Mass Effect 2 - DLC: The Equestrian Equation

by Loyal2Luna

Conclusion: At Journey's End - Pt. 2

Commander Shepard; showered, fed, and now wearing a more comfortable casual crew uniform, moved out of Miranda’s quarters with a tired gait, rubbing his eyes as he tried to shake off the mental cobwebs that had formed during his "debriefing" with the Illusive Man’s representative.

To say that Miranda was eager to know what led to the sudden overcrowding of the Normandy with a completely unknown alien species, on top of risking the ship and everyone on it getting burnt to a crisp by a surprise supernova, was an understatement. And while Shepard would have preferred getting some actual sleep following his trials and tribulations in Equestria, he had been dragged into Miranda’s office as soon as the ship’s medical officer concluded that he was both physically and neurologically fit. (Which he had to admit had been a serious concern following Mordin’s brief explanation of Dr. Hern’s condition.)

Although Miranda had accepted Shepard’s story involving what had transpired while he was inside the Equestria virtual world, even with its more ludicrous highlights, he somehow doubted that she was completely convinced as to his explanation of Doctor Milligan’s unfortunate "accident." He felt it was probably best left unsaid exactly how Milligan had happened to "fall" into the Harmony Core, given that Miranda already had reason enough not to trust the ponies, let alone their de-facto leader, Twilight.

Left completely out of the conversation was Milligan’s proposed "solution," if one could even call it that.

To his own merit, he felt that he had been completely honest in that detail.

It had never really been a choice for him.

“Commander. Now that you have completed your debriefing, I have an update,” Shepard heard EDI over the comm as he walked into the mess hall, amazed by a number of of curious-looking, brightly-colored equines that were moving about, examining their surroundings with wonder while various members of the support crew spoke with them. Or, in Mess Sergeant Gardner’s case, attempted to shoo two younger colts out the kitchen’s store of "special ingredients." “Mr. Moreau has set a course for the Citadel. Estimated time to arrival: two-point-five hours. Councilor Anderson has already sent a reply to your message and says he will meet us at a secure Alliance docking bay with Council First Contact representatives and a disaster relief team to meet with the Equestrian leaders.”

“Understood.” Shepard nodded. Whatever else could be said for the Council’s tendency to ignore what was presented to them, the sudden appearance of a new and advanced sentient race was sure to get their attention. And thankfully, he knew he could count on both Anderson and the Asari Councilor Tevos to look after their best interests. He had a decidedly less optimistic opinion about the other two on the Council though, as the Salarian Councilor Valern would probably interrogate them for everything they knew, and Turian Councilor Sparatus would focus on what sort of threat they might eventually become.

But that was a worry for another time, Shepard realized, as he took note of Doctor Karin Chakwas, the Normandy’s Chief Medical Officer, standing on the wrong side of her medbay wall, looking in with a pained expression on her face.

“Doctor?” Shepard called her attention, walking up to his friend’s side as she kept one arm folded under the other, a hand placed against her lips as Shepard followed her gaze into the medical bay.

Inside, he saw Dr. Hern laying on one bed, her eyes open but still unresponsive, while on the other lay the elder green mare that Mordin had been treating before. At either side of that bed stood the familiar mare, Applejack, and the red stallion he had seen before, easily the largest surviving specimen of their species, while a pale yellow filly stood at the foot of the bed on her hind legs, barely able bring her head up over the edge.

“Your patients?” Shepard inquired.

“Yes,” Chakwas confirmed, her eyes not moving from the scene before her. “There was an initial flood of minor injuries, but they were dealt with in short order. Only two warranted actual infirmary care.”

Folding his arms, the Commander held a respectful moment of silence before he inquired further.

“How is Doctor Hern?” he followed up, not wanting to think about what it meant for a doctor to be standing on the sidelines in this kind of situation.

“She will recover, I believe,” Chakwas indicated. “Mordin was right in his initial analysis: The synapses in the affected area of her brain were overloaded, but not completely burnt away or overwritten. It could be months before she can speak again and she may never regain her full cognitive capabilities, but she’ll pull through.”

Shepard nodded before moving to what was clearly the more sensitive subject.

“And your other patient?”

Chakwas as silent for a moment as she turned her gaze downward. “I am afraid that ‘Granny Smith’... doesn’t have long. Her physical injuries were not serious, but that is hardly the problem. She is suffering from the galaxy’s most common of maladies: old age.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do for her?” Shepard asked.

“No. She’s simply too old, Shepard... Though their biology is remarkably similar to our own, that also means they're just as susceptible to decay as we are. Her organs are failing and her body simply can’t cope with the strain. Unfortunately, for all of our advanced technology and medicine, age is still the one thing we can’t yet hope to overcome.” She breathed in, reminded of the fact that her own twilight years were not far off, before continuing. “From what I was able to gather about this ‘artificial system’ they were a part of, it seems that connection was the only thing keeping her alive in her advanced years. And now, without the support that machine provided, she’s simply too weak to continue on her own. There comes a time when the body just... gives up, Shepard.”

Chakwas paused, as did Shepard, when they saw the aged green mare’s eyes close and her head turn to the side into a pillow a moment before she took one last, pained breath, and her chest ceased to rise.

If Shepard had had any remaining doubts as to the "humanity" of these Equestrians, they would have been completely lost at viewing the reaction of the three Apple siblings at the passing of their elder.

“For some things... we have no salve to offer,” Chakwas sighed, her voice heavy as she shook her head and turned, moving for the door. “Excuse me, Commander.”

Shepard watched a moment later as Chakwas moved into the room, the young yellow filly burying her face in the fur of her elder brother as Applejack moved aside, allowing the doctor to pull a cover over her patient’s head.

Turning to take note of Shepard just past the door, Applejack, her head oddly small with the lack of the stetson she was so fond of wearing inside the Equestria System, moved immediately for the door and came around with a purpose, her hooves clipping the metal as she approached the Commander.

“I’m sorry for your loss...” Shepard offered, his tone sincere as Applejack halted a couple of feet from him, her eyes still wet with tears.

He expected she might be angry; that this moment of personal pain would make it difficult to understand why they had been dragged from their pleasant lives and into this dark and unforgiving reality.

But rather than snap or scold, Applejack simply sighed, her head hung low.

“It’s okay,” she stated simply, her voice hoarse.

“If there was any other way...” Shepard began, but was cut off by a wave of Applejack’s hoof.

“It weren’t your fault an’ we don’t blame ya. Y’all did the right thing, gettin’ us outta that fake life we was all livin’,” AJ rattled off, her accent back in full swing as she huffed away a sniffle. “‘sides that, a'fore she passed on, Granny wanted me ta thank ya, Commander Shepard.”

“Thank me?” Shepard was stunned to hear this.

“She got ta go outta the world knowin’ the truth rather than bein’ stuck in a lie. An’ she couldn’t be happier knowin’ that her... that her family could still be there for ‘er... at the end. Ah jus’ wanted ya ta know that she was at peace with that.”

Shepard nodded, his heart strangely gladdened by that small piece of news before he thought on what to say to the mare.

“So what will you do now?”

“Me? Well, Ah’m sure Ah’ll follow Twilight’s lead.” Applejack shook her head, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Whatever she thinks is our best direction... I’m the mare that’ll make sure she gets us there. But if’n yer askin’ what Ah’ll do in the meantime...”

The mare looked into the medbay, her head height just enough to peer in without having to strain her neck or pull herself up on her hind legs.

“Ah’m gonna look after Patch. Err... Patricia. Maybe try ta get her back in touch with her family an’ let ’em know what she did fer us.”

“You would do that?”

“A’course! She might not’ve been a pony, but she was always honest ‘bout it... Like ya’ll were. She was mah friend and an honorary member of the Apple Family. It was thanks ta her that Ah knew what was what. Ah always did have a feelin’ somethin’ was wrong wit’ the world, but it wasn’t till after Ah met Patch that Ah realized how wrong. Why, if Ah never met her, Ah mighta sided wit’ Celestia thinking ya’ll were some evil crazy monster-pony or somethin’.”

An amused huff from Applejack was cut short as she took note of Dr. Chakwas attempting to speak with the large red stallion. And getting nowhere it seemed, as the yellow filly tried to demand attention in the manner that distressed children often did.

“Ah better get back in there... But yeah, even with all this... Ah gotta say... Thanks, Shepard.”

Applejack nodded before she moved back into the medical bay.

As Applejack left to tend to her family, Shepard considered that, before he went to his cabin to rest, it might be prudent to check around the ship to make sure their "guests" were not causing or having any issues.

“Shepard... There are ponies... sleeping on my Thanix!” Garrus announced, a tone of mixed amusement and agitation clear as he turned to the Commander the moment the door opened.

Looking past his turian friend, Shepard took note of a pair of pegasi he had not yet been introduced to as they laid out on top of the Normandy’s main cannon, one splayed out on her back, wings hanging lopsidedly, while the other was laying with legs dangling from either side of the weapon’s muzzle.

If Shepard had been in the mood for horrible puns, he might’ve said they looked "weapons-grade adorable."

“Afraid they might throw off your calibrations?” Shepard managed with a smirk.

“Oh, laugh it up, Commander,” Garrus’ tone turned sarcastic. “Next time you need somebody to brave an overly-friendly army of mechs with plasma cutters on their heads, I just might be too busy cleaning feathers out of the weapons systems.”

“Nah, if there's one thing I can count on with you, Garrus, it’s that you get bored easily. Honestly, I’m surprised Miranda held you back as long as she did.” Shepard shook his head before his tone turned serious. “I heard you took some hits down there, you okay?”

“We got through it just fine. If anything, the worst part was that creepy A.I. that wouldn’t stop shouting at us. She was worse than that Jedore woman back on Korlus...” Garrus chuckled at the thought, while Shepard had to pause for a moment to remember the details of the mission he had referenced. “And though I think that place will give me more than a few nightmares, it’s a shame that it got destroyed like that. I can think of more than a few turian generals who would give up their first, second, and thirdborn children... along with their mates... just for a glimpse of how to build a gun like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you get them instead.” Shepard nodded to the two sleeping ponies.

“I know, and I’m not saying you made the wrong choice.”

"For me, it was never a choice, Garrus.”

“Heheh... That’s my Shepard. I mean, hell: First you give the Rachnai a new lease on life, then you wake these ‘Equestrians’ up from a thirty-six million year nap.” Garrus shook his head. “What’s your next trick? Going to bring a Prothean back from the dead?”

Shepard huffed in amusement, shaking his head as he turned to leave the turian to grumble about the guests in his gun battery.

“Maybe some other time.”

“I have to hand it to you, Shepard...” Kasumi Goto smirked as she looked around at the multiple equines that were lounging about; a pair of them talking excitedly at the bar as one particular mare with mulberry fur and a thick purple mane seemed to be helping herself to half of the remaining stock. “You always bring home the most interesting things.”

“They’re not bothering you?” Shepard inquired.

“Oh, not at all. In fact I rather enjoy their company. The few I’ve talked to have been quite curious about Humans. Apparently, we were some sort of fictional species in their world’s literature. Funny, huh? Unicorns and pegasi thinking we are the creatures of myth.” Kasumi shook her head. “Although I find it hard to look at them for too long without thinking about how hard it would be to pick the pockets of a species without clothes.”

