrappers has paid handsomely.  None of the Innie’s capital ships have left their shipyard in a year.  The Navy that brought you low has itself been ravaged by attrition.” “Ten years too late it would seem.  But why call on me?  You did not summon me to give me a command.  Were you hoping to see me in my current state, just without the smell?”  Thaddeus knew a younger version of himself would be furious at the insult, but now as he closed on his twilight years, he found himself only wishing to partake in the centauri’s whisky. “On the contrary, old friend, I'm doing you a favor.”  He poured himself another glass without offering one to Thaddeus.  “News from my sources at Felscia claims the body of your old nemesis was recently recovered.” Thaddeus snorted dismissively. He had to cradle his head as a splitting headache ravaged him. “And?” he asked through clenched teeth, blaming the pain on his hasty sobering up.  “Am I to spit on his name one last time?  He died honorably. I may be at rock bottom, Commodore, but I refuse to start digging out of pettiness.”   “Ahh, you are a rare breed these days,” the Commodore replied in a tone that Thaddeus couldn’t tell if it was genuine or mockery.  “I’m sure Gleaming Light smiles upon you.  Provided Terra hasn't thrown him into a new life yet.”  Zeroing in a dangerous stare down, the Commodore waved a hand to reveal two ships floating between them.   The first was the mostly familiar Rainbow Dash.  It was certainly more rugged than Thaddeus remembered.  It had patches of hull that didn’t look as clean as it should have been, and it was completely missing the usual Initiative shield rings.  It also had two large turrets on its dorsal side that it certainly didn’t have before.  The second ship was clearly some kind of heavily modified civilian freighter, but it was completely unknown to him. “In case you’ve been paying the bottle more attention than local efforts, I’ve been building a strike group to take out the Rainbow Dash for some time now.  The dead around you refused to participate.  Recent events are enabling me to push up the timetable, and they forgot who’s in charge.   “The Rainbow Dash will be forced to return to Felscia to deliver the body of your old friend.  The other captains are going to strike after it leaves the protective envelope of the colony and begins its slingshot around Tellous three.” Rubbing his face, Thaddeus hauntingly missed being clean shaven and respectable.  “All I have is a rickety corvette. Have you finally decided to rid yourself of me by naming me the vanguard?” A humorless chuckle escaped the Commodore as he played with the dagger, gently rocking it loose from the desk.  “As amusing as that would be, no.  I want you to kill the salvagers who found the body.  Since we don’t have the time nor the forces in place to destroy the body before or after it is delivered to the Innie colony, the rite of retribution falls onto the scavengers.  By right, you have first claim to the job, should you wish to drag yourself off the dirt and back into a captain’s chair.  Granted it’s a loose claim, but I am willing to honor it.”  He watched Thaddeus closely, gauging his changing expression. “The frigate Resurgent is in need of a new captain.  Obey me in this, and I will personally ensure the frigate is yours.” The admiral he once knew was still there, but he was drenched in the foul muck of failure and the debasement of their once proud navy degeneration into privateers. Nay, the ponies had the right of it. They were pirates now through and through. There was barely any attempt to rebuild like the surviving Initiative. The centauri had slaves working enough hydroponics and industry for them to waste wheat on booze and brothels, but it was all to support the debauchery of the captains.  Thaddeus knew all too well that the Commodore was simply wanting to move his base of operations to the sole habitable planet, rather than sulk on the very fringes of the system. It pained Thaddeus to be given the choice. For a few moments, he wanted to pretend he was being given a standard commerce raiding assignment. Not exactly a glorious task, but a legitimate one in wartime. But the war was over. He wanted to rebuild like the Initiative was trying to do, but he had no power anymore. Not after his fleet was left broken at Sword Fall and his mistake to send the remnants of it to crash against Trireme. He was a leaf being dragged along a river of nihilism and greed. If I don’t do it, someone else will.  I can at least give them a clean death instead of enslavement.  “Do we know anything about the scavengers?” “Very little aside from photos.”  Feeling like Thaddeus would commit to the operation, the Commodore put the dagger away, and back into the desk. If nothing else, he didn’t want the threat to distract Thaddeus any further.  He waved at the floating freighter.  “Apparently they’re piloting a junker.  Rumor has it they only recently gave their ship a name: the ICS Cloud Jumper.”  The Commodore scoffed just having to speak it. “Such a painfully Ponish name.” “Cloud Jumper… Let me guess, one of them is a pegacorn.” A curious grin fell over the Commodore.  “Right you are.  How did you know?” “I ran across the phrase while studying Gleaming Light.  Twilight Sparkle was a titan of character, and a personal hero to pegacorns.  And Gleaming’s grandmother.  Jumping off of a cloud was her way of saying to take risks rather than stay safe and untested.” “You don’t say?” the Commodore asked without wanting a reply.  “Go then.  As a gesture of…  well I won’t say friendship,” he added with a grim toothy smile.  “I will ensure you are well provisioned for your return to the inner sectors.  I trust you will use that time to clean yourself up so next time you won’t have to lie about your appearance when I see you once more.”