Date: 1/22/1216 KDS. The Most Important Day In History.
Time: 7:51 AM Mothership Standard Time.
Mothership Position: Kharequus Geostationary Orbit, Scaffold Area.
Location: Scaffold Press Room.
“…finally, it is time to go beyond the pale horizon, to rid ourselves of fate’s shackles and stride boldly towards the land which our Goddesses promised us long ago. On this day, we find our hooves not on solid ground, but on steel of our own forging, created to carry us to the stars which our children will one day rule.” Masterpiece smiled beatifically out at the crowd. “Thank you.”
The cheers were thunderous as he stepped down from the stand. It was all Twilight Sparkle could do to not roll her eyes at the ridiculous theatricality of it all, but she understood its necessity. Without public support, it was awfully hard to get grant money.
The final ceremonies were being held on the Scaffold, largely because the Mothership didn’t have any facilities large or ostentatious enough for the occasion. The venue was the Press Room, host to every Daiamiid address in the last fifty years. The participants: politicians, generals, scientists, leaders of all stripes.
The audience: the world.
The room had been decorated specially for the occasion. Banners of white and grey flanked the stage, emblazoned with the wings-and-spheres crest of the Mothership. Notably absent were the colors of any one kiith—quite simply put, there was no way to fit enough of them to prevent outcry from the kiithid who weren’t represented.
But the lines of division were present, and not in a subtle way. The Press Room was part auditorium, part common room, and the crowd was not so monochrome.
Twilight stepped down from the stage as the intermission began, taking a long look at the crowd as she did so. It wasn’t orderly, but to someone who was looking, it was plain to see where the lines were drawn.
The S’jetti delegation sat in an uneven cluster, dressed in conservative robes—red for the stallions, blue for the mares—held with silver clasps that depicted the kiith’s sigil. Twilight wore a robe in the same style. Their hoods were down, revealing faces that ranged from grinning to carefully neutral. Twilight recognized a few of them—professors and scientists she’d worked with in the past, and she met their eyes and exchanged the occasional nod. Twilight made her way towards them, but she didn’t stop looking out over the crowd.
Naabal was represented more heavily, of course, though not all together. The attire varied, presumably by region—a few wore turbans, headscarves, and even veils along with traditional silk finery, while others preferred more contemporary suits and dresses—but there was a persistent trend of opulence. The predominant color was sand-brown, but much of the clothing was embroidered in gold as well. They were scattered, clustered in small, homogenous packets. Twilight recognized a few, but not many. All of them, she was certain, were of the upper-class.
Some of the Naabali were in a line near the front, all of them dressed in the modern style. These, Twilight recognized. The kiith’s ruling council, with Glamour herself sitting in the very midst.
She had two titles. The first was Naabal’sa—which simply marked her as the head of the most powerful kiith on the planet. A good start. The second title was Sa of Sa’s, which meant she was the de facto supreme authority above every single kiith associated in any way with the Daiamiid—just about the entire civilized world.
There weren’t many ponies Twilight would say she was “honored” to stand before, but Glamour was one of those few. She was a politician, yes, but she was also smart. A single look at the record of her twenty-year rule was enough to show that much. She regarded the stage neutrally, an occasional smile piercing her mask.
A few Sobani intermingled with this group, distinct in their black jumpsuits with vivid red stripes. All those present were of the upper echelons—generals of varying ranks. They seemed… surprisingly relaxed, chatting casually with one another or the Naabali next to them. The Soban’sa himself—a stallion named Stormfeather—was not present.
Twilight suppressed an irrational flash of anger. Her brother was fighting a war somewhere out in the desert while his bosses reclined in luxury up here, shooting nothing but the breeze. She wanted to believe that Stormfeather at least had deemed his duties too important to take a vacation, but there was no way to say.
Paktu was underrepresented but present, a small cluster near the back, ponies in white suits, all with blood-red stripes running down the front. They were… somber, even agitated. The Paktu’sa, a stallion named Faith whom Twilight had only seen on the news until now, sat upright with his forehooves crossed, a wide-brimmed hat hiding his face from the stage.
Kaalel, Twilight almost missed. They were dressed in dark blue, with bands of gold at their collars and around the ends of their sleeves. They seemed to be watching, everything, chatting casually with one-another while their eyes shifted endlessly around the room. Twilight had always heard stories about them being unsettling, but she’d never seen it until now. The Kaalel’sa was missing. Twilight couldn’t remember her name.
Of all the kiithid present, the most garish were the Manaani. Greens and golds of varying shades, with splashes of other colors thrown in willy-nilly. Some were dressed in what could be called formal wear—often traditional turbans and headscarves like some of the Naabali—but others were clad in much more casual wear than the rest. The LiirHra were much the same way, their blue-and-gold colors intermingled with the Manaani, and members of the two kiithid could be seen having lively conversation. The Kiith’sas—Caramel of Manaan and and Jetstream of LiirHra—were talking like old friends. Caramel had his arm around a young mare, who he seemed to be introducing. Jetstream’s eyes lit up, and he shook her hoof with great enthusiasm. The young mare—dressed in a blue vest and a short dress of the same color which matched well with her pink coat and mane—responded with a grin and a laugh which Twilight could hear over the crowd.
Twilight realized she’d slowed, and quickened her pace towards the the S’jetti, putting the rest of the crowd out of her mind. She sat down next to an old Professor she remembered from her university days, smiling and being polite as he greeted her before going back to a conversation with the mare next to him about foalerenes.
She was rather surprised, however, when the empty seat beside her was shadowed by none other than Masterpiece himself.
“Good morning, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” he said. “Would you mind if I sit here?”
Twilight wasn’t sure what to say, exactly. “Why… uh, certainly.”
“Thank you.” Masterpiece sat down lightly, taking up the same catlike pose that Twilight did.
He sighed, closing his eyes while his face relaxed. He looked… tired.
“Are you alright, sir?” Twilight asked.
“Oh, yes. I simply can’t seem to stop making speeches these days.” He chuckled, and Twilight smiled as well.
“You do have a knack for it,” she noted.
“Why, thank you,” Masterpiece replied. He opened his eyes, and gave Twilight a wry smile. “But I take it they’re not particularly your cup of tea?”
Twilight shrugged. “Not really, no. I’m not much for all this talk of ‘destiny’ and ‘higher purpose.’”
Masterpiece nodded. “A reasonable stance to take. But in the end, does it matter whether or not we really are ‘destined’ for anything? If we have the means to achieve it, is that not destiny enough?”