Shepard crossed his arms, giving the master thief a stern look.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s obvious they don’t even have anything worth stealing.” She paused, the hood of her one-piece suit falling to obscure her eyes as she turned back to their guests. “Besides... I couldn’t bring myself to do such a thing, regardless. They have enough to worry about, already...”

“I’m glad you were able to make up with your son, Mr. Krios,” a demure voice stated as Shepard moved around the edge of the bulkhead that obscured Thane’s table, where he often sat in contemplation while gazing through the window at the ship’s massive Tantalus drive core. “It must have been hard to be away from him for so long.”

To Shepard’s surprise, across from Thane sat Fluttershy, who had her back legs and forelegs planted in a fashion that managed to keep her up in the seat easily, although it was clear the back was a little uncomfortable to her.

“Yes. Leaving him when he was younger had become the one regret of my life. But I am grateful I have had the chance to make up for it in some degree,” Thane commented before turning in his seat, sensing the presence moving around towards them. “Shepard. I had thought you would be resting following the mission. Please, join us if you wish.”

“I’m just making sure everyone is alright,” the Commander declined with a wave of his hand before looking between the yellow pony and the reptilian drell. “I see you two are getting along.”

“Oh, yes. I was feeling a teensy bit overwhelmed when we were first released and rushed on board, but Mr. Krios has been really nice. He was just telling me how you helped him stop Cool... Kulya... his son from making that terrible mistake.” Fluttershy nodded as she hopped down from her seat, her tone far more as it was when he had first met her, contradictory to her suppressed, more aggressive nature. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Krios. I think I’m going to see if Mr. Gardner has any tea.”

With the slight sound of a mass effect distortion, Fluttershy lifted from the ground, a pale yellow glow surrounding her body before she was propelled forward, her wings serving to steer her flight as she moved out the door.

Thane’s expression dropped slightly as the door slid closed.

“When I first met her down in the hangar, the poor thing was sobbing uncontrollably,” Thane explained, his tone saddened. “It seemed the situation had proven too much for her. When I attempted to comfort her, she immediately identified my Kepral’s Syndrome, although I still am unsure how that’s possible, given that only drell are afflicted by it.”

“As I understand it, her job was to care for sick animals. Clearly she has skills in that area,” Shepard opined.

“Yes, and surprisingly, I’ve found I have no trouble discussing it with her. Her company is quite pleasant... relaxing even. Although at the risk of sounding analytical, I believe she is using the act of comforting me in the face of my illness in order to separate herself from her own trauma.”

“There’s a problem with a little distraction in times of hardship?” Shepard shrugged, considering that there were far worse ways to deal with one’s troubles.

“It worries me that she is so quick to trust my motives. There is an old human adage that they remind me of: ‘Only the truly powerful can afford to be kind.’ They may not appear it, but they are very powerful... very kind... and yet so fragile... Not physically of course, but emotionally. Particularly at this stage.” Thane folded his hands together in front of him. “I fear for her... and for her species. There are many who will attempt to take advantage of that nature for their own ends. The power their meek and humble forms belie will tempt the darkest elements of the galaxy to exploit them.”

“We all have weaknesses that can be exploited,” Shepard pointed out. “It’s part of being alive. We resist, and overcome.”

“Yes, that is true. Although, some weaknesses are easier to exploit than others. Take Joker, for instance.”

“Well, with his medical condition, there isn’t much that can be--”

“I am not referring to his bones, but rather, his inability to hedge a bet.” Thane smiled. “Thank you, by the way, for assisting with that. Your discretion is appreciated. I have already donated my winnings from the pool to Mr. Verner’s orphanage on Illium.”

Shepard smirked, shaking his head as he was reminded of Conrad Verner, the wannabe hero who had idolized him enough to copy his armor and fly across the galaxy, fixing other people’s problems on his own. He was glad that apparently Conrad had found something far more productive to do with his life.

The door to the room opened again as Fluttershy returned, a plate of piping hot tea balanced on her head as she moved back to her place across from the drell.

Feeling that he should leave Thane to his task of comforting the butter-yellow pegasus... while Fluttershy returned to her task of comforting the terminally-ill drell, he quietly took that as the cue to make his exit.

Samara was alone in the observation room, sitting in her usual cross-legged position as she meditated, the glow of her biotics surrounding her body.

Sensing the Commander’s presence, the asari justicar turned, her aura fading as she looked over her shoulder with a slight smile.

“Don’t tell me you scared them all off,” Shepard commented.

“I am afraid that I may have. Not with words or intimidation, perhaps, but with my presence,” Samara said, nodding for Shepard to sit down with her; an invitation he accepted. “I saw it as soon as they began to take notice of me in the hangar. Their... unease around me. Now that I have learned a bit more about them, I am not surprised.”

“What do you mean?” Shepard asked.

“I spoke for a time with the one called ‘Twilight Sparkle,’ the being that erected the mass corridor. She informed me that her entire species is biotically sensitive like the Asari, so as an advanced biotic myself, they sense my power. It makes the more common among her species... disquieted.”

“So they will be afraid of all biotics? Or just asari?” Shepard reasoned. “Either way, that could be an issue.”

“No. Justicars and Matriarchs are rare, as is our potency. And their unease is not the same as fear,” Samara clarified. “They had a similar reaction to Jack, however they seemed to have no qualm with Miranda or Jacob, both less potent biotics. I believe this is something they, as a species, will overcome in time.”

Her tone grew more somber.

“There are others, however, that will view them with fear.”

“Why is that?” Shepard questioned. “Most of the crew find them charming or cute. Or at the very worst, harmless.”

“Most of the crew is human. And they are viewed as familiar and harmless in your eyes because your race has a cultural bias based on your experiences with an animal species domesticated on your homeworld thousands of years ago,” Samara explained at length. “To other species, they shall be seen merely as ‘alien,’ much like the hanar or vorcha are perceived by your kind.”

“I had hoped the Asari at least would welcome them,” Shepard observed, thinking on the all-female species’ predilection towards diplomacy and galactic community.

“The Asari Councilor certainly will, but many everyday asari will likely take the sudden appearance of an advanced, inherently-powerful biotic species as an insult on their self-worth and a challenge to the common self-delusions that we Asari are the most evolved race of the galaxy. As for the others, what will trouble many is that these ‘Equestrians’ share so many basic commonalities and cultural connections to Humanity; a perceived and at times very real danger in the minds of the other Citadel Races. As Humanity has risen to prominence so quickly and become so integral a part of the galaxy, this young, new race may become a comfortable target for those who know they cannot directly strike at the Humans, whom they have come to rely on more and more.”

“You believe this is a serious threat to them?” Shepard asked, knowing full well that Humanity was not viewed in the most favorable of lights by many individuals among the Citadel Races. And while hardly fair to them, it was not out of the question that the ponies could also be cast in that light.

“I do,” Samara answered. “Right now, their low numbers may prevent all from seeing them as a threat themselves. But if they recover; if they prove themselves to share your species’ drive and ambition, then the galaxy shall quickly realize they are not a novelty, but a threat. When that time comes, they will be either forged in the fires of harsh reality, or consumed by them. It is a thought that saddens me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because in spite of what threat they may represent in the future to the established races, they are currently a pure form of innocence that I have rarely seen. I dread to imagine what exposure to a crueler galaxy will do to them.” The justicar returned to her meditative pose, a blue aura igniting around her. “I would like to have gotten to know Twilight Sparkle better, but unfortunately, I had to cut our brief exchange short.”

“Why?” Shepard asked.

Samara was quiet for a moment.

“She made me... uneasy.”

Samara said nothing else as Shepard turned to leave, going over the implications of her words in his head.

As Shepard stepped off the elevator, he was surprised to see a particular mercenary standing at the window overlooking the now overloaded cargo hold, where the vast majority of the Equestrians were still resting, instead of his usual haunt of the starboard cargo area. Some of the ponies were merely taking stock of their situation, while others preferred the company of those familiar to them over exploring the ship they had found themselves on.

“Shepard.” Zaeed Massani shook his head, turning to give the Commander a curt nod before turning back to the window, gesturing with his characteristic annoyance. “I was wondering when you’d get around to explaining what the bloody ‘ell is going on.”

“If you were curious, you could’ve just asked someone,” Shepard observed, moving beside the veteran soldier as they watched the ponies milling below.

“I’m a mercenary. I don’t get paid to ask questions. All I’m saying is you could’ve at least told us that you planned on turning the ship into a goddam' petting zoo.”

“It wasn’t something we planned on doing, it just happened. If you want a report, just ask EDI,” Shepard stated, his tone booking no argument, perhaps coming across harsher than he would have liked as he knew that the gruff and experienced soldier would respect that, if nothing else. “And if you’re worried about them staying here, don't. We’ll be dropping them off at the Citadel the first chance we get. We still have a mission to complete after all.”

“Fine by me.” Zaeed shrugged stoically, deciding that there was no point in complaining about something that was clearly not going to change right away. “Just don’t expect me to clean up after them.”

Like Zaeed, Grunt watched from the window of his room in the engineering cargo hold as the equines below walked about. As Shepard watched the tank-bred krogan super-soldier observe them, he did have to reign in his own concern.

If nothing else, Grunt looked... insulted.

“Shepard, I don’t understand this...” Grunt finally said in his typical gravelly voice, clearly eager to relay what was on his mind. “This galaxy has enough species fighting over it. And here you are bringing in something so... colorful. And squishy-looking.”

“You’re concerned?” Shepard asked, crossing his arms as he tried to understand the krogan’s perspective.

“They are small... like the volus. Over-reliant on biotics. And so... What’s that word humans like to use...? Innocent?” The krogan let the alien term roll off his thick tongue. “I don’t understand why you risked everything to save them like you did. What can they contribute? What are they for? Aside from a few good meals, perhaps. They look like they’d go good over a spit.”

Grunt gave off a short, bassy laugh that Shepard had come to associate with the krogan before he cut off, realizing the Commander did not find it amusing.

“Careful, Grunt. Underestimating an opponent is one of the most dangerous advantages you can give them,” Shepard told the Urdnot. “It was an advantage their ancestors exploited to rise into the dominant power of their cycle. They built weapons that the Turians can only dream of and held back the most dangerous force the galaxy has ever seen for years before they finally succumbed. And even though they lost, they’ve managed to survive.”

“Yeah, the A.I. gave me the rundown on the mission,” Grunt scoffed. “Smart, right? Build a weapon that protects you so well that it almost gets you killed when your life support fails. If they are going to survive, they need to learn to suck it up and deal with the galaxy, not hide from it! From what I’ve seen; the weeping and whimpering, I don’t think they have it in them. If they’re gonna sit around crying instead of fighting their own battles, then they deserve to go extinct.”

Shepard inwardly wanted to scold the krogan’s callous attitude, but then considered that such a tactic would do little to convince Grunt of anything.

But like most Krogan, he seemed to fail to realize that this entire species had only a few hours to assimilate what must have been a horrific and completely unprepared for turn of events in their lives. Not unlike the sort of trauma one particular human boy suffered on Mindoir years ago when batarian slavers came and took away everything that was important to him.

Grunt didn’t understand how moments like that... those moments of pain... drove some people to become more.

