//------------------------------// // Chapter 17 // Story: Mass Effect: Salvage // by N00813 //------------------------------// Chapter 17 -- Need to look. Need to see. Accept it as necessary. – Dr. Mordin Solus, 2185 CE -- Gilda knelt by Hans. By her side, the Princess fretted, incessantly pacing back and fro over the same patch of wooden floor. The blood pooled on the floor had congealed into a sticky black paste as day turned into night, and the sound of Luna’s hooves pulling on the sticky fluid, like that of sticky tape pulled off wood, was quickly driving her up the wall. One of the bodies that had been the cause of the massive pool of blood around her feet had been dragged away. Gilda didn’t care where. Not now, when that body was the reason why her friend was bleeding out onto the floor. She heard the whine of the alien shuttle as the contraption slowly lifted itself upwards on blue jets of flame, before screaming over her head, no doubt going back to Equestria, and back to their vessel. She was a little annoyed when the unnatural screaming didn’t disappear, as she thought it would. Instead, it just seemed to stay right over her head, as if taunting her. If they were going to go and leave someone bleeding out, then they could at least stop that infernal whine. Or, if they were going to stay, then she could get some of their meds… She padded out to the windows, seeing the white, angular aircraft hover for a moment near the grassy ground, before the sound cut out and the shuttle hit the grass with a thump. Why were they back? Weren’t they finished? Gilda shook the thoughts out of her head. She needed that gel, and damn it if she wasn’t going to get any. They’d loaded Hans up with fast-working anesthetic, but without a tight seal, he was going to suffocate on the flight back. The current seal was already soaked red with blood, and clung to Hans’s body uncomfortably; worse, the griffon had started to scratch at it in his sleep, threatening to expose his punctured chest cavity to the unforgiving world. “Hey!” Gilda called out as the shuttle’s side slid open into two parts, revealing the cramped space inside. Creepy, but she couldn’t care less now. “I need medicine!” Luna appeared alongside her, with a door trailing in her wake. It looked like it had been torn off its hinges; the wood finishing on one side was splintered, and the metal flap that connected the door to the wall hung loosely. More importantly, she’d somehow managed to get Hans to lie down on top of the makeshift stretcher. One of the shorter, skinnier aliens retreated back into the hold, but the big one stayed outside, leaning against the side of the shuttle without a care in the world. He still had his weapon out, though. The shorter one returned, with the turian in her wake. The latter alien held some kind of cylinder in his claws. Luna carefully pushed the stretcher out into the air, squinting as she kept it parallel to the ground. Gilda launched herself out of the building, holding one end of the door steady as it slowly floated to the ground. She felt a shadow fall over her, and looked up to see Levin, face hidden behind his helmet, looming over the two of them with the cylinder in one hand. She backed off instinctively, but kept an eye on him as he did his work. Pressing the fabric wad to Hans’s chest with one claw, the turian flicked his other wrist, summoning an orange blade-like thing out of his magical glove. Surgery? Gilda’s feathers fluffed out automatically – if he was to harm her friend… Evidently not. The alien cut the curtain bindings away with three short flicks of the wrist, and waited for the exhalation. That was good. That meant that he understood griffon physiology, so he wouldn’t do more harm than good. As Hans’s chest fell to its lowest level, the turian removed the wad sealing his chest, and examined the three slashes in milliseconds. The cylinder he’d been holding had somehow unfolded itself until it looked like a pistol, with a conical orange nozzle taking the place of the muzzle. A hiss of orange gas blasted out, with two more following in quick succession. And that was that; Levin simply stood up again, and headed back towards her. “Any more?” he asked. His odd voice didn’t make him seem any less creepy, but then again, he wasn’t of this world. Tartarus, even ponies looked creepy. They were like pudgy marshmallows with legs. Most of them didn’t even look like they had muscles. Still, he’d helped a lot, and that was enough in Gilda’s book. Gilda shook her head, and he began to turn around towards the shuttle. “Wait!” she called out, all of a sudden. What am I doing? Levin turned around to face her, meeting her side-on. Good enough. “What was that back there? We saw dozens of griffons heading towards you.” There was a moment of silence. “Our help,” the turian said cryptically, before pointing towards the north. “You’ll find that your jobs will now be easier.” And with that, he simply returned to the