Twilight stared at him for a long moment, not really sure how to answer. “Tell me something,” she said, “Why, particularly, did you decide to sit next to me?” She nodded towards his suit—blue and gold. She didn’t say it, but she left the implication there.
Masterpiece broke into a laugh. “Really now, Twilight Sparkle!” he said, his tone jovial. “Such a question! Is it too much to assume that I merely wished to speak with you, to make your acquaintance?”
“You’re being noticed, you know,” Twilight said. “People will be talking about how the great Masterpiece Kaalel snubbed his own kiith to speak with a young S’jetti mare.” She meant it as a joke, but she found it came out a little harsher than she’d intended.
It was a subtle change that came over Masterpiece’s face. Hard to exactly describe. Mostly it was in the eyes, a sudden coldness that seemed to pervade the rest of him without really changing a thing. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose it would seem rather uncouth, to an outside observer. Even in this triumphant age, we still define ourselves by our petty tribal ancestries.” He smiled, but it somehow seemed harder. “But there is a reason that those flags about the stage are colorless. Given our imminent departure, I doubt think such things will matter much longer.”
There was silence for a couple seconds. Twilight realized her smile had faded, but she was a bit too stunned to fix it.
Masterpiece’s demeanor suddenly snapped back to how it had been before. “Still, you have a point. The public’s perception remains a necessary garden to be tended. Perhaps it’s best that I make this a short visit, then?”
Twilight shrugged. “I… didn’t mean to imply that you were unwelcome.”
“And I had no such sense, of course, but your words ring true regardless.” Masterpiece stood. “Take care, Twilight Sparkle. I’m sure we’ll have occasion to speak again. Perhaps sooner than later. There is much we should discuss, you and I.” He bowed, and departed without another word.
Twilight forced a smile, but inside she was reeling. What was THAT about?
She didn’t have long to ponder. The ceremonies were near their end, but there was one more pony of note who had yet to speak her piece.
Everypony fell silent as Glamour stood and walked towards the stage. She was getting old—visible in the grey streaks in her otherwise blue mane and the lines creasing her white coat—but when she took the stand and opened her mouth there was no doubt as to her strength. Her contralto voice carried like a song, beautiful yet tragic all at once, and yet there was a fierceness in even her gentlest words that could shake the very mountains.
“Those of you who leave for the stars today,” she said. “You know the importance of your mission. I do not need to give a long, flowery speech about destiny. You’ve received plenty of those already, and while some of them were indeed masterpieces, you don’t particularly need to hear any more.”
Twilight suppressed a snicker, along with about half of the room. She glanced back at Masterpiece, who smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgement.
Glamour gave them a beat before she continued. “No, I am not about to give you a grandiose speech. I merely hope to wish you well, and give you a small piece of news to carry with you.”
She cleared her throat. The whole room waited.
“Soon after your final departure, we are planning to begin work on a second Mothership, which, in two decades’ time, will begin traveling to join you. Should you report back to us with positive findings, we will begin moving ponies to Equestria in earnest—a true migration, to follow your pilgrimage.”
Murmurs of awe rolled about the room, but Glamour waved them down with a smile. “Yes, these are indeed exciting times. I certainly hope I’ll live to see the second Mothership fly from here. Perhaps, if things go well enough, I’ll even manage to see it myself before these tired old eyes fail me.”
Glamour’s head dipped, and a smile flitted across her lips before being replaced by a neutral expression.“I’ll leave you with this,” she said, and raised her head so her sapphire eyes pointed squarely out over the ponies below. “We who linger here send our prayers and hopes along with you. Take Equestria, so that someday we may make this pilgrimage as well. You are our vanguard, our best and brightest, and you have our unwavering faith.”
She bowed her head again, and the smile returned once more. “That is all I have to say. Go with the blessing of the Goddesses, and reclaim our birthright.”
The cheers were like rolling thunder as she stepped down and slowly made her way back to her seat, and Twilight couldn’t help but stomp her hooves with the rest of them. As bad as things might be, it was comforting to know half a planet stood behind you.
Glamour was the last speaker, and the ponies began getting up, shaking hooves and saying their farewells. Twilight stood, dusted off her robe, and made her way out of the press room.
She paused at the door, glancing about, and pulled up her hood. Smiling, she ducked through, out into the sea of reporters and flashing cameras, who paid no mind to a single S’jetti amidst so many other figures of importance. She only relaxed and took down her hood again once she was seated on the shuttle back to the Mothership.
She sighed, and closed her eyes as the shuttle kicked itself away from the Scaffold, one last time. As much as she loved her planet and her people, politics and press conferences were two things she wouldn’t be missing.
The thought brought back memories of the night before, things Amethyst had said. “We’re gonna lose, Twi. I know it’s hard to admit, but even with all we’ve got, even with ponies like Shiny on those lines, it’s not a fight we can win.”
Still, somehow, a smile found its way to her lips. Glamour talked about another Mothership. She still thinks there’s hope for us all. What are Amethyst’s words to those of the mare who rules the world?
Time: Who knows.
Location: Who cares.
The stars are bright, and so unbelievably beautiful… but they’re nothing compared to her. With my wing wrapped around her, and her wing around me, the world feels like a place worth living in, and everything seems all right. We don’t have to speak, we just press ourselves against each other. I lower my head onto her shoulder, and she sighs in contentment. Things are perfect.
But that can’t be how it is. The stars stare back at us, hungry, waiting. My eyes lock on to them and narrow as I invite them to come for us, to try and destroy what we have. For a while, at least, they don’t take me up on the dare.
Still, they’re out there. So many things, little or big, that could tear us apart. Too many. Things I can control, things I can’t. I don’t know them all, can’t know them all, but I have to. I bury my head in her mane and inhale. Like flowers, or maybe vanilla. She’s just so perfect and I’m just… not. I need to be perfect for her, to keep us together even when the stars are going to try and tear us apart, to make sure that she’s safe through it all, but I’m not sure if I can be that perfect.
But for now, we have each other. We smile at each other, me in that stupid, cocky way and her with that lovely little smile that could turn a complete monster’s heart to jello. We hold each other tight, pressed against each other, eyes to eyes, nose to nose… then lips toRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRINGRING—
Time: 8:30 AM
Location: Mothership Pilot Barracks A, Rainbow Dash’s Quarters.