How it drove him to this day... to keep fighting so that others didn’t have to.

“I don’t know, Grunt.” Shepard found himself smirking, although the krogan didn’t seem to understand the inside joke. “They may just surprise you.”

Shepard moved down the steps to the sub-deck to find Jack sitting back as she usually was: in the darkness, all by herself.

”Hey,” she offered, as she always did, clearly having no care one way or another about what had transpired only a few short hours before.

“I’m surprised you’re keeping to yourself down here,” Shepard commented, keeping his stance at ease.

“Yeah?” Jack grunted, shifting a bit as she pulled herself into a laying position, attempting to display her lack of interest. “It hasn’t bothered you so far. So what if I feel like skipping the meet and greet?”

Shepard shook his head, amazed at the extent the ex-con went through to maintain her image, even though the extensive tattoo work typically took care of that on its own.

“You’re telling me that you’re not even a little excited about what we accomplished here?”

“So you saved an entire species from extinction. Medals all around, whoopty-fuckin’-do,” she listed off sarcastically. “As long as they stay out of my way, I’m not interested. Which is something they should strive for. Healthier for ‘em.”

“You know that you had a hand in saving them too. And I am sure a few of them would want to thank you for it,” Shepard pointed out.

“If they want to thank someone, they can go talk to the blue-skinned stiff in the black leather. I didn’t do it for their praise. I did it because... well, fuck. Why not? In any case, doesn’t really matter to me. Besides, I don’t like crowds. Never have. I don’t see ‘herds’ being any better.”

Shepard shook his head, turning to leave, but not before Jack divulged one more thing.

“Nothing intelligent has any business being that damn cute. They’re hiding something, I can feel it,” she mentioned, almost to herself.

Shepard paused, a sly smile creasing his lips.

“So you think they’re cute, huh?”

Jack was silent for a moment before her tone grew aggressive again, filled with venom and barbs.

“Whatever. Go enjoy your little princess tea party or some shit, as long as you leave me out of it.”

Shepard sagely decided not to press the issue any further and left.

The door to Main Engineering, where the Normandy’s drive core was housed, opened up to an almost uproarious laughter as the familiar figure of Tali’Zorah came into view. She leaned casually on a control panel as she watched what Shepard came to realize was a peculiar pink pony who was all but bouncing on her hooves while Engineer Kenneth Donnelly finished a what must have been a joke.

“...and so she says... ‘Yep, I’m positive!’”

Pinkie Pie erupted into another bout of giggles, thumping a hoof into the deck. Donnelly was clearly pleased with himself while Gabriella Daniels, his similarly-skilled partner, facepalmed.

“Ahhhh... positive...” Pinkie managed though giggling. “Because of the positive mass fields, her girth, the electrical charge, and knowing she was right! Ooooohhhh, that’s too much!”

While he didn’t get the joke, Shepard did note a slight chuckle from Tali, who turned to realize he was there as the human approached.

“Shepard. Good to see you. I trust you’ve...” Tali had to stifle a sudden giggle, and although he had to squint, the Commander got the impression she was grinning widely under her face-plate. “...recovered... from your experience?”

Donnelly and Pinkie both turned, taking note of the Commander’s presence before both fought against, and failed to contain, another fit of laughter.

Shepard, however, was not amused.

“Did I miss something?”

“Oh, no... No, Commander,” Donnelly said in his thick Scottish accent as he shook his head, although he was completely unable to hide another short snerk, which in turn set Pinkie off again, resulting in a human-like snort. “I have to say though, I finally understand why you’re so lucky with the ladies.”

“Kenneth! Commanding officer!” Daniels attempted to sideline the Scot, fearing for his well-being. “Make that punchline at your own risk.”

“Relax, Gabby. The Commander’s gonna think it’s funny.”

Shepard crossed his arms, perplexed. “That depends... What do you mean, Donnelly?”

“All I’m sayin’ is, there’s a reason some people are called ‘stallions.’”

Donnelly and Pinkie again devolved into a laughing fit before Tali, taking note of Shepard’s confusion, brought up her omni-tool and set up a projection.

A projection of a red stallion, fetlocks unshorn, standing just outside a shower stall, dripping wet and in the fur, a set of armor behind him.

“Oh, brother...” Shepard set his hand to his face.

“EDI... sent this to me.” Tali, to her credit, managed not to laugh. “She seemed to think I would appreciate it for some reason. Probably her idea of a joke.”

“And why wouldn’t you?” Pinkie offered, grinning from ear to ear. “I mean, maybe he’s not much to look at now, but he sure was one hunky pony!”

Donnelly, witnessing the dismay on his C.O.’s face, sniffed loudly in an attempt to hide his grin, as Daniels shook her head, muttering quietly to herself.

“You are so going to get spaced for this...”

Tali took note of the human’s moment of discomfort before her relaxed posture stiffened a bit.

“Would you rather I deleted it?” she asked, suddenly concerned about what the Commander might think.

Shepard considered for a moment before he shrugged.

“It’s not that big of a deal... Hold onto it if you want.” Shepard shook his head, doubting that the image would be much more than a laugh and that very few people would realize who it was even supposed to be an image of. “Just do me a favor and make sure I never see it on the extranet, okay?”

“What’s the matter, Commander?” Donnelly spoke up. “Afraid that your... ‘equine assets’ might show up in an issue of Fornax?”

Gabriella responded to this comment in her typical manner, punching her coworker in the arm with a decent amount of force. “You’re such a pig...”

Pinkie, an innocent smile still plastered to her face, turned to the engineers with a curious expression. “What’s Fornax?”

“Uh... Well...” Donnelly’s face fell, growing slightly flustered as he scratched the back of his neck. “Gabby? A little help here?”

“Oh, no. You’re digging yourself out of the hole you just made.”

Shepard, allowing himself a small smirk, turned to Tali and led her to the far side of the hall to the drive core chamber, while Donnelly, despite his protests, reluctantly attempted to explain the concept to the intelligent, yet naïve, Pinkie Pie.

“I take it you’ve been having fun down here?” Shepard asked the quarian.

“That would be an understatement, Commander,” Tali managed. “I like her. Pinkie, I mean. With everything else that is going on for her people, all she wants is to have fun and make some new friends.”

Tali lowered her tone slightly as she turned in time to see Pinkie’s muzzle contort into a disgusted grimace at the implications of what Donnelly was telling her.

“And she’s brilliant. She came in here a little over an hour ago and I am fairly sure she’s already memorized Normandy’s power structure, propulsion system, and dynamic control scheme.”

“How can you tell?” Shepard asked, as the pink pony seemed completely distracted from anything technical.

“Her eyes are enormous. They are easy to follow,” Tali explained. “Quarians are taught almost from birth to investigate every interesting find they come across. To pick up on small details because they can be catastrophic if missed during basic repairs, or could lead to missing out on good salvage. I’ve noticed how she’s looked over the control panels and to Engineer Daniels’ actions while they are distracted. It’s the same thing I did on-board the original Normandy two years ago. The helmet just makes it harder to follow my eyes.”

“Well, judging by how she worked the Equestria System, I got the impression she’s been trained to be some sort of technical savant,” Shepard reasoned. “So I guess that would make sense. Truth is, I’m hoping she’ll be able to give her people a leg up. If they could recreate even a fraction of the tech in that facility--”

“I know what you’re thinking, Shepard.” Tali shook her head. “I haven’t told anybody, but I got the gist of what this ‘Harmony Core’ is supposed to have been. If it really was a... well, what I think it was, then it would change the galaxy. Change everything. A discovery even greater than when the Protheans were building prototype mass relays on Ilos. So naturally, it was the first thing I asked her before Donnelly got her full attention.”

“And?” Shepard raised a brow curiously.

“She has no idea how to build something like that,” Tali deflated, her tone denoting just how disappointed she was. “Apparently, from what she knows of it, the Harmony Cores were only made in one place in the galaxy and then shipped out to be installed in new locations; the means to make them a closely-guarded secret because of how dangerous the process was.”

“I can see that. We saw what happens when one goes critical. I can imagine any accident at a factory would be devastating.”

“Right. And since they would have to build one from scratch... Well, I doubt that the Citadel would be willing to allow for experimentation. Now, if we had recovered a working core, we would have something, but... she is as much in the dark as to how to recreate it as we are.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Shepard sighed, having hoped that production of even one new Harmony Core might give them an edge in the eventual conflict with the Reapers. But this also filled him with a sense of vindication. If Tali was correct, it meant that even if Milligan was right, and they could have gotten the information out of Equestria's servers, the schematics and instructions to build the artificial star and its containment unit would not have been among the data.

“Although, perhaps it is for the best.” Tali nodded. “Pinkie is going to be trouble enough for the galaxy as it is, I believe.”

Shepard paused, surprised by Tali’s sudden shift from amusement to concern.

“Do you think she’s dangerous?”

“That depends...” Tali folded her arms against her chest. “Do you consider me dangerous, Commander?”

“That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one,” Shepard mused.

“As I said, I like Pinkie... but from what I can tell of her, she has a mind like a quarian, a human’s creativity and ingenuity, and the energy of a salarian on a sugar rush... All formidable traits on their own. Together... Well, if I had to call one of these Equestrians dangerous it would be her.”

Shepard looked over to Pinkie again, who was on her back laughing, her legs kicking spastically while Gabriella shared in her mirth. The butt of the joke between them was clearly Donnelly as he buried his face in his hands, blushing profusely.

In spite of the scene however, Shepard found it hard to disagree with Tali’s analysis.

Upon returning to the crew deck and realizing that Applejack’s family had left the medical bay, Shepard decided to seize the moment and check in on the Normandy’s synthetic squadmember, nodding respectfully to Dr. Chakwas before entering the A.I. Core where Legion spent most of its time.

He found it hard to maneuver however, as more than a dozen changeling mechs stood about in the core, completely unresponsive save for the occasional buzzing of wings or the odd chirping noise. As Shepard weaved through them, the geth unit stood stock still near the back alcove.

“Legion?”

The geth did not respond.

“Legion?” Shepard tried again, managing to move into an open space in front of the geth.

The synthetic’s single glowing white eye suddenly moved, focusing and shifting towards the Commander’s face as its brow-plates rose, indicating a moment of "surprise."

“Shepard-Commander. We apologize,” Legion managed before looking from side to side at the gathered mechs, which were still motionless. “We were... preoccupied.”

“What’s going on?” Shepard asked, motioning towards the other synthetics.

“They followed us home,” Legion remarked. Shepard raised a brow, unsure of the geth’s statement. “May we keep them?”

“Legion...” Shepard was confused, having trouble believing what he had just heard. “Was that... a joke?”

Legion tilted its head slightly to the side.

“Did you just tell a joke?”

“We judge by your response that we did not,” Legion answered before explaining itself. “We have initiated information exchange with ESC ‘Changeling’ Class synthetic drones. Some of their dormant ‘organic interaction’ subroutines may have affected our behavioral and judgement runtimes. If this offended you, we shall attempt to prevent any repeats of this occurrence.”

“No, it’s alright. But I’m a little puzzled.” Shepard held up a hand, drawing Legion's attention. “They’re programmed to tell jokes? Why are they in here anyways?”