shuttle. The asari followed him, but the massive krogan stayed outside, watching as the sky fell into the late afternoon. Only the sharp hiss of some mechanism of the aircraft pushed him into motion. Odd. Sev never struck her as a star-gazer. Maybe he was simply taking a rest. She turned her attention back to her teammate. The orange gel coating his wounds was relatively clear, allowing her a decent view of how much damage Hans had taken. It was worse than she’d thought. The base of his neck had been lacerated, and she thought she could see an exposed vein leaking blood through a tiny hole. The chest had been similarly torn open. Bones were exposed to her vision, the white jutting out from the reddish pink flesh. Through the gaps in the ribcage, she thought could see his muscles, moving slowly as Hans shifted slightly in his sleep. So close. So close to death. Struck by a sudden bout of tenderness, she sat by him and patted his chest. If he wasn’t getting discharged, she’d press for a promotion. -&- The aliens were right. They’d cleared up to the last row without any more problems. As she finished clearing the last house, she couldn’t help but think of the strange twists of fate that had occurred. Aliens accompanying a pony diplomat. Or the other way around. In the end, what mattered was that they were here, and that they’d saved lives. Gilda chambered her weapon absently as she flipped up onto the rooftop with a wing-assisted jump. From there, she could view the entirety of the killing field. The grassland in front of the mine was covered in a veritable sea of bodies. Feathers and fur of all colors and textures seemed to mix together into a quilt of bloodied flesh. Even now, wisps of black smoke floated upwards from smoldering corpses, eliciting a gag from her throat. Forcing the smell out of her mind, she looked around the row of buildings her platoon held. All casualties were ‘simply’ wounded. Still, Gilda found that she couldn’t complain. Things had gone so much better than she’d thought. Tartarus, she’d originally estimated ending up with half of her platoon dead. She sighed. One last thing to do before they left for Asgard. She called up her soldiers. Each of them sat on the rooftops, having been alerted that there were no more surviving enemies. Gilda could see each and every one of them; tired, but happy that they were at the end of their ordeal. She herself felt pretty much the same. She couldn't be more proud. “Set the bodies on fire.” -&- Twilight gaped at the bonfire of bodies. Her eyes watered at the intense heat emanating from the impromptu pyre, but she couldn’t stop looking. Here and there, she could see the bodies blackening under the propellant-accelerated fire – some griffons had scavenged through the household to find chunks of coal – and she swore that she’d witnessed a griffon split in half, lengthwise, before the bloody smoke shrouded his body. A flutter of wings sounded behind her, and Twilight instinctively turned, flaring her shield, before she recognized the intruder. Gilda. Identification was hard; the griffon was still covered in blood and soot, and looked just like a reanimated version of one of the dead bodies outside the window. “Good reflexes,” the griffon commented sourly as she slunk up to her. “You learn fast.” Twilight gulped uncomfortably at the implications of that sentence. “What are you doing there?” she asked, gesturing with a hoof. “Cremation,” Gilda replied. The lieutenant didn't deem it necessary to explain the traditional griffon method for treating the dead. The other reason for choosing cremation was that burial would have taken far too long. Twilight tried not to gag as the smell of blood on Gilda’s feathers hit her nostrils – the lieutenant hadn’t wasted any time clearing the rest of the town. She hadn’t even bothered to wash herself up. Twilight had assumed that was exactly what she’d just gone off to do when she heard the griffon’s call for her soldiers, but she’d been proven wrong. Gilda smirked at Twilight’s reaction. “You’ll get used to it in a couple of hours.” She turned towards the window, seemingly staring at the impossibly thick smoke. “You’re going home.” Twilight didn’t have anything to say to that, so she just nodded her agreement. Home sounded like paradise after these three days. The multitude of soft huffs in the air drew her ears backwards, until they faced south. It sounded like the soldiers were leaving, flying back to wherever they came. All the more surprising why their commanding officer was not. Luna appeared behind the two, her face streaked with tears. The sight of it was just so… so foreign. The Princess wasn’t an immovable mountain of stability – she was still a pony, and like a pony, she still had feelings, hopes, regrets… Twilight herself had just stopped a bout of shakes, caused when her eyes had stopped over the slaughter before the building. Rolk and Svetlana had attempted to comfort her, awkwardly, but the bloodstained