//------------------------------// // 9. A Dark Road // Story: Planet Hell: The Redemption of Harmony // by solocitizen //------------------------------// Planet Hell Solocitizen 9. A Dark Road 13th of Planting Season, 10,056 AC Present Day It was not enough to simply wear the form of a thing. To truly embody another required a changeling to alter their mind and their thoughts as well as their body, as external and internal reality were one and the same as far as magic was concerned. So as Chain Gleaming maneuvered through the dark of the tunnels his brothers and sisters had burrowed throughout the desert earth, he maintained the pretense of wearing his disguise and carrying his gun mounted on his shoulder instead of levitating it. Why? Because that was what Chain Gleaming would do. The dirt, the incomprehensible dialect, and the sour plaque caked to his teeth were all things he dispensed with, but the original loved the hair covering his body, his Sigil Tech name-tag, and the perpetual stubble, so he learned to love them too and kept playing the part. Even as he followed the pheromone trail of his companions as it veered up through a tunnel worn smooth from use, and wings as thin and translucent as a wasp’s sprouted from his back, he maintained a mindset of Chain Gleaming. They buzzed and propelled him up the shaft while he ruminated over his cat. The tunnel ended in the basement of one of the city’s many towers. The orange light of the descending sun shot through the bars along the window and cut through the dust in beams. His brothers and sisters of his council, five in all, were gathered around a table tucked into the corner. “Brother, we were discussing our plans to infiltrate the pegasus ship.” One of his sisters waved him over. “The scouting party we sent failed to return.” At the moment she embodied the form of a white unicorn. She, and a sister of theirs currently identical to her, stood at the right and left of the table’s head. They reserved that place for him. “Did they say anything about a cat?” he asked her. “No, they didn’t.” Chain Gleaming snorted and trotted to the head of the table. “That’s quite a shame, I’m going to miss her,” he said. “On to other matters, Thunder Gale is much more resourceful and cunning than I originally gave him credit for. Penetrating our shroud is not easy.” “The pegasi weren’t the ones who intercepted them.” His other sister, the one identical to the last, trembled. The pheromones expelling from her carried the musk of fear and anger. “They got a message out saying they encountered Discord.” Chain Gleaming’s heart froze. It was nigh impossible for one changeling to hid his emotions from another, so he didn’t even try. Each of his brothers and sisters gathered around that table looked to him for leadership, and he couldn’t fail them. So he spent a moment to pace and think while he stirred up the dust and dirt. “That ship is still our only hope of returning to the hive,” he said to them. “If he is permitted to capture that ship before we do and leave this planet, we’ll not only be condemned to starve here, but it will also mean the end of the galaxy as we know it. He might very well decide he doesn’t fancy our kind at all and eradicated the hive all together.” One of his brothers, a changeling wearing the face of a khaki earth pony, rested one of his front hooves on the table and raised his other in a slight wave. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was only after his brothers and sisters took notice of him that he actually did. “What about the human weapons we recovered?” He lowered his hoof and ran it over the grains in the table. “They’re much more powerful than any conventional weapon or even any magic we’ve created for ourselves. Can’t they defeat the Discord?” “We don’t know if the quantum disruptors even work on him,” Chain Gleaming said. “I don’t want to squander them or our lives trying to find out and risk provoking his wrath in the process. What we do know, in fact, is that they are more than effective at dealing with flesh and blood beings. We should limit their use until we have a better idea of how to deal with Discord.” Chain Gleaming planted both of his front hooves down on the table and let his head hang from his shoulders. “We need to move ahead with our plans. We need to take the Spitfire from the pegasi before they get a chance to leave or before Discord takes it from them. We can’t let anypony or anything intimidate us. This cell will proceed with the infiltration on schedule. My brothers and my sisters, go make your preparations, I will see you shortly.” They all backed away from the table and trotted toward the staircase, but as one of Chain Gleaming’s sisters—the white unicorn who spoke before—passed him by, he said: “Minthe, a moment, please.” She stopped. To use her true name was not one thing a changeling did to another lightly. Once all the others were gone she spoke to him. “What’s the matter, my brother?” She raised a hoof halfway off the ground, uncertain of what to do with it. Eddies of dust wafting up from the city streets caught Chain Gleaming’s eye, and for a moment he watched out the basement window while he thought about his next words. “I need to ask