Finding Serenity

by M1ghtypen


"Vera"

Lyra wanted Gilda to eat in the observation lounge, but it didn't take much persuading to change her mind. Thunderlane only needed to insist that his friend hated enclosed spaces, which wasn't exactly a big secret. Griffons, like pegasi, got claustrophobic if they were cooped up for too long.

The griffon was curled up on the utility vehicle’s raised platform when Thunderlane brought her supper. Gilda cracked open a sleepy eye as he landed with two bowls carefully balanced in his hooves. She examined the green goop inside as though expecting it to rise up and revolt at any moment. “I’m not eating that,” she said flatly. “I’ll go catch a mouse or something.”

“You were expecting fine dining?” Thunderlane asked. “This here’s got oats, vegetable paste, and protein. It’s everything a growing pony needs.”

Gilda sullenly dug in, and soon tipped the last of the stringy mush down her gullet. “Ick,” She said with a full-bodied shiver. “You actually eat this garbage willingly?”

“I’ve eaten worse,” Thunderlane said. He mopped the bottom of his bowl with a bit of bread and popped it into his mouth. “We got any of that brandy left?”

Gilda reached into the small satchel hanging across her shoulders. “A little, thank Faust. I need to wash the taste out of my mouth. I think my esophagus is melting.” She pulled out the ornate bottle and took a long drink, then passed it to Thunderlane. When she saw his confused look she rolled her eyes and smiled. “It means my throat, moron.”

“I knew that!” Thunderlane snapped. He took a drink and handed it back to his friend. “Wanna go a few rounds?”

“I’m still sore from earlier,” Gilda grumbled. “There’s nothing to do on this stupid ship. I’m bored out of my mind! Our old gang wasn’t this boring, was it? It feels like we used to run with way more interesting ponies. I think I might be missing some of them.”

Thunderlane grabbed the bottle for another drink. “Hangin’ Crime took over after you ran off,” he grumbled. “He ran the group into the ground. Lyra offered me a better job, and I took it. You want to run with that hiong-mung duh kwong-run again, be my guest, but don’t be surprised when he tries to stab you in the back. Oh, and don’t mention me. He’s probably still sore about bein’ shot.”

Gilda’s snort of laughter sent a small spray of brandy all over her face. She quickly wiped it away before it could get into her eyes. “You shot him?” she asked, coughing violently. “And I missed it?”

Thunderlane looked extremely pleased with himself. “I’ve never had more fun shooting a pony,” he said. “He cried like a baby. Lyra thought it was funny too, for the record.”

“Guess she can’t be all bad,” Gilda said. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “I need something to do,” she complained. “Being cooped up in this dump with all these lame smugglers is driving me buggy.”

Thunderlane lay down next to her and twitched one of his ears in annoyance. “I know what you mean; sometimes I feel like my legs are gonna explode if I sit still for too long. Working out helps.” He glanced over at her, tracing her outline with his eyes. “Y’know, there’s other ways to keep busy.”

Gilda met Thunderlane’s devious smile with one of her own. “D’you think we can lose our chaperone?” she asked, indicating the grey earth pony that was quietly reading a book on the cargo hold’s bottom floor.

“She isn’t looking,” Thunderlane whispered. “Follow me!” he lifted into the air and nimbly ducked into the forward hallway, his wings all but brushing against the sides of the passageway. Gilda landed next to him, her clawed feet making even less noise than his hooves. “In here,” he whispered, and opened the hatch to his room.

“Did you sneak away from Octavia?” Vision asked.

Thunderlane spun around, eyes wide with surprise as his heart pounded in his chest.. “Keep it down!” he hissed. “Where in the hay did you come from? Where’s your brother? He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on you!”

“He said I could watch the stars with Lyra,” she said. “I got bored, so I’m going to look for Mac.” She flashed a shy smile. “I won’t say anything to Octavia if you don’t want me to.”

Thunderlane clapped Vision on the back. “Thanks, moon-brain. Come on in, G!” He dropped down the hatch, but apparently hadn’t cleared his landing zone first. Something heavy tipped over, and a few quiet curses drifted up the ladder.

“Hey, Vision?” Gilda asked. “That other earth pony, the skinny one, he’s your brother?”

“He’s a good brother,” Vision confirmed. “He’s taking care of me.”

