//------------------------------//
// D03: Quid-Pro-Quo 
// Story: My Little Starcraft: Friendly Fire is Magic 
// by DuncanR 
//------------------------------//

The command center at the heart of New New New Ponytropolis, the capital of planet Dirtonis, reverberated with furious voices and stamping hooves. Its main amphitheater was packed with ponies of all races, all types and colors, and all were dressed in a dazzling variety of uniforms: military officers, government officials, scientific experts, and ultra-wealthy business executives. The ruling class of an entire world had been assembled overnight via the Crytoss’s advanced teleportation technology... though the technology had mysteriously failed to include any weapons or explosives they might have carried. Everypony was shoving and yelling at each other, and a steady stream of soda-cans and plastic bottles sailed through the air.
Executor Rarity and Templar Blueblood stood on the central stage, watching the sea of utter chaos and hostility. Rarity cleared her throat several times, with no results.
“Excuse me?” Rarity leaned closer to the microphone, tapped it twice, and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, ponies?”
A glass bottle sailed out of the crowd and struck her shoulder. The bottle shattered instantly, and her skin-tight forceshield rippled with light.
She nodded to Blueblood. “Would you please?”
He took a deep breath, stuck the tip of his hoof in his mouth, and let out an ear-splitting whistle that vibrated the floor slightly. The crowd settled down and stared up at them.
“Thank you.” Rarity turned back to the microphone. “Now you’re probably wondering why we’ve teleported you all here today. There’s—”
“Professor Trixie has an even better question!” shouted the leader of the Unicorns. “What’s up with those nukes? Trixie distinctly remembers agreeing to no nukes—and no rushing—for at least twenty minutes!”
The pegasus leader, Admiral Hurricane, let out an exasperated sigh. “If you’re getting attacked by the twenty-minute mark, it’s not a rush anymore. It’s just a regular attack.”
Trixie pounded her hoof against the podium. “Twenty minutes no rush no nukes! How complicated is that!?”
Commander Pinkie Pie spoke through a mouthful of corn chips. “Yeah, no, that was me. My bad.”
“We had a deal, you guys! We had a deeeeal!!”
“What are you complaining about? We were nuking aliens in our own city! We didn’t hit any of your dudes, even by accident.”
Hurricane nodded. “Intel from the pegasus air corps confirms that statement. The alpha commando team assigned to assault force Prometheus lost no dudes whatsoever to nuclear bombardment.”
Trixie glowered at Pinkie Pie. “Why would you even build nuke silos in the first place if you promised not to use them?”
Pinkie Pie tossed the bag of corn chips over the balcony. “Listen, you believed that whole ‘no nukes’ thing because it was a lie we told you. Now, we need you to believe a different lie: We knew about the aliens all along and built nukes to save the planet from an invasion.”
Hurricane snorted. “Well you did a bang-up job of that, didn’t you? You didn’t even scuff their manes.”
Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “Listen, we’ll take care of it. We’ve got a super-secret science project that should wipe ’em out completely. Whatever it is, it’s gonna make nukes look like sugar cookies.”
“We’re standing right here,” said Rarity. “We can hear you.”
Pinkie Pie smiled at them brightly. “It’s cool! I promise we won’t use any super-sciencey weapons for at least twenty minutes. Seriously.”
Rarity stared up at her, slack-jawed.
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Forget about her,” she said, “Trixie is sure there’s much more productive things our races can achieve if we work together.”
Rarity smiled up at her. “Oh, certainly! I’d be happy to discuss the philosophical ramifications of—”
“So you’ve got spaceships, right? What are they powered by?”
“Well... if you must know, we use crystal Pylons to power our technology.”
“Magic crystals?”
“Psionic crystals.”
Trixie arched an eyebrow. “Sounds kind of new-agey. You’re not a bunch of space-hippies, are you?”
Rarity arched an eyebrow. “...Space hippies?”
“Nevermind. How do the crystals work?”
“Our technology allows us to transmit matter and energy over vast distances: Our nexae act as receivers that draw energy out of the ‘great psionic matrix’. Our Pylons then distribute it amongst nearby structures and vehicles, without the need for fuel or cables.”
“Yeah, yeah. But where does that power come from? How do you generate it?”
“Well, it’s solar energy.”
“Solar...?” Trixie shot upright in her seat, wide eyed. “Holy crap! You really are space hippies! You’re all ‘eco-friendly’ and stuff, aren’t you?”