armor they wore just made them seem more sinister, and they’d just left as per her stammered wishes. Now, she wasn’t sure whether she was going to start again or not – this whole expedition had turned into such a nightmare. Everyone had faced their demons, and more. Even her brother, ever the stoic guard, had simply turned away, and hidden. She knew him well enough to know when he wanted to be by himself. “Princess, you’d better go,” Gilda’s low voice rang out, dull and emotionless. The griffon herself did not move at all. Instead, she just sat, rifle across the back of her backpack, gazing into the massive fire. The Princess did not protest, and gently led Twilight away towards the back of the room. From there, the two could teleport to ground and gallop away towards the alien shuttle. The room filled with the low, quiet hum of charging magic, and a single small pop reverberated off the metal walls. Twilight herself had not followed, a fact made abundantly clear by the clip-clop of hooves on metal as she slowly walked towards Gilda. Neither of them spoke for a minute; one appeared content to sit and stare, and the other shifted nervously, willing the uncooperative words to escape from her throat. “What is it, Twilight Sparkle?” the griffon said suddenly. Her tone betrayed nothing – there was no emotion at all. In fact, Gilda sounded slightly bored, if that was possible. “I – nothing,” Twilight managed to stammer out. The heat of the fire had to be getting to her. She was sweating more than Applejack after a hard day’s work. At least, she felt like she was. Gilda’s hissing sigh, full of venom and frustration, both surprised and scared her, and she flared up her shield. Well, the griffon was right. She was on the path to being a good battle-mage, and that revelation wasn’t welcome. At all. “Speak,” Gilda said heavily, turning around. Her face was covered in soot and blood, and she’d made no attempt to brush any of it off. Creased, tired amber eyes fixed their gaze upon her robotically. To say that it gave her a ghoulish expression was a severe understatement. “You’re a good person, Gilda,” Twilight murmured, almost reluctantly, as she dispelled her shield. Celestia, why was this so hard? Gilda could have smirked, but under the flickering orange light that the nearby bonfire cast out, Twilight couldn’t be sure. In fact, the firelight playing on her bloodied, sooty feathers made her seem even more demonic. “Really?” the griffon stated evenly, a bit of her old sarcasm playing into her voice, even now. At least, Twilight thought it was sarcasm. "I don't feel like one." Twilight sighed internally. Maybe Gilda didn’t want help, didn’t need it. Maybe she herself was just thinking too deeply about this. Despite the short time they’d spent together, she’d come to, at the very least, respect Gilda. Respect her enough to patch up the sour spot that Gilda had left behind in her last visit to Ponyville. “Maybe stop by Ponyville sometime. We might surprise you,” Twilight said unconsciously, her hoof going to her mouth as she processed what had just popped out of her throat. Hopefully, that mutter was too quiet for Gilda to pick up… To her surprise and slight relief, the griffon didn’t instantly insult her intelligence or choice of friends, but kept silent. Or maybe Gilda hadn’t heard her at all over the roar of the raging fire. The heat was getting uncomfortable at this point, but she knew that it wasn’t the only reason she was sweating so much. “I’m not that keen on surprises anymore,” Gilda snorted with a bitter laugh, flicking her lion’s tail. “And I can’t say with certainty. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer. Maybe. But I can’t promise.” That slight compromise was enough to bring a small smile to Twilight’s face, and she nodded at the griffon, making no attempt to hide her own feelings. That small spark of hope and redemption, in her eyes, was good enough for a start. Luna had been the same, once. With a slow, awkward flick of her hoof, she teleported away, leaving Gilda to her own thoughts. -&- There was no fanfare, no celebration, no ceremony. They just left. The shuttle, riding on its legs of fire, rose above the small town, and in the distance, the passengers could see a stream of griffons flying like birds away from their original encampment. In all honesty, Twilight couldn’t bear to look anymore. That town left too many memories and experiences, and in the end, she just felt like she wanted to sleep and wake up to find herself in her own bed, being comforted by Spike that this was all a dream, and that the aliens had left after their salvage in the Everfree castle. But her rational side told her that her senses were telling the truth. And she hated that. Attempting to sink into sleep, she lay on the cold metal floor. Her brother’s side pressed against her, and several old memories of happier, more innocent times burst through her mental dam. She almost laughed at her former