“That’s cool,” Gilda said. “Where’d you two come from? It’s rare to see a fancy stallion like that all the way out here. He looks like he belongs in the Core, not out on the raggedy edge of the Rim.” She met Vision’s eyes, and carefully reached out for a quick peek into the little pony’s mind.

Something extremely unpleasant reached back. She immediately backed down, hoping that it wasn’t too late to break the connection, but it had already ensnared her mind.

Gilda wanted to scream as something entered her thoughts, only to be ripped from her a moment later. Each new memory of the previous instant was like something straight out of her nightmares, and they left horrible gashes in her as they were torn free and swallowed up.

The sight of Vision’s broken mind, twisted and damaged in ways she could never comprehend, ravaged Gilda’s psyche and chipped away at the foundations of her sanity. She was unmade, created, and unmade again. It was unimaginably painful, but she couldn’t even call for help. Every muscle in her body quivered, taut like a bowstring, and she became so tense that something was bound to snap soon.

Vision watched her, unblinking and aloof. “Forget,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t peek at your presents. It spoils the surprise.”

Suddenly, the pain stopped. Gilda blinked and rubbed her eyes, then discovered that she was now alone in the hallway. She was pretty sure that she hadn’t been alone before. Her mind felt hazy and lethargic, but if she concentrated hard enough she was sure that she could remember what happened.

Thunderlane’s voice nearly gave her a heart attack when he called up from the bottom of the ladder. “Alright, got it sorted out! Come on down!” Gilda shook her head and dropped down the hatch, allowing any thoughts about the last few moments to fade away.

Thunderlane’s room was exactly what she was expecting; it was messy, cluttered, and packed with weaponry. A faded poster of a scantily clad mare holding a massive rifle hung on one wall. “CALLAHAN,” proclaimed the elegant lettering below her. “Feeling lucky?

“Some things never change,” Gilda muttered. “What is it with you ponies and clothes, anyway?”

Something tickled her beak, and she scratched at it. “You alright?” Thunderlane asked when he noticed. “You’re bleeding.” Her claws came away slick with blood, and she stared at them with only mild curiosity.

“It’s nothing,” she said dismissively. “You got a towel?” He tossed her a rag, and she tried to clean her face up. “Cool. What happens now? That bed might not be big enough for two.”

The pegasus tugged at a large knit blanket that, for some reason, he had nailed to the wall. “Floor’s fine with me,” he said, and pulled it free. Gilda watched it fall to the ground and then gaped at what was hiding behind it. “Wow,” she breathed, letting her rag fall to the floor. Her beak hung open as she began to tear up. “It’s so shiny.”

“Yeah,” Thunderlane said proudly. “Nothin’ with more shine in the whole ‘Verse.”

Gilda pointed at one of the innumerable weapons hanging on the wall. Pistols, rifles, shotguns, and one very large portable minigun all battled for space. The crown jewel hung in the center; a gorgeous, gleaming instrument of destruction. “That’s an auto-lock!” she said excitedly. “Those aren’t even legal!”

Thunderlane grinned at a fond memory. “Callahan full-bore auto-lock with a customized trigger. Double cartridge, thorough gage. I took her off of a death squad that came for me a few years ago.” He reached up to pet the gun’s stock. “I call her ‘Vera’.”

“Same way I got my ladies,” Gilda sighed dreamily. “I wonder what that captain of yours did with them.”

“She probably just them locked up somewhere,” Thunderlane said. “Don’t worry, G. You’ll get ‘em back. I’ll make sure of it.” He looked over his collection with immeasurable pride. “I still say you should upgrade.”

Gilda bared her teeth threateningly. “You got a problem with my taste in weapons?”

Thunderlane held his hooves up in surrender. “No, no! Nothin’ wrong with a nine millimeter.” Gilda smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder, looking over the rest of his weaponry. After a moment he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I mean, y’know, long as you’re just hunting mice.”

It took nearly a full minute for his words to register. “You lying yatsume!” she shrieked, and lunged at him. They tumbled onto the bed, one laughing and the other cursing.

As it turned out, Thunderlane’s bed was plenty big enough.

*****

Morning always came too early for Gilda. Not even removing the very thing that signaled the arrival of a new day – namely, a sunrise – could stop morning from arriving before she was ready for it. There were three constants in the universe: taxes, death, and unpleasantly early wakeup calls.

Gilda and Thunderlane received one such wakeup call when the ship was rocked by a small explosion. Gilda immediately began to panic, thinking that something had gone wrong and they were all about to die horrible deaths in the inky blackness of space.