Rainbow Dash awoke to the relentless drone of her PDA’s alarm. She groaned, blinking away sleep as she rolled slowly and stiffly out of bed, letting the covers slide to the floor without a care. She tapped the PDA, turning off the alarm and letting beautiful silence envelop her much more.
She bit her lip as the still-fresh images came back for a moment. Just a dream. Just a dream, but a freaky, sort of foreboding dream… with a happy ending that her damn alarm had just prematurely ended.
Then she remembered why she’d set the alarm. She whipped the PDA into sight, checking the time with a growing panic. Oh, crap.
She ran towards the door, stopped, turned, then ran towards the bathroom instead. A set of brushed teeth later, she was heading back towards the door again, except that then she was heading back towards the bathroom. She almost made it outside after brushing her mane into submission, but this time she turned and headed for the closet.
She threw the doors open and stared solemnly at her vest, shiny bits and all.
“It’s not really a date,” she muttered. “It’s nine in the morning. It’s breakfast. She’s not going to be dressed up, and it’s not like this is a dress uniform anyway.”
She’s probably not going to be dressed at all, whispered an especially excited part of her mind. Her tail twitched, and Rainbow bit back a curse. Classy. Gotta think classy.
She snatched up her vest. Not enough, really, but it would have to do. She wasn’t about to be late. Rainbow Dash didn’t show up late.
She trotted out through the foyer, fully intending to avoid conversation or distraction… but she kinda failed miserably. Her eyes found the plaque above Lightning Dust’s room, and her legs slowed to a stop.
It wasn’t like she’d forgotten how she’d met her new… well, her date, but it was still a punch in the gut to be reminded why they’d ended up together in the first place. It felt… wrong, somehow, that they’d come together over Dust’s meltdown.
Rainbow didn’t feel guilty about Dust—because seriously, it was her own damn fault that she ended up… how she’d ended up—but all the same, seeing the name brought back memories.
A first encounter. “Hey, I’m Lightning Dust, but my friends call me Dust. You seem pretty cool, wanna hang out later, maybe catch some sim time?”
…
A bonding experience. “That was awesome, Dash! I bet there isn’t another team on the whole Scaffold that could top us!”
…
A bet. An approach. “What’s up, Dash? What’s going on? What’s with the face…?”
…
A confession. “What?”
…
A look of shock. Betrayal. “You’re… WHAT?”
…
Anger. Confusion. Revulsion. “Get away from me you bucking sicko!”
…
Resentment. Anger. Bigotry. “Buck off, dyke. I don’t talk to freaks.”
…
Test scores. A difference of two points. A mutter, half-heard amidst celebration. “Stop bucking beating me, fillyfooling bitch.”
…
Panic in Spitfire’s voice. Dust shooting ahead of the pack. “Sands on fire… Dust! Cut the boost system!”
…
Smoke. Fire. Dust’s head, bleeding through a cracked helmet. Adrenaline. Numb emotions.
…
A firm voice. Something in the chest, like a lump of cold lead. “…nerve damage. She’s not flying again, not with those wings.”
…
Rainbow shuddered, breaking from the trance. No, none of it had been her fault. No way. Even if confessing her crush had sped up their falling out, it would have happened eventually. Lightning Dust was a bigoted bitch, and Rainbow Dash was gay and proud of it. That had always been true—they just hadn’t seen each other for real until that day.
But still, Dash couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d never asked that question months ago. Maybe she would have found some other mare, Fluttershy, even, and started going out. Dust would’ve found out, and sure, she’d have been pissed, but it would have been remote enough that she could look past it. They were friends first, right? Not like it was hurting her, or affecting her in any way. Maybe then their test scores wouldn’t have mattered. Maybe then—
“Ey, Dash! Flight control to Major Dash!”
Rainbow blinked. “Wha?” She turned, then jumped back a bit at the sight of Cloud Kicker. “Cloud! Hey, uh… hi.”
Cloud cocked her head. “Dude, what is going on in your brain right now? You look… introspective. That’s not normal for you.”
Dash grimaced. “Yeah, well, lotta crazy stuff happened yesterday.”
Cloud glanced at Dust’s nameplate and let out a low hiss. “Oh, yeah… that was some real nasty manure.”
“Yeah…” Dash murmured. “Whole tons of it, too.”
Cloud gave Rainbow a funny look. Then, she groaned. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re doing the ‘my fault’ thing.”
“What? No, I—”
“Come on, Dash, look at me.”
Rainbow did so, and Cloud fixed her with a rock-solid stare. It occurred to Dash—not for the first time—that Cloud Kicker had beautiful eyes. Lavender. The gold mane and purple coat went together real well, too. And the muscle tone… unf. If Cloud wasn’t straight…
Rainbow shook her head. She was dating now. Enough with the roaming eyes.
If Cloud caught Rainbow’s momentary lapse of judgement, she didn’t dignify it with a response. “Dash, there is absolutely no way—and I mean no way—that you could have seen it coming.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dash muttered. “But—”
“Na-na-na-nope! No. Dashie? No.” Cloud Kicker shook her head. Left, right. “Do. Not. I don’t care what little clues your hindsight’s picking up, but they are one hundred percent irrelevant.” Her eyebrow shot up. “The past. Cannot. Be changed. Do you comprehend this most universal of truths?”
Rainbow couldn’t help but snicker at that. It was the LiirHra’n accent—it wasn’t always apparent, but sometimes when Cloud Kicker talked she sounded like an old-timey gangster. This was one of those times, and the absolutely straight face wasn’t helping.
Cloud caught on fast—she always did—and put on a little smirk. “Glad to see you’re having a good time, Dashie.”
“Sorry, sorry…” Rainbow composed herself as quickly as she could. “Yeah… you’re right. I get that. What’s done is done, and… damn it, it sucks, but I guess she’ll have to deal, somehow.”
Cloud kicker nodded firmly. “And that’s that.” Her smirk widened a hair. “Did you hear the news yet?”
Rainbow cocked her head. “News?”
“Yeah, the news.” Cloud whipped her PDA out of a pouch on her vest. “A buddy of mine in the construction department forwarded this to me over the ship’s network.” She tossed it over to Rainbow. “Check it out!”
Rainbow caught it on her hoof and examined it closely. On the PDA’s screen was… something that looked suspiciously like a set of blueprints. For a fighter.
Rainbow Dash’s jaw dropped. “What, already?”
“Yeah, apparently ol’ Jubilee is having a fit over this thing. Ever heard of the Blade?”