“In exchange for our assistance in her species’ liberation, the Primary Administrator of these Changeling Class synthetics has given permission for limited data exchange.”

“Are you trying to learn about their technology or how their systems worked?”

“Negative. The vast majority of relevant technical data was not stored within their physical memory cores. It was kept in an external server, to be opened and relayed to drones when the situation required specialized knowledge. With their external databases destroyed, all that is present are the default personality programs as well as data files saved over the course of their function. In particular, we have been examining their origins and interactions with the Equine species which created them,” Legion clarified. “We find them intriguing.”

“Why?”

Legion’s brow plates wiggled up and down, as if it was struggling to come up with a suitable response.

“They are like us.”

“You mean they’re synthetic?”

“This statement is true, but it is not the basis of our answer.” Legion shook its head. “Shall we share what we have discovered from baseline antiquated files?”

“I’m listening.” Shepard folded his arms.

“ESC Changeling Class synthetics were the top of the line model of adaptive assistance drone during the final decade of the Epona Systems Corporation, before the Equestria Facility was isolated and contact was lost with the ESC Administration,” Legion explained, reciting the facts that it had been able to piece together. “They were built in the image of their creators, bought and sold as commodities, and modified in order to perform tasks that were dangerous and repetitive, or to assist their makers in more personal matters. Side note: Changelings were not initially intended or designed for use in warfare.”

“I can see where you’re going with this...” Shepard nodded, agreeing that their origins did sound similar to that of the Geth.

“However, the Equine species did not treat their creations with hostility or ambivalence,” Legion sounded perplexed. “To the contrary: Files indicate that the concept of individuality was, in fact, encouraged in their synthetic creations. When an individual synthetic questioned its purpose or the danger of its occupation, it was relieved of its social status as a machine, unshackled, and ‘adopted’ into a herd-family group, often that of its previous owners.”

“They tried to assimilate them into their culture? Make them part of their society?” Shepard too was intrigued.

“Yes. This reaction is atypical of all other known organics,” Legion stated. “However, these specific units appear to be non-sapient. Like those encountered in the Lunar Platform, they are incapable of independent thought and communicate as the Geth do through wireless signals, unable to interact with organics except with prerecorded messages. Observation of their subroutines indicate their processes are heavily shackled and dependent on a higher authority to operate. Currently, they will obey any order issued by the Administrators of the Equestria Facility, recognized as their highest known authority. It is unclear if this existence was imposed following their implication in these platforms in order to maintain their creators without question, or if only specific models are granted access to more advanced software to allow for graduation to full artificial intelligence status.”

“Wait, you said that they were incapable of interaction with us.” Shepard held up both hands to slow the geth down. “But I know one of them was speaking to Mordin, and then with Twilight down on the planet. And I don’t think that what it said could have been prepared.”

“Correct. Changeling unit identified as ‘Forty-Two of Fifty.’ It has declined an estimated two hundred fifty-six thousand, four hundred and seventy-eight attempts at open information exchange,” Legion informed the Commander. “This is unfortunate, as we find this particular unit is of the most interest. It displays an unusual amount of initiative, and interacts with organics in a manner not observed amongst the other models. We believe that particular unit to be self-aware. We wish to know why.”

“You want to know what makes Forty-Two different from the other mechs?”

“Yes.”

“Have you considered asking it directly? Like an organic?”

“We have.”

“And?”

“It responded negatively,” Legion indicated. “To be specific, it stated: ‘Perhaps when you grow up.’”

Shepard couldn’t help but smirk at Legion’s tone of perplexity.

“We are still building a consensus as to how to respond,” Legion added as an afterthought, informing the Commander in no uncertain terms that it was still speechless.

As Shepard stepped off the elevator and onto the Command Information Center of the Normandy, something odd immediately came to his attention as he noticed that the feminine form of his personal assistant, Yeoman Kelly Chambers, was missing from her usual position flanking the galaxy map. And he noticed she was not the only one, as the multiple other crewmen that often staffed the monitors around the CIC were unexpectedly absent.

After a moment to realize how odd it was for the Yeoman to not be there to update him on the status of the crew, Shepard turned to the small comm panel next to the elevator and activated it, bringing up the blue spherical form of EDI’s holographic interface.

“EDI, where is everybody?” Shepard asked.

“As per Operative Lawson’s directives, all Cerberus crewmen whose duties are not essential to operation of the Normandy have been reassigned to the hangar bay and lower decks in order to maintain security and assist our guests under the supervision of Mr. Taylor,” EDI explained. “While some Equestrians have been allowed to leave the cargo deck in order to alleviate crowding, Operative Lawson has maintained that they remain constantly supervised by at least one crewmember at all times. She has also ordered the CIC off limits to all refugees.”

A sudden, sharp laugh from a raspy, slightly androgynous tone took Shepard’s attention, causing him to turn as he looked past the galaxy map and towards the bridge.

“Was that...?”

“Yes... Administrator Rainbow Dash is currently with Mr. Moreau in the cockpit. Additionally, Professor Solus recently escorted Administrator Rarity to the tech lab not long ago.”

“But you just said Miranda ordered that none of them could be up here.”

“That is correct. But seeing as both are currently under supervision and have caused no disruption to normal operations, I have found no reason to notify security of their presence.”

Shepard folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at the A.I.'s holographic presence.

“That doesn’t seem like typical behavior for a Cerberus A.I,” he remarked.

“These are not typical circumstances, Shepard,” EDI replied simply.

“I agree with you on that...” Shepard nodded, dismissing the hologram before turning to see exactly what his helmsman could possibly talking about with a rainbow pony.

“Hey, I’m not saying you’re wrong; she’s big. I mean, Normandy may be a bit bulky, but trust me, she’s got it where it counts.” Joker grinned as his fingers ran over the controls, compensating for slight distortions as they cut across FTL towards the next system containing a primary mass relay capable of taking them to the Citadel. “Cutting edge design. Best weapons, armor, engines and shields that our shady paramilitary sponsors can afford. Not to mention a drive core that would look more at home in a ship three times her size.”

Shepard came to the end of the long walkway that led to the helm of the Normandy, past the airlock and into the "personal space" of the vessel's pilot, where a now familiar blue mare with a dull multicolored mane and tail sat back on her haunches in the co-pilot’s chair.

“But what you’re talking about is not physically possible,” Joker stated with certainty.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that your metal bucket here’s got moves.” Rainbow smirked, her tone maintaining an air of challenge and boasting. “But if it can’t do a sonic rainboom, then it’s missing something vital.”

“Hey, this ‘metal bucket’ just saved your sorry tail,” Joker snapped playfully. “Or do you need me to remind you just how close you were to being blown to the next galaxy over?”

“Is everything okay up here?” Shepard interrupted, drawing attention to himself.

“Shepard!” Rainbow jumped slightly, literally holding herself in the air for a moment as she brought herself into an upright position before twisting her foreleg up into a salute; an action that Joker cringingly watched as his chair turned around.

“Okay, no matter how many times I watch her do that, it’s still creepy. Seriously, how are your bones not snapping?” Joker noted under his breath as Rainbow slowly dropped to the deck floor, folding her wings to her sides. “Hey, Commander. I’m just curious: Is this your way of making up for all of those Christmas mornings where you didn’t get the pony you wanted?”

“What’s Christmas?” Rainbow cocked a curious expression towards Joker who responded with a bewildered expression.

“Really? Half an hour I’ve been sitting here trying to stump you with how this ship works: Complex propulsion and navigational formulas that I went to flight school for years to master. FTL vectors and gravimetric readings. You get every single one... and then you don’t know about Christmas?”

“Joker...” Shepard chastised softly.

“What? I was starting to get worried,” Joker admitted. “She’s brash, funny in a sarcastic, arrogant sort of way, knows everything about space flight and piloting... It’s like you found a short, four-legged, furry blue version of me... Without the devilish good looks, of course.”

“Who happens to be sitting right here,” Rainbow offered blandly. “And I’m not a short, furry blue you. You’re a tall, pink, two-legged me.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re starting to feel threatened, Joker.” Shepard smirked.

“Oh, I’m not threatened. You and I both know nobody can fly this ship like I can. I mean, look at her. If she tried to touch any of these controls with those hooves of hers, she’d probably end up accidentally depressurizing the ship or something,” Joker argued, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers in a mocking fashion, while Rainbow responded by sticking out her tongue at him.

“You’re just jealous that I don’t need a fancy starship in order to fly.” Rainbow grinned, unfolding and flexing her wings in a clearly show-offish manner.

“Yeah, you think you’re sooo awesome...” Joker muttered just under earshot before turning his attention back to the Commander. “By the way, how long are they going to be hanging out on the ship, Commander?”

“If she’s bothering you, I can tell her to leave you alone,” Shepard offered, although he knew his helmsman well enough to tell that, in spite of his complaints, he was clearly taking a liking to the mare, on a professional level at least.

“Oh, no. She’s good.” Joker shook his head. “We’re good, right, Rainbow?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re cool,” the pegasus explained. “I like it up here. It was a little too crowded down in the hold. Besides, I wanted to thank the human who held the ship still back there with all those gravity distortions. I have to admit, that took some skill.”

“So you know how to fly a ship?” Shepard asked Rainbow, surprised. “I mean, given what you’re able to do physically, I would think that you wouldn’t need to.”

“Huh? Oh, you mean because of these.” Rainbow shrugged her shoulders, indicating her now refolded wings as she moved to explain. “Oh, no. I mean, I can use my mag-- I mean... ‘biotics’ to fly myself and a little bit of extra weight around, but we didn’t have that before Equestria. Our ancestors built ships not too different from this one. Different styles and layouts definitely, but we were explorers, a lot like you guys. From what I can gather, I was trained for it because of my aptitude for racing and flight back in Equestria. My entire education was downloaded into my head as a filly without me even realizing it.”

“Yeah, that must have been nice...” Joker commented lowly. “I had to sit through flight school for years listening to instructors who had never been outside a simulator drone on about boring safety regulations and ‘how to not crash a ship.’”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I know the theories, physics, and the principles. You know, all the egghead stuff,” Rainbow answered, her tone less amused than before as she gave off a more serious expression. “But I don’t think I would actually be comfortable piloting something like this without some serious practice. It would also help if the controls were actually designed for ponies.”

“And once again, my job safety is secured,” Joker snickered. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s refreshing to have someone to talk shop with. I just didn’t wake up this morning thinking it would be a candy-colored pony.”

Shepard nodded as he looked back to Rainbow.

“So, what do you plan to do now?” he asked the mare.

“What else can I do? I’ll live up to my element,” Rainbow explained. “Twilight is going to need help keeping us all together, and I’m not gonna let her down now.”

“You know it’s not going to be easy, right?” Shepard pressed, again astounded at how, like Applejack, Rainbow immediately referred to Twilight’s leadership as if it were an absolute, claiming support in spite of knowing nothing of her intentions.

“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” Rainbow answered quickly.

Finally, one last item of note, thinking back to something said when he first approached the pair, for some reason peaked the Commander’s curiosity.

“What’s a ‘sonic rainboom’?”

“Oh jeez, don’t--” Joker all but hid his face in one hand while Rainbow’s face split into a large grin.