something of you and none of the others can known about it,” he said. “Many won’t understand, but I have faith that you will. You’re my sister, but more than that, you’ve been my most trusted and loyal companion. What I’m about to ask won’t be easy, but it’s for the good of all changelings.” “What is it?” She lowered her ears and craned her neck to try and meet his eyes. “Tell me what I must do and I will carry out your will. You can trust me, brother.” “I know I can, and that’s why I brought this to you.” He couldn’t look her in the eyes for what he had to say next, but she deserved respect and at least the illusion that he was, so as he turned to her and fixed his eyes on that space just above the bridge of her nose. “Discord might find a way to break the human machine, yes, but the planet will still prevent him from leaving on his own power.  The Spitfire is his only hope of leaving here. He needs that ship and we can’t risk him leaving with the pegasi.” “What are you asking?” she said to him. Green light flashed in Chain Gleaming’s eyes, and on that command fire as green as his gaze rose out of his forehead and traced the outline of a twisted and crooked horn. Brimstone singed his lungs, but he inhaled deeply, as it felt as if an eye held closed for far too long was opening in his head. Black chitin filled in the empty spaces outlined in fire, and when it faded, his horn took its rightful place on his forehead once again. Magic trickled in to him through his spine as a pulse. A twist of his head, and his aura contorted and shimmered green along his horn. He held out one of his front hooves in time to catch the straps of a saddlebag just after it popped out of the air above him. He passed it to her, and she shouldered its weight over her back. “There’s enough explosives in there to crack the shielding on the Spitfire’s hydrogen reserves,” he said. “While the others are busy replacing marines and embedding themselves in key positions, I want you to plant this bomb in engineering and see to it that pegasi do not try to leave here before we’ve taken the ship.” “But what of our brothers and sisters?” She shook her head. “You promised us that we’d leave this planet together! You said we’d get to go home. Another ship might never come to this planet. We will starve if we don’t capture that ship!” “If Discord is allowed to leave here then our brothers and sisters everywhere will perish.” He put a hoof on her shoulder and forced her to look him in the eye, while he stared into that vacant spot. “I know every changeling here wants to go home, and I do too, but ensuring that Discord remains imprisoned here must be our priority.” She took his words as best she could: feigning on tears. “I know this is a hard task, but I know you can do it,” he said to her as gentle as he could. “It’s unlikely that it will come to that. Once we’ve assumed control of the Spitfire we can sense for his magic and ensure we don’t bring him back with us, but if we’re unable to I need to know that you’ll do what is right. For the good of all our brothers and sisters.” For a time she lost herself in the floor, and her legs shook, and she stared at the ground. Then, she inhaled deep and pulled the saddlebag straps tight against the white fur of her coat. "I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll plant the bomb.” Chain Gleaming stepped closer to her and threw his hooves around her for a hug. He smiled, and said right in her ear: “Thank you, my dear sister.” “You can count on me, brother, and I love you too.” She lingered there for a moment, and then trotted up the stairs to catch up with the others. * * * A fierce wind blew over Thunder Gale and caught his wings, beckoning him to let them open and follow the current. His mane and tail thrashed about and danced in the sky overhead. He closed his eyes, and soaked in the sensations of air rushing through his fur and filling his lungs. He spent too much time in his uniform, he decided, and resolved to take it off more often. A pegasus couldn’t enjoy the wind as it was meant to with that much clothing on. He only wore his pendant, and its weight was enough. He rolled over on his side to spare his back from the hard of the Spitfire’s hull, and opened a wing to the wind. It pulled at him, flowing over his feathers and whispering of happier times, and freedom. When he opened his eyes, his own reflection was staring back at him. The hull metal beneath him was scraped clean of its red and black paint. The reflective alloys underneath were exposed. He studied himself. Every inch of him was sculpted, lean, and muscular. His mane was blue and his fur coat was a much greyer shade of the same color, but he expected something more. His heart sank and ached, and he let himself droop. No, that wasn’t it, he thought to himself. I’m missing something. Levers and pistons groaned as a nearby airlock hatch retracted and Breeze Heart stepped out onto the open hull. She stood some distance away from him and held her ground by the exit before she decided to inch closer to him. She got a few feet away and stepped no closer. “I’ve completed my analysis on the sample we recovered,” she said. “What’d you find?” he asked. “Chain Gleaming’s blood bares a closer resemblance to the hemolymph found in insects than any mammalian circulatory fluid.” “So, he’s a bug?” Thunder Gale rolled onto his front hooves and sat down on the hull. “Some how I’m not surprised.” The sun crept toward the horizon. It colored the hills and the bare patches of hull orange. The wind whipped his mane against the side of his neck. “That’s not all.” She raised her hoof as if to inch closer to him, but didn’t. He didn’t say anything. “I also found DNA.” She took another step towards him. “I went ahead and sequenced it and ran a comparative analysis. Chain Gleaming has the same number of chromosomes as a pony and his genetic makeup is over ninety-nine percent similar as well. Inspite of his physiological differences, he’s a pony just like us.”         “How’s Cloud Twist doing?” Thunder Gale asked. She didn’t put her hoof down and looked to the floor, and he didn’t move from where he sat. “His wounds aren’t consistent with any kind of burn I’ve ever seen,” Breeze Heart said. “Part of his suit was fused with his dermal and muscle tissues, and it leaked heavy metals and polymers into his blood stream. I removed the debris, but large portions of his leg are becoming necropic and toxins continue to leak out of the affect area. We need to leave here if he’s to have any chance of surviving.” “We can’t leave yet.” Thunder Gale watched his reflection in the hull. She waited a while before speaking again. “I, uh, I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said to him. “The sickbay just isn’t equipped for this kind of injury. I’ve never seen an injury quite like this. I’m not even a real doctor. Somepony else who’s actually certified needs to tend to him. The best I can do is amputate and hope for the best. If I had access to a cellular dialysis machine and a tissue printer, I might be able to save the limb and prevent any permanent damage to his organ systems. But not without that equipment.” “I know how bad it is, Breeze, and I hate to put you in this situation, but we can’t leave yet. Just do what you can for him.” Breeze Heart walked up behind him, and her reflection joined his on the surface of the ship. Her eyes were focused and her face was much solemner than he’d ever seen before. Stray locks rebelled from her hair band. “Is it because of whatever it was you saw out there?” she asked. Thunder Gale picked himself off the hull of his ship and faced her. “You said that you saw your dad out there. That was the last we heard out of you before you transmatted back.” She pleaded to him with her eyes. “Does that have something to do with why we can’t leave?” “We can’t leave because the ship is broken.” Thunder Gale kept his eyes on his hooves, and only met hers only at fleeting glances. “But that’s more or less beside the point. Hill Born and everypony else from Sigil Tech could still be out there. We can’t give up on them yet.” She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him, and the down at the scar in the paint. The Spitfire had originally been painted blue, same as the power armor and cuirasses the marines wore, but after they escaped from Kronos Station and went into exile they painted their uniforms black and red. Then they crashed on the third planet of the Azrael system, and patches of the Spitfire’s true colors now marred her surface. Hull metal was shiny and hideous and reflected just too damn much without all that paint. “I’d better get back to sickbay,” Breeze Heart said. “I need to check on the lieutenant. I’m going to hold off on the procedure for as long as possible and hope you find Hill Born before it costs Cloud Twist his leg.” She trotted over to the airlock, but Thunder Gale called out to her, and she stopped before stepping back into the ship. “What happened to us, Breeze?” he asked. “We used to be so happy.” “We came to this place,” she answered him, “but I’m beginning to realize that we’ve been on the road here for a long time.” “I still love you.” Thunder Gale stepped closer to her. “Whatever happens, and whatever has happened, that won’t change.” “I know.” Breeze Heart smiled with her mouth but her eyes were still sorrowful. “You too.” At that she descended into the ship and the airlock hatch clicked shut behind her. Thunder Gale watched the hatch for a while half hoping, and half dreading, that she would come back. But that wasn’t her way. She never played games, and she trusted the ponies around her not to try them on her. Out of fear that he might run into her, or that a crew pony might stop him and force a dialogue, he sat on the hull and lay down on his back facing the sky. He didn’t want to deal with them. His heart and his stomach twisted over on themselves and knotted up into a pit. He closed his eyes on the wind and the sky. * * * The edge of sleep snuck up on him, and before he even realized it he was drifting deeper inside himself. It was dark and full of shapes half-thought, but then there was a pulse. It flashed green, red, blue, and purple. There was a burst of warmth and love that filled in the pit in his chest. His heart skipped and fluttered, and he shot out of the depths of sleep and slammed against his eyelids. He didn’t know what he was experiencing, but hairs along his