Rainbow’s eyes widened. Had she heard of the Blade? It was one of the biggest disappointments of her childhood. This big, awesome project which spiraled out and pancaked at the height of the hype. “Of course I’ve heard of the Blade,” she said, already making the connections. “You’re not telling me they pulled the designs out of the archives?”
Cloud nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly that! Apparently some hot-shot Naabali kid whipped this up last night. They’re calling it the Blade Mark-V, and holy hell, take a look at the projected stats for it.”
Rainbow looked, and her eyes widened. “They can’t seriously be talking about that much vernier thrust, right? That kind of acceleration mid-flight would… turn us into goo.”
“Magic, girl, magic! The whole thing’s wired with spells that’d make Twilight Sparkle blush.” Cloud tilted her head. “Though rumor goes she did half the work. Hard to tell; it is impossible to get any good info on the research team… freaking artists’ colony, I tell ya.”
“That Twilight Sparkle?” Rainbow rubbed her head with a wing. Something that she’d never admit to being childlike glee was welling up inside her. “Wow, just… wow.”
Cloud noded, flapping her wings twice in excitement. “It’s a great day to have wings!”
Both pilots winced. The excitement in the air fell a few notches.
Cloud’s ears drooped. “Right, yeah, too soon. Sorry.”
Rainbow squinted at the pad again. “Wait a sec, maybe that’s not a problem. It says… this thing is specced for earth ponies and unicorns, too.” It made sense; without the boost, there was no reason the controls couldn’t be adapted.
“Heh… then it’s a good day to be anypony.” Cloud bounced on her heels in excitement. “This thing is going to be awesome to fly! I’m definitely signing up for test pilot duty.”
“Slower than the Arrow,” Rainbow noted, her eyebrow lifting skeptically as she studied the rest of the statistics. “Bigger, too. More of a target.” She wanted to love it, but there were drawbacks. Rule number one of getting shiny new tech: Make sure the suppliers weren’t cutting costs.
…Though if this was cutting costs, the original was gonna give Rainbow a total nerdgasm.
“Slower, bigger, sure,” Cloud conceded. “But with that kind of maneuverability who even cares, dude!”
Rainbow continued down the list. Hardened cockpit… adjusted centers of thrust and mass… modular weapon mounts… the thing was packed with little improvements that, if you really thought about it, were gonna change everything. Modular weapons? Holy sands! And the thing was built like a freaking tank!
She returned Cloud’s PDA. “Wow. Just… wow. Thanks for letting me know about this, Cloud. You just made my freaking morning.”
Cloud gave a satisfied nod and tucked the PDA into her vest. “So…” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “I noticed you were in a hurry. What was that about, hmm?”
Rainbow’s froze for a few seconds. “SANDS! Damn it, Cloud! You totally made me forget I’ve got a da—” She slammed her mouth shut.
Rainbow knew Cloud Kicker. If Cloud knew that a friend was in a relationship, she’d never stop “helping.” It wasn’t… totally unwelcome, but all the same, Rainbow wasn’t looking for hook-up tips.
Thankfully, Cloud didn’t seem make the logical leap. “A day? Well yeah, you got a day. Everybody’s got a day. A big day, too. What… oh.”
And then she did.
Cloud blinked. It was a slow blink, with two graceful motions. Eyelids down, eyelids up. Rainbow could see the bucking wires connecting. “Oh…”
Rainbow stared warily at her friend. “Cloud?”
A grin crept onto Cloud’s face. “Oh… so that’s why you were out so late last night.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Rainbow protested. “I didn’t do whatever you’re implying I did, okay? We just talked, that’s all. Then we said we’d get together to, y’know, watch the jump… and stuff.”
“Does this ambiguously defined ‘stuff’ involve things along the lines of…” Cloud waggled her eyebrows in way that suggested “hubba hubba” to be somewhere within her vocabulary. “Smoochin’?”
Half of Rainbow Dash wanted to erupt in blushes and denials, while the other half was dead set on laughing her flank off. Cloud tended to have that effect.
She settled for an abrupt “snerk” and used her hoof to cover both that and the rising redness she could feel in her cheeks. “We didn’t plan anything like that. C’mon, dude, you’ve gotta know I’m not that lame. I’m not gonna plan, a… a… thingy.”
Cloud chuckled. “You’re lame enough to call a kiss a ‘thingy.’” Rainbow slugged her in the shoulder, but Cloud only responded with another laugh. “Fine, fine… but seriously, I wish you two fillies the best… it is a filly, right?”
Rainbow nodded, giving Cloud a slightly confused smile. “Yeah. That doesn’t just stop being a thing, y’know.”
“Right, well, let’s just say I’ve known some ponies.” Cloud raised a wing, and Rainbow met it with her own. “Take care, dude,” Cloud said. “Introduce me to her sometime, but for today… make sure it’s a day to remember, eh?”
Rainbow grinned at the totally silly question. “You know me, Cloud,” she said. “Do you think I’d do anything less?”
Time: 8:39 AM
Location: Docking Terminal 3, Tram Station.
It was with a melancholy smile that Rarity waited within the silent terminal.
Yes, her work had been well received. Twilight Sparkle herself had hurried off before getting a chance to look it over, but the rest of the team was of the opinion that the Blade Mk. V was, in Bon Bon’s words, “quite brilliant indeed.” There was a mote of glowing pride still present — Bon Bon was a figure of some renown, after all, and a positive review from her was nothing to blow one’s nose at.
However, it still felt… lacking. Bon Bon had gone right back to cuddling with her marefriend (who, from her stiff limbs and glazed smile had apparently lost their little “game”) while Amethyst had simply wandered off back towards her bunk with a nonchalant wave.
Rarity sighed. Was it selfish to expect a little more than that?
She shook her head. It didn’t much matter now—the schematics were off to the construction department for final review. Bon Bon had offered to make everypony some kind of breakfast, but Rarity had declined the offer. She’d said she wanted to find a more dedicated place to watch the jump—which was mostly true—and so it was she found herself standing before the tram station.
A tram station on a spaceship. Rarity suppressed a smirk. Even if it made sense in terms of scale, it was still quite surreal to think about.
The tram arrived after a moment, slipping into the station without so much as a whisper. There was a faint chime, and the pressure doors parted before Rarity.
She sighed, and stepped aboard, keying her destination into the console by the door—B-section, upper decks. Bon Bon had mentioned that a few of the better-equipped commissaries were already operating up there. At best she’d find somewhere to eat breakfast and watch the Jump. At worst she’d be able to pick up some supplies and hurry to an observation area.