innocence; a time when she didn’t have to worry about Nightmare Moon, or Discord, or indoctrination… Her brother had been unusually quiet, merely giving her a warm smile undermined by the creases around his eyes as she met him next to the shuttle. Come to think of it, all of them were. Riana had none of her usual cheer or zest, simply following Levin into the piloting area of the shuttle. The turian himself, normally quiet, just seemed to have lost the ability or will to speak. The two operated in complete silence. Even the wild, insane Sev seemed to have lapsed into a sort of calm, although his fingers continued to tap on the side of his metallic ‘shotgun’. As the shuttle doors slid shut, seemingly sealing like a closing wound, Luna merely covered her head with her hooves and sobbed quietly. Twilight could distinguish the Princess’s lithe form atop several seats in the dim red lighting, and placed a hoof on her shoulder. The Princess opened one tear-filled eye and glanced at her, and Twilight smiled back, trying to comfort her friend. Twilight had a good idea of what the Princess was thinking about right now, but she didn’t know what to say. All she could do was offer some form of comfort; a gesture of saying ‘I’m here if you need me’. As the throaty roar of the shuttle’s inner fire reverberated through the cramped cargo bay, Twilight and her companions sat in silence. -&- The next time the shuttle doors unsealed, Twilight gasped. Sev made a mental note of the number of guards. Looked like the entire force had come out to play. Near the front, the tall, white form of the second Princess made herself known. Ironic that, if they ever decided to swarm him, they’d end up like their friends over in the griffon town. Still, with numbers like that, he’d be reduced to hand-to-hand combat after about 20 shots. Not a bad prospect. Gunning someone down was pretty impersonal. Just point and shoot. With knives and the like, you could really test your mettle against an opponent. Sev shook his errant thoughts away. Honor and strength didn’t matter. Survival did. He sighed, wishing that he’d brought more thermal clips on the expedition. They passed the guard memorial, a stone statue of a pony in a supposedly heroic stance, balancing on his hind legs and lance. Once a foreshadowing of things to come, now, just a reminder of nicer, less bloody times. Twilight pondered whether the griffons would erect a similar statue, or memorial or whatever, to remember the fallen townsfolk. As the shuttle skimmed along the flat grassland of the castle’s multipurpose yard, screaming all the while, Sev prepped his shotgun. “Why are there so many guards?” Riana’s said, voice crackled over the intercom. “You don’t think…” Levin merely hummed, the purring sound mixing with that of the airlock door grinding open. A thump to the bottom of the shuttle indicated that they were landside, and both shuttle doors opened, letting the setting sunlight pour into the myriad of crates inside the tiny hold. As the ponies trotted out, Armor leading the way, Sev looked past them at the crowd of guards. It’d be a hell of a fight. There was no cover on the field, except for the corvette itself, and Sev doubted that even the half-foot thick spaceship alloy could stand up to a combined biotic attack of this magnitude. What to do, what to do… Good for the Princess and her two companions to act as temporary meat shields, though. That was considerate of them. Now, the guards couldn’t fire without risking a hit on their allies, not to mention their co-ruler. Of course, that was assuming they didn’t have an understanding of biotic artillery techniques. On the way back, Riana had outlined their basic plan of escape, or as she called it, ‘farewell policy’. She’d simply told them that, once they were out of the shuttle and on Equestrian soil, the three would be out of there. What the ponies planned to say, or do, they didn’t care; they’d be gone already. That was the gist of it. Of course, she’d put it in much nicer terms. The appearance of 100 biotic guards, as well as an angry Celestia that seemed high on red sand, presented a bit of an obstacle in that decidedly simple plan. Still, if they could get far away before she finished charging that horn of hers, or better, remove that horn… The outer airlock door ground shut, and the hiss of the air filters as they scrubbed the ship’s atmosphere clean of toxins were the only sounds for a short while. Before long, the inner airlock door split into halves, and slid open to reveal the admittedly tiny cargo hold of the corvette. After undergoing decontamination, Sev lifted some of the crates in his arms and stacked them against the pile already present. Riana headed straight for the crew area, no doubt searching for something that wasn’t rations, and Levin simply ignored the two of them, going straight for the cockpit. No doubt he wanted to get offworld as soon as possible. Meanwhile, in the privacy of her own