neck tingled. He wasn’t alone anymore. Who are you? He projected the question to the light inside himself. I’m Thunder Gale, and more, a voice whispered back as clear and lucid as water. I’m a part of you. The part your waking self forgot. What do you want? he thought to the voice. The answer came in streaks of red and orange and yellow across the back of his mind, but it also came in words as well, and they were as loud as thunder: Seriously? Life is for living and right now you’re not doing it. Your path isn’t easy, but if it were, it wouldn’t be yours and you wouldn’t have chosen it. I want you to pull yourself together and keep going. The day’s not over yet, soldier, so pony up! What was that? A mere fragment of your greater whole. From the gestalt of your being. That which is eternal and without limit. That which is magic. All seven colors of the rainbow bloomed in his mind and his eyes shot open. Thunder Gale lay on his back for a minute longer, not out of self-pity or sorrow as he was before, but out of confusion. The voices inside him had fled, but their touch lingered on inside him. “Thank you, whatever you are.” He sat forward and propped himself up on his front legs. “Today’s going to be a long day, and I have a feeling that I’ll need every ounce of resolve to get through it.” Thunder Gale stood up on his hooves, cracked his neck, and opened the airlock hatch. He spared one more minute to take in the skies and the wind, and then he stepped inside and shut the hatch behind him. Just on the other side of the airlock a marine lay asleep on the grated floor holding her rifle clutched in her hooves and wing. Not five feet away, a marine with blood-shot eyes and shaky legs held a laser-cutter to the bulkhead. It belched out sparks and fumes. “How goes the repairs?” Thunder Gale waited for him to salute. The marine set down his cutter and leaned into the bulkhead plate with his front hooves until it slid off the wall. Wires and tubing spilled out onto the floor like entrails. The marine picked up a tool from his saddlebags with his mouth, and sifted through the mess. Thunder Gale stepped around him and over his companion. The marine meant no disrespect, he just didn’t hear him or see his approach. At least that’s what he told himself. There wasn’t any of the usual shouting or rapid clippity-clop of hooves echoing up and down the Spitfire’s corridors, just the clattering of metal and the sizzling of laser-cutters. Only once did he pass by a work detail speaking to each other in more than short questions and one-word answers. He heard their voices as he cantered up to an intersection in the corridor. “We can’t deny it anymore, the Spitfire is dying,” a marine said. Thunder Gale recognized the voice but it took him a second; it was Private Drizzle, the security mare. Even though his hoof falls rattled the grated floor as he crept up to the intersection, they were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t hear him approach. He clung to the corner and pivoted his ears to them. “How can you stay so positive?” Drizzle asked. “In one of Twilight Sparkle’s letters to Celestia, she mentions how different perspectives can offer insightful solutions to even the most daunting problems.” When the other marine spoke, Thunder Gale immediately recognized her voice as well. It was Corporal Medley, Drizzle’s friend and squadmate. “If six ponies are all it takes to find a way to drive out a swarm of Parasprites, then a whole ship full of marines should have no problem figuring this one out.” “Celestia? What does Celestia even know about anything? What has she ever done for anypony else?” “She’s one of the wisest ponies who ever lived – ” “Wisdom doesn’t put food in hungry mouths, doesn’t keep friends from stepping on a mine or an explosive gun, or even keep the bucking ship flying!” “Celestia taught ponies how to empower themselves and work together to achieve Harmony. She almost never directly intervened in anything.” “That’s my problem!” Drizzle snapped and the clattering of tools across the floor followed. “If she’s so great then why did she let Equestria fall? Why do we keep getting in these stupid wars if love and friendship is so powerful? If Celestia is even real, then why is this happening to us? Why wouldn’t she get off her flank and do something?” “I don’t know,” Medley said. “That’s right, so keep that crap about friendship and magic to yourself. It’s all a fairy tale! Nothing more.” Thunder Gale pulled himself away from the corner and cantered around into view. Medley and Drizzle were standing in the middle of the corridor before an armor support brace that had fallen from its place in the ceiling and through the grated floor. Their tools were scattered across around, and a pair of worklights were aimed at the support brace. “Hey, Major.” Medley turned to him and feigned a salute. “Major, sir!” Drizzle popped her wings open on reflex and snapped to attention and gave him a salute. “We’ll find a way to fix this mess, sir! You can count on us.” “What happened here?” He didn’t return the salute; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the brace and the hole it tore in the ceiling. “The Spitfire was designed to operate out of a Navy command carrier,” Drizzle said. “Its hangar bay is designed to protect the ships docked inside from sustained particle bombardment. Gunship hull armor is not. The Spitfire has been exposed to near constant collisions with high-speed microscopic debris. “To make a long story short,” Medley added, “her bones are cracking, sir.” “Why hasn’t something like this ever happened to us before?” Thunder Gale pointed at the support brace. “We’ve seen plenty of skirmishes over the years and we’ve never had issues with the superstructure.” “We’ve never been in a crash before yesterday,” Medley said. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, it was just a matter of time. I think we could have gotten another year or two out of her.” “You two keep talking like she’s already broken,” he said. “Isn’t there anything we can do?” “This—” Drizzle marched up to the support brace and waved her hooves over the cracked and fractured the steel “—isn’t the only problem. Almost every brace we’ve inspected is just as bad, if not worse. It’d take at least six months in dry-dock just to get all the braces set in place again.” “Can we get her back into space?” Thunder Gale asked. “We’d hang together well enough as we already are.” Medley stepped closer to him and lowered her ears. “At least, I’m pretty sure. The damage is so extensive, though, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to take her into an atmosphere again. We’d risk straining her insides too much on re-entry. I wouldn't try any fancy maneuvering with her, either.” Delivering troops to the surface of a planet and providing close air support for the marines on the ground were what gunships like the Spitfire were designed to do. A gunship that couldn’t land was like a unicorn without a horn, or a pegasus without his wings. As Thunder Gale poured his eyes over the cracks in the brace he fought to keep from choking up. “Carry on,” he said to them, and hurried out of there before the sight got the better of him. On his way to the bridge, Thunder Gale encountered ten more work details all just as overworked and solemn. He also found over a dozen sleeping pegasi who had collapsed tools still in their mouths and hooves. All of them were alone, left behind by their teams as they pressed on elsewhere. Thunder Gale tiptoed through them and weaved his way to the hyper lift. When the hyperlift doors opened and he stepped onto the bridge, the crew ponies didn’t spot him. They never took their eyes off the holograms in their alcoves, except to dart over to another to relay a message. Lightning Fire was still awake and holding down the chair at the head of the bridge’s massive, hologram emitting table. A holographic book was open in front of her, and her legs were curled up underneath her body. “What have I missed?” Thunder Gale trotted up to her. “Commander Hurricane and Private Pansy just broke out of prison.” Lighting Fire gestured with her wing and turned the page. “The Princess of the Crystal Kingdom is actually an imposter, and the Elements of Harmony are joining forces to over throw her. There’s also some kind of mutiny brewing in Hurricane’s army, but I’m not sure where that plot’s going.” “I meant on the ship,” he said. Her eye widened and she hopped out of the chair. “Oh, yes, of course. Just keeping the seat warm for you. I was catching up on some reading while the stimulants wear off. I’m too wired up to sleep, but I’m going to grab some as soon as the repairs are complete.” “How long do we have?” A buzzer sounded and everypony on the bridge paused. They turned their ears and their heads up, and listened. A voice, synthetic and plastic sounding, reverberated out of the speakers overhead. “Reactor, online. Sensors, online. Engines, online. All systems nominal.” The entire bridge staff leapt up and shouted and cheered. They hoof-pumped each other and fluttered their wings and, for the first time since they touched down on that planet, laughed. Even Lightning Fire exclaimed a little, “Yes!” She let them celebrate for a few seconds, and then flipped on the ship-wide com system. “Good work, everypony,” she said. “All of you take five, that’s an order. After that begin making immediate preparations for departure. Lightning Fire, out.” “We can’t leave yet,” Thunder Gale said. All joy drained from Lightning Fire’s face, and her ears and her mouth sagged. The few others who caught what he said stopped and stared. Soon, all the eyes of the bridge were on him. It was quiet. “I want everypony to get some rest.” Thunder Gale spoke not only to his XO, but to the ponies gathering around him. “But in eight hours, we resume our search for Hill Born and the surviving members of Sigil Tech. We haven’t completed our mission yet.” The entire bridge staff now watched Thunder Gale, and whispered amongst themselves in voices just hushed enough for the words to escape his hearing. Blood rushed to his face and his heart pounded. He held his ground, and didn’t give in to his crew’s stares and the questions they whispered between themselves. He looked member of his bridge staff in the eye, from the shy tech, to the marine standing guard by the door. “You have your orders,” he said to them. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we go to war.” They didn’t go back to work or disperse as he expected them to. Instead, the bridge staff continued to stare and talk amongst themselves. “Sir, can I speak to you for a moment?” Lightning Fire tapped his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “In private?” “Of course,” Thunder Gale said. “Let’s take it to my ready room.” The two of them slipped away from the eyes and ears of the crew, and left them watching and waiting. Once the door shut behind them, Thunder Gale placed himself behind his varnished desk with the manticore banner at his back. He rested his front hooves on the table and put them together in an arch. He hid his snout behind them while his eyes peered out at his XO. “Sir, with respect, I don’t believe remaining planet side is a wise course of action.” Lightning Fire was backed against the far wall and had almost no room to maneuver. “We’re sitting ducks out here. If we move into orbit, we can at least keep the ship out of the line of fire.” “We can’t do that,” Thunder Gale said. “There’s no telling what the conditions of the upper ionosphere are like until we get there. If we encounter more electromagnetic phenomena, such as the kind that brought down the Spitfire to begin with, we’d be force to abort the mission. Besides, our ability to deploy power armor squads and dropships is limited in orbit. If we’re going to find Hill Born and any of the other survivors, then we have to remain here.” “Major, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but morale on this ship is at an all time low!” Lightning Fire extended her wings and pointed to the door behind her with a hoof. “The crew is tired, and scared, and the only thing that has been keeping them going is the promise that we’d leave once the repairs were done. You have a responsibility to this crew—” “And we have a responsibility to protect and defend others. The crew will rise up and face the enemy because they’re Imperial Marines, and that’s what we do.” Lightning Fire shut her eye and facehoofed, but then she bared her teeth and closed the short gap between herself and the captain’s desk. “Did you even skim any of the data you sent back?” she asked. “Do you have any idea how many changelings are out there or what they’re capable of? We can’t win this fight, and if we try, this crew will end up just as dead as Sigil Tech!” Thunder Gale set his front hooves down on the varnished table wood and, slow and deliberate as a bear rising on its hind legs, hunched over his desk. One of his front legs propped up his body, while he drove the other into the wood of his desk. Both his wings snapped open. He didn’t know what data she was talking about; he remembered leaving the copy of Sigil Tech’s database behind. It didn’t matter, though, not to him. “I don’t care how many there are or how tough,” Thunder Gale said. “I’m not losing and I’m not backing down. I’m going to get what I came here for and nothing is going to stop me. I am the prince; the divine right to rule was granted to me and everypony of my line by Celestia herself. They will follow my orders. Now, get this ship prepared for combat. Dismissed.” Lightning Fire glared back at him, saluted him, and marched out of his office. Alone again, Thunder slouched back into his chair and buried his face in his hoof. The clocked on his desk ticked by, and the cool air poured out of the vents above. His varnished desk reflected the black and red banner back at Thunder Gale. At one point it was a source of pride and a symbol of a new and glorious path, but he couldn’t take the sight of the colors or that stupid manticore. So he latched onto the silk banner and ripped it from the wall and flung it against the door. The curtain rod clattered to the floor as the manticore flowed over it limp, and tattered as a rag. Thunder Gale sat back down into his chair and covered his eyes with his hooves. He didn’t want to leave that spot, and he didn’t want to face any of the ponies outside his door. He heard Lightning Fire’s muffled voice and several others rise. Part of him wanted to stay like that the rest of the day, but he wasn’t the kind of pony to sit on his hooves doing nothing for very long, so he compromised by stooping over the datapad on his desk and checking the computer logs. Scrolling through the records he discovered that not more than three hours ago, Gerard contacted the ship and uploaded an exabyte sized file to the ship’s computer. Thunder Gale’s chair squeaked as he sat forward. In plain green letters, the record stated that he himself had authorized the download. “What in Equestria?” He remembered going back for the hard drive during the mission, and dropping it. “I did no such thing. How’d it all get back here? How’s that even possible?” A yellow button on the arm of his chair started to blink. “This is the Major.” He held it down. “Go ahead.” “Thunder, it’s Breeze. I was going through the cabin cleaning when I found the message Hill Born sent you. It’s not the same one you showed me or anypony aboard this ship.” He dragged his faced out from behind his hooves and straightened up. He didn’t know what to say so he kept his mouth shut. “Can you meet me up here?” she said. “We need to talk.”