Thunderlane, meanwhile, rolled over and grunted irritably. “Vinyl’s makin’ breakfast,” he mumbled.

“Does she do that every morning?” Gilda asked. She could smell something burning, which meant that the mess up in the galley was powerful enough to momentarily overload the ship’s air purifiers. That could pose a serious problem.

“Mmm-mm,” Thunderlane grumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Gilda sighed. “Thunderlane, I need to talk to you about something.” Thunderlane rolled over and glared at her with one bleary eye. “I know, I know,” the griffon said quickly. “A tired Thunderlane is a grumpy Thunderlane. This is really important, though, and I don’t want the others to hear.”

Thunderlane sat up in bed and ran one of his hooves through his mohawk. “Yeah, what is it?” he asked. “This have to do with the job you turned down? I hope so, ‘cause otherwise it’s girly talk. You know I don’t do lovey-dovey girly talk that well.”

“Me neither,” Gilda said patiently. She was trying not to be annoyed, but it wasn’t easy. “And yeah, it’s sort of about the job. I had a quick talk with that weird mare that runs around with the ship’s doctor last night. I think there’s something wrong with her.”

Thunderlane nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, she’s nuts. Lyra doesn’t seem to mind and she hasn’t tried to kill one of us yet, so none of us worry about it much.”

Gilda locked eyes with him, making certain that he would understand the gravity of the situation. “I tried to read her,” she whispered. The resulting curse was so loud that she worried the rest of the crew would hear. “Keep it down!” she hissed. “I don’t remember all of what happened. It’s mostly gone, like she cut it right out of my brain, but a few pieces got left behind. I couldn’t even think about it for a while, but it’s getting clearer.”

Suddenly, the air seemed too heavy for her. Gilda wanted to fly away, to soar into blue skies and never look back. She dreamed of escape, but it was a pipedream in the black. “It hurts to think about it,” she whispered. “I saw insanity. I can’t expect you to understand, and I couldn’t describe it if I tried.” She reached up and brushed away a tear. “It hurt, Thunderlane. It hurt so bad, and that’s just the parts that I can remember.”

The fog of sleep was quickly fading from Thunderlane’s mind, replaced by a growing sense of dread. “She’s dangerous,” Gilda warned. “Lyra and the others don’t want to believe it, but you have to. She’s a ticking time bomb, and when she goes off it’s gonna be like something out of a slasher flick.”

Thunderlane swore again, but quietly this time. He’d known that Vision was unstable, but he wasn’t expecting anything like this. If what Gilda said was true, then the little psycho was a threat to everypony on the ship.

The griffon leaned back to make sure that the hatch leading to the rest of the ship was shut tightly. “Can I trust you?” she asked. Thunderlane nodded. “Good, because I’ve got an idea. If we play our cards right, we could get rid of her and get filthy rich in the process. We could spend the rest of our lives in a house on a tropical beach, and I don’t mean a synthetic one. I mean a real, actual, unpolluted beach.”

“What about Lyra?”

“You sweet on her or something?” Gilda demanded. Thunderlane’s glare answered the question better than words ever could. “Then why are you so worried about her? I already told you; the Empire wants Vision. They don’t give a pile of pellets about a washed-up starship captain and her lame crew. She’d probably just thank us for getting rid of a headache that she doesn’t want. Two headaches, if we take the doctor as well.”

Thunderlane lapsed into a long silence while he considered his options. “This could be the big score we’ve been dreaming of,” Gilda begged. “I can’t do it without you.”

“You won’t have to,” Thunderlane sighed. “I’m in. Just make sure that Lyra doesn't find out.”

*****

The first thing that Octavia saw after waking up was a pair of bright red eyes surrounded by a snowy white coat. The morning was already off to a good start. “You woke up before me,” the cellist mumbled sleepily. “Am I becoming lax in my routine?”

“Nope,” Vinyl assured her. “I had to get up early to check the ship’s course. You’re still the boring pony that gets up early on Saturdays. By the way, you don’t have to be up for another hour.”

Octavia sighed happily and rolled over. Vinyl draped a leg over her and snuggled into her dark mane, enjoying the moment of peaceful comfort. Her flight suit chafed slightly against her wife’s coat, but it wasn’t annoying enough to warrant moving.