room, Riana sank deep into a storm of her own thoughts as she lay back on her bed. This trip had turned into so much more than she’d originally thought. They’d salvaged enough off the ruins to pay off a good bit of their debt, if they got a good deal. Not only that, they’d unintentionally helped to repair a relationship between two nations, if things went right; she’d salvaged the remnants of a mind torn by guilt; and she’d gotten the once-in-a-lifetime chance to make first contact with not one, but two sentient species. Not a bad haul, if she said so herself. After a quick glance at the suit of armor that was hung up at the end of the bed, she swung her legs over the edge, pulling herself into a sitting position. There was one more thing to do. She pushed herself off the edge of the bed, and nearly stumbled as the a-grav field flickered in strength for a moment, messing with her internal fluids. Shaking her head to clear out feelings of nausea, she made her way to the cockpit. She could see Sev leaning against the crate where he stored his equipment. As far as she knew, he wore armor as casualwear – and rightly so, for the crate looked too small to fit even the torso section. It looked like he’d packed up fully. The case was closed – locked shut – and he didn’t have a weapon that she could see on him. The walk to the cockpit was only about ten meters, but it felt much, much longer. Part of it was due to her reluctance to do what had to be done; the other part, she reckoned, was that her sense of balance was still wonky, all thanks to that odd gravitational anomaly. By now, she had a guess as to what was causing it, but still, it wasn’t important. They’d be leaving anyways. As she slipped into the multipurpose console’s seat, behind Levin, she sighed, waiting for the turian to acknowledge her presence. He had to have noticed her arrival. His ears were pretty sharp. He deviated from the plan almost instantly, choosing to stay silent. Riana swore in her head. Was he trying to make it as hard as possible for her? “How are you feeling?” she asked, choosing to forgo the tactful route. If he didn’t want to talk, he’d have to say it out to her face. “Fine,” he grunted, his long fingers tapping at the orange holograms in front of him. “Been better.” Riana absentmindedly powered up her own console, waiting for the lines of text to stop scrolling down the corner of the boot-up hologram. “My offer still stands, alright?” “What –” he started, pausing in his work, before turning around to glare at her. At least, that’s what she thought he was doing. Turians couldn’t seem to do anything other than glare with those beady eyes and set faces. “I’ll be fine.” Riana looked away from him and at the console, which had recognized her omni-tool and given her access automatically. Tapping the ‘Power’ icons, she tried to look nonchalant, even as her face threatened to fall into a frown. “Alright. Goddess be with you.” She could see Levin squint out of the corner of her eyes, but, determined to look as if she wasn’t interested, she stared a hole into the shifting bars that depicted the power levels to different areas of the ship. Hopefully, he wouldn’t pursue the matter. Hopefully – Levin sighed, and the action twisted her head unconsciously towards him. “I appreciate the thought,” he said, mandibles flaring. He was smiling. That was good. “Thanks. But I’m fine, really.” “I just thought that – you know, outside the mine – I thought –” Goddess, why was she stammering like a lovesick child? Get a grip! Levin chirped merrily, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Oh, she was so going to wipe that smirk off his face. Carapace. Whatever. “Killing those griffons outside the mine,” she snapped, annoyed. “Are you not affected?” That did it. Levin’s face-plates fell in a frown, and he turned back to the piloting holograms in front of him without another sound. Any vindictive glee that she had felt vanished into the stale air. Silence invaded the cockpit once more, broken only by the low hum of the fusion power core. “I don’t know,” he finally said. Riana tensed at the sudden sound, and once more, she looked at the back of his head. “I had to do it. No choice.” He sighed; a long, soft exhale that seemed somewhat unfitting for him. “I don’t know.” “Without that, we would have been overwhelmed. You saved our lives,” she said quietly. Good thing that they weren’t in armor now. She guessed that neither of them was in the mood for any sarcastic comments from a certain mercenary. “Yeah. Not to mention, I would have died.” He tried to chuckle, but it came out as a series of lonely, low coughs. “Way I see it, they were dead. Lost their minds. It was an act of mercy to put them down.” Riana nodded slowly. “I understand. It was necessary.” “Yeah.” They sat in silence for a moment, before Riana finished constructing the sentence in her head. “It was logical, and yet we’re not logical creatures. We’re born with emotions, with so much more than just calculations about risk and reward running around in our heads. That’s why it hurts. It hurts because you’re still a person, and you haven’t lost what makes you a person.” She looked back at Sev, still standing coolly in the cargo bay. He hadn’t shown any sort of guilt, or terror in the fighting at all. Simply excitement and resignation. 