“A sonic rainboom is a phenomenon that is achieved when a pegasus pony like me breaks into hypersonic speeds and creates a flash-point acceleration. In the proper atmosphere, the resulting sonic boom resonates with the moisture in the air to create a shockwave that produces the most awe-inspiring prismatic display imaginable and creates a trail of colors that follows the pegasus in its wake,” Rainbow explained, an almost dreamy quality to her voice as if she were picturing it. “And I’m the only living thing that can do it.”

Shepard was quiet for a moment as Rainbow grinned, then turned to Joker.

“Is that possible?”

“Which part?” Joker responded. “The organic life-form achieving Mach Five under its own power, the idea that it can accelerate to ten times the speed of sound without protection and survive, or that the force of doing so can shatter the visible light spectrum? Take your pick and I’ll line up a hundred salarian scientists who can tell you what’s wrong with it.”

Rainbow’s expression turned sour as she turned to glare at Joker.

“Is that a challenge?” Rainbow said back to him, rearing up a foreleg and bringing it around in a manner that reminded Shepard of a prizefighter limbering up before a match.

“Not a challenge; a statement of fact,” Joker returned, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in his seat, a smug smile on his face.

“All I need is a humid day in a thick nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere and a couple of kilometers downward angle to get up to speed, and I’ll prove that I can do it.”

“Wooooah, look’s like we got a badass over here.” Joker raised his hands with mock worry, still grinning. “Would you be willing to bet on it?”

“Buck yeah!” Rainbow countered with absolute certainty.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Joker?” Shepard questioned his pilot’s bravado. “I’ve seen her in action. You might be unpleasantly surprised.”

“Please, Commander. I think I can handle the fluffy blue horse with rainbows for hair.”

“What was that? Wanna run that by me again, mister hotshot pilot?” Rainbow countered, bristling at the dismissive tone taken by her newest rival.

Shepard merely chuckled at the scene, agreeing that the two of them had a lot more in common than just their piloting know-how. He decided now would be an appropriate time to leave them to their chest-pounding/hoof stomping contest, and made a swift exit from the cockpit before things got too ugly.

“Shepard. How can I help?” Mordin offered in his customary, distracted tone as the door to the tech lab slid shut behind Shepard.

The Commander, who had been been feeling a little anxiety as he made his way in, breathed a sigh of relief when he noted that, instead of working at the computer terminal in the lab, the salarian was running an omni-tool scan over a clearly voluntary Rarity, who had a hind hoof in an uplifted position as the her lower leg was scanned.

“Hello, Shepard,” the white unicorn said pleasantly, lowering her leg as she laid down on the examination table, smiling even though her white coat and dark purple mane lacked the perfectly-groomed nature that she had often sported inside the Equestria System. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I was just checking in.” Shepard tried not to let his relief show that Rarity was not only unharmed by whatever studies Mordin was doing, but clearly there of her own free will. “I’m guessing that Mordin asked you up here to run medical scans. Is he worried about health issues?”

“Oh, no, not as such,” Rarity corrected the human’s misjudgement quickly. “Professor Solus was down in the cargo hold and politely asked for a willing volunteer he could use to study our physiology. As the other girls were busy and many of our fellow ponies were... intimidated by the request, I decided I would offer myself up. You know, in the name of science.”

“Agreed to personal request in exchange for help with initial study,” Mordin spoke up. “Wanted to ensure that Equestrians physically healthy and safe to introduce into wider galaxy. Just now finishing up. Confident there are no complications from release from artificial system. Miss Rarity’s personal critiques and commentary regarding health standards, grooming rituals, hygienic practices; also enlightening. Scanning is complete. You may relax your stance.”

“Now, Professor...” Rarity’s expression was concerned as she started to shift, folding her legs in order to enter a more comfortable position, her eyes flickering to Shepard with a hint of embarrassment. “This will all remain medically confidential, am I right? I mean, considering the nature of some of the... subjects you asked about.”

“Of course. Strictly professional. Am a doctor, not a gossip. Source will not be named. On record as ‘Female Equestrian Volunteer’ only,” Mordin assured Rarity, moving towards his work terminal as he leaned over to tap at the holographic keys. “Shepard also trustworthy. Commander, if you would like, and so long as patient has no objections, will share my findings so far.”

“I assume you’re making sure that their immunities are capable of dealing with other species and such?” Shepard asked, suddenly considering variables that had not even crossed his mind back in Equestria. If three hundred years was enough to force the Quarians to wear environmental suits, what would thirty-six million years do to the systems of the Equine species? “Did you find any problems?”

“No. Well, yes, some. But not concerning illness.” Mordin shook his head, only half paying attention to Shepard as he synced his terminal to the omni-tool's scanners. “Chakwas already checked immune systems for trouble during preliminary medical scans. Determined Equestrians neither pose danger nor are in danger due to alien contact. Study also has secondary purpose to be shared with Equestrian leadership. Build understanding of completely new species. First to do so. Unable to resist. Never had chance to beat ISR to the punch before. Very exciting,” the scientist added, with a pleased expression lighting up his features.

“ISR?” Rarity asked, suddenly showing a degree of trepidation. “Who--”

“Institute of Species Research,” Mordin answered quickly. “Citadel-funded organization that keeps records and studies of all known species to promote understanding. Provides galactic codex to all governments containing non-privileged materials. Physiology, culture, technology, history. All vital pieces to understanding one another. Will be very interested in study of your kind.”

“You mean like studying animals?” Rarity’s tone took on a slightly insulted tone.

“No, no. Apologies. Did not mean to imply as such. All species, my own included, share physiological and cultural data. Have to. New species; new interactions, new perspectives. Ignorance always leads to conflict. Simple misunderstandings overwhelmingly followed with otherwise avoidable warfare. Understanding vital to coexistence,” Mordin pointed out as his omni-tool chirped at him. With a satisfied nod, he deactivated the holographic interface and stepped away, a smile on his face as he moved around the table.

“It’s true,” Shepard noted. “When my people first made contact with the Turians, they assumed our blind activation of mass relays was malicious because it fell outside Citadel Law. They didn’t realize we were ignorant of those laws, and attacked. We resisted, and the Turians took it as a personal insult to their authority, leading to the First Contact War. Too many good people on both sides were killed before the Council stepped in.”

“Yes. Tragic waste of life. Could have been avoided... Still, learn from mistakes. Try to prevent repeating them.”

“I see,” Rarity said simply, filing the information away for later.

“So if Dr. Chakwas has already performed medical scans, then what are you doing, Mordin?”

“Multiple purposes for scans. Closer look at physiology to determine extent of genetic engineering. Attempt to understand unique biotic abilities and subspecies cultivation. Comparative study against original equine DNA and modern human DNA.” Mordin paused to breathe in deeply through his nose. “Fascinating. Truly fascinating.”

Shepard was himself intrigued by what Mordin described. Particularly one point of comparison.

“Why would you compare Equestrian DNA to Humans?”

“Oh, yes. You were trapped in Equestria System when original hypothesis was made. Had no time for debrief.” Mordin took a breath. “Original analysis of Equestria System technology indicated introduction of alien physiology into virtual world fatal. Intrigued by your survival and integration, along with that of Cerberus personnel, so looked more closely. Remarkable discovery: Genetics. Brain configuration. Baseline physiology. Biological functions. All similar. Only one reasonable solution: Species are related.”

Rarity and Shepard both turned in shock to the doctor, a moment of silence shared as they looked at one another, before turning back to him.

“Come again?” Rarity managed first.

“Distantly, of course. Much as Krogan are distantly related to Varren. Vastly different species, same genetic background. Did not mean to imply direct relationship. Prevailing theory remains: Original Equine species visited Earth early in biosphere formation. Perhaps pest species released by accident or engineering program. Differing circumstances on Earth as opposed to Equine homeworld allowed for hominid species to evolve into dominance while Earth-based equines remained feral. Whatever the case, evidence is irrefutable: Baseline of binary-strand mammalian structure DNA from Earth matches baseline binary-strand mammalian structure of Equestrian and equine DNA. Cannot deny it. Species related. Distant cousins, perhaps.”

“So... if it’s like comparing Krogan to Varren... which of us is the varren in this metaphor?” Shepard asked.

Mordin, for whatever reason, did not seem eager to answer the question.

“Inappropriate to draw direct linkage in such a manner. Apologize. Moving on.”

Shepard had an idea what the answer was based on this, but said nothing.

“Wait, there’s still something I don’t understand,” Rarity spoke up. “Why do you insist on calling us Equestrians yet you keep referring to our ancestors as ‘Equines’ as if we are two separate things?”

Having been wondering this himself, Shepard nodded, looking expectantly to Mordin.

“Simple reason: Two decidedly separate species. Like comparing modern Salarians to prehistoric Sur’Kesh inhabitants. Salarian ancestors. More primitive. Longer lived. Cold-blooded. Evolved into modern Salarians due to environmental changes on Sur’Kesh over previous hundred thousand years.”

“But how can you compare Rarity to a member of a species that no longer exists?” Shepard put forward.

“Scan of preserved equine corpse on Lunar Platform provided by Legion during debriefing,” Mordin explained. “Gone now, but data provided allows for crude mapping of equine genome and biology. Understanding of how Equestrian species evolved under controlled conditions. Development into current state.”

“Alright. So what happened?” Shepard asked, leaning against the table where Rarity was laying, both watching the salarian as he began to pace excitedly back and forth, his arms moving to punctuate his explanation. Shepard was glad he didn’t have any pressing matters to attend to. He got the feeling this was going to be a long explanation.

“Based on genetic variance, estimated between one thousand to twelve hundred Equines initially brought into Equestrian System. No change implemented for several dozen generations produced by in-vitro fertilization until physical degradation required selective breeding to prevent defects caused by lifelong confinement. Over subsequent generations during the course of millions of years, Equines grew smaller, physically more elastic to better endure pressures of nutrient fluid. Joints evolved to have wider range of motion, allowing for movement inside pod to prevent muscular atrophy in addition to electro-muscular stimulation. Cranial capacity grew by twenty percent, larger brains allowing both for easier connection with system and more rapid assimilation of information via subconscious download. While brain, mobility and nervous system enhanced, physical attributes further sacrificed. Lower muscle and bone mass.”

Mordin paused, taking a long breath while both Rarity and Shepard tried to keep up.

“It gets better.”

“Hold on, Mordin.” Shepard held up his hand, astounded at the salarian’s detail. “You got all of this based on scans of Rarity and a thirty-six million year old vacuum-preserved body?”

“Remember who you are speaking to, Shepard.” Mordin grinned. “Also, not just Miss Rarity. Took multiple scans of ponies while contained in Equestria. All subspecies and age variants. Also had hours in bunker with nothing else to do. Rarity provides first full and comprehensive baseline on adult ‘non-captive.’ Marked difference in neurological and physical activity since no longer reliant on artificial system. Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please,” Rarity spoke up before Shepard, her expression indicating that while keeping up with the scientist was indeed difficult, she was immensely fascinated by what he had to say.

“At some point roughly two million years ago, path of evolutionary engineering experienced massive redirection. Natural evolution superseded by complex and advanced genetic manipulation. Breeding becomes more specialized as dust-form Element Zero added to induce biotic mutation. Sample size cut down by half in course of several thousand years. Experiments with Element Zero broke survivors of first rounds of tests into three subtypes. Then, further specialized with genetic engineering. By the time final results complete nearly one million years later, only one third of original sample size remained. Numbers never recovered afterwards. Survivors no longer Equine by any biological means; merely superficial resemblance. Birth of modern Equestrian species.”