Rarity hummed a happy little tune as she settled into her seat. Yes, this was going to be a good day. She could practically feel it in her bones, yes indeed!
She glanced around the cabin. It was sparse—a bit more like a bus than a proper train car. Rows of seats with little leg space, rails and handles against the ceiling for it if ever filled up. From what Rarity knew of the Mothership’s tram network, that was never likely to happen. Things were just too well coordinated, thanks in no small part to a certain neuro-linked alicorn.
Three ponies occupied the tram, besides Rarity herself. A pair of tough-but-handsome looking stallions who were having a quiet discussion at the far end, and a mare one row in front of Rarity who was staring intently at a hoofrail like it would make her stop fidgeting.
My oh my, Rarity thought as she got a better look the aforementioned mare. I imagine there’s quite the story here…
She was beautiful, in a completely au naturel manner. Toned muscles under an azure coat that evoked the sky, her eyes the color of the sunrise amidst a face that most models would kill for, and her mane… good Goddesses, there was simply no way that could be natural!
Of course, she was also cognizant, and thus immediately caught the undue attention Rarity was pouring her way. “Hey, ease up on the eyes, wouldja? I’m spoken for.”
Rarity shook herself. “Quite sorry, dear, I… I must say, you look quite fabulous this morning.”
The mare raised a half-hearted smile. “Uh, yeah… thanks, I guess?”
Rarity squinted. “But…”
The mare blinked. “But?”
“Oh, I could do so much with that mane!” Rarity hopped right out of her seat and hurried over to inspect it, ignoring the shock on her target’s face. “Oh my goodness, that really is natural! Splendid! Simply fabulous! Why, with a spot of makeup and a touch of gel, I could—”
The mare’s eyes had gradually widened as the rant went on. Rarity cut off her rambling mid-sentence and gave a sheepish smile. “Oh, sorry, I… I just haven’t seen such… you really are blessed, dear.”
“Uh huh…” the mare glanced around the tram as if looking for an escape route—no such luck, of course, as the tram was already well in motion. One of the stallions glanced back, but quickly returned to his conversation. “Look, thanks and all, but I’m really not the type for makey-uppy stuff.”
“Oh,” Rarity said. “Well, it’s just that… you know, with the right cosmetics, why, you could pass for a supermodel.”
The mare snorted—quite uncouthly, to Rarity’s perceptions. “Thanks but no thanks. ‘Model’ isn’t a career path I’m after.”
“That isn’t what I was implying, dear. I was simply assuming you’d want to look your best.” She glanced down at the drab uniform vest. “Why, if you’d dress with just a little more style, even…”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the medals.
Rarity was no expert, of course, but she’d heard whispered stories, read magazine articles. Even to the Naabali safe within their city walls, Sobani were known as heroes. An entire kiith—families, children, even—dedicated to fighting a war so that nopony else had to.
It blew fashion out the window, frankly. Rarity had never been one for dreams of heroism—the rough-and-tumble almost never appealed to her—but she could respect such a pursuit. She didn’t know what any of this mare’s medals meant, but to have so many at such a young age?
“Yeah, I don’t really dress in ‘style’ all that often.”
“Very well. My apologies, dear,” Rarity said. She gave a friendly smile. “I’ve been rather rude in my insistence. If you wish to remain as you are, then that is your business, and none of mine.”
“Oh. Uh… okay.” The mare blinked twice, then followed Rarity’s gaze to the medals. She looked back up, nervousness etched across her features. She seemed lost for words. “Uh… yeah. I don’t usually wear these, ‘cause they look a lot more impressive than they really are.”
Rarity bowed gracefully, drawing a shocked look out of her companion. “I know it perhaps presumptuous to say so, but it is an honor to meet you, miss…?”
The mare suddenly got the look of a pony caught in the headlights of a speeding train. “Uh, Rainbow Dash,” she said. “And... drop the miss.”
“Well enough,” said Rarity as she straightened up. “As I’ve said, it is a pleasure.”
The two fell to silence. “Section D,” the intercom announced. “Arriving at Section D.” There was no sense of slowing, but rarity caught the change in motion through the window, the slowing, and then an abrupt shift in perspective as the tram rotated, bringing itself into alignment with the deck.
It rather defeated Rarity’s spatial awareness. She swayed on her hooves a bit as the tunnel spun mutely about them. The two stallions paused their conversation, one of them gripping the hoofrail for support. The doors parted, and they exited, leaving Rarity alone with her new acquaintance, if they could be called that. The tram shifted back into alignment, and Rarity once again found herself dizzied.
If it bothered miss Dash, she didn’t show it. The mare stared off into the far wall, chewing her lip in silent thought, her eyes unfocused.
Rainbow Dash… a thought occurred to Rarity, something familiar. “Rainbow Dash… have I perchance heard your name somewhere?”
All at once, a grin broke upon Rainbow Dash’s face. “Well, probably, yeah,” she said. “I mean, I’ve had a pretty awesome run lately. Number one rookie flyer on the Scaffold, top scores in my weight range here. I mean, I can’t compete with the veterans, but…”
Rarity’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness… you were that pilot? Yesterday, during the test flight?”
Rainbow’s smile faded a bit. “You mean the one that… ‘saved the day?’”
Rarity gaped, awestruck. “In no uncertain terms! Why, I should have recognized it sooner! The Arrow’s boost revealed your Magical Emission Spectrum. It matches your mane!”
“Yeah I guess it…” Rainbow frowned. “Wait a sec, you know about the boost?”
“Well, certainly,” Rarity scoffed. “I mean, it a rather large part of my job to understand how such systems work. My duty does include designing such things, after all.”
“Wait, you’re not…” Rainbow’s jaw dropped. “Burning sands, you’re Rarity, aren’t you?”
“Why… yes, that is my name. Why do you ask?”
“Ohmygooosh! You did the thingy! The new Blade thingy!” Rainbow’s grin could have outshined the sun. “I saw it earlier. It looks awesome!”
“You mean… the MK-V? You’ve… seen my work?”
“Yeah! The construction guys sent the schematics to the flight leaders.”
“Were… they supposed to do that?”