The crowd murmured rapidly.
“That’s not exactly—”
“Answer the question!” Trixie shouted. “Are you now, or have you ever been a space-hippie!?”
Rarity cleared her throat. “We gather solar energy by constructing a megalithic quantum-crystal and teleporting it into the center of a main-sequence star. As long as the crystal remains in physical contact with superheated plasma, it draws energy directly from the process of thermonuclear fusion. We only do this to uninhabited stars, because they tend to go supernova after a few dozen millennia.”
The amphitheater fell silent.
“No way!” Trixie said. “We gotta get us some-a dat!”
Rarity cleared her throat. “We will happily show you how to draw energy from the great psionic matrix, but first we must discuss—”
“Forget the energy: Trixie bets we could use it to build an even bigger nuke! That’d be sweet-ass!”
Pinkie Pie slammed her hoof against her own podium. “We’ve been over this before! Nukes are exclusive Dirt Pony technology. It’s our thing, it’s what we do. You can’t just go building nukes without asking us first. It’s rude!”
“Oh, sure. Trixie promises not to.” Despite her best efforts, she broke into a sputtering laugh. “...For at least twenty minutes! No rush, right?”
The crowded amphitheater burst into laughter.
Rarity cleared her throat, firmly and loudly. “We can discuss the application of new technologies at a later date. There are more important issues to discuss.”
All three world leaders gasped in disbelief. “More important than weapons!?”
“Yes. Much more important.” She raised her voice and spoke with an elegant, well-rehearsed tone. “Our galaxy is poised on the very verge of catastrophe. A terrible, ancient evil has begun to gather its strength, devouring whole worlds in its insatiable lust for power.”
“So why don’tcha blow ’em up?” Hurricane said.
“It is not so simple as that. The Great Devourer cannot be slain by conventional weapons.”
Hurricane shrugged. “Nah. You just need bigger guns.”
Rarity clenched her teeth. “The Great Devourer is a flawless fusion of both biological and psionic evolution. It’s ‘body’ is comprised of a network of infested planets. It’s ‘mind’ is pure cosmic energy, distributed throughout an endless swarm of horrific monsters. It is immortal.”
“Wow, that sucks. Whaddya expect us to do about it?”
“Join us,” she said. “The Crytoss’s beloved home planet has fallen. Our once-great armada has been scattered and weakened. We do our best to sever the devourer’s tendrils whenever they reach for new worlds, but can do little more than slow its progress... we are helpless to defeat it entirely.” Executor Rarity gestured grandly at the gathering of ponies before her. “We cannot do this alone. My task, as Executor, is to seek out fledgling civilizations—those on the verge of discovering space travel—and approach them as allies. We must stand together, united as one, or we will surely fall into oblivion.”
Pinkie Pie cracked open another can of soda. “What’s in it for us?”
Blueblood darted forward, furious. “You dare exploit us for your own selfish—!?”
Rarity shoved him aside. “Great rewards and opportunities await you!” she said. “If you agree to aid us, we will share with you our great wisdom. You will gain the weapons and defenses needed to safeguard not only your own planet, but countless others in need!”
Pinkie Pie arched an eyebrow. “Weapons, huh?”
“And more! Spacecraft, to explore the stars and acquire vast natural resources. Terraforming tools, to cleanse your planet of pollution and build entire colonies. Philosophies that will bring bring friendship and harmony to all your species. Never again will your people know war, hunger, or poverty!”
There was a tense silence as Pinkie Pie regarded the glittering crystal pony.
“So... what kind of weapons?”
Blueblood frowned. “This enemy cannot be defeated by mere weaponry! If we are to achieve victory, we will require discipline. Valor. Honor. A weapon is merely one tool of many, and those who rely on one tool—to the exclusion of all others—are weak in both mind and spirit.”
Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “Ooooh! That’s some tough talk coming from a stallion in a prom dress!”
Hurricane sputtered. “Oh wow... seriously? I thought it was a bathrobe or something! It really is a dress, isn’t it?”
Blueblood looked down at himself briefly, and held up a hoof-full of the shimmering gold fabric. “This is a ceremonial robe! It’s a sacred tradition!”
“Whatever floats yer boat,” said Pinkie Pie. “Did your husband buy it for you?”
The crowd broke into laughter.
Rarity pursed her lips. “Have you even listened to a single word I’ve said?”
