Post-Equus arrival, day 202
03:04, Canterlot Standard Time
Bridge, Caprica
“Thirty-three minutes… mark,” Mark heard Des say as he shut his eyes. “We are now at hour eighty-two, and all stations are reporting.”
“Very well,” Mark half-muttered. The stress drill was beginning to take a toll on his own mind, and the twenty minute power naps between simulated emergency jumps were beginning to lose their effectiveness. He took a moment to reopen his eyelids to observe his bridge staff. Many were doing the same as he was, laying back a little further, taking the precious time to relax, at the very least.
Mark put a wireless headset on and pushed a few buttons on his handset. “Bridge to sick bay. Report, doctor.”
“We’ve just admitted three more ponies suffering from exhaustion,” Doctor Heart Beat said. “We’re now up to thirty-seven.”
“Hang in there, Doctor,” Mark reassured the physician. “This test is about to end. Bridge, out.” He removed his headset, placing it back on its rack before standing from his seat and walking to the charting console. Des was materialized beside it, eyes closed and chin down, bright flows of information going from toe to head as she prepared the next simulation. “Hey, Des?”
“Hmmm?” she hummed without looking up.
“Do you have the information you need to make a formulated conclusion?”
“I believe so,” she answered with a small nod.
“Okay. Abort next simulation.” Des’s form dimmed as her calculations came to a stop. She now looked to Mark. “I think we pushed them enough.”
“Very well, sir. Do you want me to stop the countdown?”
“No, go ahead and keep it rolling. Think of how rewarding it will be when it runs out and nothing shows up.”
Des couldn’t help but to give a small giggle. “Roger that, Commander.”
The next half-hour passed slowly for Mark, as he opted to not take his usual twenty minute power nap. Spitfire had instead taken his seat, dozing with the rest of the bridge staff. Mark stood, taking a tablet and reading the results of the stress test put together by Des. “Under stressed conditions,” the report read, “ship functionality and crew optimization maintained, on average, at eighty-seven percent of pretest levels.”
Huh, that’s pretty good, Mark thought, continuing to the next page. A graph displayed the overall “efficiency” of the crew, taking in factors such as response time, accuracy of orders completed, and time between jumps. The linear graph showed a decline over time, but he had expected just that.
Mark looked back at the countdown to see there were only two minutes left. He reholstered the tablet in its holding slot and walked around the bridge, waking the staff. “Alright, ponies. Let’s get ready for jump one-forty-nine.” Snorts and snores started to sound off as the crew came back to life. Voices soon followed as orders went into headsets. “Sixty seconds on the clock. All stations, report.”
One by one, station leaders called out their status as they had done one hundred and forty-nine times before. When the final station reported ready, the countdown read 00:30. “Standby for enemy contacts,” Mark said to his bridge staff. Steel Hoof locked eyes with the sensor readouts, ready to call out their positions as soon as they arrived.
Mark read out the final seconds. “Three… two… one…” An alarm buzzed as the clock hit zero. It was quickly silenced as the crew stood ready to receive the simulated enemy, but when nothing appeared on the sensor readouts, the murmur of voices circled around him. “Lieutenant Steel Hoof, report.”
“Sensors report a clean sweep, sir,” Steel Hoof said.
“Music to my ears,” Mark said as he grabbed the shipwide broadcast mic. “All hands… well done. You can all rest easy now. The test is over, and I must say, I’m impressed by your discipline and conviction. I know you are all tired--” a beeping came from the sensor readouts “--which is why I’m ordering all ponies--”
“Sir!” Steel Hoof frantically called out. “Contact!”
“Standby,” Mark quickly said before putting the mic back. He jogged over to the readout. “Des, I thought I said no more simulations.”
She materialized by Mark. “I’m not running a simulation.”
The three gazed at the screen, showing a blip labeled “Unidentified Contact.” “Run a diagnostic.”
A flow of information ran through Des. “Diagnostic complete. Sensors are operational.” Mark and Des looked to each other. “There’s something out there that wasn’t there before.”
Mark broke eye contact, looking around the bridge. The faces of the tired ponies had been replaced with ones of fear and uncertainty. “Battle stations! Set Condition One! This is not a drill!”