“Maybe? Probably not? Who cares!” The mare seized Rarity by the shoulders and started talking at mach speed. “Dude, I remember the Blade. When I was a kid, it was all the flyers talked about, this big new thing the LiirHra tech-heads were cooking up… but then the whole thing corkscrewed. Like, biggest letdown of my life.” She jabbed a hoof at Rarity’s chest. “And you’re the mare who brought it back? I could kiss you, dude.”
Rarity just stared at her for a moment.
Rainbow’s eyes widened and her cheeks went bright red. “I mean… if I wasn’t spoken for.” She released Rarity and took a step back with a sheepish grin. “Uh, sorry.”
“No, no, quite alright,” Rarity said. Honestly, after the culture shock of yesterday? This mare wasn’t the least bit strange.
The tram intercom chimed softly. “Section A. Arriving at Section A. All passengers please check your belongings before disembarking.” Rarity thought it had ended, but the voice continued two seconds later. “Rainbow Dash, that means you. Your PDA fell out of your pocket. When you accosted miss Rarity just now.”
There was a moment of silence as both ponies present took a moment to process that Fleet Command had just intervened because a pilot dropped their phone. What was unmistakably a snicker emanated from the intercom.
Rainbow glanced around until she spotted her PDA—sure enough, halfway under a seat. She stood up slowly, with a look on her face which suggested she was hairs away from bursting out into nervous laughter. “Uh… thanks Great Journey, Ma’am,” she said.
Rarity held a hoof to her mouth to stifle a most unladylike giggle. “Dear, I understand that it was quite an amusing thing to do, but please don’t try to give us heart attacks!”
The expression on Rainbow’s face shifted into one of alarm. “Hey, are you sure that—”
But Great journey couldn’t hold it in long enough to let her finish. A peal of laughter echoed through the intercom, sending Rarity into a much more subdued fit of her own. “Oh Celestia,” Journey wheezed between laughs. “I’m so sorry, Rainbow Dash, Rarity. I merely saw the situation in my peripheral view and… well, I couldn’t let you leave your PDA on the floor, now could I?”
Rainbow stared up towards the intercom, stunned. “I… don’t know how to respond to that, ma’am.”
Great Journey recovered thought it took a moment. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m sorry. Recall for a moment that this isn’t a military vessel, and that I am not your commanding officer.”
Rainbow’s eyes widened, and she pawed at the floor nervously. “I’m… uh… thanks, ma’am?”
Rarity resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “She’s saying that you don’t have to call her ‘ma’am.’”
Journey chuckled. “That is what I am saying, yes.”
“I get that, but it’s… well, weird? I dunno,” Rainbow said, glancing helplessly at Rarity. “I uh… like…”
“Don’t worry about it for now. You’ve got a date to attend, to you not?”
“Uh, yes ma’am.” Rainbow looked more than a little shocked. “Uh… how do you know that, ma’am?”
“As much as I’d like to claim that I watch everything you do every minute of every day—and record the bits that are funny to me…” Great Journey snickered again as Rainbow’s face paled. “As much as I’d like to say that, I really just heard it from your friend, Cloud Kicker. She asked me to make sure things went smoothly for the two of you, and seeing as how there is quite literally no reason I shouldn’t, I took it upon myself to grant her request. Among other things, you’ll notice that your tram arrived about three minutes ahead of schedule… though I suppose we’ve already burned through that particular benefit with all this talking.”
Rainbow Dash just gaped.
“The Jump is in ten minutes, you know. You really should be going.”
“Right, yeah, that!” Rainbow said. “Uh, thanks ma—I mean, uh… Great Journey.”
Rarity cleared her throat, nearly causing Rainbow to jump right out of her coat. “Well, it’s been a genuine pleasure to meet you, Rainbow Dash,” she said, extending her hoof.
“Yeah, likewise!” Rainbow said. She met Rarity’s hoof and gave one good hard shake before glancing up at the ceiling once again. “You too, ma’am Journey—I mean… yeah. You too! Going now!”
Rainbow Dash then proceeded to sprint away at a velocity which would have put a fighter jet to shame.
Rarity glanced around until she spotted the tiny camera lens embedded in the front of the tram. She fixed it with a stern look. “You know, I think you really rattled her.”
“She’s used to a military life. A lot of the crew are.” Great Journey let out a sigh as the tram doors slid closed. “I feel it’s important to break away from that idea. We are not soldiers, are we?”
“You have a point,” Rarity said. “But I don’t think scaring poor ponies to death is the right way to go about it.”
“Maybe not,” Journey conceded, the hint of a smile in her voice, “But it can be such fun.”
The tram shifted again, but this time when it started off, it was heading the opposite direction.
Rarity narrowed her eyes at the camera. “You know, Rainbow Dash just got off at section A, and I am heading for section B. You skipped my stop, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you mean, Rarity,” Great Journey said coyly. “But if I did… would you begrudge me for helping along a young filly in love?” Her voice softened. “If you could see the crew roster… well, let’s just say that that particular young mare is more in need of a good relationship than most ponies I’ve met.”
Rarity’s glare faded. “The medals?”
“An archive search would tell you that one was for wounds suffered in a combat action, and another was for surviving an aircraft crash. That mare has risked more in her young life than most of us ever will.” Great Journey paused to let that sink in. “Beyond that, I have it on a mutual friend’s authority that the last time she tried to reach out to another pony she was rather badly burned for it. A rerouted tram is the least I can do.”
Rarity nodded. “You could have at least warned me, you know.”
“I wasn’t planning on letting either of you know I was watching,” Journey admitted. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, really.”
A frown crossed Rarity’s face. She knew Great Journey, of course—probably quite a bit better than most ponies on the Mothership.
And that could be a problem.
Because despite the fact that Rarity trusted her former teacher, the sheer level of power she wielded would almost certainly put others on edge. To be seen using that power for pranks… would endear her to some, perhaps, but it would greatly unnerve others. “Dear, you should be careful,” Rarity said, softly. “As much as I hate to say it, you can be quite frightening like this. You could… rekindle a lot of old fears.”
Great Journey went quiet for a while. The tram started its movement.“I know,” Journey said, her tone suddenly growing sad. “All too well. It’s… can I confide in you, Rarity?”
“Of course,” Rarity replied without hesitation. “Anything, dear.”
“It’s getting hard to be myself these days, when all everypony seems to see are the computer chips in my spine. People so rarely use my name… well, they never use my real name, do they? But even the one I took up for this endeavor has fallen out of use in favor of ‘Fleet Command.’” Journey’s voice broke suddenly, emotion cascading forth. “And how soulless that sounds! Every time I hear those words, I feel a little less like a mare and a little more like a machine! And… I’m not sure if that frightens me as much as it should.”
Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. “I…” she stammered. “I’m so sorry, dear.”
“It’s alright,” Journey said, her tone fading back into the steady alto she normally held. “None of it was ever your decision to make. It’s not your struggle to worry over—”
“You are my friend, dear,” Rarity said sharply. “If you ever need an ear, I am always here to listen. And if you ever needed help… why, I’d tear you out of that interface with my own hooves and horn if you asked me to!”
Great Journey laughed, but only a little. “You’re a more generous soul than I could ever deserve, Rarity.”
“Nonsense, dear,” Rarity said, smiling. “Everypony deserves a few good friends.”
“Then I am blessed to count you one of mine.” The tram doors opened onto the section B terminal. “Take care, Rarity. Cafeteria B-6 has a rather spectacular view.”
“Thank you, dear,” Rarity said. She stepped off the tram, casting a smile back towards where she fancied her friend was watching from. “If you’d ever like to talk, you need only to ask.”
“There may be a time when I take you up on that, Rarity, though I hope it will be for better reasons than my own personal foibles.”
The doors slid closed behind her, but Rarity thought she heard, at the last moment, one more whisper from the tram’s intercom.
“And thank you, Rarity, for treating me like myself.”
Time: 8:53 AM
Location: Cafeteria A-4
Worrying was far too easy.
Fluttershy still wasn’t sure if what had happened last night had been real or not. It was just too good to be true. No matter how much Pinkie had insisted it was all true, the doubt just wouldn’t go away.
Speaking of Pinkie, she… wasn’t around, apparently. She’d said she was going to some kind of ceremony on the Scaffold, to meet a couple old friends before she left. She should have been back on board the Mothership… but she wasn’t in the cafeteria.
She probably just had somewhere else to be. That was the rational answer, right? Still, Fluttershy couldn’t help but worry. About Pinkie, about Rainbow… even about the Jump. It was the first time anypony had tried to do something like this since… well, since before history, when ponies first arrived on Kharequus. Nopony could really say if the Mothership would make it into hyperspace at all, much less out the other side. Fluttershy wasn’t a scientist, but from what little she’d read on hyperspace… it didn’t sound like a particularly nice place. The words “thaumic radiation” rarely meant good things.
Still, the ponies with doctorates weren’t panicking, which was probably a good sign. The thought was enough to pull Fluttershy out of her spiral of worry, at least.
The cafeteria was pretty much the same as it had been the night before. The only addition of any note was a huge wall-sized view-screen, which was apparently stored in the ceiling. According to Pinkie, this cafeteria was also part of a series of emergency control centers—in case Fleet Command ever had to step down for some reason. She’d displayed this by pressing a button behind the counter, which had flipped one of the tables into the floor and replaced it with a control desk, and then vice-versa.
None of it worked, of course. To have controls which could override Fleet Command in a cafeteria would be an extraordinarily bad idea. The controls were locked, unless you happened to know some high-level codes or Fleet Command stopped giving signals.
Fluttershy looked up for the the millionth time as the doors whooshed open, but it was only another security stallion. Nopony she knew.
She almost wished that Snowflake would wander in, or something. The security chief wasn’t the easiest pony to talk to conversationally, and they weren’t really friends so much as sympathetics, but anything was better than sitting alone, waiting for an impossible dream.
Fluttershy reached into her vest—it wasn’t like she had anything else to wear—and pulled out her PDA. She checked the time. Fifteen minutes until the jump.
Was Rainbow Dash coming? Had she reconsidered at the last minute? The cold hooves of despair pressed against her back.
That must have been it. Celestia, how deluded must she have been to think this would work out? Rainbow Dash was a pony with ambition. She was cool, she was clever… she was so much better than Fluttershy. There was no way they would work out. This whole thing was just some kind of punishment. Fluttershy had dared to be open with her… disgusting feelings, and now she was sitting here alone, looking like the fool she was—
And then, Rainbow Dash zoomed through the door.
“OhmyGoddessesI’msosorryIkeptyouwaitingIdidn’tknowyou’dbeherealready—”
Fluttershy’s mind stopped working for a moment as it rolled back to a state that didn’t hate itself. A warm feeling filled her belly as she stared at Rainbow, slowly registering her presence. She was as beautiful as before, even more so, maybe. Everything about her seemed to shine, as if she was a living statue carved from sapphire and prismatic diamonds. The medals on her chest gleamed brilliantly, but not so brilliantly as her wide red eyes.
“Uh… yeah… so… um…” Rainbow Dash grinned, and Fluttershy saw her own nervousness reflected in those twinned rubies. “Hi.”
“Um… hello.” Fluttershy found herself wearing the first completely sincere smile she’d worn in years. Her heart pounded in staccato.
“So… Okay, look, I’m really not sure where this goes from here, but, like… hi.”
“It’s okay, I’m not really sure either. Um. Hello?” Fluttershy grinned as the panic began to set it. Merciful Celestia, tell me what to say!
Pinkie’s words from earlier that morning came back to her. Say hello: Check. Ask her how she’s been…
“H-how’ve you been? Um… how are you?”
“Me? Good. Great. Uh… yeah. Awesome.” Rainbow Dash slid into the seat opposite Fluttershy. “Like I totally just blurted out incoherently, I’m really, really sorry I made you sit here alone.”
“Oh… it’s okay. I just came early because I was n-nervous.”
“Oh. N-nervous?”
Fluttershy blushed. “Um… well, I’ve never been on a date before, so…”
“Oh yeah, right…” Rainbow rubbed the back of her head. “Well, I’ve never been on a date that wasn’t a disaster—except for this! This is already not a disaster… except I’m still talking and I can’t stop oh please stop me from talking.”
A giggle snuck past Fluttershy’s defenses. “It’s… okay, really. I like your voice.”
Apparently that was exactly how you got Rainbow Dash to stop talking. “Um…”
“W-was that weird?”
“No!” Rainbow stammered, her cheeks glowing. “Um, your voice is b-beautiful, too. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
It was the kind of thing anypony could say, but Fluttershy’s breath caught in her throat anyway. “Thank you, that’s… the nicest thing anypony’s ever said to me.”
Rainbow Dash inhaled sharply, her eyes blinking as tears formed in them. “Oh Celestia, somepony shoot me, I’m going sappy.”