“Oh, I heard it,” said Pinkie Pie. “I just can’t get over how funny you sound... you’re almost as stuffy as a unicorn. Seriously, you’re all like... hold on. Just a sec.” Pinkie Pie ducked behind her podium, rummaged through a few cardboard boxes, and came up with a monocle and a tea-cup. “We ahh not amused!”
Rarity clenched her jaw. “That’s hardly—”
“No-no-wait, here we go. This is what unicorns sound like!” Pinkie Pie put on a top hat and a plastic moustache. “Cheerio, chaps! Smashing good time, eh? Evening, Guv’nah! Nevermind the bollocks!”
The crowd below immediately feel to raucous laughter. Several ponies slapped each other on the back, and a few grew faint from exertion.
Pinkie Pie waved the teacup around. “Am I wrong? I mean, somepony... anypony... tell me if I’m wrong!”
Trixie struggled to stay upright: she was laughing hard enough that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “No, you’re totally right! We’re so lame!”
Rarity stamped a hoof. “The galaxy is in danger! This is serious!”
“Right, right.” Pinkie Pie tossed her costume aside and sat down. “Serious times are serious. So, let me see if I understand this: You Crytoss hippies got your home planet blow’d up, along with most of your space fleet, and now you’re running around like chickens. That’s why you came here, isn’t it? To beg for help.”
Rarity clenched her jaw. “Of all the—!”
“No-no-no, we’ll totally help you out. Here’s the deal.” She leaned back in her chair. “We’ll let you join us. We’ll be in charge of everything, and you have to give us all sorts of cool new laser guns and spaceships and anti-matter thing-a-majigs.”
“And battleships,” Hurricane said.
“And nukes,” Trixie said. “And they have to be bigger than the ones we have now.”
“Yeah that too,” said Pinkie Pie. “Give us all that stuff, and we’ll beat the stuffing out of your great devourer by the end of the week. Then, if we win, you have to give us all your sweet, sweet mineral crystals. And do whatever we say. Like... forever.”
Rarity stared at her, slack jawed.
Pinkie Pie slurped up the last of her soda and tossed the can aside. “So? Is it a deal?”
Rarity took a deep breath. “If we do grant you access to our weapons technology—and I want you to be utterly forthright with us—will you promise not to turn them on us as soon as the war is over?”
“Oh, I absolutely promise. Totally. For real.” A smile crept over her face, and she struggled to speak through the laughter. “pfff no rush twenty minutes!”
All three world leaders fell to the floor, laughing uncontrollably. The amphitheater once again echoed with giggles and guffaws.
Rarity and Blueblood stared at the gathering for a full minute. They then looked at each other, very gradually; only their eyes moved.
 
 
Ensign Sapphire stepped onto the bridge of the Executor’s Flagship, but hesitated when he saw the Executor herself standing at the helm. “Executor Rarity? You’re back?”
“Mm hmm,” She said without looking up from her command console.
Sapphire glanced to Templar Blueblood, who was levitating a clipboard and filling out paperwork. “So... was the operation a success?”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Not exactly.”
Sapphire’s eyes widened. “They declined!? But that’s never happened before!”
Rarity stroked a lock of curly hair aside. “Well, you know how it is. There’s a first time for everything.”
“Such a terrible shame,” he said as he approached the observation window. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do about...” His voice trailed off as he saw the planet below: the Diplomatic fleet was moving in a line and bathing the surface of the planet with pillars of searing blue light: the raw energy of an entire star splashed against the planet, boiling oceans into steam and charring mountains into cinders. The fleet left behind a wide swath of glowing green emerald in its wake: a vast ocean of smooth crystal, its surface frozen for all time in the midst of a turbulent storm.
“And we’re... glassing the planet. Okay. Why are we glassing the planet?”
The Executor’s voice remained bland. “Well, you know how it is. There’s a first time for everything.”
Sapphire stared back at the Executor and her Templar bodyguard. “So. How are we going to explain this to the Conclave?”
Rarity and Blueblood spoke together, sternly, without looking up. “We don’t.”
 



 
One month later, the colony ship “Percheron” glided through the far reaches of space. The vessel’s hull had been cobbled together from the few orbital space stations that survived unscathed, and it now carried the last surviving members of the three pony races. Pegasus, Unicorns and Dirt Ponies all huddled together, wrapped under blankets or hiding in rickety shacks made of spare fencing and sheet metal. Despite the Percheron’s massive interior, conditions were filthy and overcrowded: for every system the engineers brought online, two others collapsed or sputtered out. The strictly rationed food and water left the ponies with precious little energy to spare, but they still found things to argue and complain about. The issue of race or species was not discussed.