600 years of mercenary work had hardened a person into a machine. All of his sorrow, joy, guilt and anger had simply been stripped away, leaving an apathetic husk behind. He could only feel through fighting. Was that true? Certainly looked like it. It didn’t look like he thought of himself as a hero or a ‘good guy’. Perhaps he was simply resigned to his path in life. -&- Luna didn’t react as the alien spaceship resealed itself. The asari had told them that the sooner they were offworld, the sooner everyone would be happy. Frankly, it sounded fairly logical to her. They’d gotten what they wanted, and Equestria wouldn’t be bothered any more. Win-win. She felt somewhat wistful - this was a chance to see the stars, and broaden the horizons of her own knowledge. Besides, she wasn't really going to neglect her duty here. She had no duty here, after all. Right? Twilight was still gaping at the closed door, and beside her, Captain Armor smiled warmly at his subordinates out in the crowd. That did little to extinguish their frowns. Luna ignored them, and headed straight for her sister. She knew what was coming. After all, she’d experienced pretty much the same thing, 1000 years ago. “How did your trip go?” Celestia asked, smiling, but Luna could easily see through her sister’s façade. They were effectively twins, after all. A myriad of thoughts ran through Luna’s head. She recalled the first, awkward few moments she had with Levin, talking about their pasts. She recalled how she’d volunteered to be part of the first clearing team, staining her hooves on the bloody floors; how her shield had saved the lives of her newfound comrades; how she watched a friend nearly bleed out on the dusty wooden floor of the griffon town hall; how the griffons came across a bloodbath, and waded through it, in order to create an improvised funeral pyre. How the thick, black smoke mixing in with the orange flames brought her back 1000 years, to when she had been the cause of such devastation. “It went… well,” Luna said, after a moment of deliberation. She set her mouth on a thin, hard line. There were some things that weren’t nice to remember. Alas, fate was not on her side today. Since when was it? “Please tell me, dearest sister,” the Princess of the Sun asked. Luna knew her tone. Worried, but weighed with calculations. Scales of risk and reward being balanced in her mind. Seemed like the political office had taken a liking to her, and vice versa. Luna briefly considered flat-out denial. A short, sharp “No!” would be just the thing to see – her sister hadn’t had a member of her country deny her to her face in what seemed like decades. Then again, she had returned from exile only 2 years ago. Back to the point – live and let die, Sev had said. You never know when you’ll miss your chance. “They’re leaving,” Luna replied, choosing another topic to ‘tell’ her sister about. Wasn’t her fault if Celestia was vague. “As for a battle report, please ask Captain Armor.” Celestia’s mouth opened for a short moment, before she snapped it shut. “There was a battle? Were you hurt? What happened?” Luna wasn’t in a mood to recount her experiences. “Ask Captain Armor. I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell.” “Did you just let them leave? Without accounting for their actions?” Celestia’s head was turned to the side, meeting the back of Luna’s head as she walked past her sister. There was a task at hoof, and Luna didn’t want any more excuses to tarry. This task had to be done. “Consider it banishment,” the Moon Princess said, sighing and shrugging. “Either way, they’re gone.” She could see a flash of anger appear on her sister’s face, and shrugged inwardly. Of course she’d be angry. But the aliens’ arrival had an unexpected benefit – they’ brought together the two countries and countries, letting their ties wrap around one another, and inspiring harmony. Was that worth the damage they caused? She didn't know. She shook her head, shaking any distractions out. She needed to be at her best, when she talked to the griffon ambassador. He would want to know about this. It was his country, after all. As she reached the castle’s marble steps, she could hear the soft peals that made up her sister’s laughing, and the quiet, almost silent murmurings of Twilight Sparkle. Sounded like they were just getting into the thick of things. Good. She reached the ambassador’s room on autopilot, choosing to fly up to his tower, rather than climb the stairs. Speed was of the essence here, and she had never cared much for formality. That was her sister’s forte. With a sharp clop of hooves striking