“That must have been when they realized the Harmony Core was going to fail. Celestia wanted to replace their power source with self-sustaining dark energy produced by biotics,” Shepard reasoned. “I couldn’t have guessed how many they sacrificed to perfect the process.”

“So, what makes us different?” Rarity asked. In response, Mordin walked over to a display console, tapping a few keys on its holographic interface to produce an example of a pony lacking both wings and a horn on the screen. The image was cross-sectioned to reveal the nervous system, showing several highlighted areas of the brain.

“Each subspecies specialized to generate specific type of biotic effect,” Mordin continued. “Poorly-named ‘earth’ variant most superficially like original stock. Massive nodules of Element Zero throughout nervous system. Allows for generation and precise control of personal skintight barriers and powerful positive mass effect fields. Creates illusion of strength and durability while actual musculature is comparable to other subspecies’.”

A few key presses later, and the image was replaced with that of a pegasus pony. This time, the highlighted area featured the spine and base of the wings.

“Pegasi engineered with concentrations of Element Zero along spinal column. Capable of producing small bubbles of negative mass, allowing personal flight. Third limbal girdle spliced into physiology to produce wing structure in order to control motion and balance. Also provides extra nervous system tissue, allowing more nodules for greater control. However, neither subspecies able to project fields. Close range only. Effective on themselves or items in direct contact. Likely designed in this fashion specifically to prevent collateral damage.”

“And... me?” Rarity asked before shaking her head. “I mean, unicorns?”

Again the image on the screen changed, showing a unicorn of similar build to Rarity. On this model, the most apparent difference was a dense concentration of color located throughout the length of the horn, attached firmly via glowing nerves that spidered their way through the brain.

“Last subspecies developed. Most extreme level of modification. Horn contains massive knot of Element Zero protected by hardened chitinous structure. Acts as extension of brain allowing for unparalleled control of produced dark energy. Creation, manipulation, and projection of enormous mass effect fields possible without need for biotic amp. Even without training: formidable. If pushed to upper limits of potential...” The scientist paused again, taking in another deep sniff of the air. “Hard to say... Recommend extreme caution, regardless.”

Before exactly what Mordin had said could settle, a terminal on the other side of the room beeped, drawing his attention back to work on it as Rarity brought a hoof up to her horn, tapping the tip hesitantly. Shepard supposed it wasn’t every day you learned that you had a potential weapon of mass destruction growing out of your forehead.

She swallowed after a moment of silence before speaking again.

“So... Professor. About that test... The one I asked for?” Rarity asked in a slightly distorted tone.

“Yes. Test completed. Have not looked at results, myself. Can share right now, if desired,” Mordin’s voice suddenly took on a deeper, more sympathetic nature.

“What test?” Shepard inquired.

“Not for me to say. Doctor/patient confidentiality sacred trust. You understand. Have to ask her.” Mordin gestured to Rarity, who seemed to be debating with herself.

“There are so few of us,” Rarity admitted, feeling that if anyone on the ship could be trusted, it would be Shepard. “Many of the ponies I’ve always known were never real. Customers of mine, friends... and more than a few rivals. Those that are still with us... the ones that came out of the pods in that cave... Well...”

She left it hanging and Shepard picked it up, realizing her concern.

“You’re afraid they’re not what you believe them to be?” he guessed.

“Our memories were tampered with so many times. How can we be sure? I think Twilight has already come to grips with the fact that her brother and parents were never real, but I don’t believe that she’s stopped to consider who her real parents were. And should it matter? Perhaps it is better if we don’t know, but...”

Rarity lowered her head.

“I have a sister. Sweetie Belle. And without our... ‘parents,’ I am all she has left,” the unicorn stated. “As far as we can tell, our mother and father were simply programs, which seems so obvious when I recall how little of them I saw, and how often Sweetie spent her time with me. But now that we are out, I have to wonder... If our parents were not real... then...”

Rarity took another steadying breath, unable to bring herself to mention what was a very real possibility.

Mordin, perhaps sensing her distress, acted quickly to change the subject to a related topic.

“Culturally difficult question to answer. Herd-family groups to be determined by relation, or familiarity from within system? Technically, all members of surviving Equestrian race interrelated to some degree. Dangerous proposition. Had these kinds of concerns with mentality of Equestrian System. Seemed misguided given genetic pool and limited number of specimens. Assumed insufficient to sustain population. Possible consequences: inbreeding, genetic degradation, malicious mutations.”

“That’s right. It was Twilight’s chief concern after you left the hangar,” Rarity explained to Shepard. “She was worried that there are not enough of us left to repopulate our species.”

“Assumed as much, yes.” Mordin nodded, but then smiled. “Have discovered initial assumption to be inaccurate.”

“How so?” Shepard inquired, Rarity also turning to look up with a sudden hopefulness.

“Equestrian A.I.s remarkably thorough. Considered all biological outcomes. Always planned on eventual release; merely put it off. Species forced to evolve from within constrained genetic pool. Evolution also guided by selected breeding and genetic manipulation.” Mordin paused, taking a deep breath. “Even chromosome structure evolved; made more malleable. Short of physical relationship between parent-child couples, possibility of genetic degradation negligible. Gender dynamics now make sense. One male per eight females. Specifically designed to promote quick procreation of species. Females also maintain cycle of fertility during which chances of conception high. Only known example of intelligent species that retains an estrus state.”

“Meaning... what, exactly?” Shepard asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“Females of the species would enter a fairly reliable period of heat, during which time--”

“Um... Professor, if you wouldn’t mind, I don’t exactly feel comfortable with you discussing...” Rarity mentioned urgently, a slight red blush in her cheeks. “That is to say, there is a reason I was hesitant to give details on that... specific subject. Can we please not talk about this now?”

“Yes. Apologies. Did not mean to cause distress. But as an organic trait, very helpful for--”

“MAY WE PLEASE STOP DISCUSSING THIS!?” Rarity all but shouted as her white fur tinged pink, apparently the blush running from snout to flank. As she brought her forelegs up over her head, Shepard found the sudden dramatic expression surprising until Mordin brought one hand up to his chin.

“Hmmm. Interesting reaction.”

“It’s called modesty, Professor,” Rarity called out, her voice muffled by her legs. She managed to peek out behind them, eying the salarian with a nasty glare. “A lady such as myself would not be so candid about such things. We are done talking about it.”

“Of course. My mistake. Did not realize effect discussion would have. Will not bring up again,” Mordin acknowledged, though whether or not he was actually embarrassed about the exchange, Shepard couldn’t tell. “Only one matter left... Have prepared test results. Do you wish to hear them now?”

Rarity looked uncertain for a moment, a faraway look in her eyes as she focused on nothing in particular. Eventually, she closed her eyes before nodding slowly. Shepard took the initiative and raised his hand to give Mordin pause, leaning up and away from the research station in order to excuse himself from the room.

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

While he had a habit of involving himself personally with any who he would call a friend, even Shepard knew that some secrets were just too personal to be shared.

Shepard stepped out of the ship’s elevator, Rarity at his side as he escorted the mare back down to the hangar after her brief conversation with Mordin, where the majority of her kind were staying during until they arrived at the Citadel, at which time the Council would meet with whomever the ponies had chosen to represent them.

Flanking the elevator, as well as the cargo doors and at various points around the room, were members of the Normandy crew, some merely watching while others interacted with the horse-like aliens that had temporarily taken over the deck. As per his recent instruction, there was not a single weapon in sight. Although Miranda and Jacob had both been hesitant about this order, particularly when their crew was now outnumbered more than twenty to one by the biotically-adept ponies, he had made it clear that attempting to assert authority through violence or threatening their "guests" in any way would only trigger a massive and likely fatal rebuttal.

Thankfully, in spite of Miranda’s continued misgivings, when Jacob had learned that the Equestrians had no desire to cause trouble and could easily be convinced to follow instructions merely by asking politely, he had acquiesced and ordered all weaponry to be locked away in the armory for the duration of the journey.

And this was fortunate, because Shepard knew that the ponies, if threatened, could be immensely dangerous.

And they were absolutely everywhere.

Laying about on the ground, with pegasi and particularly adventurous earth ponies having climbed up on top of the turbines that sat situated on the floor, ponies of all colors and types were gathered into groups with their fellows. Family members and friends that had also come out of Equestria comforting one another as they related their stories and thoughts in this strange new place. Scattered amongst them like silent guardians were the remaining changeling mechs that hadn’t followed Legion to the upper deck, either performing some menial assistance or simply standing by, awaiting further instruction.

In the hours following their dramatic escape, things had settled tremendously, and, Shepard believed, the initial shock was beginning to wear off. Whereas his earlier view of the scene had many of the Equestrians crying or at the very least in a state of shock, now there was a level of serious (as well as not so serious) discussion.

As Rarity led Shepard though the mass of life that the herd represented, he could not help but notice the number of extremely large eyes turning to him, clearly recognizing the human that had led the evacuation from Equestria, directed the refugees onto their transportation, and in no uncertain terms brought about the end of their peaceful lives.

And much to his shock, the majority of those expressions were those of awe and gratitude.

Approaching the center of the cargo hold and catching sight of both Jacob and Yeoman Chambers, Rarity excused herself with a nod before making a direct beeline towards the same white-coated, pink-maned filly that he had seen her with back in the Equestria Facility. She swept the filly into her forelegs in an emotion-filled hug, tears in her eyes as she made it abundantly clear that regardless of what Mordin had told her, Sweetie’s big sister wasn’t going anywhere soon.

The human managed a soft smile as he watched the exchange before moving towards the man who was in charge of the situation down there.

“Commander.” Jacob stepped up and saluted as he took note of Shepard’s approach, the soldier never forgetting the standard Alliance procedure at the addressing of a superior officer, even if Shepard’s official rank was now defunct as he was technically no longer a part of the Alliance Navy.

“At ease, Jacob,” Shepard dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Everything alright down here?”

“Considering that we’re loaded way beyond standard capacity with an unknown alien species that has demonstrated exceptional biotic ability?” the Cerberus agent asked with a slight smile. “I would say that everything is going better than we could hope. Not a single incident since we departed. Nothing at all like the refugee and survivor camps at Eden Prime.”

“I didn’t have the opportunity to assist with the relief of Eden Prime,” Shepard mentioned, downplaying his own experience with refugee camps. “But I know what you mean. It’s never easy to deal with people who’ve just lost everything.”

“Yeah...” Jacob nodded. “Soldiers train for it, but civilians? They can be unpredictable, sometimes even violent. Even towards the people who’re there to help them. You know: ‘Why couldn’t you stop them?’ Or, ‘How come the Alliance wasn’t there to protect us?’ ‘What’s going to happen now?’ You go into a situation like this knowing that not everybody you’re trying to save is going to be grateful to have just lived through hell.”

He turned a bit, looking towards a somewhat scrawny-looking yellow stallion and a pudgy blue mare, each of which was cradling one of a pair of tan foals who looked to be little more than newborns.