The tranquility lasted for another ten seconds. Octavia felt Vinyl’s hoof brush against her stomach, and suddenly she was under attack. “Vinyl, no!” she shouted, but it was already too late. The unicorn tickled her mercilessly, and she covered up as best she could. Escape was impossible, and she could only curl into a ball to reduce the number of obvious targets. It didn’t help as much as she’d hoped.

Vinyl didn’t stop tickling her until her stomach ached and her legs shook. Octavia felt as though she’d run a marathon, and tried to regain her breath before the unicorn though of some new way to torment her. “Brute,” she giggled, and smacked her wife with a pillow.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Vinyl whispered. “Maybe I could come back to bed after that.”

“That sounds lovely,” Octavia agreed.

Vinyl pecked her on the cheek and reluctantly pulled away. “You should eat something,” the unicorn said as she sealed off the bathroom with a sliding partition. “I brought you breakfast.”

Octavia’s sleepy response was lost beneath the sound of running water. She burrowed deeper under the covers, deciding that breakfast could wait for a few more minutes. The smell of shampoo filled the room, along with something else that Octavia couldn’t quite identify. She was completely relaxed, and wanted nothing more than to lie there in bed for a while longer. Maybe she could sleep in, just this once.

The strange smell became slightly less strange as Octavia’s sleepy mind began to puzzle through her wife’s words. Vinyl had brought her breakfast. Vinyl had cooked.

Octavia sat bolt upright and shook the lethargy from her limbs. A plate of toast, eggs, and protein strips sat on the bedside table. Absolutely everything, including the plate itself and the napkin accompanying it, was burnt to a blackened crisp. “Vinyl!” Octavia shrieked. “What did you do this time? Answer me!”

“Can’t hear you!” Vinyl shouted, sounding a little worried now that the illusion of a normal morning was compromised. “I’m in the shower!”

With a growing sense of dread, Octavia climbed the ladder and opened the hatch leading to the rest of the ship. Smoke immediately stung her eyes, and the frantic wailing of a fire alarm assaulted her ears. She was barely able to make out Lyra and Bon Bon fighting over a fire extinguisher in the kitchen.

A frightened, screaming pegasus rocketed out of the black cloud of smoke with Tick Tock in hot pursuit. “Derpy, wait!” he shouted, brandishing a second fire extinguisher and fumbling with the pin. Derpy lurched to a full stop against the stairs leading up to the ship’s bridge, allowing Tick Tock to finally spray her with pressurized coolant.

“It is far too early to deal with this,” Octavia decided. She shut the hatch, climbed back down the ladder, and sunk back into her bed.

*****

It took a long time for the crew to clean up the galley, but the job was made a bit easier with Lyra’s help. A unicorn’s magic made even the worst messes much easier to deal with. When Vinyl eventually slunk out of her cabin to help with the cleanup effort the job fairly flew by. Soon the galley looked no worse for wear apart from a few new scorch marks in the ceiling.

“So everypony just lets her torch the kitchen from time to time?” Gilda asked. She and Thunderlane were slouched at the kitchen table while Bon Bon and Shepherd Mac worked on a suitable meal. It took a lot of work to make protein powder and vitamin chews look like actual food, so it would probably be a while before the meal was ready. The end result resembled scrambled eggs, if scrambled eggs were dark grey and filled with multicolored sprinkles.

“We mostly just quit tryin’ to stop her,” Thunderlane said. His cheek was pressed against the table, a steaming cup of coffee sitting next to him. He was a little bit hung over, and honestly didn’t feel like eating anything yet. Octavia was sitting across the table with a cup of tea, and daintily sipped from it like the refined mare she was doubtlessly trained to be. The retractable rifle sitting next to her did nothing to detract from her sophisticated image.

Derpy trotted into the room just as Bon Bon and Mac finished cooking. She had cleaned most of the soot from her mane, and the burned patches were fairly well hidden. The slight odor of smoke and chemicals was just something she would have to deal with for a while.

Since talking with Tunderlane was clearly a lost cause, Gilda focused her attention on the mechanic. “So, what’s your deal?” the griffon asked as Derpy poured herself a cup of coffee. “What’s a pony like you doing with this bunch?”

“I work here!” Derpy said cheerfully. “I keep Serneighty running.” Thunderlane groaned and covered his ears, thinking that there ought to be a law against sounding so happy this early in the morning.

“Must be one hell of a job,” Gilda said. “I’m surprised this old rust bucket could even break atmo, let alone burn hard enough to get anywhere in a hurry.”