A small group of ponies had gathered in the ship’s briefing room to assess the situation. The main screen showed a video replay of the grand amphitheatre where the leaders of Dirtonis had negotiated with the visiting Crytoss dignitaries. The video zoomed in—momentarily shaky and out of focus—on Pinkie Pie as she took up her monocle and teacup.
The ponies crowded around the table all turned to look at Pinkie Pie, who was giggling uproariously. She  clutched at her sides and beat her hoof against the table repeatedly.
“Miss Pie?”
“No-no-wait!” she said. “Just... just wait! There’s another bit!”
They turned back to the screen, and the video showed the commander adding a top-hat and plastic mustache to her repertoire.
“Pfffsh... ‘Nevermind the bollocks!’ I swear it gets funnier every time!” she leaned against the table, struggling to breathe. She finally regained control of herself and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “Ahhh... good times!”
“Miss Pie, please.”
“Yeah, what?” Pinkie turned to look, and flinched in alarm as she caught sight of Fluttershy. “Whoa! How long have you been there!?”
“Since we evacuated,” she said.
“Well don’t sneak up on me like that.” Pinkie Pie pointed at the monitor. “Hey, can we play it again? Just set it on loop or something.”
“We have enough food and water for two months, and only enough breathable atmosphere for seven days. I’ve been correlating as much data as I can, and I have a couple different plans that might help us survive.”
Pinkie Pie opened a small foil package and began munching on candy corn. “Yeah, cool. Lemme know how it goes.”
“I don’t know which plan is best, so I gathered everypony here to help decide.” Fluttershy tapped the data-pad and began reading aloud. “First plan: contact the Crytoss fleet and apologize for—”
“Nope.”
“Why not? The Crytoss seemed genuinely—”
“The short answer? Cause it’s lame.”
Fluttershy pursed her lips. “And what’s the long answer?”
Pinkie Pie rolled her eyes. “Cause it’s laaaaaame.”
“Oh. Well...” Fluttershy skipped to the next datafile. “Second plan: take all the weapons we brought with us—for reasons I don’t understand—and disassemble them to build a large hydroponics facility inside the colony ship. This will provide not only food, but breathable air. The only thing we need is water and energy: we’ll have to collect ice from a nearby comet, and build solar panels on the surface of the—”
“Wait-wait-wait. Hydroponics? Solar panels? That sounds environmentally friendly. What are you, a tree-hugging space hippie or something? Spend all day hugging space-trees? What’s next: a recycling project?”
“But it’s—”
“I’ll tell you what it is: Laaaaame! Next plan.”
Fluttershy took a deep breath. “We land on a nearby planet, harvest vital resources, and use our combined technology to build a fleet of battlecruisers.”
“Battle... cruisers?” Pinkie Pie quirked an eyebrow. “What’re those?”
“They’re like battleships,” Fluttershy said, “but with less ‘battle’. And more... ‘cruise’. They have enough armor and weapons to defend against enemy fleets, but enough endurance to sustain our population while we search for a habitable planet.”
Pinkie Pie snapped upright in her seat. “Awesome! Let’s do that one! Then, once we have a colony, we can finally wipe out those ugly pegasus and unicorns once and for all!”
“We, uh. Need their help.”
“What?”
Fluttershy set the data-pad in the middle of the table and projected a holographic model of a battlecruiser in the air. “If we’re going to build a battlecruiser that can survive in deep space, we need to combine all our technology and expertise. We need pegasus shipwrights to design and construct the hull. We need Unicorn scientists to develop a new energy reactor, and invent weapons that can damage the Crytoss’s indestructible energy shields. And we’ll need Dirt Ponies to cultivate supplies and provisions, and train Marines that can repel boarding parties and capture ground targets.”
Pinkie Pie stared at Fluttershy for some time.
“Wow. That’s... a lot of big words. What does it mean?”
“It means that if we want to survive, we all have to work together.”
Pinkie Pie reared up in her chair and let out a fearsome cry. “Never!!!” She shook her foil bag in the air, defiantly. A single piece of candy corn fell onto the table and spun on the hardwood surface.