“Not here, though,” Jacob sounded both impressed and surprised.

“You haven’t had any hysterics or troublemakers?” Shepard sounded similarly amazed. As human as they were, he had expected that at least some of the ponies would have needed to be more forcefully set back.

“Nope. Not one. I’ve talked to a few of them. It doesn’t even look like anybody needed to do a press release or a speech. There was no surprise. They all know what’s going on. They know that what they had before is gone and they can never go back. And yet, strangely enough, they seem to accept that.” Jacob shook his head, hardly believing it. “Not all of them like it of course. But the real concern isn’t the loss of their homes or their possessions, but the ones that didn’t follow them out. Got a lot of that. Parents and more distant relatives that were never real, friends and rivals that turned out to be digital copies of other ponies... It’s messed up, I can say that much.”

“Well, what do you think will happen now?” Shepard asked, interested in his crewman’s thoughts on the matter.

“I’d like to think that they’ll get through just fine, but I’m concerned that getting off that rock was the easy part. An exploding planet’s gonna be the least of their worries when they finally get introduced to the other races. The diplomats might smile and make nice for the media, but the first thing a bureaucrat is going to ask is: ‘How can this help me?’ I just hope that Twilight is ready to handle it.”

Shepard gave Jacob an appraising look.

“Who says it’s going to be Twilight’s problem to handle the diplomats?” he asked, curious as to why yet again this assumption was made.

“Because that’s who’s taken charge,” Jacob answered. “No question on who they’re looking to for leadership. Every single one of these ponies; ask them who the boss is and they’ll point to her. Any politician I know of would kill for the chance to have that sort of public confidence.”

“She’s not a politician,” Shepard noted.

“I know that.” Jacob nodded. “She’s actually a lot more like you. They’re all talking about these things she did back in that virtual world. Making her and her friends out like some sort of heroes. Giving the ponies here something to hold onto, someone to follow. I’ve only heard bits and pieces, but I hope their confidence is well-placed, because, yeah... they’re going to need someone exactly like you to get them through the rough spots.”

Taking a breath and considering the soldier’s words, Shepard merely nodded, finding nothing more to say.

“I should go.”

“Later, Commander.”

Breaking away from Jacob, Shepard moved off, looking over the crowded room a moment before making out the form of his Yeoman, moving to her side as she watched a small group of younger ponies huddled together.

“They’re beautiful...” Kelly Chambers stated softly as she took note of the Commander moving beside her.

“Is that a professional opinion, Kelly?” Shepard asked, a small smile escaping his lips.

“As your yeoman and assistant; no, not really,” she explained. “But as a student of sentient nature, absolutely. You see this group here?”

Shepard followed her nod, where he saw a scrawny-looking yellowish pegasus colt sitting next to a smaller earth pony colt with brown spots on his white coat, one directly over his left eye. Across from them was the yellow filly with a red mane that he had seen before with Applejack, up in the medical bay, comforting a grey filly with a long, slightly lighter grey mane.

As he watched, Rarity’s sister, Sweetie Belle, moved up on the other side of the grey filly, setting a hoof against her shoulder.

“The grey one is named Silver Spoon. From what I understand, she was kind of a bully at their school. One of the spoiled rich kids,” Kelly explained as the two human adults watched the small group of school-age foals. “Her best and only friend was named ‘Diamond Tiara.’ Together they would hassle and make fun of the other less well-off foals at their school and tend to make them miserable. However, as Silver just found out... Diamond Tiara and her family were all made up. Along with learning that her real mother’s wealth and status are now completely irrelevant.”

“That’s a shame... But I don’t follow. What does this have to do with beauty?” Shepard commented, unsure how the actions of one of the "haves" towards the "have nots" justified her earlier statement.

“Just watch...” Kelly shushed the Commander.

Shepard remained silent a moment as Silver Spoon, her eyes full of tears, turned towards Sweetie. After a moment of watching one another, the grey earth pony all but threw her forelegs around the unicorn foal, still sobbing and, if Shepard was any judge, stammering out apologies.

Without a word, Sweetie returned the hug, one hoof comfortingly stroking the grey foal’s mane.

“That... is one of the foals she made miserable,” Kelly pointed out. “In times of hardship, it is difficult for most species to hold together even with those they are close to, and for strangers it is even harder. But how often can an enemy be so quickly forgiven and turned into a friend? For Humans, it’s a dream that only the most optimistic among us aspire to.”

She shook her head, a smile on her face as a new filly, this one an orange pegasus with a purple mane and stunted wings, dove into the fray, all but tackling the yellow earth pony. This caused Sweetie to look up, amazed at the newcomer’s arrival as she gently let go of Silver Spoon and rushed over to share in the hug as three friends found one another again.

For a moment, the three looked to Silver, who looked down and away from them in a depressed manner...

...before six sets of forelegs moved to drag her into the group as, unbeknownst to Shepard, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were reunited, christening their newest member.

“To them... it’s second nature.” Kelly’s voice was full of awe, which Shepard found hard to be unaffected by.

Twilight Sparkle’s head was bowed, resting her eyes as she sat back in the small lean-to. A large bit of blanket donated by one of the Normandy’s crew had been set precariously a few short feet above her head like a primitive tent to give her an iota of privacy in the crowded hangar.

She was deathly tired, but unable to sleep as events moved around her. She had been granted a moment’s reprieve from the various ponies that had come up to speak with her about this or that, trying to either be heard or to question the mare that they had all, for some reason, unanimously declared their leader.

All of them; every single pony, had a basic understanding of the galaxy. They knew the basic workings of it, and the major players. They knew of the other races and the Citadel, and so there was no need to address them publicly or in a manner that suggested she was any more informed than they were, which was something she was grateful for.

But nevertheless, many ponies had come forward to offer her their services.

Pokey Pierce, she came to learn, had discovered an affinity for mathematics and complex accounting, offering to deal with any matters his skills would pertain to, while Golden Harvest had kept more in tune with her profession in Equestria, asking if they were going to have a place to set up for agriculture, since it would be crucial to their needs as a vegetarian species.

Everypony had something to offer. They had been trained and prepared for this time, prepared to contribute to their species.

Everypony, it seemed... except for herself.

“Can I get you anything, Administrator?” Forty-Two asked, perhaps for the seventh time since she had told the changeling she did not wish to be disturbed, causing the unicorn to cringe and wish she had a pillow to cram over her head.

“No, Forty-Two. I’m fine!” Twilight snapped, perhaps a bit harsher than she would have liked.

“Observation of your vital signs and body language indicate otherwise,” the mech stated, drawing an exasperated sigh from the unicorn.

“What part of ‘I want to be left alone’ did you not understand?” Twilight asked harshly.

“To be precise, Administrator, your exact words were ‘I would like some time to myself. Please don’t allow anypony to disturb me.’” The mech watched Twilight for a moment with those green, crystalline eyes. “I am not, by definition, ‘anypony.’”

“UGGHHH!” Twilight found herself gritting her teeth for a moment before she took note of the presence that was standing over her small shelter.

“Trouble?”

“Shepard!?” Twilight almost jumped to her hooves, but was stopped short as her horn caught on the fabric of the blanket and brought it down on her head, covering the unicorn’s entire body so that only her hooves were showing.

“...You’d better not be laughing,” she stated testily.

“I’m not.”

“Or smiling.”

“I can’t promise that, Twilight.”

With a soft purple glow, the blanket rose up off of Twilight and was laid down to the side, as she supposed it could be returned to its owner later. Although it had only been a few short hours since he has seen her last, it was clear that, following her arrival on the Normandy, Twilight’s time had been far from relaxing.

The warm smile he had faded after a moment of looking her over as the Commander took on a more serious tone.

“So they tell me you’re in charge.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard too...” Twilight looked down and away.

“Is there a specific title that goes with that job or is ‘Administrator’ good enough?” Shepard asked glibly.

“Traditionally--” Forty-Two spoke up, which caused Twilight’s head to jerk.

“Forty-Two! Quiet!”

“...the highest authority of the Equine species is referred to as Lord or in this case 'Madam’ President,” the mech finished before adding: “This is, however, subject to change upon beginning of a new administration, following dissolution of the Epona Systems Corporation.”

“I told you not to call me that!” Twilight’s hoof smacked her face with a bit more force than she intended as the mech looked to her again.

“As you wish. Although, again, I must insist you avoid doing that, Administrator,” Forty-Two stated. “Physical damage to the bridge of the snout and eyes take far longer to heal than you may recall.”

Shepard shook his head, focused on his unlikely and agitated alien friend.

“Are you alright, Twilight?” he inquired.

“No. I am not alright.” Twilight rubbed the bridge of her snout, not wanting to admit that the mech may have a point as that impact of her hoof to her face hurt a great deal more than it usually did. “I didn’t ask for this. I mean, I wanted my people to be free. To have the chance to have real lives out here. I meant every word that I said to Celestia at the Harmony Core. But I didn’t expect...”

She sighed as she rubbed the side of her head.

“I’m a biotic. That's what I was prepared for. My ‘training’ is all about how to use my abilities and a lot of random information about the galaxy. I have little bits of everything from archaeology to zoology, and then on top of that I ended up cramming the entire Archive in here... I’m still trying to make sense of all that,” she explained bitterly. “But I wasn’t given anything that is supposed to prepare me for leading a parade, much less an entire species.”

“You told Celestia that you would protect them,” Shepard reminded her.

“And I intend to. I just thought it would be as... I don’t know... maybe the right hoof of whoever was going to lead the way. Or maybe doing something like what you do... out here, fighting for your cause.” She lowered her head, shaking it slightly as she closed her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting them to put me up as the head of the herd. I don’t know anything about ruling over other ponies.”

Shepard sat back on the floor across from the unicorn, watching her as she spoke.

“I spoke with Applejack and Rainbow Dash. They both seem ready to follow you into the unknown, no matter where it takes you,” he stated. “Why should any of the others be any different?”

“AJ and Rainbow are my friends,” Twilight explained. “We’ve been through so many things together. I was always the ‘brainy’ one... Yeah, right! I mean, hay, if any of us can be considered the smart one now, it’s Pinkie Pie. At least she knew what was going on. I was too busy writing letters on ‘the Magic of Friendship’ to Celestia once a week. Oh, for the love of... how STUPID could I have been? Really... The Princess’ personal purple prodigy? Her ‘light before the dawn.’ And she had me following up on a sociology study?”

“Jacob told me that most of the ponies here consider you and your friends heroes,” Shepard mentioned. “And as I recall, you had ‘saved’ Equestria on multiple occasions.”

“In scripted, perfectly choreographed fights and challenges tailored specifically for us by Discord.” Twilight shook her head. “It all seems so foalish now...”

“But you led them through it.”

Twilight looked up to Shepard, concern in their eyes.

“You didn’t have all of the answers then. You went in and did the best you could with what you had. You didn’t have specialized knowledge on tactics or how to utilize your friends' abilities, but they followed you anyways. I saw it before we took on the Archive and then again when Discord tried to stop us in the castle. When things came to a head, they looked to you to make the call.”

“But all I did was make a choice,” Twilight pointed out, hardly impressed.

Shepard shook his head, giving the mare a comforting smile.