Derpy had been about to pull up a chair, but now her hoof hovered over it uncertainly. “She isn’t a rust bucket,” she argued. “She’s got a better design than half the luh-suh flyin’ around today, and she’s compatible with any scrap of tech you’d ever be able to pick up!”

“I’m just saying that her time’s come and gone,” Gilda argued. “Cool your jets, Walleyes.”

Derpy lifted a hoof to her face, then immediately put it down again. Her voice wavered with anger, frustration, and a little bit of shame. “Y-you don’t… you can’t just–”

Gilda rolled her eyes. “It’s a relic, moron. You obviously don’t know much about ships if you think this hunk of junk is the greatest thing to ever crash on reentry. What, did you have trouble reading the contract or something? Did the Captain promise you lots of fun and adventure while conveniently forgetting to tell you that you’d be working on a ship older than your grandfather?”

Derpy took a hesitant step back and flare her wings. She glared at Gilda with watery eyes, but whatever she had been about to say came out as a quiet sob. Her wings propelled her into the air, and she ducked out of the room with barely an inch of clearance between her and the ceiling.

Gilda twirled a butter knife between her talons. “Crybaby,” she muttered irritably. Octavia glowered at her, but she pretended not to notice. “Come on, Thunderlane. I feel like smacking somepony around.” She tried to drag her friend out of his chair, but the grey pegasus went limp in her arms. “Get up, you lazy yowamushi. I had just as much to drink last night!”

Thunderlane looked longingly at his cup as she pushed him away. “B-but…coffee….”

Octavia finished her tea and trotted after them. Gilda could sense a quiet resignation coming from the unassuming earth pony, but very little else. She hated to admit it, but she was impressed; most ponies didn’t have that level of control over their emotions.

Thunderlane became a little more animated once they reached the cargo hold. “Where are you going?” Gilda demanded as he rolled over the safety rail and glided to the other end of the room. “Wait for me!”

“I’m getting’ some Gorram painkillers from the infirmary!” Thunderlane shouted. “Settle yourself down. I’ll be back in a minute.”

*****

Stupid Gilda and her big, stupid beak! Derpy thought angrily. Her flight from the infirmary had taken her through the cargo hold and into the hallway leading to the engine room. She was angry, frustrated, and more upset than she actually had a right to be.

Gilda may have insulted her home, but Derpy knew that the griffon hadn’t been entirely wrong. The ship was, in fact, very old. That didn’t mean she was anything short of magnificent, but it was true that there were faster and shinier ships out there. She’s still a jerk, Derpy thought, and wiped a tear from her eye. She was beginning to feel a little silly about her outburst, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She hoped that it hadn’t looked too suspicious.

No medication until tomorrow, she thought glumly. I have to make what’s left last. If I ration it out, I might find a way to get some more. A quiet sniffling sound made her pause outside of the infirmary. Who’s that? She wondered. Did Vision sneak away when nopony was looking? Why would she go to the infirmary of all places?

Derpy carefully pushed one of the double doors open, moving very slowly to keep the hinges from squeaking. She was quite surprised to see Tick Tock instead of his sister. The brown earth pony was sitting at his desk and staring at a thin sheet of plastic. His face was a painful mix of despair and desperation, but it quickly changed to embarrassment when he noticed her. He made a sound halfway between a greeting and a shout, then slammed the document down onto his desk. “Derpy!” he said once he had managed to make his voice work. “Was there something you needed?”

“Are you alright?” Derpy asked, wincing internally at how intrusive the question sounded. Sometimes it’s good to be blunt, she reminded herself.

“Fine,” the doctor lied. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He forced a smile, but abandoned it almost immediately. “I don’t feel like talking about it, Derpy. Thanks for asking, but I’d rather deal with this by myself.”

Derpy looked around the infirmary. “Weren’t you by yourself before?” she asked. Tick Tock nodded. “It didn’t look like it was helping much.”

The earth pony shook his head and sighed. “With all due respect, I don’t think you can help me.”

Derpy trotted across the room and pulled a stool up next to him. She took a moment to look down at the sheet of plastic, trying to make sense of the strange color patterns surrounding a cross section of a pony’s head. “Is that from the scans you ran on Vision?” she asked.

The façade of composure that he had built up crumbled all at once, and Tick Tock’s voice was suddenly choked with despair. “I think I know what they did to her now.”