“Did you kill him, or are you holding him for ransom?” asked Pog's voice, from the little box next to Spike.
“Um...” said Spike, trying to think of something scary to say. “I... killed him. Yeah. And then... and then I bought him back to life! As a zommmmmmbie pony! And a ghost! A ghost zommmmmmmmbie pony!”
There was a long moment of silence, and then the little box next to Spike went *click*.
Wary of further surprises, Spike jumped back from the box and stared at it from some distance away.
* * *
“Only Frem could possibly have lost to a creature so shockingly juvenile.” mumbled Pog, on the bridge. He got up, and double-checked the charge on his stun rifle.
Then he took out a small badge, and attached it to the front of his shirt. He took a deep breath, and quoted the sixty-second Rule of Acquisition. “The riskier the road, the greater the profit.”
He cleared his throat. “Computer.” he said. “Lock on to this badge's signal, and use it to monitor my lifesigns. If I am rendered unconscious, or if I say the word 'exit', beam me back to the bridge immediately.”
“Acknowledged.” said the computer.
“Excellent. Now... close off the air vents. All of them.”
* * *
A spaceship is a thin shell around a little bubble of air, to keep its passengers safe. If the air gets out, then everyone on board dies.
For safety reasons, therefore, every ship that travels in space has an arrangement that allows any individual section of the ship to be shut off from all the others; so that a leak only evacuates the air from a small part of the ship, and not the whole thing.
This is usually done by means of bulkhead doors in the corridors and air vents.
In the case of fillies and/or dragons in the air vents, this system can also serve to cut off that escape route, and force them to use the corridors like everypony else in order to travel from A to B.
* * *
Spike's standoff with the communicator was interrupted when the door to Engineering slid open.
“Spike!” yelled Applebloom.
“You're okay!” cheered Sweetie Belle.
“Yeah!” agreed Scootaloo, rushing forward.
“Careful!” warned Spike. He pointed at the communicator. “That thing... that thing just went 'click'. I'm worried it might explode or something.”
“No worries.” said Flam, stepping up behind the Crusaders. “I've got this stuff all worked out.” He stepped forward, and his horn glowed as he reached inside the communicator and tore it apart. “I've got absolutely no idea how it works,” he admitted, “but I know how to make it stop working.”
“How do you make that one stop working?” asked Dawn, pointing up at the warp core. Matter and antimatter swirled around, in strange patterns.
“Like this.” said Flam, firmly. He reached with his magic into the warp core, and pushed around at random.
This only had the effect of mixing the fuel slightly better.
“Um.” said Flam, after about half a minute. “I... this doesn't seem to be working. I actually have no idea how to make that stop.”
“Aw, never y'mind.” said Applebloom. “We're the Cutie Mark Crusaders! We break stuff alla the time!”
“Yeah,” nodded Scootaloo, “an' this looks expensive, so I bet we can smash it up really quickly!”
The three fillies each took a deep breath.
“CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS STARSHIP SABOTEURS, YAY!”
“I think we should start by pushing all the buttons!” suggested Sweetie Belle, hopping up onto the nearest console and suiting action to word.
“Maybe we oughta buck all these metal things over.” added Applebloom.
“I've got this really cool idea,” opined Scootaloo, “but we'd need a bit of rope to try it... okay, a lot of rope...”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Flam, nervously.
“You two go make kissy-faces in the corridor.” said Sweetie Belle firmly, pointing to the door. “Leave this in the hooves of professionals.”
“Yeah, we've broken things that were supposed to be unbreakable!” added Scootaloo. “Hey, d'you think our special talent might be in breaking things?”
“If that were it,” said Applebloom, “Ah think we'd've got it by now.”
“But maybe it's specifically in breaking starships.” suggested Sweetie Belle. “After all, we've never broken a starship before.”
Flam stepped back and turned to Dawn. “Do you think that little dragon might be able to talk some sense into them?” he asked, quietly.
“I doubt it.” Dawn whispered back. “He ran for it back when they shouted about being starship saboteurs.”
“Ah.” nodded Flam. Then something struck him. “Wait a minute. The dragon – the one who can survive molten lava – ran away from this?”
There was a moment of silence as Dawn thought this over. “Perhaps we would be safer in the corridor.” she suggested.
“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, “but no kissy-faces!”