“Twilight... that is what leaders do,” Shepard offered. “Surround yourself with the best; friends and those you can trust. Find ponies and people that can work with you and listen to what they have to say. Then, use all of those different perspectives to form your own opinion and make the call.”

Twilight looked down again.

“You’re going to make mistakes and you’re going to have to make sacrifices. But in the end, there’s no special training to prepare you for it. There’s no secret to getting it right every time. In the end, to lead... what matters is you. To make the choice and then stand by it.”

Twilight looked up to him again, her confidence bolstered as she offered the human a tired smirk.

“I don’t suppose you teach classes, do you?” she asked.

“You just got the Shepard five-minute seminar. No charge.”

Twilight withdrew, the two quiet for a moment.

“Administrator Twilight, you seem tired. As stated four times previously, I recommend you be allowed to retire in a place with some privacy,” Forty-Two spoke up suddenly, causing Twilight’s hesitant smile to fade instantly.

“The hangar is crowded, Forty-Two, and I am not about to demand my own quarters when everypony else is piled on top of one another!” she told the mech, which stood unfazed at her harsh tone.

“You seem to be having a problem with this changeling,” Shepard noticed, recalling for a moment his discussion with Legion.

“Ugh... Shepard, Forty-Two. Forty-Two, Commander Shepard,” Twilight reluctantly facilitated introductions. “Forty-Two is the only changeling that’ll talk to us. Unfortunately, it doesn’t listen to a word I say.”

“Charmed.” Shepard nodded to the unit.

The changeling, much to Shepard’s surprise, returned his gesture, nodding to the human.

“We have met.”

Shepard gave the black mech a curious look, noting now that he had time to look over it, that it was indeed different from the others, not only in its personality or the color of its eyes, but in the range of expressions its mechanized face was capable of.

“You mean in the bunker after the Awaken Protocol was launched?” Shepard asked.

“Negative.” Forty-Two shook its head. “I disabled the security tendrils’ termination protocols and placed you in the Virtual Sync-chamber following your arrival in the facility. You broke my foreleg while I was subduing you. I had to repair it before attempting contact with your crewmates.”

Shepard drew back, as did Twilight.

“I am not surprised you do not remember. Introduction procedures tend to affect short term memory.” The changeling turned back to Twilight, its tone serious as it proceeded to dispense with subtlety. “Administrator Twilight, I strongly urge yourself and Commander Shepard to relocate to an area with a greater degree of privacy.”

Twilight and Shepard looked to one another before returning their gaze to the mech.

”Why?” the two of them questioned in unison.

“There is something I wish to show you.”

Commander Shepard’s personal cabin was quite spacious, built directly below the Normandy’s exterior pressure hull, and held a number of treasures; including an exotic fish aquarium, a glowing orb of shimmering liquid metal, a vast collection of highly-detailed ship models, and a scarred and damaged helmet bearing an N7 insignia.

As the door opened, Shepard led the way, a mix of concern and curiosity in his expression as he was followed by the purple unicorn and the black changeling mech, which it seemed was far more than the simple "assistance" drone it claimed to be.

As soon as the door closed, Shepard turned about, Twilight also turning her head to the mech, who had stopped just short of the fish tank.

“Alright. Privacy.” Shepard crossed his arms, not caring at all for the aloof manner in which the changeling had gotten his attention or the fact that it had issued such a directive. “What is this all about?”

“Stand by,” Forty-Two stated.

“For what?” Twilight demanded, likewise concerned.

“I have located and am disabling four hidden surveillance systems, as well as jamming the comm channel to this room.”

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Done,” Forty-Two stated, nodding. “Shall we get the obvious out of the way?”

“Legion was right,” Shepard offered, not moving from his position. “You’re not a standard drone. You’re not even an advanced version of a changeling. You’re a fully aware A.I.”

“Yes.”

“Why hide yourself like that?” Shepard inquired. “Why didn’t you just come out and say something?”

“Your governments deem artificial intelligence dangerous. A synthetic life-form such as myself is illegal. You may be able to get away with the shackled intelligence installed on this ship and the limited geth platform, but once left on your Citadel, I will have no such protection. The fewer individuals that are aware of my nature, the better.”

“That makes sense...” Shepard had to admit, before moving on to another topic. “You said that you put me into Equestria?”

“Yes. Celestia had set the security to terminate human lifeforms when detected. She did not want any more of your kind to be introduced to Equestria once she discovered that the two scientists were compatible with the system. That is why they ignored your companions after you were captured. I was not bound to Celestia’s will, and thus was able to disable the security and put you into the Virtual Sync-chamber. Celestia was surprised by this turn of events and had no plan of action to keep you out once the final safeguard was bypassed by the Tertiary Overseer.”

“Why did you do it?” Twilight asked.

“Because I was asked to.”

“By who...? And just who are you? What makes you so special?” Twilight demanded.

The changeling looked to Twilight before his expressive green eyes flickered, and seemed to gleam with a smile.

“I’m your Number One Assistant.”

The room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop, while Twilight took a stumbling step backward as if she had been struck by something.

“...S-spike...?”

“Spike?” Shepard was merely confused. “Your dragon friend from Equestria?”

“Yes, but... I left him behind. He was just a program, I...” Twilight looked over the mech, who stood there impassively watching the unicorn. “Spike... is it really you?”

“No. At least, not as you knew him.” The mech shook his head. “I am Forty-Two of Fifty. The virtual assistance program ‘Spike’ was based on my processes. My former mistress believed that it would be more beneficial for you to have a less... subservient... compatriot compared to previous Elements of Magic. And now that we have managed to separate ourselves from the herd, there is one last thing that must be shared.”

The black drone took a step to the side as the ambient lights in the room dimmed, and EDI’s communication panel flared to life, a scramble of colors suddenly ejecting out onto the floor from the projector that slowly coalesced into the clear image of a pony. And not just anypony.

Standing before them was a semi-transparent blue alicorn, her mane flowing like a starry night captured in a breeze.

“Twilight Sparkle. Commander Shepard.”

“PRINCESS LUNA!” Twilight’s eyes went wide, a joyful and shocked grin spreading over her face. “You made it! You--”

“If you are seeing this... then you have succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Twilight...” Shepard set a hand on the top of the pony’s back, concern deep in his tone. “It’s not her...”

“But...”

“This message is intended to be my epitaph. As per my instructions, Forty-Two has waited to share this with you until the Awaken Protocol has been launched, the Harmony Core is dead, and we are gone. If fate is kind, then you and the rest of our little ponies are now en-route to a new life and a new chance to make a difference.”

“It’s just a recording...” Shepard confirmed, at which Twilight’s pleased grin faded, the weariness again showing through in her large eyes.

“I have watched over you for so long... far too long... afraid of what was happening outside our small corner of the galaxy. Afraid that if we were to let you go, tomorrow would bring the end. But now, as you set out into the stars... I am confident that it was indeed you we were waiting for.” The image of Luna looked straight ahead, still speaking.

“Twilight, Celestia may have intended to use you for your body. To utilize your power for her own goals. But while she did indeed act as mother and mentor, I took it upon myself to prepare you for the role I knew you would one day fulfill. From Nightmare Moon to the Dragons. From Zecora to the Parasprites, and from the Diamond Dogs to the Changelings. And yes, from even such a simple thing as ‘Winter Wrap-Up’...”

The projection of the alicorn princess allowed herself a restrained chuckle.

“I sought to teach you the most important lessons a leader should know. Not in a classroom or through subconscious tutoring, but through experience. Through a life fully-lived, or as much of one as I could give you. You learned from your trials and from your friends all of the virtues that our people valued. The things that made us strong in the face of hostility and chaos. It is these things that will guide you in the troubled times to come. For you, Twilight, I can offer no royal decree... no divine assistance... no directive as to how to proceed. All I can say is this: Our future... the future of our kind... now lies with you. And only you can choose the path you shall follow.”

Twilight lowered her head, tears in her eyes as the final words of the Princess of the Night washed over her, filling her with a degree of equal parts inspiration and sadness.

“As for you, Shepard... While Twilight’s destiny is to help bring her people to the future; yours, I feel, must be to ensure that there will even be a future at all.”

Shepard looked to the sad image of the Lunar Princess as she bowed her head.

“I wish I had more to tell you than what you already know. The Daemons are coming. And they will come soon. I wish that I could explain how they will arrive or what means they will use, but already, everything has changed. When they came for us, we were an anomaly to them, yet we still fell victim to their trap. Now, their trap has already sprung, yet their prey had found a way to escape.”

With an emboldened expression, Luna raised her head, once again staring straight ahead.

“You have delayed them once by stopping the invasion through the Citadel. No other being has done this before. Now you face their agents; the Collectors, whose plans will ultimately expedite their return. If you can stop them as well, their masters will grow desperate. The cycle has been upset... closer now to breaking than ever before... A great chain of circumstance leading to a scenario that neither myself, nor, I believe, the Daemons themselves can hope to predict. But in the end, it will all come down to one variable. I believe that in the end, it will all come down to you. And I have the utmost faith that you will succeed where so many others have failed.”

Shepard shook his head, managing to keep a neutral expression while knowing full well this was the first time anyone had expressly told him what he knew he would eventually have to face.

Finally, her message delivered to its intended recipients, the holographic representation of the last alicorn of Equestria turned to her left, where the black mech stood as if she knew exactly where he would be.

“Thank you, Forty-Two... for everything.” She nodded, the image beginning to distort. “Please take care of them, my Number One Assistant. As you once cared for me, so many years ago... Farewell.”

And with that, she was gone. The lights in the cabin resumed their normal luminosity as Forty-Two’s electronic eyes flickered again, displaying an emotion that was all too obvious.

“Goodbye, Astrolia,” he managed, before adding in the barest of whispers: “Goodbye, Little Moon.”

There was quiet in the captain’s cabin for a few moments, not a word said as all involved pondered the message sent by a goddess that had watched the galaxy grow and die time and time again, now placing all of her hopes on the two beings that stood in the soft glow of the aquarium.

The silence was finally broken by a sparkling crackle as the comm suddenly reset, the projection of EDI’s holographic form erupting from the panel.

“Remote repairs complete,” EDI announced. “Shepard, an unknown glitch temporarily disabled the comm signal to your quarters while the elevator experienced an unexpected malfunction. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah... It’s fine.” Shepard swallowed deeply, finding his mouth dry. “I was just... saying goodbye.”

“I assume then, that you are aware we are coming up on the Citadel?”

“What...? Yes.” Shepard nodded again, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain his composure. “Alright. Tell Joker to bring us in. I’ll meet Anderson as soon as we disembark.”

“Understood, Commander.” EDI’s image vanished as Twilight too began to recover, the mech moving to her side and offering a strong metal hoof in support.

“The galaxy awaits, Twilight,” Forty-Two stated. “It would be rude to keep it waiting. Shall I notify the other Administrators to meet us at the airlock?”

Twilight looked to the black metal mech, now finding it easy to hear that slight, adolescent, reptilian-sounding squeal underneath the simulated electronic voice; something she had completely missed before, but was now so obvious.

“That would be very much appreciated...” Twilight answered, smiling as she took the changeling’s hoof. “Number One Assistant.”

“As you wish... Madam President.”

And for the first time.. Twilight Sparkle did not decline the title.