marble, she landed on the balcony, and slowly walked inside, past the curtain. The griffon ambassador’s room was relatively barren, compared to the zebra one. There was no sign of any sort of homeliness; all of the furnishings were standard and untouched. A desk in the corner, next to the balcony, had some pieces of paper on it, and a diplomatic bag. She could see the handle of a revolver sticking out from the bag. She could recognize that immediately – Gilda had shown Luna her own. An officer’s weapon, thanks to its intricate design and complexity. The current occupant of the room looked at her curiously from the chair in front of desk. He had a small, lithe figure that contrasted with the bulkier soldiers she’d spent her last three days with. She couldn’t help but sigh as she collected the substantial amount of determination in her, in preparation for what was to come. “What is it?” the ambassador asked, in typical griffon bluntness. With a sharp pang, Luna realized that she hadn’t even bothered to learn of the ambassador’s name. Nonetheless, she had to start her tale. “I’m sorry.” “For what?” the ambassador replied, a claw inching towards the revolver. Luna saw the movement, but she didn’t waver in her speech. “The town that went mad.” The griffon froze. “Winterhold,” he murmured, seeming to slump slightly. “What happened?” Thanks to the massive sea separating the two countries, news from home wouldn’t travel fast. Luna knew that. Maybe she could wait – no. She wasn’t going to weasel out. She was done with hiding and pretending. No more mind games with herself. Luna sighed. “Mission was a success. Soldiers suffered no deaths.” “Mission? Wait, they went through with purging the town?” the griffon squawked, turning to face her fully. Luna merely nodded, before looking back at the ambassador, who was slumped in his chair. “Shouldn’t have come to this…” he said, before he covered his face with his claws. Luna didn’t reply. Even with her admittedly bad social skills, she knew that this was to be a private matter. She gave a weak nod to the ambassador, who didn’t seem to have noticed her, and with a flap of her wings, she was gone. She needed time to herself as well. -&- As Twilight watched Luna stalk away towards the castle, her mentor approached her with a smile. This one seemed to be forced; it was a little too wide, and her eyelids threatened to flutter shut any second. Still, she was trying to maintain a good face, and Twilight was more than happy to help. “Had a good time, Twilight?” Celestia asked, and Twilight froze. What should she say? The truth? Celestia wouldn’t believe it. It was outlandish, foolish to see the little bookworm by the name of Twilight Sparkle as a part of a sniper squad – wasn’t it? “I’ve been better,” Twilight said, dodging the question. That was a very valuable lesson her teacher had taught her as she accompanied her teacher in court – one that she suspected wasn’t something Celestia wanted her to know. “What did you learn?” the Princess asked, softly. Her smile had shrunk, but it was still there. Twilight sighed in response. “That the galaxy is a very dangerous place. That we should all be thankful of what we have, and recognize how rare our kind is in the universe.” That stunned Celestia. It wasn’t like her to have become so cynical and distrusting, all of a sudden. It had only been 3 days! What had happened? Twilight sighed, patting at the ground with her hoof. “I’m glad to be home.” “I am glad you’re with me, Twilight,” Celestia murmured, leaning down to hug her student. Twilight seemed to just fold into the hug, as if she couldn’t support her weight anymore. When they broke apart, they found Shining Armor standing beside her sister, a quiet smile on his face. The white unicorn saluted as his Princess looked back to him. In between the rows of guards, he could see Twilight scamper off towards the castle. “Mind giving me a report on what exactly happened, Captain?” Celestia said evenly, jerking his attention back towards her. “Well,” he began, and hesitated. There really would be no way around it. He would just have to tell the truth, and hope history looked at him in a positive light. Just as he started to speak once more, a rush of light and sound and heat smashed into him, and around him, the unicorn guard started to summon shields. He did so too, expanding his to cover the entire group. The corvette lifted upwards gracefully on columns of blue fire, roaring with the force of a hurricane. Celestia could sense the magical core flaring into full strength, as the alien ship continued its ascent. There was an element of elegance in the extremely minimalistic design, she had to admit. She closed her eyes and readied her magic, opening them in time to see the spacecraft as a tiny black spot in the sky. It looked no bigger than any of the circling birds above the garden, differing only in shape and menace. As she reached out, the ship vanished with the sound of thunder.