Fluttershy hid a smile. Celestia, Rainbow was beautiful. She was strong, lithe, every inch of her body toned, and yet slim. It was a beauty of her own, apparent in the way her coat was cut so close—except in the telltale places where she couldn’t reach. The way her mane was cut without any attempt at a particular style. The beauty came from her self, not by any design or imposition. It was wild. Free.
“Uh… Fluttershy? You okay?”
Fluttershy’s cheeks reddened. “Yes!”
“I think they’re gonna… do the jumpy thing.” Rainbow indicated the screen. “I figured you’d want to know.”
Their attentions broke away from each other for a moment. There, before them, was the band of the galaxy. Great Journey was giving a countdown.
It was finally time to leave. Fluttershy felt her heart leap as it really, truly sunk in. At last, they were shoving off. Into the great unknown, for the first time in as long as anypony could remember…
She stood up suddenly, surprising herself with her own passion. Rainbow looked at her in terror, but relaxed when she realized she wasn’t leaving. Fluttershy grabbed her chair and scooted it over so she and Rainbow were side by side. They shared a smile, and turned back to watch the show.
The first spark was so small indeed, but it grew fast. Soon it was a line, blue, shining, carving across space. Perfectly uniform, and all the more surreal in the face of all that cosmic chaos.
The line expanded, and there was the portal, wrenched wide for their passage. Blue as the open sea, its edges cut in perfect right-angles. A door, and within it… it didn’t matter, did it? Somepony might know all those answers. Twilight Sparkle, Great Journey… some genius prodigy whose work would impact their lives in unimaginable ways. They would know, but to Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, it didn’t matter what they were looking at. It was beautiful, in symbol as in form.
All was quiet as the portal advanced, until it touched the Mothership bow. And then, a sound—like the ringing of a single colossal chime echoing off the steel walls of their cosmic cathedral. Fluttershy reached over and clasped Rainbow’s hoof. Rainbow reciprocated.
It was impossible to tell at what point they were fully through. The blue consumed them, and they were lost within.
But Great Journey’s voice marked the moment. “We are now in hyperspace. All sensors read as expected. We’ve made it.”
A cheer, somewhere in the background. Fluttershy didn’t really hear it. On the screen, the shapes of hyperspace coalesced, becoming winding patterns which danced as if alive. Fluttershy didn’t really see it.
She and Rainbow were together. Neither knew which one had moved first, and neither cared. In that moment… they were simply together. Eyes to eyes, nose to nose… then lips to lips.
And it felt wonderful.
Time: 8:00 AM
Location: Scaffold Press Room, Scaffold
Pinkie Pie waved excitedly at Caramel Manaan’sa as she walked away. He was a nice guy, and one of the few people who totally got her prophecy-quest-thingy. If it hadn’t been for his help, she never would have gotten on the Mothership at all! To think! Without the help of that one pony, the whole prophecy would have been doomed from the start!
But then, Prophecies didn’t make themselves happen. They were “could be’s,” noteworthy possibilities which could be attained by the right ponies in the right places. They came true, more often than not, because the ponies who knew about them made them come true. This case was no different.
The reporters didn’t pay her too much attention. She wasn’t famous, especially compared to a lot of the other ponies here. Heck, she’d seen Twilight Sparkle in the crowd earlier, talking to Masterpiece! And that wasn’t even talking about all the leaders and stuff that were here!
The shuttle terminal had a long queue in front of it, with a tired looking security pony checking off the IDs of all the boarders. Hold out your hoof, prick it with a needle, run it through a scanner. On the list? On you go. Off the list? SECURITY!
Pinkie was on the list, but she didn’t join the queue right away.
She glanced around the terminal at all the faces. Old, young, polished, grizzled, wearing all kinds of fancy clothes and sporting all kinds of expressions. A great big stewpot of culture. She’d always liked airports, for exactly this reason. All kinds of ponies gathered in one place, bringing all kinds of different colors and perspectives.
Something caught her eye. Or rather, caught her eye and then her Pinkie Sense.
A mare with an orange coat and straw-colored hair, wearing a cowboy hat and a short, blue-white dress that really didn’t fit her at all.
But the second Pinkie saw her, she knew: She’s one of the six. It was all she could do not to explode with excitement. Repeatedly!
The cowgirl was talking to another pony, a big red stallion wearing an equally unfitting tux which looked like it had been dug up from under a mountain and scrubbed clean with hot water and straw. The two were arguing really loud about something.
Between them stood a yellow filly with a red mane and a big floppy bow, who looked really, really sad.
Pinkie frowned. She could guess the context. The filly was too young to go, which probably meant the stallion was her dad, or something, and that the cowgirl—too young to be her mom… her sister?—was going without them. It was sad… leaving people behind always was… but that was no reason to fight!
Pinkie wanted to go over and introduce herself, try and help them get through whatever trouble they were having. In fact, she almost did.
But something settled on her shoulders. “Stay,” it seemed to say.
Pinkie frowned. No, she really wanted to introduce herself to—
“Stay!”
The word lanced through her head like a bullet. Pinkie sat down hard, clutching at her head with her hooves.
“STAYSTAYSTAYSTAYSTAYSTAYSTAYSTAYSTAY—”
“S-s-stop…!” Pinkie whimpered as the pain just got worse and worse. Everything around her seemed to swim in a rush of color. The world swirled around her, lights melting into flame, the eyes of the crowd glowing like icy fires. Faces shifted, twisting into dark, alien shapes, and the sound became a vicious cacophony. Chittering, jibbering, evil.
“You. Will. STAY.”
And then she saw clearly, amid all the chaos, the three ponies. The mare, the stallion, and the filly.
The stallion said something. The mare growled something else. The filly winced.
The mare turned away. She grabbed the filly by the shoulder and stormed off. Away from the stallion. The filly looked back, and she and the stallion shared a mournful look. Then, the stallion turned away too, heading for the boarding line.
Pinkie realized it with the kind of horror normally reserved for watching a train speeding towards a broken bridge. She’s not getting on the ship. She’s part of the prophecy, but she’s not getting on the ship.
The voice in her head started to laugh. It didn’t stop until she woke up in a medical ward, hours later.
The doctors told her they could find nothing wrong, that she had just collapsed on the terminal floor and been rushed to them. They knew she was supposed to be on the Mothership. They promised that they’d have her flown over once it made its last stopover in a few hours.
Pinkie just sobbed.
The mare who should have joined her was gone. Nopony even knew who she was.
It was already too late. The prophecy lay broken.
End Episode 1