Pinkie Pie shook the bag again, but nothing came out. She hopped off her chair and rummaged through a nearby stack of boxes, tossing empty bags and bottles over her shoulder. After several minutes of fruitless searching she went back to the table and rested her chin on the edge. Her eyes fixed upon the single piece of candy, and her lower lip trembled.
“We, um, could make more,” Fluttershy said.
Pinkie Pie looked up at her, eyes wet and glittering.
“I mean... if we had battlecruisers.”
“Gimme dat.” Pinkie Pie swiped a microphone off a nearby control console.
 
 
The beleaguered refugees of the once proud Dirtonis looked up as the colony ship’s intercom carried the voice of a cheerful Dirt Pony.
“Ponies of Dirtonis! I know you’re all scared and stuff, but I have a wonderful, amazing announcement to make: Our battle against the Crytoss has ended in total victory! Thanks to all our brave soldiers, we sent the Crytoss armada running like a bunch of little babies and saved Dirtonis from an alien invasion!”
The refugees looked around, quizzically, but nopony had anything to say.
“Now before you celebrate, I want you to know that this total victory came at a great sacrifice: In order to save the planet, we had to blow it up. But that doesn’t matter, because we’ll find new planets! Planets with even cooler stuff on ‘em! The stars are out there, waiting for us, and I have a plan to take us there: by building the greatest super-battlecruiser ever! This wicked-cool experimental spaceship will house and protect us on our long voyage, and will be the ultimate weapon against our true enemies!
“Now, I know what you’re thinking, guys... who is this great enemy? Is it the Unicorns, and their cowardly, sneaky magic spells and invisible dudes? Or maybe the Pegasus, and their I’m-gonna-launch-airstrikes-before-you-even-have-a-single-missile-tower shenanigans? Or maybe it’s the brave and noble Dirt Ponies with their invincible tanks-and-marines combo that never-ever fails to blow everything up! Well, I’m here to tell you that it’s none of these! The real enemy is the filthy space-hippie Crytoss, and they will pay for this totally-not-provoked attack on our innocent and defenceless homeworld! This will not stand!”
The crowd of ponies, bedraggled though they were, stood up with their heads held high and a new glint in their eyes.
“I hereby declare a new government: a lean, mean, space-fighting machine that will henceforth be known as ‘The Confettiracy’! And I, as Chancellor Pinkie Pie, hereby declare war... on outer-space! Are you psyched? ‘Cause I’m psyched! Who’s with me!?”
The ponies forgot their weary hunger in an instant, and let out a mighty cheer. Members of all three races hugged each other. Full-grown stallions cried manly tears of concentrated liquid pride. The love they each felt for their own races felt small and distant now... insignificant compared to the burning passion than now pulsed through them.
 
 
Pinkie Pie clicked the Microphone off and tossed it to Fluttershy, who frantically juggled it in the air a few times. “She’s all yours, Flutter. Divert all resources to the construction of a machine that makes candy corn. And lemme know when that battlecruiser’s done, too.”
The ponies at the table watched Pinky Pie head towards the exit, humming to herself.
“Wait,” one of the stallions said, “why do you get to be the leader?”
Pinkie Pie shrugged. “I’m the only high ranking official who managed to escape from Dirtonis before it was blow’d up. Admit it: I’m the only pony experienced enough to make the tough decisions!”
The stallion frowned at her. “How did you get off the planet?”
“Great question! Have a present!” Pinkie Pie tossed the pony a brightly colored box with a shiny ribbon. The present exploded in a cloud of streamers and glitter, and when the debris cleared the stallion was wearing a T-shirt that read ‘Pinkie Pie is Best Chancellor’.
“Awesome!” the stallion said. “That totally explains everything!”
“Anytime, sugar!” Pinkie Pie left the room and closed the door behind her.
The remaining ponies turned to Fluttershy.
“Um... so,” she said. “Does anypony here know how to invent battlecruisers?”
There was a moment of silence. Somepony coughed.
She lowered behind the table slightly and nudged her long, pink hair over her face.
One of the pegasus nodded to her. “Actually, I was part of the engineering team that invented the HMS Unwieldy. I guess we could start with that.”
Another pegasus lifted a hoof. “Except this time, maybe we should put thrusters on it. You know... so it can fly around and stuff.”
Fluttershy took her datapad and opened a new file. “Thrusters! Good idea! Anything else?”
“Guns?” Everypony said at once.
“Right, right. Excellent.” Fluttershy added ‘hydroponics facility’ to the list. “Anything else?”